Maybe One Day [[Negan's Daughter x Carl Grimes]] «COMPLETED»

13

Chloe's POV

"How many walkers have you killed?" Carl asked me immediately.

"I... I'm not sure... A dozen?" I replied, completely confused by the question.

"How many people have you killed?"

"Are you serious?" I chuckled. "None."

"Why?"

"Because I've never had to. Or wanted to."

"How many people has Negan killed?" He asked with his jaw clenched.

I turned my head away from him and looked to the ground.

"Chloe. How many?" He demanded.

"I... I lost count..." I mumbled reluctantly.

"See? That's a pretty big difference, right?" He reached his hands across the table and took my hands in his. I looked up at him awkwardly, but he still seemed determined to prove me wrong. "You're not like him, Chloe. You're not." His voice and words seemed to calm and assure me, for whatever reason.

"Why the hell are you being so... Nice?"

"I'm not." He pulled his hands away and ran his hands through his hair.

"Whatever, look--"

I was cut off by a loud gunshot outside.

"Shit." We both muttered unanimously. Without looking at each other, we ran out of the house onto the porch.

Looking out onto the street, we saw Arat holding the Hispanic woman from the woods to the ground. My dad was standing in the middle of the road shouting about "Who made it?". He had blood splattered on him, and Spencer's body was laying dead beside him, a pool of blood below him on the concrete.

"What the..." I said between labored breaths. I looked over to Carl and saw Olivia standing at his side. I gave him a worried look, and he nodded, signalling I could go.

I didn't hesitate to rush down the porch steps toward my dad.

"What the hell's going on?" I asked hurriedly.

"Arat, kill somebody." Dad continued without even acknowledging me.

"No!" I yelled out in her direction, but before I could act, a bullet flew through the air. It was headed in the direction of Carl's house, and hit Olivia. She immediately fell back to the ground, and I felt sadness and rage bubble inside me.

I ran over to the porch and knelt down over Olivia's body beside Carl. I didn't even try to stop the few tears that fell from my eyes.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." I whimpered, to both Olivia and Carl, and anyone else who had been harmed by Negan. I continued my apologies for minutes upon end, completely blocking out every single word anyone said.

"Chloe! Let's go." My dad called to me.

I thought, long and hard.

After everything he had done, all the people he had hurt or killed, all the things he had stolen, all the lives he had destroyed, it all rushed through my head at once, and I found myself wondering: whose side am I on?

I didn't know the Alexandrians. I knew next to nothing about them, yet I felt protective over them, so much so that I had betrayed my dad's trust several times. I even supplied the enemy with something that could kill any one of us at any given moment, for Christ's sake.

Why did I feel protective over them? Why did I feel as though it were my responsibility to keep them alive? Why was I risking my own safety to help complete strangers?

Why did I consider it when Daryl suggested I leave the saviors? They were the people that kept me alive, and they were part of the empire my dad was building. So why did I consider it for even a second?

And why was I considering it again now? After everything I had gone through with my dad, why was I considering throwing all of that away? And what would I be throwing it away for? A bunch of strangers who would destroy everything I knew, given the chance?

So. Many. Questions.

My mind was racing, every single thought sparking another, and with each of them came three more. Like a hydra; I found the answer to one question and two more appeared.

It was never ending, it seemed. That was, until, I felt a large tug on my shoulder. Without thinking, I threw my arms around the figure and buried my head into their chest, allowing tears and regret to consume me.

They didn't say anything. Just put a comforting hand on my back and patted me softly in circular motions.

I heard my name being called over and over again, and I knew the voice. My dad didn't stop, so that told me he wasn't the one holding me, like I expected. And I knew for a fact that it wasn't a savior, because a savior would never even dare to touch me in front of my dad.

So it was an Alexandrian. The anticipation was killing me, so I lifted my head and, through blurred vision, saw a familiar sheriff's hat. Carl. Of course.

Even knowing who it was, I didn't pull away. I didn't care at that point. I just wanted, needed, human contact. I needed someone to make me feel alive. I just needed something... Anything...

I finally pulled away when I felt a liquid, even warmer than my tears, running down my lip. I pulled fully away and lifted a finger up to my lip.

I followed the trail of liquid, presumably blood, up to my nose. I began to feel lightheaded and my breathing hitched dramatically.

I heard both Carl and my dad calling my name to see if I was alright, but before I could respond, everything went black.