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Merle was thirteen when his father had beaten him so bad with a belt that he couldn't move. It wasn't the first time this had happened, far from it in fact, but never once had it been so severe, and that was because his mother had died. It was clear to see from the start that their father blamed himself for their mother's death, but to feel the consequences of that was something else entirely. Merle had told Daryl to hide, as he knew what was about to come. He knew the kid was smart, smarter than most kids should have to be at four years old. He knew he wouldn't come out until Merle told him to, but with how much pain he was in, he couldn't move. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. He knew his father couldn't care less about if he survived or not. He wanted him dead. Merle wouldn't have minded that either, except if he were dead, there wouldn't be anyone to take care of Daryl.
“Please.. Please be okay..” Daryl pleaded as he covered his brother in bandaids, unable to stop the tears from running down his face as he tried to stop the bleeding. “Please..”
“Daryl..?” Merle questioned as he raised his head off the floor ever so slightly, unable to miss how his brother lunged at him to hug him. "Hey, calm down. I'm alright.”
“You're bleeding!” Daryl cried out with a clear sense of panic, choking down a sob as he held onto his brother. “I can't.. I can't stop it.”
“Shhhhhh..” Merle hushed as he held his brother close to him, rubbing small circles on his back before he tried to lift himself up off the ground. “Go lie down.”
Merle was thankful; at times like this, Daryl knew to listen to him as he doubted that he would be able to deal with the pain if he had an audience. It took several attempts for him to lift himself off the floor and stumble into the bathroom to deal with his wounds. His back was a mess. He had deep lash marks from his daddy's belt. His skin had split open, and blood had saturated his shirt. He wouldn't doubt it if he had a few fractured ribs with how his sides ached, but as bad as it looked, he couldn't help but notice the rainbow and cartoon-themed bandaids that littered his skin. Daryl had found him unconscious on the floor and did the only thing he knew how to do. Merle took a breath and removed the bandaids from his back. He had to choke back a sob with each pull, but once the bandaids were off, he was about to wrap his wounds and head to bed. It wasn't perfect, but he would survive. Daryl didn't hesitate to nuzzle into his side. He looked so scared.
“I'm fine.” Merle whispered as he saw Daryl stare up at him with this worried expression written across his face, wrapping an arm around his baby brother protectively before he continued. “Go to sleep.”
“I love you, Mer.” Daryl whispered back as he pressed his face into his brother's side, not bothering to hide how scared he remained even with the assurance. “One day.. One day I'll be big and strong, and then no one will hurt us.”
“One day.” Merle sighed as he rubbed small circles on his brother's back, doing his best to comfort him. “Go to sleep.”