UNSTEADY .. n

19

Amelia hated Negan.

Of course, there had been moments were things would happen, and she would let memories and subconscious get in the way of her rage. One thing would lead to another, and when the two had hooked up weeks ago, it's like her mind would cloud with shame once she remembered what he had done to her and Maggie.

Amelia spent her days sitting idly in the common room with her nose in a book. The most recent being a favorite from childhood, To Kill a Mockingbird. The wives had left her alone for the most part, except for a couple taunts coming from the bitchier of the women. But Amelia was able to ignore it, blocking everything out and focusing on her pain.

As time had passed, the girl felt herself starting to succumb to depression. Everything felt like a humid bubble of emotion suffocating her brain. She didn't eat as often as the others and began to grow thin. Her body ached and lurched at night when she sobbed into her pillow. Everything just hurt worse than she ever knew possible. She didn't cry this hard when her old life had gone. She didn't feel the nostalgia this bad when her father died, and even when Beth was gone, it was like she had built up a wall. But now everything felt like it had tumbled. The wall Amelia had been building for so long had been demolished, and there was nothing but hurt and anger left in the rubble.

Negan had ignored Amelia for the most part, only occasionally glancing her way when he'd make an announcement to the saviors. He had decided to keep his distance since the breakdown Amelia had in his room. Not only did her reaction puzzle him, it made him come to realization that being at the sanctuary had started to break her. As much as his inner-dictator felt triumphant about that statement, a part of Negan didn't want weakness to overtake her. Amelia's strength was part of what made her intriguing. She had no fear. But now it was like looking at a shell.

---

It was around four in the morning when Amelia had finished reading her book over for the second time. She sat it down next to her on the black leather couch, turning her attention towards the window on her other side. It was a half moon, yet there still seemed to be enough light to illuminate the courtyard.

Curfew was nine o'clock for the saviors, but for the people residing in Negan's block, they had free reign over the common rooms at all times. Amelia hadn't really pushed her limits with this privilege, but instead sat in the corner and read. Usually by early morning, everyone had gone off to bed.

Now, Amelia was contemplating turning in herself, but the faint sound of footsteps halted her thoughts. Her eyes shot up to the doorway, suddenly growing tense.

"W-who's there?" She called barely above a whisper. A figure stepped into the room. Amelia's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. "Show yourself." The girl grabbed a candlestick sitting on one of the side tables and reared it back in a threatening manner. The figure took a few steps towards the nearby lamp, and soon Amelia could see it was only one of Negan's men.

"Easy." He told her with his hands up. Amelia relaxed, noticing it was the man from the truck. She could see his full face now. "I just came to sit."

"Why do you want to come out to the common rooms to 'sit' at four in the morning?" Amelia asked suspiciously. The man shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I could ask you the same." The girl eyed him.

"I was reading." She sat the candlestick down, reaching for her book and sliding it back into the shelf.

"At four in the morning?" He asked in a mocking tone. Amelia scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Stop mocking me." She demanded.

"I'm not mocking you."

"You're mocking me."

"Am I?"

"See, you're doing it right now!"

"No I'm not."

"But you are."

"I really don't think--"

"I don't have time for this." Amelia groaned, cutting him off. She turned and flopped on the couch, rubbing her temples. The man smirked at her, chuckling under his breath.

"Who are you?" He asked. This caught her attention.

"What?"

"Who are you? I went and fetched you from that other camp, Negan didn't kill you. You have to be at least somewhat close to him for the bastard to spare you, and even then he probably wouldn't." The man took a few steps closer to the couch.

"He's not a man of patience." Amelia commented. The mystery man stifled a laugh in agreement before sitting down on a chair opposite of the girl. He waited for her to explain. "I don't know why he didn't kill me, if we're being honest. I wouldn't mind being killed, I guess. It's not like I have a whole lot to live for anyway. I mean, yeah being 'a wife' has its perks and promises, but I don't just wanna be somebody's bitch, I'm not somebody's bitch--"

"Wait a minute, you're a wife?" He asked in surprise. A few laughs escaped his lips before he noticed the glare Amelia was shooting him. "You're just...young, is all."

"Yeah, well, that's not the first time I've heard that one." The girl threw her head against the back of the couch, sighing as she closed her eyes. "Anyway...it's just no use anymore. I wanted that strength. I've always been 'the young one'. I'm a fucking adult, and I wanted to get shit done, but look where that got me. Way to go, Amelia..." She trailed off, but the man suddenly seemed to take notice. He furrowed his eyebrows, studying her figure for a moment, a tinge of familiarity making its way to his brain.

Amelia.

He didn't say anything. His throat started to suddenly get dry, and it felt as though his tongue was swelling. Amelia. His mind raced back towards those first months of everything, and even before that. Second year at Scrouton High? Good luck, Mr. Gomez. The man blinked a few times. "Thank you! For everything." His mind was racing. The innocence of bringing youth into their new lives and feeding them knowledge, all of that had turned to shit.

"No! Please, Jen, stay with me!" The man forced a gulp and looked away, trying to push the images out of his mind. Crying. Hurt. Regret. Anger. Animosity. Brutality.

"Hi, I'm Negan."

Amelia peered up at the man in front of her, eyeing the scar on his cheek. She was curious about him. He was distant and quick on his feet. It was like he had so much that he could say, but he chose not to. He decided he would keep his knowledge to himself, to withhold what he knows and has from everybody. That was power. That was strength.

"Are you alright?" She asked him. The man shook himself out of his thoughts, clearing his throat.

"Oh, uh, yes, sorry." He stood up, glancing around the room. "Well I, uh, better get going now. Have a goodnight, Amelia." He started off. Amelia furrowed her brows.

"Well, wait a minute." She stood up. The man turned around to face her, and it was like little waves of deja vu were lapping against her brain. Amelia ignore it. "You didn't get to tell me your name." She pointed out, nodding at the fact he had used her own. The man offered little smile, a breathy laugh coming from him.

"Sean Gomez." He nodded. "My name is Sean Gomez."