The pain was excruciating as the saw tore into the flesh of Merle's wrist. The only thing keeping him attached to the conscious world, was his desire to exact revenge on those that had forced him to disfigure himself in such a way. "I'll fuckin tear him to pieces." he yelled as the saw began to scrape against the bone. "I'll rip him limb from limb" Merle paused for a second as another wave of nausea emerged in his throat. Taking a deep breath and releasing it with an agonizing growl, he continues with the tortuous mutilation needed to free himself of his restraints. "I'm gonna find Daryl and we'll mess that cop up. And his pet Afro-American" A jolt of pain shoots through him as Merle manages to crack through the first of the two large wrist bones. So far, the belt was keeping the blood loss to a minimum but that didn't matter to the hungry mob on the other side of the stairwell door. As soon as the first drop of Merle's blood hit the rooftop, it was like a dinner bell had gone off. Any second now that chain holding them in the stairwell was going to snap and Merle was determined to not still be there when it did.
His head started to spin as he feverishly fought with the hand saw to finish his task. Staring down at his half attached hand, Merle started to feel detached from what was taking place. His mind started to drift as visions of the pre-apocalyptic world started to flow in as quickly as his energy was flowing out. Young Daryl looking up at him whenever he was about to head out on the road again. "Stupid kid. I ain't got time for your little snot nose followin me around." He recalled yelling back as he would walk out the door leaving his younger sibling alone. Weeks would go by, sometimes months before Merle would swing back home and Daryl would be right back up his ass again. "Go away" he'd shove his brother down on the floor. "I'm not here to play with you." No matter how hard he'd push that little shit away, he'd keep after Merle whenever he could. And just like every other time, Merle would leave. It wasn't until their mother went and burnt herself up smoking in bed that Merle had to deal with his little brother more. As the only living relative, Merle was all Daryl had left.
SNAP...went the second bone and the new wave of agony reels Merle back to the present. "GOD DAMMIT!!!!!" With one more violent shove of the saw, Merle's hand falls to the rooftop and he is free. "Hallelujah" Merle's eyes immediately look up toward the sky "Not giving you any thanks" Oh hell no. I did this without your help." He waves the bloodied saw at the sky. "I did this. I ain't owing you nothin!!" He throws down the saw and pulls himself up shakily to his feet. Quickly he grabs a few tools and a rag from the tool bag and presses it tight over the wound before making his way to the stairwell on the other side of the roof. The door opens and Merle looks back to the other door where the rotted arms were still fighting to get at him. "Kiss my ass freaks!"he yells over. "Nobody is eatin Merle Dixon." He steps into the stairwell and moves cautiously down the steps as the door closes behind him.
His head started to spin as he feverishly fought with the hand saw to finish his task. Staring down at his half attached hand, Merle started to feel detached from what was taking place. His mind started to drift as visions of the pre-apocalyptic world started to flow in as quickly as his energy was flowing out. Young Daryl looking up at him whenever he was about to head out on the road again. "Stupid kid. I ain't got time for your little snot nose followin me around." He recalled yelling back as he would walk out the door leaving his younger sibling alone. Weeks would go by, sometimes months before Merle would swing back home and Daryl would be right back up his ass again. "Go away" he'd shove his brother down on the floor. "I'm not here to play with you." No matter how hard he'd push that little shit away, he'd keep after Merle whenever he could. And just like every other time, Merle would leave. It wasn't until their mother went and burnt herself up smoking in bed that Merle had to deal with his little brother more. As the only living relative, Merle was all Daryl had left.
SNAP...went the second bone and the new wave of agony reels Merle back to the present. "GOD DAMMIT!!!!!" With one more violent shove of the saw, Merle's hand falls to the rooftop and he is free. "Hallelujah" Merle's eyes immediately look up toward the sky "Not giving you any thanks" Oh hell no. I did this without your help." He waves the bloodied saw at the sky. "I did this. I ain't owing you nothin!!" He throws down the saw and pulls himself up shakily to his feet. Quickly he grabs a few tools and a rag from the tool bag and presses it tight over the wound before making his way to the stairwell on the other side of the roof. The door opens and Merle looks back to the other door where the rotted arms were still fighting to get at him. "Kiss my ass freaks!"he yells over. "Nobody is eatin Merle Dixon." He steps into the stairwell and moves cautiously down the steps as the door closes behind him.
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