Ab spielte er in der Zombieserie The Walking Dead die Rolle des Merle Dixon, dem Bruder des Daryl Dixon, dargestellt von Norman Reedus. Am Merle, der ältere Bruder von Daryl Dixon, war ein typischer rassistisch angehauchter Südstaaten-Redneck, der es liebte seine Späße auf Kosten anderer zu. Y/N was looting an old Drugstore, when she came across Rick, Shane and the not so friendly Daryl. She went back with them to the farm, but things didn't go so.
Merle Dixon Meistgelesen
Merle Dixon ist eine fiktive Figur aus der Horror-Drama-Fernsehserie The Walking Dead, die auf AMC in den USA ausgestrahlt wird. Er wurde vom Serienentwickler Frank Darabont erstellt und von Michael Rooker porträtiert. Merle Dixon ist ein Hauptcharakter und ein ehemaliger Antagonist, sowie ein Überlebender des. Merle Dixon hat sich dem Gouverneur angeschlossen und hat sich in Woodbury zu seiner rechten Hand entwickelt. Dennoch hat er nie aufgehört, seine Bruder. Merle Dixon, gespielt von Michael Rooker, gehört der Gruppe um Shane Walsh an. Als er sich mit Rick Grimes anlegt, fesselt dieser ihn mit Handschellen ans. Jul 23, - Merle Dixon (Daryl's brother) More. Ab spielte er in der Zombieserie The Walking Dead die Rolle des Merle Dixon, dem Bruder des Daryl Dixon, dargestellt von Norman Reedus. Am Merle, der ältere Bruder von Daryl Dixon, war ein typischer rassistisch angehauchter Südstaaten-Redneck, der es liebte seine Späße auf Kosten anderer zu.
Merle Dixon, gespielt von Michael Rooker, gehört der Gruppe um Shane Walsh an. Als er sich mit Rick Grimes anlegt, fesselt dieser ihn mit Handschellen ans. Schau dir unsere Auswahl an merle dixon an, um die tollsten einzigartigen oder spezialgefertigten, handgemachten Stücke aus unseren Shops zu finden. Jul 23, - Merle Dixon (Daryl's brother) More.
Daryl was sobbing still, but mostly he was calling for Mama. When he finally exhausted himself and fell asleep, Merle waited another ten minutes or so before he slipped back out of the tent, slowly zipping it up behind him.
If Daryl woke up, Merle would be close enough to hear him cry out. He really hoped the boy stayed sleeping. He had been through enough tonight, without adding waking up locked inside a dark tent alone to that.
Merle moved quickly back to the house. He was just tall enough to be able to see through the windows and as he stepped up to his Mama's room he silently prayed that the bastard was gone.
When he looked the prick was holding his Mama's wallet and pulling all the money out of it. Merle watched as he spit at her and said something cruel, before he left.
He stood unmoving until he heard the engine turn over, when the car pulled away from the house, Merle jumped into action. He rushed into the house, stopping in the kitchen to call for an ambulance, then headed back to his Mama's room.
He tried not to look at the damage that was done, instead grabbing a pillow and the sheet from the bed. He placed the pillow on the floor and gently as he could he rolled her over.
She cried out, trying to fight him weakly with her hands, so he started speaking to her. Telling her that it was him. That he loved her and that help was coming.
When he had her settled on her back he covered her with the sheet and told her that he had to go get Daryl, but he'd be right back.
Daryl was still sleeping when he made it back to the tent. He hauled him out hoping he didn't wake him, but the boy must have tired himself out with all the crying because they made it back to the house and got him settled in his bed before the sirens could be heard.
Merle let them in the door and led them through the house to the back bedroom. He watched from a corner as they ripped the sheet off of her, exposing the damage his Daddy had done for all the world to see.
They tried to get her to talk to them, her eyes were open and watching, but she never said a word. They worked quickly, whispering to each other and shooting glances his way.
When they had her loaded up on the gurney and where ready to move her out, Merle stepped forward. She didn't turn her head to look at him, just kept her eyes on the ceiling.
One of the men stayed back, watching as his partner rolled Mama out of the room. Merle just nodded his head, keeping his eyes on the now empty doorway.
When he couldn't hear the siren anymore, he moved about the room, picking up the bloody sheet and pillow, stuffing them in the laundry basket.
He then went to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of water and the scrub brush that Mama used to clean the floor. An hour later, his face was wet with tears and the carpet was as clean as he was going to get it.
He dumped the dirty water out into the toilet, watching the pink pour out into the bowl. Merle couldn't hold back any longer and what little supper he had in him, joined the bloody water.
He put the bucket and brush away, before going back to his and Daryl's room. The three year old was still sleeping, when Merle grabbed up his hunting knife and sat down on the edge of his bed.
He waited the rest of the night, watching over his baby brother, and waiting for his bastard Daddy to come back. In the morning, he packed up Daryl's things, taking him to the neighbor lady's house, before heading to school.
All day he waited, waited for the police to come talk to him, waited for word that his Mama was all right, but he was never pulled out of class.
After school he headed back to the neighbor's to pick up Daryl. He brought him home, fed him and sent him to their room to play with what little toys they had, while he waited for the police to come talk to him.
Two days past the same as that one. Merle would drop Daryl off, go to school, pick the boy up and wait for someone to come speak to him.
They never came. They ran out of food by the weekend and didn't have any money to get more. Merle had stopped at his Mama's job to get her pay, the day before, but left fuming when he was told that his Daddy had already picked it up.
He got home hoping to find the fucker there, but the bastard had taken off again. Saturday was miserable, he fed Daryl the last can of soup and a few crackers that were left and by night fall, Merle's stomach was grumbling something fierce.
Over the years, Merle had been friends with a kid that lived a few streets away. The boy's Daddy was a good man, when compared to what Merle was used to, and he used to take them hunting on the night's that Merle would spend the night.
The man had even given him a bow with some arrows for Christmas a few years back. He had hidden the bow out in the tent that he had in the woods, afraid that his Daddy would find it and take it from him.
Sunday morning, Merle got up before the sun and left Daryl sleeping, knowing the boy wouldn't be up for another hour or so, and headed out to try to get some food.
His friend's Daddy had called him a natural and Merle, not used to compliments had shrugged it off, but when he stepped out of the woods carrying two squirrels and a rabbit he thought that maybe the man was right.
He and Daryl didn't go hungry that day. On Monday, when he brought his brother to the neighbor's house, the lady told him that this would have to be the last time.
She couldn't afford to watch his brother for free, but she was real sorry. That was the last day that Merle went to school. He tried to find a job, but no one wanted to hire a boy who wasn't even sixteen yet.
He took to going off hunting every morning to feed them. After a week past, he headed down to the payphone, since the phone company had shut theirs off a few days before, and called the hospital.
He listened, with one hand tightly clutching the receiver and the other holding Daryl's hand firmly so he wouldn't wander off, as the nurse told him that his Mama was gone.
The hospital had let her go days before, but she never came home. That night when the front door opened, Merle had jumped up from the table, where he and Daryl were eating the remains of a rabbit that he had gotten that morning.
He came up short when he spotted his Daddy there instead. His disappointment must have shown, because Daddy just smirked at him.
You'd do well to remember that. Merle watched the bastard grab his plate and finish off the rabbit before taking Daryl's and finishing that one, too.
His brother was whimpering in his chair, big fearful eyes watching the man as he ate the rest of their food. When his whimpers turned to cries, Daddy hauled off and smacked him, causing the boy to start screaming.
Merle rushed forward when his Daddy stood up, reaching for his belt. He grabbed Daryl from his chair and ran out the door, the bastard's laughter ringing in his ears.
He knew he might pay for it later, if the man stuck around, but he wouldn't let his brother be hurt. From that night on, they had taken to sleeping in the tent, out in the woods.
Merle had slowly filled it with Daryl's toys, some blankets and a flashlight. He would hunt in the early morning hours, cooking what he got over a small fire pit that he had dug.
What he couldn't hunt for, bread, cans of vegetables and batteries for the flashlight, he had taken to stealing. They would go back to the house, when they knew Daddy was out and he would let Daryl watch the television, while he washed the little bit of clothes they owned.
It went on like that for years. When Merle turned sixteen, he was able to get someone to hire him, only his Daddy found out.
Just like with Mama, Daddy would take the money that Merle had worked hard for. He tried to fight the man, at first, but that only got him beaten so bad that he blacked out.
When he came to, six year old Daryl was sitting next to him, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. His brother had learned to be silent, invisible, just like he had, when their Daddy was around.
Any free time that Merle had was spent teaching his baby-bro, how to hunt and how to fight. His brother turned out to be even better than him with a bow and arrow, and he could track game well enough that he was able to bring down larger animals.
Merle tried to teach him how to survive as best he could, but no matter how well either of them did out in the woods, it was even harder to survive inside their house.
Now that Mama wasn't around, Daddy had gotten to taking his anger out on his two sons, leaving both boys bleeding and unconscious, more than once.
The older that they got, the worse the beatings got. Learning to be a man, their Daddy would call it.
The longer it went on, the more times that they got caught by him, the more both boys would curse their Mama for leaving them with the monster that had fathered them.
At eighteen, Merle was working over forty hours a week. He still got up before the sun to hunt with Daryl, before heading to work and not getting back until well after the sun disappeared for the night.
His Daddy still took the money that he worked hard for, leaving him to keep stealing what they couldn't afford. The bastard had taken to leaving him be.
Only spewing hatred at him, but Daryl wasn't so lucky. The number of scars on the boy's body grew, as he got older. Daddy had taken to whipping him whenever he could catch him.
He never did it when Merle was home, but in those days, he was never home. When he was home, he was too tired to do much more than eat before falling into bed.
It was around that time that a guy he worked with gave him his first taste of the fine white powder that became his best friend.
Almost six years had passed since their Mama had left them, and Merle hated her more and more each day for it. He began to steal more, not just food and batteries anymore, now it was bigger things.
Things that he could sell for more money, money that he used to buy more drugs. It wasn't long before Merle wound up in jail for the first time.
He had been lucky for so long, not to get caught, but like everything else in his life, the luck didn't last.
Prison made him harder, angrier than he had ever been. When they let him out after three months, he came home to a bruised and battered brother who barely spoke, and an even drunker, more violent Daddy.
With no money for food or drugs, Merle took to stealing anything he could get money for. Daryl had only gotten better at hunting, telling Merle that it was easy since be barely left the woods at all.
When he was in there, he became invisible, tracking down game that Merle had never been able to land before. Merle was out of jail maybe a month, when he came home one night high as a kite, to find a couple of half cleaned beavers on the kitchen table.
Blood and guts were dripping onto the floor and his brother's screams coming from the back of the house. He flew into a rage, going through the house at full speed, and tackling his Daddy away from his bleeding brother.
His Daddy, stunned, didn't have time to react, giving Merle the upper hand. He pummeled his fist into the fucker's face.
Over and over, until the bastard was finally able to throw him off. His Daddy had blood all over his face and it looked like his nose was broken. Merle's satisfaction was short-lived, as his Daddy stood and kicked him in the gut before hightailing it out of there.
He stayed on the floor until he heard the door slam shut. When he was able to catch his breath, he stood with an arm wrapped around his middle, cursing the bastard the whole time.
The cocaine still pumping through his system, fueling his anger, leaving his only outlet his baby brother. He ignored the open wounds on the ten year old's back and sides.
Daddy didn't ever come back to the house. Merle heard coupla days later that he had raped and beaten, almost to death, a fifteen year old girl who lived a few streets over.
The girl's brother had caught the fucker in the act. By the time the police showed up, the girl was taken to the hospital and his Daddy and the brother were hauled off to jail.
The police made the "mistake," as they called it, of not separating the two. Daddy was dead by the morning.
The Dixon boys were once again left alone to fend for themselves, not like they ever stopped. A week or two went by, that time spent hiding his brother from the state that was trying to take him away.
Merle was told because he had a record, that he was unfit to raise his brother. It didn't matter how many times he told them that he had been doing it since their Mama had split, or that the only reason that he went to jail was because he was trying to keep them fed.
They didn't listen and finally told him that if he didn't hand over Daryl, they would take him back to jail. They didn't get the chance. Daryl had taken to sleeping in the tent that they still kept out in the woods, just in case the social services people showed up.
The last time they had come by, they had told Merle he had two days to give up the boy or they were coming with the police.
He and Daryl were planning on running, leaving the house and the small town they lived in their whole lives behind.
They had gone hunting that morning, Daryl intent on bringing down something that would hold them over until they found some place else to settle, and Merle was being surly, the effects of the last of his coke stash wearing off long ago.
He spent the time in the woods taunting his brother, telling him that he was useless and that he should let the state take him away.
The ten year old, just continued on his way, tracking whatever it was that he was after. Merle didn't care that he was being loud and probably scaring the game away with his loudness.
The boys ended up settling for a few squirrels, anything bigger was long gone. Daryl was pissing him off, the more the boy ignored him, the angrier he would get.
By the time they reached the house, at around eleven, Merle was ready to snap. He had never laid hands on his brother, but the lack of drugs and all the shit that he had no control over, was getting to him.
When they got inside, Daryl put the dead squirrels on the table, grabbing his knife and began going to work cleaning them. Merle was seething, fists clenched.
He took a step towards his brother. The only thing that stopped him was a noise at the back of the house. The back bedroom door opened and out stepped their Mama.
Not noticing, or ignoring, their shocked expressions. I was so worried. Merle was boiling over with rage. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
His Mama was hugging Daryl to her body. His brother's face was peeking at him over her arm, his eyes wide with shock.
Merle knew that Daryl didn't barely know their Mama. He couldn't even remember what she had looked like.
Their Daddy had burned all the pictures in the house after she had taken off, and his brother knew better than to mention her to either of them.
He found himself stepping more into the kitchen. A small painful feeling popping up into his chest, as he look at the woman that had birthed him and care for him for years, only to leave him and his baby brother to a man who got off on hurting women and children.
The feeling disappeared, leaving nothing but a hatred that had grown for six years. In some ways he hated her more than he hated his Daddy. When she turned around to look at him, her scarred lips stretched into a wide smile, which slowly faded away.
Merle realized that he was moving closer to her, when a long since forgotten look of fear took over her face. He stopped dead, saw the tears building in her eyes, and saw the matching ones in the eyes of his baby brother, a sick feeling formed in his gut.
All his life he had heard people whisper about how much he looked like his Daddy, about how Daryl was lucky to look like Mama.
Now, seeing the fear in both their eyes, made him want to puke. He ran out of the house faster than he ever had before, stopping only to dry heave in the gutter, seeing as his stomach was empty.
Daryl was chasing after him, calling his name, but he kept going. When he finally managed to lose the boy, he quickly doubled back, knowing that it wouldn't take long before Daryl picked up his trail again.
The boy was too damn good at tracking. He headed into a bar, one of his Daddy's favorites, and ordered a double shot of Jack. He downed it in one and ordered another.
Turning on the barstool, he eyed the people drinking their lunches. Spotting a big man sitting in a booth, Merle downed his second shot, hauled his arm back and flung the glass at the man.
He doesn't remember much after that, just his own laughter as he smashed his fists into anyone that got in his way. He was sentenced to two years and mandatory counseling.
The first year he would just sit and let the shrink talk at him. He spent his nineteenth birthday in jail.
Daryl had visited him once or twice, his Mama too, but he was still too angry to even look at her. His brother seemed happy. Mama was teaching him to read and write and he was going to school for the first time in his life.
Merle wanted to be happy for the boy, but a spark of jealousy began to form in him. He loved his brother, but he hated that he was now getting the childhood that Merle hadn't.
Daryl came to visit him on his eleventh birthday, but left stone faced when Merle snapped at him. He told him not to come back and he didn't.
He hated himself. After that, he started answering the shrink lady's questions, never volunteering information, but he was truthful.
She called him a 'victim of circumstance,' whatever the fuck that meant. He was just starting to let go of his anger towards his baby brother, knowing that it wasn't fair to protect him all those years, only to start hating him because he got to be happy.
He had about eight months left when they called him into the shrink's office. He was nervous, knowing he still had days to go before he was supposed to see her again.
Dixon, I'm sorry to have to inform you that your mother is dead," the woman told him, pity written all over her face. What about my fucking brother?
The guard in the corner behind him stepped forward, ready to restrain him, but the lady held her hand up.
Merle stayed silent as she went on to tell him that they were releasing them early, something about good behavior and getting his family's affairs in order.
He got out the next day, used the bus money to get back to his neighborhood. He stood outside what was left of their house, a huge pile of blackness.
He walked around it, looking at the scorched ground around it, feeling how the air was just a bit warmer near it.
He turned his eyes to the woods and headed out to find his brother. When he found Daryl, he helped the boy pack up whatever was useful from the tent and they moved on.
For years they would settle in one town after another, only staying whenever Merle would get popped for something. More often than not, they would bed down in and abandoned house or building, but they were still most comfortable out in the woods.
Both he and his brother had done quite a few years in and out of the joint. When they weren't in jail, they would move around still, getting odd jobs to have a roof over their heads and food besides what they hunted for in their bellies.
In the summer of , Merle had spent his forty-ninth birthday behind bars. He was doing the last few days of a five year stint for drug possession with intent to sell.
The day before he was set to get out, he got a visit from Daryl. He knew something was wrong. His baby-bro never visited him, not since his eleventh birthday.
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