Losing Control ➵ The Walking Dead

CHAPTER SIX

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It was hard for Dory, not knowing exactly where her brother was - let alone knowing who was still alive. The last time she saw them, they were watching the prison burn to the ground - before turning and walking down the train tracks avoiding the signs for a safe haven called Terminus. She wanted to see her brother again. She wanted to tell him she forgave him after the last fight they had before the prison fell. The last thing she said to her brother being that she hated him.

But Dory didn't hate her brother. She hated that he was so protective, that he hardly let her go on runs. Instead she would stay back at the prison and help train Carl and Raina. Daryl would never let Dory do anything without himself, Rick or Glenn beside her because "you're my little sister. You'll do what I tell you too." even if she was almost 30. Age didn't matter to Daryl, Dory was still his younger sister. It was his job since they were kids, to keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe.

The Dixon's were made for the apocalypse. They were born to hunt, to defend themselves. They knew how to survive well enough to never need a group. But Dory was always different from her older brothers. Instead of paying attention while hunting she would sit and pick flowers, sometimes she would even make flower crowns for her brothers to wear. Merle almost never wore the crowns, instead telling the youngest to make him a bracelet. But Daryl would always wear his just to see how big Dory would smile. If she wasn't making flower jewelry for her brothers, Dory would bring a pocket full of peanuts and sit and feed chipmunks. Merle would always laugh when the two brothers would find young Dory sitting and feeling the chipmunks, calling her 'Snow white' because of it.

Dory missed her brothers, but spent weeks angry at Merle for leaving the group to go after the Governor alone. She remembered that day like it was just yesterday.

"What the hell are you two doing down here?" Dory asked, stepping into the boiler room in the basement of the prison. Daryl and Merle were standing there talking in hushed whispers. "Nothing kid, just looking for something to hit." Merle replied, a chuckle leaving him right after. Dory rolled her eyes and growled walking up to the man and hitting the back of his head. "Are you dumb? Or are you just trying to ruin the one last thing your siblings have?" she asked the oldest Dixon sibling.

"Yeah you see, I noticed that. You two made yourselves a little family here huh? But what about me?" Merle shot back, making her step away from him. "How many times do we have to tell you we went back for you? I'm sorry we didn't spend the rest of our lives hunting down a ghost but you're here now! You should be happy we're alive and you should be happy that Rick let you stay after I stuck my neck out on the line for you! So don't fuck this up Merle. I know that's going to be hard for you since your whole life is a long line of fuck ups!"

"Dory, that's enough." Daryl finally said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "No, no. Let the little one tell me how much I fucked up since she thinks I never took a hit for her from the old man." Merle replied to Daryl, standing up taller and crossing his arms over his chest.

"When Merle? When the fuck were you there? In between your time in juvie and jail? Oh no I forgot! You left to go hook up with whores and sniff any drug you could get your hand on! While Daryl and I took the beatings! You want to know my favourite thing about dad? Was when he put the buckle on the belt to see how much I'd bleed, like it was a fucking game to him! You didn't do shit for me then, so I doubt you'd do shit for me now!" Dory growled before storming out of the boiler room and back up to where her friends were.

Dory reached up and touched the top of her back, feeling the divots from the scars her father had left years ago. The scars themselves didn't hurt anymore, just the memories of her on the ground in the living room, begging her father to stop hurting her. The door to her trailer opened and none other than Paul himself walked in to find the woman sitting with her hand on her shoulder rubbing it lightly. "What's wrong?" he asked, setting the book he was holding on the small table tucked in the corner of the room.

"Oh, nothing." Dory said, pulling her hand away from her shoulder and placing it on her lap. Paul walked up to her, sitting behind her on the bed and reaching out to touch her over shoulder. "May I?" he asked, feeling her stiffen under his touch. The two don't share a title, let alone hardly share a bed. When Dory first showed up at the Hilltop it was skin and bones. She came around and built the walls up. She put everything into making a community that would work for them. Dory never had time for a relationship, but Paul would come and go when he knew she needed someone to hold her as she broke. Someone to help lift her back up so she could get her back to where she needed to be.

Dory nodded her head and the man slowly lifted her shirt. He found scars, old and deep - dark purple and slightly blue. They had healed many years ago and over time but with the war of fighting for survival, more scars overlapped the old ones. But Dory could tell you what every single one was from. "It was my father." Dory finally spoke up. "Well most of them at least." she whispered. It wasn't easy to forget about it. Hell, she didn't think she ever would.

"He can't hurt you like that Dory, not anymore." Paul whispered, placing a soft kiss to the top of one of the many scars. "No one will hurt you like this again. We'll find your brother and put your family back together I promise."

"You're my family now." she whispered, reaching back and grabbing his hand in her own.