I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Bruised not broken

Negan had drank for hours, blinding himself in alcohol to numb the sheer pain coursing through him right now. Throwing back glass after glass of hard brown liquor, hoping it would help.

Blinded and almost stumbling into his bathroom, Negan flipped on the light switch, almost wincing against the harsh light as it hit his eyes.

He moved quickly over to the sink, gripping onto edge of the porcelain bowl to steady himself, hanging his head low.

Fuck. He was wasted and even that didn't help but mask any of the hurt flowing through him.

He was a wreck, and despite Blake having only been in his life for a relatively short time in the grand scheme of things, Negan had finally thought that all this could have been a fresh start for him.

He was happy with her. Not looking for a quick stab at happiness that he found at the bottom of a bottle or in a one night stand.

She had been his fucking everything. Just like Lucille had been. And like his dead wife maybe he hadn't known how lucky he had been until she was gone.

Negan stared up at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

God, he was a fucking mess.

Even in his inebriated state he could see that.

Reaching out, he turned on the faucet and leant down over it, splashing his face with cold water.

But it was only then he noticed how much his hands were shaking. No, not both hands. Just one.

His left hand that, in a fit of flying rage, he had punched the wall with, leaving an ugly crack in the plasterwork, was now red and badly swollen.

Negan winced now, feeling the cold water hit it.

Damn.

And so, using his right hand to splash his face with water again and giving a shake of his head, sending droplets of water flying over the mirror in front of him, Negan turned off the tap and pushed himself from the sink, staggering out of the bathroom once again.

He didn't even remember where he had left Lucille now, but barely caring anymore, the tall, dark-haired man, strode from the room. Eyes unfocused but a scowl lingering over his dark features.

Hi brain was fuzzy and he was having trouble focusing on anything now.

He was pissed off and drunk.

A great fucking combination.

Negan didn't acknowledge anyone as he made his way down the stairs on unsteady feet, clinging onto the railing for support.

It was late now and the Sanctuary certainly wasn't very busy, but even so, Negan was an intimidating figure at the best of times. And of course, the majority of the Sanctuary residents had heard about Blake upping and leaving the way she did. All of them realising that that would certainly not be good news for them.

Before Blake had come along, Negan's regime had been hard and cold. But she had brought and life and a hope to this place, not just with the garden, but by bringing the residents of this dark and gloomy place together. They were a family these days.

But now this family was broken. And even Negan, as drunk as he was, saw the fear in their eyes now, even amongst some of his more loyal of lieutenants as he walked down the stairs, finally reaching a quiet and deserted hallway on the ground floor.

He found the door he was looking for, using the peeling green panelled door frame to steady himself, as he bashed against the hard wood with his good fist.