Dark Intentions│Daryl Dixon✔️

P R O L O G U E

I remembered the lights—red and blue, flashing. I remembered first seeing the beautiful White House surrounded by the farm of cows. It was sad that I'd never seen such beauty before. My small little fingers left prints on the cop's back window.

"Here we are, sweetheart. Ready to meet your daddy?" He was a kind officer. He treated me well. I wasn't used to such kindness either but that was the true question, wasn't it? Was I ready to meet a dad that abandoned me and my mom years ago? No but that wasn't up to me..

We approached the house where a man and two young girls along with two women and another man stood. My throat had never really felt so closed up before..

"Bring er' on in." The man with two hands on either little girl's shoulder said to the sheriff.

That was how I was introduced to my father. At age 12. 'Bring er' in in' was actually code for 'oh no, he comes my major mistake.'

For years, my life consisted of talking to cows and horses. Reading them stories. The cows didn't correct me or scold me for getting a word wrong. I didn't get to go to a real school with Maggie and Beth—I was homeschooled by Patricia. She was nice but if Hershel heard me screwin' up, well, you could bet your ass it would be bruised.

I was only six and so I didn't really understand why I didn't get the things Maggie and Beth did. I truly thought I was special. I fought for Hershel's affection. I wanted to please him in any way possible. I did most of the chores around the farm, telling Maggie and Beth I'd even do theirs.

I hated feeling strange when Hershel gave me an odd look. It was one of dissatisfaction. I did everything I could. I was cleaning the horses hooves when I was 12, gathering eggs when I was 14, herding Cattle before I turned 16. Again, Hershel gave me the same looks.

I knew he was my dad but when I called him such, he scolded me and demanded that I call him by his proper name—Hershel and to make him proud, I did.

Then the world went to shit. My mother was rushed to the Greene farm a year later because she was having crazy spells and acting like a lunatic. She thought someone was out to get her. It didn't surprise me that she'd finally lost her mind after....

Well, I'm not quite ready to go into that story yet. It still hurts me and I'm afraid if I give that little tale away, I'll loose myself too..

Hershel was forced to take her in. It seemed I was the only one that could calm her—surprise, surprise. She often had spells where she grew violent in some delusional self defense and I'd take the beating.

I didn't mind, really. I kind of like the stings and bruises of her slaps and punches. I'd always felt as if I'd done something wrong. The beatings were just another, different, form of punishment. For so long it'd been my mental state that had taken the hits. I was emotionally challenged by the time I hit 20. I was distant, cold.

I got myself into fights on purpose. I would steal Hershel's secret stash of booze and gulp down like chocolate milk. I let the boys take me in their locker room. All of this because I had no control.

You can frown at me but I thank myself for that crazy spell I went through.

Cause being a little crazy goes a looooong way when a world becomes filled to the brim with horror but somehow I was used to it.

My whole life was filled with it..

I let it consume me..