Negan's Daughter

Introduction

I step behind the staircase. Luckily my dad doesn't notice me as he strides through the halls with an unfamiliar boy. If I had to guess he was around my age, 16. He had a dingy sheriff's hat tilted low over his face, casting a shadow over a dark eye. It took me some time to realize there wasn't an eye there at all. To most it would be repulsive, a thick layer of ripped skin where a warm blue eye should be-but I found the splattered flesh alluring.

I reflexively held my breath when my father's sadistic laughter filled the corridors as he led the brown-haired boy out of the room. The boy's face was innocent yet pensive, this may sound cliche-but in all ways irresistible.  I lingered for just a few seconds where I stood-just to make sure I wouldn't be spotted. But as the boy stepped into the room he looks up, and I meet his gaze. Words can not describe how his eyes felt on mine. And faster than I could act he's turned back and continued into the office. Who was he?

Through the crack in the door, I saw them settle into my dad's private office. That trail has officially gone cold. There was, under any circumstances, entering any of his private rooms. Apparently, I was too fragile for that type of business. Little did he know all the things I've actually done. But if I told him what I'd be better off as a walker.

I sigh and head towards the window behind me. I've learned to block out the growls of the dead that surround the sanctuary-but today their snarls are louder and more vicious than they've been in a while.

Outside is a bloodbath of spattered flesh and limbs. Four of my dad's men lay dead, with countless bullet holes sporing fresh blood.

Suddenly a large hand snatches my wrist, pulling me from the window sill. I turned to a man, round and who harvested a slick smile. Dave.

"What the hell are you doing out of your room?" He growled into my ear. His hot breath coated the skin of my ear-repulsed, I tried to yank myself out of his grasp. But his hand was too large, his grip too tight.

"I heard gunshots. I got scared." I snarked, attempting to pry off his constricting chubby fingers.

His lips moved closer to my ear, to the point where I could hear the loose rhythm of his breathing.

"Sweetheart if I see you in these halls again you best believe I won't let you go this easy. Go to your room." He released his grasp and without looking up I scurry to my bedroom.

"Never get tired of watching that perky lil' ass leave." He commented.

I respond with a heavy door slam.