Negan || En || The Walking Dead

Chapter 46 - The Awakening

Shit it hurts!

With the small movements he was doing slowly with the eyes he could now see indistinct spots that were in front of him, not being able to turn his head, that was enough for now. Minutes passed slowly and attempts to be able to see something proceeded slowly, but proceeded. After the view was returned almost normal, Negan tried to see what was surrounding him: furniture, what seemed a sofa and a strange contraption close to him. The view had brought him back a minimum part of his security.
After that, was the turn of the head and then handa: the efforts to be able to move for a few centimeters the body parts were titanic but were made.

Fuck it, I didn't think I was having to do all this effort to move a fucking hand. Christ how I feel.

Fires he was able to move his hands, then the arms and finally feet and legs. Movements were only sketched and extremely tiring but at least could still check all the arts.

Well, it seems that's all still working, so now there's only a matter to solve: how the fuck do I get up? And what is this crap thing next to me?

Turning slightly his head he succeeded finally to see the support for the drip, then by following the tube was dropped up to his arm.

Shit... What's this? Are they poisoning me? Who did set it up?

Although now he could see, he had not to understand where he was because he really didn't remembered that was Kat's house. He had tried to get up but his body hadn't allowed it, so after breathing heavily he had noticed he haven't yet spoke out loud. Obviously being alone didn't had spurred to do that, and even the idea of asking for help.
From the mouth came out a little more than one whisper and in the throat the air flowed dry.
Now he was almost on point: lacked only be able to raise, but he would have arrived there with calm. He picked up with extreme fatigue with his hand and led it to the face, noting that he had only a hint of beard.

The beard has been shaved recently... What seems a drip is stuck in my arm... then means that someone is taking care of me, but who? My men? No, they would have led me home. Who then? And where are they? And I?

Many questions, no answers.
Negan still didn't know where he was. Overwhelmed by fatigue and exhausted from having used the few energies he had, went to sleep.
Negan couldn't say how many hours, or rather, days were passed since he woke up, but for all the time he has been unconscious he constantly faked to study better the situation, with poor though. He awoke many hours after and after having reflected widely, because it was the only thing he could do, his attention was drawn from the noise of steps out of the home.

Fuck, who will be? I can't even get away or defend myself, shit...

Negan pretended to be still unconscious to see what would happen. He felt the door opens and steps get closer, then move away in another room. When he moved to open the eyes, felt suddenly again steps and shut them instantly. The front door was open again and then closed and the person was again out. Negan had not been able to see who was and after have been waiting for a few minutes, he sat, cut off the drip and he was supported firmly to the support for getting up.
A few attempts later he was standing and staggering, could hear all over the  muscles the weight of his body bending progressively legs and chest and after slumped in nearest table, he raised. He was heading to the kitchen to eat something because the stomach cramps were bending him in two, not to mention the thirst. Laboriously, step by step, with the muscles on fire, he had arrived in the kitchen and keeping the handle of the fridge, had opened. It was empty.

Shit.

He looked up and saw shelves with jars, but were too high to be taken by him in thise in those conditions. He sighed and turned to go back when he saw in front of him the last person who would have imagined of seeing again, watching  him with the mouth wide open, eyes opened wide and pale skin, as if she had seen a ghost.

<Negan?>