America in catastrophe

Chapter 13

"How'd you get this one?"

Daryls fingers trace along a faint scar running my collarbone.

I shake my head, turning towards him. "One of my brothers wanted to be a doctor. He wanted someone to practice surgery on but all he had were the kitchen knives and a bottle of our dads vodka. I was six."

"What about this one?" His fingers slide across my collar down to the back of my arm muddled between the tattoos on my bicep.

"Learning how the safety works on the family guns."

He hisses as if feeling the burn. "How old?"

"Still six." I laugh. "We got left alone a lot."

His fingers slide back up, pushing my shirt sleeve with it and I tense. He runs his hand across the burns from the barn. "I'm sorry I didn't come back for you."

He pulls a little more and it's too late, the deep slash marks engraved into my shoulder blade are cold, despite his hot touch.

I launch away from him, dusting ash from my ass. "I'm going to have a shower." I blurt bounding down the stairs four at a time.

Rick and Maggie give me a weird look as I speed walk past them. I point vaguely to the showers and then duck my head.

I fall against the counter when my boots slide on a patch of wet tile.

I sit on the floor, back to the wall. Fighting the rising shake. My lungs wither like dead balloons.

Carl slides down the wall beside me. "Hi."

"Hi." I whisper. My hands are shaking.

Carl just sits very quietly. One arm pressed into my shoulder.

My ribs are rattling now. Like some stupid little cartoon skeleton. I can hear them in my ears.

Bone maracas.

"Beat it." Daryl steps into the shower room and trades places with Carl.

He waits for Carl to leave before he taps the floor gently. "Tell me something. Anything." He whispers.

I think my eyes are shaking now. The whole world might be shaking, shaking like my bones.

"If there's an earthquake, that makes coffins maracas..." I manage.

Daryl barks a startled laugh. "That's what yer thinking bout?"

"Bone maracas." I wheeze. Clamping down on the tremor in my chest.

Daryl keeps knocking on the floor. "Merles been askin bout ya."

I nod slowly. Inhaling slowly through my nose. "It's been a few years."

"Did ya know he was ma brother?" Daryl asks hand stilling on the tiles he stares out across the room.

"It wasn't until you left with him I put the pieces together. The bike, the attitude, the good looks." I shove his shoulder finally breathing in my first breath without the tremor.

He turns, pressing his lips to my cheek. "C'mon." He pulls me up with him.

Taz loops through daryls legs as we walk back through the prison.

"Merle! Get Yer ass up here." Daryl calls as we step through the doorway into the bright sun.

The cooling wind sweeps through me knocking me into Daryl.

Taz barks galloping down the yard towards Merle who pays him roughly on the head.

"Baby brother." He greets. "Shade."

I roll my shoulders. "Get your ass in here Dixon." I jump, hugging him fiercely around the neck.

Merle almost falls backwards catching me. "Chandler thought you was dead."

"Course he did, I'm the one who told him that." I laugh stepping back to daryls side.

Merle pales. "Yer old man-"

"He's dead Merle, drop it." I hiss.

Daryl looks between the two of us. "Hershel-"

"Hershel ain't ma dad." I look up to him. "I ain't a Greene."

Daryl scrunches his brows. "I always thought you were."

I laugh patting his shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm just a morrow. Shae Lynn morrow."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."