Boulevard of Broken Dreams {Daryl Dixon}

F o u r

"Josephine, if you put one more rock under my hood, I'm gonna rip your damn head off!" Vada hissed at her twin as the two drove home. 

She simply giggled, her grey eyes shimmering brightly. "Daryl was so nice, sis!"

"Daryl?"

"Yeah, that's his name! I asked him when you were starting the car!"

Vada simply rolled her eyes, and swerved into the driveway of their father's trailer. She didn't like the fact that this Daryl character even knew she and her sister's names. Unless it was absolutely necessary, she didn't want anyone to know anything about her or Josephine.

When the two walked into the trailer, they were shocked to see that their father had nothing to say. Usually, he'd always have some smart remark or tantrum ready for them when they got home. But, there he sat, on their moth-eaten couch, holding a half-empty beer bottle, and his eyes glued to a football game on the TV. So, the twins headed silently to the bedroom they shared (although Vada spent her nights in her father's room more often than not.)

Their bedroom was small, but it was sufficient. The walls were still a powdery blue and peppered with small butterflies, from when their mother had decorated it for them as children. Two twin-sized mattresses were stacked upon boxsprings that laid side-by-side. And to top it all off, the floor was littered in stuffed animals that Josephine had kept from their mother. To her, they were just toys, but to her sister, they were a constant reminder that they had no one.

"Jo, would you mind not throwing your dirty underwear on my bed? It's disgusting," Vada grumbled irritably at her sister.

"Sorry, sis," Josephine replied innocently, collecting her undergarments and placing them rightfully in the hamper.

Vada sighed, looking down at the overflowing hamper. "Wanna go on a laundry trip with me?"

"Sure!"

Any excuse to get her sister out of the house was enough for Vada when their father was around. Being around someone so unpredictable set her nerves on edge. So, the two girls gathered their dirty clothes, and carried them out to the car. 

"What're the rules?" Vada asked her identical twin.

"Don't run off, don't talk to anyone, and scream if someone touches my lady stuff!" She recited, clearly proud that she remembered. 

"But most importantly..."

"Trust no one!"

Vada smirked. "Good job."

Upon the girls' arrival at the only dingy laundromat in their neighborhood, they were met with a smile from the man at the counter. As far as they had known, he'd been in love with them for years. While Josephine was flattered, Vada used it to her advantage, which allowed her to do loads of laundry for free. 

"Afternoon, ladies," the man, Todd, greeted them.

"Hi, Todd!" Josephine chimed, smiling brightly.

"How many loads can you give us?" Vada questioned, hoisting her full laundry basket higher on her hip. 

He grinned, opening the register before him. "About five or six. You two got lucky today!"

While Josephine giggled, her sister faked a smile and accepted the handful of quarters from Todd. Then, the two of them headed toward an available washing machine, where Vada began tossing clothes. The happier of the two skipped over to a vending machine, and poked at the glass.

"Sis, can I get a cookie?" She called to her twin, bouncing on her toes. 

Vada turned her head, watching as Josephine's eyes grew more and more excited. She sighed, looking at the heaping pile of laundry before her as her empty wallet flashed in her mind. "We'll see, Jo."

The now disappointed woman dragged her feet toward her sister, and watched sulkily as she continued to fill the washer with clothing. "Maybe next time, sis?"

"Maybe next time. Hey, while you're over here, why don't you put the quarters into the machine? I know how much you like to do it."

Josephine's expression instantly brightened up as Vada handed her four quarters. Ever since the girls were teenagers, it was always her job to put the quarters into the washing machine and dryer.

As the two worked side-by-side, Todd approached him, his apron slung over his shoulder. "You ladies need anything before I head outta here?" He asked, sending them a warm smile.

"No, we're fine. Thanks for the quarters," Vada replied, slamming the lid of the washer.

"Bye bye, Todd!" Her twin said, waving happily.

"See you around."

Once he was gone, Vada started the washer, and began organizing the rest of their clothes into separate piles for the upcoming loads to wash. The peace didn't last long, however. A male voice cut through the quietness of the establishment, making the girls' hearts sink.

"Well, if it ain't the Dalton girls!"

>>>

Daryl arrived home later that afternoon, only to find that his front yard was full of rundown cars...again. It was like his brother to have a bunch of friends over to get high in the middle of the day. Rolling his eyes, the younger Dixon headed inside, shooting glares at the men crowded around his coffee table snorting lines of powder off of it. 

"Hey, baby brudda, c'mover 'ere an' try somma this shit!" Merle called to him, his words slurred.

Fuming, Daryl glowered at him. "Get these damn morons outta 'ere!"

The room went silent, and everyone stared up at him with red, swollen eyes. This didn't intimidate the dark-haired man in the slightest. His older brother stood up, his face hard and cold, before staggering toward him. "Th' hell'd ye' jus' say t' me?" He barked.

"Ye' heard me!"

Then, without a warning, Daryl was thrown to the floor. His Georgia blues instantly began watering from the rough impact, and through the tears, he could see his brother advancing toward him. Merle had straddled him, pinning his chest down with one hand, and using the other to drill his fist into his younger brother's jaw, nose, and eye sockets. Surrounding them were the booming cheers of the other men, egging Merle on.

A thick red liquid trickled down Daryl's face, and splattered on the floor. He hadn't felt this helpless since he had lived with his father. His mind told him to fight back, but he felt too weak and powerless under the weight of Merle. The blows continued one after another, each one more painful than the last. Soon, the other men's voices grew muffled, and dark spots clouded Daryl's vision. 

Once Merle figured that he had done a satisfying amount of damage, he rose to his feet, glaring down at his brother. "Don' mess wit' me, baby brudda."

Daryl didn't reply, but instead stared up at the ceiling. He felt humiliated, broken, and betrayed. A bunch of grown men had watched his older brother beat the living daylights out of him, and he did nothing to stop it. Slowly, everything faded away as flashes of his father's angry face swam in his mind.