𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 -Negan x Reader

•36•

The embers from the fire pop and send orange sparks bouncing off of the stones in the fire pit. The black smoke rolls and joins the clouds in the overhead night sky. Only crickets and the soft coo from a distant owl can be heard amongst the crackling and roaring of the fire. Your fingers bleed from the excess amount of picking you've done. The inner part of your cheek is raw from all the biting.

Dwight places another branch onto the fire. The reflection of the flames devouring the wood flits in the irises of your dissociative stare. It's been two days. Two full days. It put you in mind of the beginning. Fourth-eight hours of running, jumping at the sounds of snapping twigs, wearing dirty clothes, and picking mud out from under your fingernails. Two days and you still haven't earned Dwight's trust. You begin to think that this is it. That there is no escape. Your brain has always been wired to deal with situations such as these. But as you grow hungrier, weaker, and more hopeless, your brain starts to fail to mask your fear.

"You haven't said a word since we left the motel.", Dwight speaks.

His voice rubs you like sandpaper. To look at him feels like needles in your eyes. Your eyes leave the fire and rest on your rope-bound hands laid in your lap.

"I don't know how many times I have to apologize. But I never hit you. I could've. When you hit me and went all psychotic, I could've done what Dean would have, but I didn't.", a sternness lacing his words.

Dean.

Even Dean wasn't this batshit. It's getting to the point you would prefer to be in Dean's hands. A hit here, a smack there and he would've been done. Dwight couldn't be more different. You're familiar with this crazed, obsessive behavior. You've seen it in movies and shows, but it was all thought to be acts of cinematics. But now here it is right in front of you. It's torture of the worst kind.

"Say something, anything.", he pleads.

You keep your chapped lips closed. A few moments pass, him waiting for your response and your eyes remaining glued to your hands.

"Talk to me!", he booms, the sudden volume of his voice making you jolt.

Your hands begin to shake and your lip begins an unwarranted quiver. You know you're going to have to speak. Every line that you come up with would only make the situation worse. You're going to have to lie. This is the only way you get out.

"I-", your voice is cracked and shaky.

Bile threatens to make its way up your throat.

"I love you."

You seal the lie with eye contact. His face softens and his lips part slightly. The flames shine an orange glow on him. You've stunned him. Now is your time to manipulate him.

"I um, I've always loved you. I didn't know what it was at first. Yeah, I was upset but I was just afraid of Negan finding us. But being out here, with you, it's really made my feelings come to light.", the words feel like razor blades cutting into your throat.

He nervously tugs at the sleeve of his dirty flannel. You have to keep reminding yourself that this is how you get out. Whatever you have to say or do, it's to get away.

"Why did you try to escape?", he asks, his walls still up.

If he's as obsessed as you believe him to be, those walls are only paper thin. The question catches you off guard nonetheless. It doesn't take long for you to recover.

"The drugs, whatever they were. They were messing with my head and I just felt so angry, like I couldn't control it."

The shock still has him in a chokehold as he sits across from you. He's frozen in his place, damn near gaping in awe of you. You begin to find it hard to make yourself cry, with dehydration it's not as easy as it has been before. You imagine Negan. Everything that you'll lose if you can't get away. Never to be in his arms, to hear his voice, never feeling his skin against yours, never to see his smile. The tears begin to roll uncontrollably the longer you dwell on it.