The elder brother remained silent for
a moment as he examined his sibling.
Merle knew their old man could
pack a punch, but was relieved
to see no visible bruising.
Still the thought of their old man
harming Daryl made him
swallow and his temper to rise.
“Where’s the ol’ fucker nahw?”
❝I dunno. Probably drinkin' 'imself to death in 'is chair or somethin'.❞ Daryl gave a small shrug of his shoulders, looking across to his brother. He kept his gaze lingering on him, observing him -- he could tell he was angry. ❝Forget it, Merle.❞













