Reflections - TWD

65. Home, sweet home.

Isabella couldn't stop sobbing. Not when Daryl got taken to a cell, not now when Negan was gripping her wrist so tightly that her hand might fall off. She was crying like a baby.

She couldn't take her mind off of Abraham and Glenn. They were dead, they were really dead. She was never going to see them again, and that made her heart hurt like never before. She didn't know what the Saviors were going to do to Daryl either.

"What's your name again?" Negan asked as he started to turn a key in a door, still keeping on hand around Isabella's left wrist.

"Isabella," She huffed through gritted teeth.

"Isabella," Negan repeated as he pushed the door open.

The room was decorated like a child's room, as if it previously belonged to another kid. It was pink all around, the bed was a little bit smaller than her one at Alexandria. There were flowers on the wall, not like the messy ones that Isabella had painted. They were perfect pink roses.

"See, Isabella," Negan sighed and took a seat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "I don't wanna throw you in a cell, I'm gonna give you a chance. A way to just live here at the Sanctuary."

"Why?" Isabella mumbled, picking at her fingers.

"Why? Now, that's because I think all those people out there care about you. That ginger gripping onto your hand, now, that was cute," Negan chuckled.

Isabella remembered the way that Abraham's glove felt against her hand. The way that he was just about to wrap his fingers around hers, but then Negan hit him to the ground.

Negan was wrong though. The group didn't care about Isabella anymore than they cared about each other. Rick wouldn't let Isabella stay here. He'd get both her and Daryl out, but it would never be the same again.

"You see, Isabella," Negan interrupted her thoughts. "I don't want you to work for me, I don't want you to fight for me. I just want you to live here, look happy, you know, make it seem to Darnel-"

"Daryl," She corrected him.

"Daryl and Rick like you're happy, now that...that'll really piss 'em off," Negan chuckled. Then, he stood up. "I'll let ya get settled. Home, sweet home!" He left the room and shut the door behind him.

Isabella sat on the bed. She was gonna get out of here, she knew it. There was no way she'd live the rest of her life being a pawn in Negan's game.

Daryl was crying in his cell. Crying for Glenn and Abraham. Crying for himself. Crying for Isabella. Crying because he wanted to go home, not to the house. But home.

He couldn't help but think about what it could've been like if Isabella was his. If she was born with Dixon blood.

Daryl didn't think about who Isabella's mother would've been. He didn't care about that, because they would've been fine together, they would've made it together.

He would've taken her home after she had been born, cradling his baby girl in his arms.

"Hey there...hey..." He would speak softly to the tiny human. "How you doin'? You hungry?"

The baby would've cooed, so he would get a bottle and feed her. Just like he had fed Judith at the prison. Except this would've been his daughter.

He thought about how he would've dealt with her if she was fussing or couldn't sleep one night.

"What do ya want, hon? You want Daddy to read you a story, hm?" Daryl would gently rock the one-year old in his arms and whisper. The dim lamp in the corner of the room spreading a golden glow on the walls.