The other Dixon- The walking dead fanfic

XIII

I rubbed my eyes as I woke up. The first thing I noticed: I wasn't in the car. I identified the place I was in to be one of Merle's junkie friends' house.

He didn't bring me alone often, told me I was embarrassing for him. He only brought me if  they had dirty work they wanted me to do for them. I'm not sure why I listened to them but I did.

"I don't get it" I told Merle, looking up at him from the man they had tied up in the garage. He sighed, crouching down to my level, placing a hand on my shoulder,
"Of course you don't. You're too young. I guess I'll have to find someone... less pathetic to do it for me" He hissed, really emphasising on the word pathetic.

He turned to leave but I grabbed him,
"No! No.. I can do it" I turned to look at the man, who was whimpering in the corner,
"Good. Because if you don't, this man will hurt you. He will hurt me" He told me, staring me deeply in the eyes, "I'll give you two some time alone."

I stood in front of the man, every ounce of me was screaming, telling me to stop, to run away, but I couldn't, I knew I had no choice. I approached the whimpering man, punching him multiple times in the face until blood was dripping down his face from his nose,
"Please... stop" He managed to mutter.

I didn't stop, I continued punching him. I was crying now and he was on the floor now and I was on top of him, no matter how much I wanted to stop I couldn't. I could hear shouting from outside, muffled voice shouting at each other.

"She's a kid!" I heard as the doors flew open. I didn't stop to look who it was. The man was unconscious now, hell, he might even be dead, but I wasn't stopping. I didn't until someone grabbed me, dragging me away.

I stopped fighting the person who grabbed me as he threw me down onto the floor,
"That's enough." Daryl's gravelly voice pierced through my head. I looked up at him, then down at my hands, which were shaking, hurting and covered in blood.

"y/n."

"Y/n!"

"Y/n!" I jolted awake, my breathing uneven and shaky, I took a deep breath of relief when I saw the car, and Jays worried face looking down on me,
"You okay?" He asked. I took a second, looking at him as I sat up, looking out the window. I glanced back, nodding at him. It was day, although I didn't know how long I had been asleep.

"You want me to drive?" I asked, gesturing at the boy, who shook his head,
"I got until the next stop, forty minutes or so" I nodded, climbing into the front passenger seat. I picked up the map, looking at the route Jay had drawn out, it looked like it would work.

He was finish this drive to Huddleston, then I would take it to Scottsville, after that we would have to map out a little further,
"Do you wanna tell me what that was all about?" Jay asked, fixing his eyes on the road as he drove around a small car crash. I grimaced at the cranks who were obviously in the crash, one of them was even ripped in half.

"I just had a bad dream" I told him, which I suppose is the truth, he just didn't need to know it was a memory,
"About what?" He asked, his voice sounded concerned, worried.

"Does that matter to you?" I asked, beginning to get a little irritated,
"Would it be such a bad thing if it did?" I looked at him weirdly, I don't really think many people in my life actually cared for me. Merle and my father definitely didn't, my mother? I couldn't tell you, I would like to think she did, but I just don't know. 

And Daryl. Sure he would look after me but if I really thought about it, I don't think he cares. He looks after me because he feels bad that nobody else does, that's it. It hurts to say but I know if we found each other, I don't think he would give a single fuck. Maybe flash me a smile if I was lucky but that's it. I think we have a love-hate relationship... I think I love him anyway, I don't really know.

I looked back over at Jay, who was staring at me. Did he actually care about me? All the people in the world and it's him?

"It was a memory. Of when I was younger." That was more than enough information, he didn't need to know that basically my entire family were psychopaths that probably made me into one too.

"You know, you can talk to me, about it all" He told me. It was weird, my whole childhood I had learnt that feelings made you weak, pathetic. But now, I'm being told completely different things,
"I don't know you very well, y/n. And that's because you won't let me know you... but I want to. I want to know the real you."

I considered it, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing, having someone care about me, know me for who I am.
"I'll tell you one thing, every day. And if you get scared of me, that's on you" He chuckled, agreeing with me,

"You're not going to scare me."

Word Count: 908
Total word count: 11, 921