General POV: Merle and Daryl in the Motel Room
The boy heard the shower and start as Daryl made sure they had all their supplies from the truck and locked their door, they'd checked the area for more dead people but he wasn't taking any chances, not after the whole lobby/washroom scene. Daryl glared over at Merle who was high as a kite, he was slowly getting tired of Merle's antics.
"Oh, don't give me that look, baby brother. You're too soft on her," Merle said.
"Yelling at her any louder would have only shut her down. Instead, you managed to piss her off," Daryl retorted.
He was worried about Kali. She wasn't like them. She didn't have the same tolerance for violence that they had learned to develop from their abusive upbringing. Daryl at times would be distant and pretended he didn't care about her, but deep down he loved his little sister. He had been around 20 years old when she was born, and even though he had moved out and was ready to cut ties with their father, he rented a trailer next door just to keep an eye on her when she visited their dad. He watched out for her like Merle watched out for him.
He couldn't shake the guilt he felt from last month when he found her hiding under her bed, just like she used to when she was a kid hiding if Earny was taking out his aggression on her brothers. He made a promise to himself to never let her feel unsafe again, which is why he had moved her in with him permanently. He had tried to get custody of her in the past. He really did, but his younger, angrier, and financial instability worked against him. Well, he was still angry.
Merle's words cut through his thoughts, "She needs to toughen up." As Merle's words echoed in Daryl's mind, he couldn't help but grimace. It was a phrase he had heard countless times before, always directed at his younger sister. Their father used to say it every time she spoke up or back-talked, insisting that she needed to "toughen up." But Daryl knew better. He remembered the times he had stepped in to defend her, only to watch her dissolve into tears when their father slapped her across the face. It didn't happen as frequently to her as it did to her brothers, but it was still enough to leave a lasting impact. And when it did happen, she would either become hysterical or shut down completely. It was a painful reminder that she was just as vulnerable as the rest of them, no matter how much they tried to shield her from their father's wrath.
Their relationship was an odd one, it was peculiar how they would often go long periods without seeing each other. Sometimes, she would be in Atlanta with her mother for months, and then she would suddenly appear at their father's place for a few weeks before disappearing again. The pattern was confusing, and it made it hard for him to get to know her. Despite this, Daryl had a vague idea about her. He knew she loved to read, suffered from a nut allergy, and was a kind and gentle soul. You'd never guess that she was a Dixon until she was riled up and boiling over with anger; it was the only trait she had that fit with their family name.
Daryl knew that Merle was right in some ways, but he didn't want Kali to become an angry and resentful person. He had seen the effects of violence and brutality on himself and his brother, and he didn't want Kali to experience the same.
He sighed and replied, "I don't disagree with you, but if we do it your way, she'll just end up being an angry little spitfire." She couldn't shy away if this was going to be the way of the world.
The conversation ended as Merle rummaged through his bag to retrieve a pill of unknown origin. Daryl remained silent, knowing better than to question his brother's vices.
Kali POV:
The shower helped me calm down and drown out my thoughts. I stepped out of the bathroom in the pajamas that Daryl had grabbed for me earlier, feeling a little better. Merle was passed out on the other bed already, and Daryl was sitting in a chair by the front of the room. I leaned against the door frame, feeling a little awkward.
"Um, you can have this bed if you want," I said, pointing to the bed with my bag on it. Honestly, I wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor between the bed and the wall. I craved that small, cozy space, especially since this motel room was twice the size of my own room. The bed was too large for me anyway.
"Naw," Daryl said. "Go ahead and sleep." He said it like he wasn't going to sleep himself.
"Or we could push Merle off, he's probably out of it enough that he wouldn't notice," I half-joking, half-serious, he gave me an amused grin, which I returned.
"Suit yourself," I shrugged, not wanting to push it. Besides, I was just as exhausted as he was so I let it be. I would have offered to share but I'd rather just sleep on the floor at that point. I wasn't one for sharing my bed even if it was just my brother.
As I settled into the blankets, I closed my eyes, hoping to get some rest. Daryl turned off the lights, but I knew he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't seem to find a comfortable position and ended up tossing and turning throughout the night, resulting in a fitful sleep.
I found myself in a stuffy, humid, and cramped apartment in the heart of Atlanta, sitting on a shabby couch and digging into a bowl of stale cereal with no milk. The television droned on in the background, blaring some mind-numbing reality show that Mom loved but I found utterly tedious. I knew that she was in the kitchen, she said she was fixing breakfast for herself. Of course, as a 14-year-old, I wasn't that naive - I knew that Mom had a boyfriend, and I knew that he would be showing up any minute. I just wished she would hurry up and finish shooting up so we could have some quality time before he arrived and I had to head off to school. How messed up was that?
When she didn't come, I went and checked on her. I saw my mom's slumped form at the table, I had hoped she had just dozed off after using. But as I got closer, the needle still protruding from her arm confirmed it. I gently shook her, calling her name, but she didn't respond.
"Mom, wake up," I said, a little more urgently this time. She let out a groan, but it was different. It was low and guttural, and it sent shivers down my spine.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, revealing a pair of lifeless, soulless orbs. She lunged at me with surprising strength, her nails digging into my flesh like knives.
"Ow, Mom, that hurts," I tried pulling away but her nails sunk deeper. I looked up at her face and the was one of those dead-walking things... A walker.
"Please let go," I begged, tears streaming down my face. But she didn't, she couldn't. Suddenly, a baseball bat appeared in my other hand. What? How did that even happen? A flash of my father attacking Merle came to my mind. No, no, no, no I couldn't do it. No, I couldn't bash my own mother's head in with a bat. I dropped the bat, but it somehow found its way back into my hand. I felt sick to my stomach.
"No," I screamed, dropping the bat again as my mother lunged at me.
General POV:
Daryl had been dozing off in his chair, his senses on high alert for any signs of danger. When he heard Kali start to toss and turn in her sleep, he tried to ignore it, hoping she would settle down on her own. But as her cries of "No, no, no" grew louder, he knew something was wrong. He sat up, unsure if he should wake her or not. Merle remained snoring in his bed, seemingly undisturbed by Kali's distress.
Finally, Daryl couldn't take it anymore. He made his way over to her bed and saw that she was digging her nails into her own arm, drawing blood. He tried to wake her by shaking her shoulder, but she didn't respond at first. It took several minutes of persistent effort before she finally came to.
Kali woke up screaming, a form hovering over her, and she felt a hand gripping her upper arm tightly. She freaked out, struggling to break free, but her frantic state only resulted in her getting tangled in the blankets and falling off the bed, slamming into the wall with a painful thud.
"Ow," she groaned, disoriented and confused. It took her a moment to remember where she was - in a dingy motel room with her brothers. The sudden brightness of a lamp being turned on made her flinch.
"Kali?" Daryl's voice came before she saw him crouching in front of her, concern etched on his face.
She blinked up at him, trying to clear her head. How had she ended up on the floor?
"Nightmare," she mumbled embarrassed, untangling from the blankets. She couldn't really remember what had happened, but it left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.
He grunted in response as if saying 'no kidding'. "You were scratching yourself in yer sleep." He stated, holding out his hand not to help her up but to look at her arm.
She gave him a confused look before looking down at her left forearm where there were four long lines bleeding ever so slightly. She gasped, realizing with horror that she had done that to herself in her sleep. She reached out with her right hand and allowed him to guide her to the edge of the bed. She sat there, staring at her arm in disbelief as Daryl rummaged through his bag for some hydrochloric acid and cotton swabs. Her mind was racing with questions, but she couldn't bring herself to ask them out loud. How had she hurt herself so badly without even realizing it? What had she been dreaming about? And more importantly, could it happen again? She shuddered at the thought and remained silent.
Daryl pulled his chair closer to Kali, positioning himself directly in front of her. He gently took hold of her wrist to tend to the wound on her forearm. Despite his best efforts to remain calm, he couldn't shake the worry hoping that this was a one-time occurrence, she'd never done it before as far as he was aware. But then again, would he know something like that? He felt like he would. He masked his concern well, not wanting to alarm Kali any further, but he knew she was likely feeling just as scared.
"Remember your dream at all?" he asked softly, dabbing the cotton swab on her arm. Kali winced and tried to pull away, but he held her wrist steady, continuing to work with a gentler touch.
She shook her head, indicating that she couldn't recall anything specific from the nightmare that had left her so shaken.
Once he finished tending to her wound, he released her wrist and stood up, feeling a sense of awkwardness settle between them. Daryl wasn't great with emotions, and he wasn't sure what to say or do to make Kali feel better. He glanced at her and saw that she was looking at him expectantly as if waiting for him to have all the answers.
In reality, Kali was silently yearning for comfort, a hug, anything to soothe her after the nightmare and the self-harm. But she was too proud to ask for it, and Daryl wasn't exactly the type to offer it unprompted.
"Thanks," Kali murmured, so softly that he almost didn't catch it. She retreated further onto the bed, grabbing the blanket from the ground and attempting to go back to sleep.
Daryl hesitated for a moment before nodding and retreating to his own corner of the room, taking the chair and sitting down, and staring into the small crack of the curtain, deep in thought.