You couldn’t question how you got up here.

Sitting in the back of Merles truck with Daryl and Merle in the front, the sound of country music faintly playing over the radio as no words were said right now between the three of you, just staring out over the edge of the mountain view at your small town, and with the borrowed pair of binoculars if you looked through the tree-line you could see the faint city lights of Atlanta.

You three were previously at the county fair about an hour ago until a group of young men approached you, asking you some flirty questions before Merle suddenly popped off and beat most of them to a pulp, causing you three to get kicked out and banned.

So after stopping and getting some cheap booze you landed yourselves up here, the smell of merles cigarette clouding your senses causing you to open the backseat window a crack.

Your thoughts momentarily went to your parents: Your drunken father and your deadbeat mother. Did they care where you were? Did they care if you were ok? Did they care that you’d been hanging about with the abusive neighbours two sons? You didn’t know, and frankly, you didn’t quite care.

A small shiver ran through your body, even in the heat of June, you were still cold most of the time. Your movement made Merle look over his shoulder at you, and smiling pretty arrogantly he rolled back the drivers seat chair enough to pick you up and sit you on his lap in the drivers seat, cradling your body to his for warmth.

“See tha’ light down there Babygirl?-” he began with his usual nickname “tha’s Cunningham’s ol’ garage, you can tell from the flicker of the lights outside.” He said as he listed off more places; his hometown memorised from his usual visits up here. “An’ down there is Dennis’s off-licence” he said with a smirk as you watched.

“Tha’s the grocery store you fuckin’ dim-wit” Daryl said, calmly sipping the beer. “Shut it baby brother” Merle replied snappily at Daryl still holding your body to his, one hand around your waist and in the other his cigarette.