Stranger [The Walking Dead]

15 ; Choices

It was quiet inside my cage, my cell. Whatever it was - a fucking shit broom closet.

The song still played in my head. It was always playing, the easy street of make believe. Over and over and over, never stopping. Sometimes it felt like it just repeated certain parts of it.

We're on easy street -

God, it never stopped.

Ever since I had returned to my cage, Simon was always visiting, knife in hand. The cut along my face had scarred, no doubt horrifically. It would be a permanent reminder of my time in my cage, of what I'd endured, of what I'd continue to suffer with. I wondered if I'd ever actually escape this hell hole. I didn't think it was likely.

- and it feels so sweet -

Daryl and I were stuck there. I didn't know what was happening with the others. Weeks had possibly passed, and we were stuck in there, trying to survive every day whilst they were out there, threatened by Negan and his Saviors. It felt like we were powerless and divided.

I had to keep hope that they would figure out how to fight back against the Saviors, against Negan. If they couldn't, then I'd find a way myself. I'd figure out how to take Negan down. Maybe another would step into his spot, claim to be Negan, but no-one would be as good as Negan. Simon was crueller, and Negan wasn't. Dwight wasn't as good, looked like he could betray them.

- 'cause the world is 'bout a treat - 

There was a woman, Regina, who was one of Negan's a second in command of sorts. She was harsh and cold, and I wondered how useful she'd be if she were to take Negan's place. They were all Negan, but weren't The Negan.

I heard footsteps, and I prepared myself. It had to be Simon, come to cut into my face once more, to batter me until I bled, until bruises bloomed across my skin.

- when you're on easy street -

The door to my cage opened, and I winced at the light pouring in. Was this the day I'd die?

"Up," said Dwight, and then grabbed my arm before I could do as asked. He yanked me to my feet, dragging me out of the room. I could see my dad up ahead, and did my best not to raise my head too much. Dwight would just shove it down roughly.

We walked through the corridors, moving past Saviors as we went. I recognised the path we were going down. We were going to Negan's room. I'd been there before, when Negan himself had tried asking me to join him, to become Negan myself. I'd denied it, like I had when Simon had asked. He'd been unimpressed, and maybe sad about it, before he'd had Dwight drag me away and had let Simon do what he wanted to me. I hadn't been able to move for days after that.

- we're breaking out the good champagne -

I didn't say anything, too nervous to voice any concerns I had. This wasn't going to end well. If it had my dad involved, I could only imagine what Negan had in store for us. It wouldn't be anything good.

"In here," Dwight said, pushing me in.

The man who had brought my dad in had a knife in his hand, and my dad was on the floor, on his knees. I didn't like how that looked. I thought of all the ways this could play out.

Negan entered from behind me.

- we're sitting pretty on the gravy train -

"Let the poor girl sit, Dwighty boy." He gestured to the bed, and Dwight pushed me in that direction. I planted my ass on the comfy bed, ignoring how comfy it really was. I was too terrified as to what Negan had cooked up for us. My entire body ached, and I wanted nothing more than to rest and get better. "Now, I know the pair of you aren't ones to back down. Which is why we've ... come to a solution of sorts,"