You'd Kill for Me, I'd Die for You.

By the time I reached where I was going, my tears had stopped. I could only imagine the state I looked. It was pitch dark now, but I’d managed to get here in once piece. I stopped behind some bushes at the edge of the woods, and looked out at the scene before me.

There was a fire going in a fire pit in the back yard. Loud music was playing; random guys and sparse girls were here and there talking. I heard the music a while back when I had been running, but didn’t really stop to think about it. I had only one thing on my mind, and that was getting here.

As I ran my fingers through my hair, in an attempt to straighten myself out, it all clicked. Merle was home. It had to be him; Daryl wasn’t much for house parties. I wiped the drying tears from my cheeks, thanking god that I hadn’t worn makeup, what a mess that would have been.

I took a deep breath and smoothed some of the wrinkles out of my green plaid shirt. I was dressed casually in jeans and a shirt. I had been planning in a quiet night in after all. I had to suck it up and get in there before I lost control and started to break down again. I had to talk to my friend.

I took a deep breath and walked out from the bushes, trying to look casual. I just walked through the people, keeping an eye out for Daryl. He didn’t seem to be outside, so I headed into the house. I was also looking out for Merle; we’d actually never met, surprisingly. Daryl seemed adamant that we never meet. I’d seen pictures but that was it, at least I knew whom I was looking to stay away from. If Daryl didn’t want me to meet him, there had to be a reason.

“Well, who do we have here?” a rough voice sounded from beside me, as I walked through the back door, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you round here? Whats yer name sugar tits?”

Leave it to me to run right into who I’m trying to avoid, Merle. He sounded and smelled like he had a good buzz on, whiskey bottle in hand. He was a bit taller then me, hair buzzed short, he had a rugged look to him. His eyes were looking me over hungrily. He was rather intimidating, I had to admit. But like any smart animal knows, never show that you’re afraid. I stood straight, as if I had a shred of confidence left after what had just happened. And I stood my ground.

“Charlie,” keep it simple and to the point, “I’m just here to see Daryl. Is he here?”

He set his bottle down and stepped closer to me, just barely touching me. He sort of loomed over me. My heart started to race a little with slight anxiety; I tried to keep my breathing even. But I just kept flashing back to my fathers’ boots colliding with my sides in a rage. It was taking everything I had to keep it together.

“Charlie, hum?” he flashed me a wolfish smile, touching my hair, “what ya want with my baby brother? He aint here, he don’t know how to please a woman no how. You just stick with ol’ Merle.”

My stomach churned with disgust, was he serious? I knew he was drunk, and Daryl had told me what he was like. But I guess I just never really believed that he could really be this bad.

“I’ll just go wait for him in his room. I’m sure he wont mind.”

I turned to leave, but instantly my ass was grabbed, I was spun around, and pushed up against a wall. Oh hell no! This was not happening, not tonight. My whole body was screaming in pain from the pressure he was placing on me. As if it hadn’t been bad enough without.

Some of the guys around whistled and laughed, calling out happily. Glad they’re enjoying the show, because I wasn’t. He pressed his groin against mine; I could feel him getting hard. He really was a sick asshole.

“Ya like that sweetheart?” he smirked.

That was it. My fear was gone. This was ending now. My sadness was gone, and in its place was anger. Every last bit of my anger that I had been repressing was there. I pulled back my arm, and with all the force I could muster I sharply elbowed Merle in the face. I was so past done.

He stumbled back a little bit, looking dumbfounded. I took that as my opportunity. I threw a punch and haymakered him. I was running off instinct and hatred now, all the training I’d had was taking control. I quickly grabbed the back of Merles head and pulled down, bringing my knee up forcefully to meet his face. Then dropped him.

It was probably the alcohol that didn’t let him retaliate immediately, and the fact that he probably wasn’t expecting a reaction such as that. But he had fucked with the wrong girl on the wrong night.

He then did something I wasn’t expecting; he started to laugh. The guests who had crowded around by this point looked a little shocked, but slowly joined in. he started to get up. I readied myself for any move he would make, watching him like a hawk.

“Move outta my way,” Daryl’s voice called from behind me, he shoved his way over to me. He looked stunned once he saw us, “Princess, go to my room.”

I didn’t hesitate, by the tone of his voice I could tell he wasn’t asking. And I wasn’t going to argue with him on this one. I turned and walked through the people, and then straight to Daryl’s room. I shut the door behind me, before sitting on the bed.

I lay back, groaning as I did. Every inch of my body was throbbing. My ribs were screaming the loudest; my father must have cracked one or something. Nothing was broken, that I was sure of. I just lay there and tried to focus on my breathing, sometimes I found it helped me forget the pain and deal with it better.

I couldn’t hear anything but the beat of the music, which also helped sooth me. But once the physical pain started to calm down, everything else just started to crash down upon me.

The door knob clicked before the door slid open, I knew it was Daryl, “he says no hard feelins.”

I let out a dry chuckle before opening my eyes to look over at Daryl, who had just closed the door again, “that’s good… I guess.”

He remained quiet as he walked over and sat beside me, he looked a little uncomfortable, visibly unsure of what to do. I sadly smiled up at him, tears started to prick at my eyes. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. This was what I’d been waiting for; Daryl was my safe place.

He moved and held me as I shook with sobs. He felt stiff, obviously uncomfortable, but he was trying. And oddly, it was comforting; I don’t think it would have been if he’d reacted any other way.

He just stayed there with me until I finished crying. Never asking me what was wrong, he didn’t say a word, just rubbed small circles on my back. He knew if I wanted to talk I would, he wouldn’t pressure anything out of me. And I was glad for it; I did the same for him. I believed that was why we were so close, and so comfortable trusting each other with things.

I took a breath and tried to focus my thoughts, I cleared my throat, “he… he hit me.”

I was almost disgusted at how week I sounded. I tried so hard to put up a tough front, I couldn’t let people see the real me. I was a sad broken little girl. I was so alone, so alone.

Daryl, who had eventually softened up and was comfortable, was stiff again. Muscles tensed, “who?”

“My… father,” I looked down at his chest and rested my head against him, “this isn’t the first time… but, the things he said. And then I hit him, and… I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.”

If I weren’t out of tears I would be crying again, sobbing like a baby. A single tear made its way down my cheek. Daryl remained silent, I knew he wanted to know more, but wouldn’t press.

I pushed myself up, out of his arms. I gently pulled up my shirt to reveal the damage. Daryl sat up too; he had a look of disbelief at what he saw. I was black and blue all over, the skin had broken on my right side by my ribs, and I had slightly bled. And that was just my stomach and ribs. My arms were bruised, and I could only imagine my legs were the same.

“He blamed my mothers death on me,” I said softly, “he said it would never had happened if I was just never born. How could he say that? He’s my father, my hero, he’s everything. I have no other family. How could he say that to me?”

The look on his face was unreadable, until he looked into my eyes. I could see everything in his big blue eyes. He knew; all the shame, the hurt, the anger, the betrayal. He had experienced the same thing. I had always had my suspicions, but he never said anything.

He pulled me back into him, and said softly, honestly, “I don’t know.”