Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Field Trip

He gets dangerously close to Rosita, dropping his voice to say something I just know he shouldn't have. Stupid prick. He laughs in her face, and the tension surrounding them was so thick I doubt I could cut it with a knife. The several dozen Saviors watch, probably just waiting for Negan to kill one of us, but he doesn't.

"All right, let's get this show on the road!" Negan's voice booms, walking back towards me. "See what kind of goodies you've got in the cupboard."

"We put aside half the supplies," Rick says, causing Negan to stop in his tracks and turn back towards him.

"No, Rick! You don't get to decide what we take. I do," Negan looks past Rick to one of his minions holding a shotgun. "Arat!"

"You head the man. Let's move out!" The woman waves her hand, leading the group of Saviors into our safe zone.

The people of Alexandria look confused as the Saviors shove past them, starting to barge into their homes. They stare between me, Daryl, Rick, and Negan trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Rick probably hasn't even told them yet. Tears well up into my eyes at the thought of them going into mine and Daryl's house, but I have to push them down. 

"You gonna show me around or what?" Negan asks, looking from me to Rick. It's such a weird limbo because there's an illusion that I have the freedom to do what I want, but I know that I really don't.

"I don't want them to touch my house," I say, abruptly cutting Negan off from whatever he was going to say. "I'll get my things myself."

"All right. You lead the way there, sweetheart," Negan smirks and takes my hand again. I glance back at Rick and motion for him to come with us.

Rick leads the way, showing Negan to mine and Daryl's house. Daryl follows behind us, staying quiet until we get there. I want to cry just looking at it, but I don't. I hold it in.

"Hey! Out of that one," Negan calls, once he sees some of his men in my house. "Put the damn couch down, too. Nobody touches this one."

I sigh in relief when they leave my house the way it was before. God, this is so manipulative. This man murdered my friends and kidnapped me, but now he has me thinking he's being nice for keeping his men from stealing my things from my house. I hate this so much.

"Can they come with me?" I ask shyly, my eyes darting between Rick and Daryl. I know I'm pushing it, but I have to try. "Please, Negan."

"Just Rick," he says, crossing his arms as he walks onto the porch to sit on one of the rocking chairs. I want to be disappointed, but at least I can have a few minutes alone with Rick.

"Thank you," I give him a soft smile, imagining that I'm murdering him, of course.

Rick and I head into the house and I shut the door behind us. As soon as we make it up the stairs, I turn and wrap my arms around him tightly. I cry into his shoulder while he holds me and pays my head, trying to comfort me.

"I don't want this, Rick. You have to know I don't want this," I say in between my crying. "I-I'm going to kill him. Once I get close enough I'm going to kill him."

"Don't put yourself at risk, Beatrix," he pulls away slightly to look at me. "Is he hurting you?"

"No, he's treating me really well, comparatively," I continue to cry as I tell him about the situation. "They're keeping Daryl in a broom closet, feeding him dog food sandwiches. I don't know what else. I can't get close to him, and he knows about the bites, Rick. He wants me to marry him, to be his seventh wife, Rick. I can't do it. You have to get me out of here."