Work Text:
Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or Daryl Dixon (sadly). All I own here is the plot :)
Calm. Peaceful. That's what he feels when he sits here, beside the creek, chucking sticks and stones into the shimmering water lazily, the breeze ruffling his tousled hair.
Sometimes Daryl wishes he could just float away with the current like the blades of grass he tosses in. Just lay down in the water, peaceful and quiet, and be swept far away.
His cheeks are tear stained, one eye blackened and still throbbing a little, blood drying under his nose and on his chin.
His daddy had whooped him good, his back was still stinging from the belt whipping he'd recieved upon returning home from school and getting caught with his sketch pad tucked under his arm.
Blood trickling down between his shoulder blades makes him shiver slightly, the sticky warm feeling all too familiar, reminding him that he'll have to go back sooner than he'd like.
Daryl sits there, quiet, hurt, wishing he had someone to talk to, a way of getting out of his miserable life. He wished Merle was here. When Merle was home, Daddy didn't beat on him so much. Merle saw to that most of the time.
Picking at the hole in his pants leg, he sighs, wincing when the movement makes the wounds on his back burn.
Down by the willow creek, it's quiet. Daryl can think, collect himself before returning home at dusk. It's calm and peaceful. No one laughs at him. No one yells at him or hits him. Down by the willow creek, Daryl can cry and wish and hope for something better.
At 15, Daryl doesn't know it yet, but someday, he'll be the man he wants to grow up to be. Someday, even when the world goes to hell and nothing seems to be for good anymore, Daryl's life will finally change, have new meaning. He'll be free. Daddy won't be able to hurt him anymore. Merle won't be able to laugh at him and call him a pansy. People will care. He'll feel the love and understanding he's always craved.
Down by the willow creek is where Daryl Dixon dreams...