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Merle's grave was nothing but a messy lump of dirt, a slanted little mound of prison-yard earth that looked like trash tossed aside. Daryl had scrounged up some rock for a headstone, tilting crookedly in front, just like Merle’s drunk, swaying posture.
You stared at the grave and let out a scoff. So loud when he was alive—always yelling, bragging, running his mouth. Can’t talk now, can he?
So quiet.
You plucked a few blades of grass, tore them into pieces, and laid them one by one on his headstone.
“Hope you’re comfortable down there, you bastard. How’s it feel to be a hero? Really fucking great, huh? Bet you’d say, ‘I saved the whole damn prison—how ‘bout you get on your knees and suck my dick and say thank you?’ Well, here’s my answer: that doesn’t sound too good, and no, I’m definitely not thanking you.”
The moment you said it, you could almost hear Merle’s ghost pouncing on the loophole, crowing, ‘If you won’t say thank you, then you’re volunteering to suck my dick, right? Surely you did that plenty of times, didn't you darling?’
So you kicked at the yellow dirt, disgusted, and snarled, “And don’t get any ideas—not sucking your dick either. I told you not to do anything stupid…”
Lizzie ran over and asked, “Miss Y/N, what are you doing?”
You jerked your chin toward the grave. “Talking to Merle is what I’m doing. That stupid piece of…well, you know him.”
Mika tilted her head, puzzled. “Merle? Who’s that?”
You stared in disbelief. “No way. You must’ve seen him. Merle? The one who went out on runs with me all the time in Woodbury? Stood next to the Governor with me? That day we had our battle fight, the whole town came to watch, cheering, the Governor even acted as the referee. Remember?”
Lizzie shook her head. “We heard about it, but Dad said we were too young to watch grown-up fights. Said they were too violent.”
Mika added, “So we played games inside and read books instead.”
You pressed a hand to your forehead. “That’s called parenting, huh? Good job your father done.”
…and stupid too. Too damn good a game to miss. It was Merle and you, like you said, you muttered inside, not aloud.
“Anyway, I’m just talking to him a bit. You kids leave us a minute?” You gestured between yourself and the grave, looking down at the two girls who only came up to your waist.
The sisters nodded cheerfully and ran off, already chattering about some book Carol read them and a little mouse they’d caught earlier.
You pointed after them. “See that? Kids don’t even know you. All the supplies we hauled back seem like a waste on the wrong people. You died a fool, playing hero for these folks. Could you be any dumber? Who even remembers you, besides your baby brother? Like anyone’s grateful. Two months, and I bet everyone’s forgotten you already. Called you an idiot for a reason. Now you’ve really gone and proved it…”
A morning breeze swept through, scattering the shredded grass into the dust and weeds. Your throat felt as dry and choked as that dirt.
You cleared your throat and kept muttering at the headstone.
“Look at you. A dirty, vicious, selfish son of a bitch, pulling a suicide move. What did you want, Merle? Did you really think you’d make it back in one piece, or were you just too drunk and looking for a way out? Cause the way I see it, it didn’t turn out funny at all, your silly ass.”
The faint smile on your lips vanished. You ripped up a handful of grass, roots and all, and threw it onto his grave.
“You’re driving me insane, you know that? Half of me thinks you died a joke. The other half of me…”
You snarled through clenched teeth; the crisp prison air trembled in your chest. You snatched up that cold metal stump he used to wear and swung it like a club. Not at Merle’s marker, but at another big anonymous rock nearby. A harsh clang rang out, stinging your palms, and made Michonne glance over from a distance.
Breathing heavily, you tossed the scrap back to the ground. Then, drained, you said with eerie calm, “The other half of me wants to dig you up, shake you awake, and strangle you dead all over again.”
“So listen up, you damn bastard.”
“I hate you.”
“And you can rot in hell.”
You said it clearly, lightly, almost like an incantation, but hell knows you are damn serious.
A gust swept over the graves, lifting a few dead leaves. No retort from Merle. No ghostly echo. Just you, alone with a mound of dirt that would never answer. The world was silent, and lonely.
You ignored whatever emotion pulsed in your chest and stubbornly went on, “Stay put in hell. Yes, you heard me. Don’t think a last-minute redemption gets you into heaven. You know where you belong.”
“Bet you’re not lonely down there, right? All your old buddies are probably hell-bound too. That's plenty of company. But with the world gone to shit, maybe things are different. Maybe they’re all just hungry walkers now. So enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“And don’t wait around for your brother. He’s doing great at the prison, bringing in meat, supplies, survivors. Everyone’s bowing and scraping. He’s heaven-bound. You two are better off apart; face it, he’s better off without you.”
“His life’s pretty sweet now. Remember Jenny? Yep, the one from Woodbury you hit on who shot you down. Well, that may include just every single woman in Woodbury. Anyway, guess what? She’s basically throwing herself at him now, real enthusiastic. You should’ve seen him—so awkward, so stiff. Hilarious. You two came from the same root, but you’re worlds apart. He’s actually liked.”
“So what, you went after the Governor alone ‘cause you wanted to be like him? Jealous? Well, stay jealous. You’re dead now—how you gonna compete? Jenny wouldn’t have looked twice at you. Hell, I think I’m the only one in this whole prison who’d even sleep with you a few times. Don’t think I’m staying faithful or playing widow—we weren’t anything. You never asked me to be your girlfriend, your wife. Even if you had, I’d have said no.”
“Stay jealous! I’ve got more guys chasing me than your brother has girls. They trail after me like puppies, bringing gifts, checking in every day. Get it? And now you can’t even slam a door. Remember that Teddy Bear Tyreese? The one you were so jealous of? Maybe I’ll let him put it in me, not far from your grave. If we do, you can enjoy the live show from six feet under. Free porn, don’t thank me for that. Bet I’ll moan louder than I ever did with you. What you gonna do? Claw your way out of hell to stop me?”
Michonne called your name from the prison gate. Time to go. You lifted your head and shouted back, “One more minute!”
You slung your bag over your shoulder. Before turning away, you cast one last look at that mound of dirt.
Your voice dropped to an intimate, terrifying promise. Squinting, you savored the sweet, bitter thought: “But don’t worry too much about being lonely down there. I’ll send that coward, the Governor, to keep you company. Got a feeling it won’t be long.”
You smiled, relishing the words hanging in the air and the imagined look on Merle’s face. “I promise… he’ll miss you even more than I miss you.”
You turned and walked briskly toward Michonne waiting at the gate, as if you’d just finished a pleasant stroll. Hidden in your sleeve, your nails dug hard into your palm—the sharp pain made your smile even brighter.