Negan - Still Breathing (Part 1)

Mark of Shame

You mulled over your potential opponents in the cafeteria...the night before the punishment. You didn't even pay attention to your lit cigarette, and the ashes on the tip grew by the centimeter. Losing yourself in your thoughts, you didn't immediately recognize the panicked voices ringing through the hall. Dozens of men, wide-eyed and pale as ghosts, dashed into the area and surrounded you. Your ears perked up, and you snapped out of your daze. "What's going on, lads?" you inquired.

They sighed and shook their heads. "It's Mark..." some mumbled.

"What about him?" Mark was one of the first Saviors to serve under Negan, aside from Dwight. He appeared to be in deep shit from the petrified looks on the men's faces.

"He...slept with Amber. Negan caught them in the act," Hulk Hogan replied, solemnly.

Amber happened to be a part of Negan's harem. You knew precisely what this meant. "Oh god...the ritual?"

"It's about to begin," a red-neck answered. "He's calling us all in to watch."

The monster...that fucking monster. Forcing his Saviors to witness Mark's punishment...

"Will Amber be present?" You felt compassion for the woman, though she chose the luxuries of door number one. You'd heard gossip that Mark was her former boyfriend, before Negan stepped in and claimed her. How could she be so afraid to fight for her survival if it meant she could be with Mark? Though you viewed their actions as utterly foolish, you knew this horrific ceremony would traumatized them.

"The wive's will remain in their quarters. They're not required to attend. The last time this happened, Sherry saw the whole thing and fucking nearly...killed herself after the fact. This is for our eyes only," a bulky, curly-haired man spoke. "A demonstration."

Lowering your head, you thought of Dwight. His handsome smile lightened your heart for a millisecond. The iron might've tarnished his rebellious spirit, but it didn't quite tarnish his looks. You slowly stood and fell into ranks with the men. "So this is the life of a Savior."

The men's eyes were clouded--some with grief, some with pity, some with fear. The Hulk Hogan fellow patted you on the back, hoping to comfort you. "They knew what the consequence would be. The things people do for love are...goddamn stupid."

The time was 7:30pm. You marched with the men towards a warehouse near the factory. Rusty metal balconies lined the interior like a colosseum. Ascending the stairs to the viewing platform, you wondered if this would be the same arena you'd have to fight in. For now, you were on the outside looking in. Falling into your places with your heads bowed, you and The Saviors stood in silence. Not one whisper of a word could be heard. "Where's Dwight?" you murmured to the Latino thug next to you.

"Down there, heating the iron," he answered in a wavering voice. Soon after he responded, he began to pray in Spanish, making the sign of the cross on his heaving chest.

Your misty eyes shot to a scrawny figure with blonde hair removing an old-fashioned iron from a metal bin of hot coals. The base of the iron glowed red as smoke billowed in the air. It burned your throat and made your eyes water. Dwight's face was marred with sorrow. You couldn't fathom that he would be the one to assist Negan in the same ritual that disfigured him. His head hung miserably as Mark was dragged into the warehouse by two armed guards. A vintage barber's chair sat in the middle of the room by the coal bin. Enter Negan...fixing his shirt with Lucille in his hand. His expression seemed unaffected by the pending, gruesome act he was about to perform. He made it seem so common-place, so shameless.