Letting Go (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter One

Daryl Dixon's face twists. This guy just got here and already he's giving the newbie the stank eye.

"Well, Rick Grimes, ye' got somethin' to tell me?" His question pounds the mood through the group. It's obvious to see that through the facial expressions. Nervous, they are. Daryl has a way of almost making people feel guilty, like they broke a piece of him. Seeing as Merle Dixon was a piece of Daryl, he's taking this pretty hard.

Rick hesitates before he speaks. "Your brother was a danger to us all. I handcuffed him to a rooftop in the city."

As Rick's words process themselves through Daryl's thick ass head, he charges at Rick, wanting him dead.

"Stop it!" I shout. I don't even know why I even try. He's a Dixon. Dixon's don't have brains.

He begins to try and calm down, still getting the news that his brother was left for dead through the brick he calls a head.

"So you're sayin' ye' handcuffed 'im to a roof? And you left him there?!"

His rage is almost comical. On the outside, he may be 27, but we all know he's about 5 or 6 inside that redneck soul. He acts like a kid sometimes, but no one mentions it, seeing as though he is the "baby brudder" of the awful Merle Dixon.

Just thinking of Merle makes me want to puke. It's just.... Blech.

You see, Merle Dixon is basically the ultimate asshole in the zombie apocalypse. He's just... There. Kind of like Ed Peletier. I mean, yeah, Merle helps out around the camp and goes on runs and shit like that, but when you narrow it down, Merle is just that jerk of the apocalypse.

"I dropped the key." T-Dog states. He gazed upon the mess that was supposed to be the ground beneath our feet like he committed a crime. I didn't even realize I dazed off for a few moments there.

Lori Grimes stands with her little boy behind Rick and opens her big mouth to speak, but closes it again.

Good ya dumb bitch. I know your dirty little secret.

Carol Peletier stands a bit of a distance behind Daryl, and I don't blame her. Daryl scares the shit out of us a lot.

It was the first night since these creatures appeared I felt truly safe. Of course, we all knew that no one was.

Dale Horvath sat between Daryl and I thankfully, and the bonfire-like event began with Lori telling a funny story about when Carl was little.

"Carl used to cry for his daddy a lot," she had begun and Carl blushed.

"Sometimes when Rick would come home from work, Carl would jump up and run to him, hugging him like he'll never see him again."

Laughs quietly erupted from the group.

Carl blushed as Lori continued, "Rick would ruffle his hair and say 'Come on, wanna see something cool?' And Carl would go running his little feet to wherever Rick went!"

Sophia covered her mouth as she giggled.

We were all telling funny stories, and now it was Daryl's turn.

"I went huntin' once when I was younger, an' I got me a squirrel like I usually did. When I went to get the squirrel, there was a damn chupacabra guardin' it like a baby."

Merle Dixon laughed. "He came home and said to me 'Merle I saw a chupacabra! I done saw a chupacabra!' And he was all red eyed and shit."

Daryl glanced at his brother. "It was real!"

Merle chuckled again. "Sure it was, little brother. Sure it was."

The laughing had ceased. Not a word was spoken.

Dale looked over at me. "Why don't you lighten the mood, Trooper?"

I shrugged. Might as well.

"I am the third of six kids, so life was either spent with them or my best friend. Most of the time my mother was gone and the oldest of the six had disappeared at 17...

"Usually we would sit around and play some kind of game like hide and seek. I was always caught somehow.

"My sister Emily was 'it' once, and I had hidden in my mother's closet. She searched for me for about four hours and I stayed there, in that closet, not moving a bit.

"Eventually, Emily gave up, and I came out of that stuffy thing. I couldn't really take it in there much longer. She found me and said, 'Where were you? We almost called the cops!'"

I sniffled.

"I had told her... 'Mom's closet.' And then..."

I couldn't go on.

I had to stop. Why did I? My mother walked through the door, angry and confused. Ended up beating me. I was about to cry just thinking about it.

The silence continued throughout the campfire.

I felt that same scary feeling as Daryl slowly approached me.

"Yer gunna help me find Merle, right?"

I hesitate. Should I lie and say yes? Or should I be honest and say no?

Silence passes upon the group yet again. Who knew a possible death and the coming of a newbie could nearly tear people apart?

T-Dog, once again, breaks the ice with, "I'll go back for him."

"Who would go back for a douchebag like Merle Dixon??" Shane blurts. Everyone stares at him coldly. But then again, Merle Dixon is pretty much a HUGE douchebag, calling me and Andrea "Sugar Tits" and flirting and being his redneck unpredictable self.

"Watch your word choice," Rick warns.

"No, douchebag is what I meant." Shane replies coldly. The silence passes again. Daryl eyes the rest of us.

This is exactly why I really dislike Daryl.

I understand being concerned about a loved one, considering the way life is now, split between the living and the dead. But his temper is comical. It's almost like watching a five year old throwing a tantrum.

"Well, I'm goin back to find him." Daryl roughly makes his intention loyd and clear.

"Man, I'm gonna go too." T-Dog says. Rick steps up to the plate as well as Glenn.

But then again, Glenn tends to be the bait for things. If they were being chased by those disgusting walkers, they'd sacrifice Glenn. Not T-Dog, not Rick, not Shane, definitely NOT the Dixon brothers... You get the point. They'd say, "Well, it was nice knowing ya, Glenn." BAM! He would be eaten alive as we escape, his screeches of pain would be filling our ears as flesh would be tearing off with rotted teeth.

Next thing we know, Glenn, Rick, T-Dog, Daryl, and myself head out to Atlanta. To be honest, I really don't know how I got to go along. Maybe it's because I feel pretty guilty for leaving Merle to fend for himself. We take the van, with Rick driving, Glenn in the passenger seat, T-Dog, Daryl, and I smushed in the back, me in the middle.

"Kris," Glenn says, "You didn't have to come."

"I feel like I have to." I reply. Once we got to Atlanta, I deeply regretted going.