While looking for Sophia, Daryl comes across a boy in the trees. He doesn't speak, doesn't communicate in any way and flaps his hands when he's happy. He's autistic and non-verbal and will not leave Daryl alone!
Also, future Carl Grimes x Male Oc...
(( Notes: I have been loving writing this story and I thought instead of making you wait, I'd post another chapter! Thank you so much for all the love and interactions! I'm looking forward for all of you to see what I have in store next ! Enjoy :3 ))
It's been days.
Hedley was back in his cell, this time not chained.
He was in the corner, knees brought to his chest. He's thirsty. He's hungry. But worst of all, he was lonely. He missed Carl. His dad. Merle.
Every time he thought about Merle, he'd cry. Not sob. He didn't have the energy for that. He'd just lean his head against the bricked wall and let the tears roll down his chin until they soaked the grit below.
The door opened and Fletcher came in with a tray of food. He placed it in front of Hedley.
"Eat up." He said, "Negan went to Alexandria this morning to collect more goods. He told me to feed you and to force it down your throat if you refuse."
Hedley looked at the tray and saw a plain roll and picked it up. He munched on it.
"Good."
Hedley, subconsciously, started to itch at the wound on his chest, the 'N' now scabbed and irritated.
Fletcher spotted it and knelt to his level, "Don't wanna do that or you'll make it bleed." He tried to pull Hedley's hand away but the boy backed away so he couldn't touch him. Fletcher sighed, "I didn't like him doing that to you. He never should've branded you like that."
"I didn't hear any o-objections from y-you." Hedley sneered.
The man nodded, "I know. I'm sorry."
Hedley looked down and saw the two knives strapped to Fletcher's thigh and shook his head, not wanting an apology.
"I gotta say, boy, you're tougher than I thought." He said, chuckling to himself. "And smarter too."
"I'm Autistic, not stupid."
"I get that now." He actually looked regretful which made Hedley's skin crawl. "I never should've doubted you. All those meltdowns and with the mutism. It was hard raising you. No discipline worked. No medications."
Fletcher used to drug him up on sleeping pills whenever he got tired of Hedley and locked in the closet whenever he had meltdowns. He used to strap him to the bed using rope so Hedley couldn't wander around at night. He used to lock the fridge and cupboards up so Hedley couldn't get in them. He never hit him. Or left any hand prints. But he didn't show love. Or compassion or patience.
Hedley stared at the man who raised him for the first nine years of his life with utter hatred. After finding out what real love, real family, felt like, he knew that the man in front of him was nothing but abusive.
Fletcher looked at Hedley and smiled, "You're my son. You're an O'Kelly. And I treated you badly. Could you ever forgive me?"
Hedley felt rage overwhelm him, the fight in him exploding. He pounced, took the knives out from their place on Fletcher's thigh, saddled the man and just started to stab him over and over and over and over again. Blood sprayed. The walls were covered as was Hedley.
Fletcher gurgled, blood pouring from his mouth.
"I am not your son." Hedley growled, lifting the knives up, "And I'm not an O'Kelly." Fletcher let out a choked wheeze. "I'm a Dixon." With those words, he slammed the blades into Fletcher's neck, slicing until his windpipe was gaping out from his neck.
As Fletcher took his last breath, Hedley watched, standing above him. He didn't hurt his brain and he wasn't going to. He wanted him to turn. He wanted him to be a surprise to the saviours that next came into the room. Hedley just took one last look at Fletcher's body then went out the door and into one of many corridors. His bare feet were cold on the concrete but he was used to it, he made his way down cautiously, knives ready.
The sudden sounds of voices startled him into going into the first room he found. It was empty with storage crap everywhere. He found some peanut butter and opened it up, shovelling it with his fingers into his mouth. He then saw some clothes and quickly stripped down. He took a pair of dark army green trousers, a black shirt and a red hoodie and quickly dressed.
He then saw a hat. It was small - clearly for a child - and it was grey, green and brown and it had dinosaurs on it. Having no self control, Hedley placed it on his head and was astonished by how it fit. He flapped his hands in a happy stim before finishing the peanut butter and looking around more to see if there was anything else useful.
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He saw a bag. Brown and a single side handle. He opened it. Empty. He then found some dried fruit and some biscuits and even a few bottles of water. He shoved them into the bag, zipped it up then went to go out the door but stopped when he heard footsteps going down the hall. He then made his way to the window of the room he was in and looked down. A row of motorbikes were seen and no one in sight. Hedley opened the window. He was three stories up but he knew it was his best option. He climbed out and grabbed hold of the drain pipes. With his strong toes and long fingers, he made his way down. He jumped the last window, landing with bent knees and a hand to the floor. He made his way to the motorbikes and saw that they all had the keys in the ignitions. He picked one. Black and brown with a big light on the front. The plate on the back said '92 FLYTR8P' which amused him. Just as he was about to pull it out from its stand, Fat Joey came into view, eating a burger.
Joey spotted him quickly, raising his arms and dropping his burger.
"Whoa. Whoa."
Hedley took out the knives he had, blood still stained them and his face.
"It's cool, I swear." Joey tried, "Kid, you can walk right out that back gate there, and I won't say anything to anybody." Hedley stepped towards him, tilting his head, "I'm supposed to be there now, but, listen, I'm -- I'm just trying to get by, just like you a-and your d-dad." Hedley was chest to chest with the man, "Please."
Hedley didn't say anything. He just swiped his knife across Joey's neck and he fell like a giant sack of potatoes, clawing at his bleeding throat. He saw Rick's gun and a radio poking out from Joey's pocket and took them, putting them in his bag.
Hedley listened to the gurgling as he hopped onto the bike, started the engine and drove - remembering the lessons he had with his dad.
He left, free and humming happily as he felt the vibrations of the bike.
And knowing Negan was at Alexandria, he headed to Hilltop.
