Red // Daryl Dixon

I Will Survive

Negan left us out here all night. His men still crowded us, watching our every move as Negan dragged Rick away in our RV. As if we'd even dared to move at this point. I couldn't. Not when what remained of Glenn lay 10 feet away from me. Not when I still had Abraham's blood soaked into my clothes. Not while Maggie now silently sobbed while clutching her stomach. Not while Eugene retched up everything in his stomach. And not while Daryl sat there, slowly bleeding out.

There was daylight by the time the RV returned. The morning dew cast a cold chill that settled into our bones as we sat with the realization that Abraham and Glenn had just been murdered. We were left here to stew with that feeling. They wanted the events of last night to sink in, to fester so deep they could hold us on a tight leash.

The door of the RV swung open, bouncing against the hinges as Negan dragged Rick along the gravel by his coat collar. Rick stumbled with him. His eyes were bloodshot with a dark stain of blood coating the right side of his face. Abraham's blood. Negan dropped him in the centre, smiling at us.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick-- do you even know what that little trip was about? Negan asked. There was silence, Rick not knowing how to answer or was too frightened to. "Speak when you're spoken to," Negan commanded.

Rick inhaled a ragged breath, "Okay. Okay."

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand," Negan sighed as Rick looked up at him from the ground. "But you're still looking at me the same damn way... like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work," Negan raised his voice, causing me to flinch. "So..." Negan knelt beside Rick, his bat held firmly in his hands, "...do I give you another chance?"

Rick continued to panic, fidgeting in his place on the floor, "Yeah," his voice shook, "Yes. Yes."

Negan patted him on the back harshly, "Okay. Alright. And here it is-- the grand prize game." Negan threw out his arms, a deranged smile sliding up his face once again. "What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day." I sunk into myself, wanting to scream out at him. The twisted torment was never going to end and all we could do was just sit here and take it. "Get some guns to the back of their heads," Negan ordered.

I shifted on my knees, swallowing hard as I looked up at Daryl. His eyes were already on the man who stood with a shotgun pointed at the back of my head. He followed his every move. I jumped when I heard the click.

"Good. Now... level with their noses, so if you have to fire..." Negan imitated the sound of an explosion, "It'll be a real mess." I subtly shook my head at Daryl when he finally looked down at me. I prayed he wouldn't do anything now, but the hatred he had in his stare as he looked at the man looming over my shoulder made me weary.

Now that Negan had everyone where he wanted them again he called out, "Kid..." beckoning Carl over to them. "Right here," he pointed to the spot on the ground to his right. Carl stared him down. "Kid... now." Carl stood, walking over slowly. Rick was visibly shaking. Negan removed his belt, "You a southpaw?" He asked.

"Am I a what?" Carl harshly spat out.

"You a lefty?" Negan asked as he grabbed hold of Carl's left arm.

"No."

"Good." Negan began wrapping his belt tightly around Carl's arm, just below his armpit, fastening it tight. "That hurt?"

Carl didn't take his eyes off Negan as he tilted his head, "No."

"It's supposed to," Negan smiled. "Alright. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings!" Negan grabbed the top of Carl's hat, tossing the thing over his shoulder. He guided Carl to the ground before pushing on the centre of his back to lay him flat on his stomach. "Simon... you got a pen?"