Unbreakable threads

Chapter Twenty-five: Daryl gets hurt

Then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared in front of him—Merle. Or at least, a twisted vision of him. Daryl blinked, his heart pounding as he stared at his brother, who looked just as rough and sneering as he had in life, arms crossed, a mocking grin on his face.

"Looking for a little girl, little brother?" Merle's drawling voice cut through the air, cold and taunting. "Damn near dyin' for some kid you don't even know?" He laughed, the sound echoing through Daryl's mind like a cruel reminder of everything he'd always tried to ignore.

Daryl clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out the hallucination. But Merle's voice only grew louder, sharper, digging into him like the arrow in his side.

"Don't tell me this is who you are now," Merle sneered, circling him. "The good ol' hero, riskin' his neck for a little girl. Pathetic."

Daryl shook his head, trying to steady himself, but Merle's taunts only deepened. "And that other girl. Alyssa. She's got you wrapped 'round her finger, don't she?" Merle's grin twisted with a dark satisfaction. "Got you feelin' all soft and stupid, like she needs protectin'. Thinkin' you're some kind of savior, huh?"

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, his voice low and strained, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it out loud or just in his head.

But Merle didn't stop. He leaned in close, his face filling Daryl's vision, his voice a mocking whisper. "You're playin' with fire, little brother. Lookin' at her the way you do. She's just a kid, and you know it. But here you are, actin' like you care."

Daryl clenched his fists, anger and frustration boiling up inside him. He knew this wasn't real—that this was just a twisted part of himself, dredged up by the pain and blood loss. But the words cut deep because they echoed fears he'd never admitted to anyone.

"You're just like me, Daryl," Merle continued, his voice dripping with derision. "Doesn't matter how hard you try to change. You're nothin' more than a screw-up, gettin' in too deep, lettin' yourself care when you shouldn't."

Daryl let out a strangled growl, forcing himself to push past the vision, to focus on his climb. "I ain't you," he muttered, his voice a mix of defiance and pain. "I'm nothin' like you."

The hallucination of Merle only laughed, his voice fading as Daryl clawed his way forward, his determination overpowering the taunts and shadows haunting him. With every painful inch, he left Merle's words behind, forcing himself to keep going, driven by something stronger than his fears—a quiet resolve that he could be better than his past. That he could be someone who didn't let people down.

Daryl gritted his teeth, digging his hands into the dirt as he struggled to pull himself up the slope. The hallucination of Merle was relentless, his voice echoing through Daryl's mind like poison, dragging up insecurities Daryl had buried deep down.

"You like young girls now, little brother?" Merle sneered, his voice dripping with twisted amusement. "So damn scared to be around a real woman, you've got yourself hangin' around a teenager?"

Daryl felt a surge of anger flare in his chest, hot and furious. He knew, deep down, he didn't see Alyssa that way. She was just a kid, someone who looked up to him, who reminded him of himself in ways he couldn't ignore. But Merle's accusations sank into his mind, twisting the pure intentions he held into something ugly and cruel.

"Shut up," Daryl growled, his voice rough and strained, though he could barely hear himself over the pounding in his ears. He knew this wasn't real—knew that it was just his own mind, warped by pain and exhaustion. But the accusations stung, scratching at wounds he didn't want to acknowledge.

Merle's sneer grew sharper, more mocking. "Oh, I see how it is. You got all protective, crawlin' under that car with her, just 'cause you wanted to keep her safe?" He chuckled, the sound low and taunting. "Or maybe it was somethin' else. Maybe you just liked layin' there, real close..."