Chapter 1

The Escape

"Get back here you sorry piece of shit!"

Daryl Dixon ran out of his house as fast as he could, carrying with him a backpack of clothes and a crossbow his grandfather had given him when he was younger. He could hear his father's drunken voice yelling at him as he put distance between himself and the house but he continued to run...to where? He had no clue. He didn't really have any friends he could stay with. His dad made sure of that. He use to hang out with his brother Merle and his friends but Merle was in jail, again, and Daryl wasn't going to stay with people he didn't even like.

For as long as Daryl could remember, his dad had been a drunk. He refused to think of him as an alcoholic because alcoholics could be helped in Daryl's eyes. His dad was different. He couldn't be helped. His dad didn't want help. His dad was mean and didn't care. Growing up, Daryl was spared most of his dad's anger thanks to Merle, but when Merle went to juvenile hall for the first time, their dad turned his anger towards Daryl. At first, his dad would just slap him around. Being twelve years old, he really didn't try to fight back. As he got older and Merle left home, the slapping turned into punching which turned into being pushed down the stairs of his house and being kicked in the ribs until they broke.

Daryl did everything he could to avoid his dad's wrath. One night he came home from partying with Merle and Merle's friends to a locked house. He knew if he knocked on the door he would get the shit beat out of him. If he had fallen asleep on the porch and his dad saw him out there is was very likely he would get the crap kicked out of him or even pissed on by his dad. He decided then to crawl under the house and sleep. At least he would stay cool on that hot summer night.

Daryl continued to run until he came to a small creek that was located about four miles behind his house. He stopped running and sat down on a rock. Daryl looked around. He knew he was on his own now. He knew he couldn't go back. He was seventeen, he could take care of himself. He decided then that no matter what, he would finish his senior year of high school and then go to a technical school. He would make something of himself. He would be better than his dad and brother.

Looking out over the creek behind her grandparent's house, Ryann saw a young man sitting on a rock. She couldn't help but stare at him. To her, he was probably the most handsome man she had laid eyes on. He was well built, not overly muscular like those jocks at her old school, he had brown hair that looked lighter in streaks when the sun hit it just right. He was just perfect.

"Whatcha looking at Puddin?"

Ryann spun around and came face to face with her grandfather. "I was just checking out the scenery, Pops. It's nice out here."

"Yes, ma'am. It sure is." The older gentleman started to turn around when some movement down by the creek caught his eye. "Hmmph, scenery huh? That scenery happen to be that boy down there?"

Ryann blushed. Sometimes she wished she didn't turn quite so red when she was embarrassed. She ducked her head letting her long, wavy, chestnut colored hair fall over to cover her face.

"Well, that there would be Daryl Dixon. His momma died when he was real young, his dad is a drunk, his brother a druggie. I haven't heard anything about him though. He may be the only real man in that family." He draped his arm around his granddaughter's shoulder. "Be nice to him, Puddin'. Not many people are. They judge too quickly I'm afraid." With that being said, Ryann's grandfather turned and walked away.