A Brother's Influence (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Hellooo Chloe!!!!

When Daryl pulled up to the house, there was a car parked there that he didn't recognize. It was an old Dodge Challenger all primed up and looking a mess. Daryl parked his truck and went inside. Merle and some other guy he's never seen was sitting on the couch, both passed out and a heroin kit sitting on the coffee table. The sight absolutely disgusted Daryl. Now, Daryl's done moonshine, even tried pot a few times but never has he gone for the harder drugs. He felt life was tough and shitty enough without making it harder. Looking at Merle. Daryl thought, fuck it and grabbed his crossbow and headed out to the woods.

After he got back and cooked he heard "This is some mighty fine squirrel you got here little brother, why didn't you ask me to go hunting with you?"

"Because your ass was passed out here with Howdy Doodie with all that smack up your arm," Daryl stared down at the greasy haired, tooth decayed piece of shit his brother hung out with. 

"Hey!" decayed tooth guy said, "watch your mouth boy."

"This is my house..."

"Our house little brother, our house, it was left to both of us." Merle sneered while sucking on his fingers to get every last drip of squirrel grease off of them, the sound sickening to Daryl.

"Yeah, well if it's OUR house then where the hell is your half of the money to pay for the bills?"

"Hey now, if I wanted to hear any shit from you I'd just squeeze you little brother, you know I've had me some hard times lately." 

"It's always hard times with you, you don't ever have money for bills but you have no problem finding money for this shit." Daryl swiped his arm across the coffee table knocking everything off. Merle jumped up fast and got Daryl by the throat. "Now I don't want to hurt you little brother, just turn around like a good little boy and go get me another beer."

Finally Merle let go of Daryl's throat and Daryl coughed and wheezed until he got his breath back. "Go get it your damn self," and then walked out and got into his truck and left. He'd stay gone for a couple of days then go back home and Merle should be gone. Gone at least for another couple of months. He'll leave just like he always does. Merle was a leaver; there was nothing permanent about him. Daryl turned his truck and headed South down to Jr.'s house. He would let him crash there for a couple of days or he would head to the shack while Merle finished up whatever in the hell he was doing. 

Bussy Jr. was sitting out front of his house when Daryl pulled up working on some fishing lures. That boy loved to fish. In fact, Daryl was surprised he found him at home; he thought for sure he was going to have to make a trip to the lake to catch up with him. "What's happening," Daryl asked.

"Nuthin, just getting ready to go on lake and making up some lures," Jr. looked up and saw that look on Daryl's face, "what'd Merle do now?"

"Shit, you know, the same shit he always does," Daryl sounded defeated and worn, "I don't know when he'll grow up if he'll ever grow up."

Jr. just shook his head. He knew Merle, been around him all his life hanging out with Daryl and all. Merle was no good and if wasn't for him, Daryl could have been a lot further in life than where he was at now. It seemed every time Daryl took two steps forward, Merle would show up to send him back three steps. Poor guy never had a chance.

"Feel like fishing?"

"Hell yeah, let's do it," smiled Daryl.

Being on the lake with Jr. was always very peaceful. There was no need for talk which suited Daryl just fine because he wasn't a big talker. Daryl liked to watch the lake. The small ripples the breeze made on the lake always amazed Daryl for some reason. He'd watch it start then follow it out as far as he could before he lost it, then repeat and repeat again.  The only thing bringing him out of this lullaby was the tug at the end of his line. It felt good to bring in dinner in some sort of fashion like this. Sure, there were times he was forced to fend for his food because he was broke but most times he enjoyed the fishing or hunting that was needed to eat. It was just part of who he was, who he'll always be.