Captive | The Walking Dead |

78

Without a window it was difficult to tell how much time had passed. Isabella had found herself to doze off a few times but she had no clue how long the naps she took had been. When she wasn't sleeping, she just stared into space.

She could've been staring into space for five minutes or five hours. She never knew for sure, and it didn't help that not once did they come in to feed her. She knew it was punishment for the stunt she and Daryl pulled and she wondered how long the punishment would be.

She didn't want to eat dog food but her stomach had been aching the entire time she'd been in the dark cell and decided if they gave her some, she'd scarf it down. She would need her strength if she wanted a chance at leaving.

Although she wondered if she would escape. She wondered if she would die within these walls. She just hoped that if she did, she would go out fighting. She'd be damned if she let these assholes break her spirit.

Still, she found herself trying to picture herself back home. Back in Alexandria. Back in her home with Carl and Judith, with Rick. Heck, she'd love to even be back in the lab if it meant she was no longer here.

She closed her eyes, trying to come up with an image of one of the good days at Alexandria but didn't get much time to delve into memories. The sound of her cell door clicking as it unlocked and then being swung open snapped her out her trance.

She squinted her eyes as they adjusted to the light and she tried to shield her eyes with her hands as the figure stepped into the room.

She recognized the person to be Dwight.

"Look, its Dwight the asshole," she weakly joked as he yanked her up by the collar of her shirt.

"Yeah, just keep moving," he spat and pushed her in front of him and he held the tip of Daryl's crossbow to her back to guide her through the halls.

She hated seeing the weapon in his hands. She wondered what asshole savior had hers; either way, she was sure she'd find a way to get both her and Daryl's crossbow out of the Savior's clutches.

"Where're we going?" Isabella then asked, knowing it was pointless.

"Keep walking," Dwight said and pushed her forward roughly against his shoulder and she rolled her eyes.

They eventually came to a door and while Isabella was forced against the wall, Dwight opened the door to then pull her inside the room.

Inside, was an exquisitely clean and furnished room. Her eyes scanned every inch of the room. Windows scattered the walls, bringing in a handful of sunlight to the room. There was a nicely folded stack of clothes on a couch in the middle of the room along with a blanket and pillow.

Her eyes looked to the kitchen of the room and just from what little she saw it was decently stocked. It wasn't full to the brim, as she figured Negan wouldn't let Saviors overindulge but the food was enough to feed someone for days without leaving the room.

And leaning against one of the cabinets with a smug expression Isabella wanted to wipe off was Negan. He was gleaming, acting like the god he clearly thought he was and had his arms folded his chest, and Isabella wanted to punch him even more. Lucille stood against the cabinets on the floor and she stared at the bat for a moment that claimed the life of Abraham Ford.

"Ah shucks Dwight, you couldn't have cleaned the doll up before bringing her here?" Negan smirked as he pushed himself off the the cabinet and grabbed Lucille; having her limp at his side as he slowly saunted to the pair.

"You said bring the prisoner straight here sir," Dwight retorted.

"I'm right here," she lowly said to Dwight.