For my sister | Negan |

16 - Forgive and forget

'Why?' I ask him, confused.

'Because', he says, moving closer. 'I say so.'

Seriously, why would anyone choose to follow this guy? They can't all be here because they were dragged out of their houses, can they? Negan has a smile full of anticipation on his face as he waits for me to follow his orders. I suppose I'll have to do it, so I drop my gaze from his gleeful eyes and turn around to close the door. I feel like I'm locking myself in a cage with a tiger when I hear it click shut. But I put on my bravest face and turn back around to face him, with my hands behind my head.

He looks at me for a second, seeming to contemplate something. I'm just about to ask him if something's wrong when he starts to talk.

'On second thought, turn around. Keep your hands on your head.'

Turn my back to him? That's about the last thing I want to do. I hesitate a moment, but I'm sure there's no point in arguing. So with a sinking feeling, I turn around and try to keep my breathing even when I hear him coming closer. He could shove a knife into my back and I'd never know it.

'Relax', he says finally, his voice close behind me. 'I'm just gonna pat you down. And I'd rather not end up with your knee in my face.'

'Pat me down?' I ask, turning around quickly to find him with his hands raised, ready to put them on my body. 'For what?'

'I really appreciate this visit, doc', he says with a smirk. 'But I just wanna make sure you don't have a scalpel hidden in your pants or something to slice my throat with.'

'I am not a murderer', I spit at him.

'Neither was I, sweetheart', he says, raising his eyebrows at me. 'Until I was. Now turn around and put your hands back behind your head or we can cut this visit short.'

'I don't have anything hidden anywhere', I protest. 'And you are not putting your hands down my pants to make sure.'

'Now, that would be fun', he grins. 'But I wasn't planning on it. I'll only pat you down over your clothes and I'll stay away from all the fun parts, okay?'

'Can't you call one of the women that works for you in here to do this?' I ask, feeling uncomfortable. I was nervous enough about coming here, I really don't need his hands all over me.

'I could', he replies. But he makes no move to do anything. Of course he wants to do it himself. Pervert.

'Fine', I sigh shortly, making sure to roll my eyes after I've turned around.

'Good girl', he says, putting his hands on my upper arms. His breath against my neck makes the hairs on my skin stand up and I can feel my own breath falter when he slides his hands down to my armpits. Then he lets his large hands glide down over my sides and runs his finger all along the edge of my jeans. I can hardly keep it together with him so close. Though I suppose he stays respectful enough, this feels very intimate. My heart pounds way faster than it should. I decide to talk to him to distract myself a little.

'You really think a girl that barely reaches your shoulders could kill you with a scalpel?' I ask him. 'You look tougher than that.'

He chuckles in response. The sound a low rumble close behind me.

'Never underestimate your enemies', he says, placing his hands on my front pockets to check if they're empty. I can feel his strong chest against the back of my head for a moment. 'A doctor would know exactly where to cut someone for a quick death, wouldn't she?'

He leans back to check my back pockets. Fortunately, he's quick about it. Then he crouches down to run his hands over my legs and the edges of my shoes. I sigh in relief when it's over.