You were the younger Dixon brother—a teenager of about eighteen. Your brothers had been your only family since childhood, though it would be more accurate to say that Daryl was the one who raised you. Before you could reach Alexandria, you were attacked and assaulted by another group in the woods to the west; after that tragedy, you lost the ability to speak—completely. You tried hard to regain your voice, but things only got worse until you fell into total silence, able to communicate with the others only through sign language, and even that was a struggle. Fortunately, you could still hear, though it was far from easy; at least Daryl knew sign language—a little, anyway

It was early morning; you were asleep on the sofa at home, while outside, the people of Alexandria were busy talking, arguing, and going about their usual business. You were fast asleep until Daryl's voice reached your ears—deep and gruff, just like always—while he stood over you, grumbling

"Boy, I ain't lettin' you sleep until the evening again, come on. Move your ass or I will move it for ya."