Simon led me to Negan's room. The Savior's home was exactly what I expected. The fences were crawling with walkers. Seemingly for protection from more walkers. Kind of smart. One wrong move and they'd have a problem. Simon pushed me through Negan's door. I paused, staring at all the women. Each one dressed in a black dress and high heels. What the hell? Simon checked my hand cuffs and tightened them.
"Don't try anything. Negan will come speak to you when he gets back." Simon closed the door as he left.
I scanned back over the women. All of them looked at me as though I was wild. I probably looked wild. I found a spot against the wall and slid down against it. I wanted to run, to leave. If I did he'd kill more of my family. I wasn't going to let that happen as long as I Lived. The women had broken off into small groups and were whispering to each other. I was going to wait a while. One of Negan's tests. He would take longer and see if I had a double motive. If I was going to escape.
I was exhausted. Last night no one got any sleep, and probably would be plagued by nightmares if they did sleep. I rested my head on my knees. I probably wouldn't be able to get any sleep later. Negan would use it to break me. These women wouldn't hurt me. No one would dare to hurt me. Not without Negan's say so. A part of that made me feel safe. Another part made me feel as though one wrong move and I'd have a ton of people out for my blood.
I felt a hand rest on my shoulder and I looked up quickly. I knew it couldn't be Negan. There was no way he would've done that. He at least would've yelled at me. I came face to face with one of the women. Her face was soft as she looked at me. She looked broken almost as if she was ready to give up, but she looked unwilling to give in. To want to show someone that this wasn't going to break her. Whatever this was. I stayed silent as she scanned the blood on my clothes.
"I'm Sherry."
I glanced over her. Clean clothes. Expensive clothes and high heels. What kind of idiot would wear high heels in a time like this? Where she could have to fight any minute. I kept my mouth shut. She may have only approached me out of the goodness of her heart, but I couldn't fall into a trap set by Negan. I could put my family in danger.
"It's okay you don't have to talk. Most of us didn't speak in the beginning either. We all processed what Negan asked of us differently."
What the hell was she talking about? Were these women trapped by Negan? Was he forcing them to do something for him? My curiosity won the better of me as I spoke softly.
"What?"
Sherry looked at me confused. Almost as if I should know what she was talking about. Then it looked like it hit her.
"You're new aren't you?" I nodded yes. "He hasn't asked you to be one of us yet?"
I shook my head no. One of what? Were they some sort of elite part of his compound? Did they just mask what they truly did for him, with fancy dresses and heels. I raised my eyebrow as if to ask about who they are.
"We're Negan's wives. He must've planned to give you a deal. Like marry me and you get whatever you need."
Wives. Plural. What the fuck? I scanned the room and there had to be at least 7 of them. 7 women. 7 wives. 7 stepmothers. My stomach churned. These women couldn't be much older than me and were my stepmothers. I shook my head as a small laugh escaped my lips. Great. Just great. He named his weapon he used to kill after my mother. Then he decided to have 7 wives. Not like he hadn't had 7 relationships going at once before. Sherry thought he wanted to marry me too. That's so messed up. Negan had his morals, believe it or not. Marrying his daughter, one-hundred percent went against that.
I looked back at Sherry. The things he must've done to make her marry him. To make them all marry him. I pitied her. Almost as much as I pitied my mother. I shook my head and looked her in the eyes. Before I could say anything the door flung open. There he was. Sherry backed away from me quickly, before he could notice.
"I'm back." Negan smiled as his eyes wandered his wives bodies before his eyes landed on me. "Hey, Puppet. So you've met your stepmothers already. That saved me from an awkward conversation."
A few of the wives made a noise as the others tried to hide their shock. I looked up at Sherry who seemed to be hiding her emotions the best. Negan placed his bat by the door and opened it fully.
"Head on out. I've gotta have a father daughter talk."
The women listened and left. Negan closed the door and started pacing. He looked at me expectantly, almost as if he wanted me to talk to him first. I stared at him. I did my best not to waver. He sighed deeply.
"I remember you being a lot more talkative. Tough now you seem more confident. Less likely to listen to me. Plus you got that look in your eye. The same look Rick had before I got it through to him that he wasn't king prick anymore." Negan knelt down in front of me. "The way I see it, Puppet, is that you have two choices. One, you work with me. Tell me your friends' dirty little secrets and I will make it so you live like a queen. Or two, I get your friends' secrets and you'd wish you were dead by the end of all of it. Up to you, Puppet. I personally like option one."
I would never give up my family. If they were going to fight, despite everything I told them, then I was going to do everything to give them the edge. Torture. That's what Negan was implying. I could withstand a little pain and suffering for my family. For Daryl. I looked him in the eye and watched as his face turned disappointed.
"Option two it is, then Puppet. Don't say I didn't warn you." Negan opened the door and shouted out to Dwight. "Dwighty boy, take her to a cell. I need you to get information out of her."
Dwight appeared in the door frame and grabbed my arm. He pulled me from the ground. He started to drag me through the door before Negan stopped him and whispered something in his ear. Dwight nodded before dragging me to a cell. Dwight replaced the handcuffs for rope and left me in the cell.
The next morning he returned a sandwich in his hand. He wordlessly handed it to me. I took it as the door to my cell closed and clicked. I sniffed the sandwich. I gagged as a horrible odor filled my nose. What was I supposed to expect? Food was food. I had no clue if he was going to give me food again. I should eat. I took a bite of the sandwich and immediately wanted to throw up. I choked it down. I fished the sandwich as I tried not to think about what could be in it.
A few hours of silence passed before my cell door opened again. This time Dwight was accompanied by another person. Dwight directed the person to stay outside as he entered the cell. I guess this is where the torture began. Dwight closed the door and looked at me. Before he cut the rope binding my hands.
"I'm gonna need your clothes."
I stayed seated. Why the hell would he need my clothes? Did he get off on that sort of thing? Dwight's hand wrapped around my forearm and pulled me to my feet.
"If you're a prisoner you don't get the luxury of clothes. Give them to me now." His voice was more demanding than the first time. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Silence fell as I listened to him. I didn't have a choice. If I didn't do as he said, he would go to Negan. Then Negan would use my family as leverage. Most likely hurt someone, possibly kill someone. I pulled down my pants and pulled off my shirt. I pushed them into Dwight's chest.
"The rest of it too."
Dwight's eyes wandered my body. I wanted to kill him right then and there, but that would cause more problems. I did as he said and removed my undergarments. He took them from me. Pulling a rope from his pocket and gesturing to my hands. I lifted my wrists and allowed him to bind them once more. He smirked as he looked me dead in the eyes. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be. He opened the door to the cell and locked it behind him. Leaving me naked and alone.
As I sunk back to the floor, an image kept playing in my head. Dwight's vest, it looked scary familiar. I knew that vest. From the lacing on the sides to the wings stitched on the back. Why couldn't I remember why I remembered it?
The cell started to become cold and my body shaked. I already wanted to give up. Get my clothes back. Be warm again. This was what I had to do. For my family's safety. For Daryl's. It was my fault he was still alive. No matter what I was going to make sure he never laid another hand on my family, even if it meant dragging him to hell with me.
I started to get tired and curled into a corner. I had no clue what time it was. The cell was pitch dark. There were no windows and no source of light. The only light I got was when Dwight opened the door. I wrapped myself into a tight ball as I stayed sitting up. I used the walls to try and keep what little body heat I had left. Sleep slowly took over me as shivers ran up my spine.
The feeling of ice cold water splashing on my body, caused me to bolt awake. I glanced up at Dwight as my body reached a new level of cold. My hair stuck to my neck. Dwight smirked, before handing me a sandwich. The same disgusting one I've had the past few days. It was the only way I could relatively figure out how long I've been in this cell. I aumsed that he was giving the sandwich once a day. So I've probably been in this cell for maybe a week. Possibly more. I was left to my own silence most of the time. A few times Dwight tried to convince me that it wasn't too late to give in and live like a queen. I haven't seen Negan at all.
My body shaked as I curled back into the corner and ate my sandwich. I rested my head back on my knees in hopes of creating some warmth. As I shifted my wrists burned in pain. The rope had rubbed them raw days ago. Each time they attempted to heal they got ripped back open by the slightest movement.
A few days ago, I figured out I have a cell neighbor. I haven't tried to talk to him, afraid of what Dwight might do if I talked to him. I could hear it when they tortured him. Dwight would enter and talk to the man. I was never able to understand what he was saying. Then a few moments would pass before I could hear the man's screams. I couldn't help but wonder if that would happen to me at some point. That Dwight would get tired of just leaving me alone in the cell and decide to turn to a knife to get what he wanted. When Dwight wasn't hurting the man, I could hear the man cry. Whatever Dwight wanted from the man, he refused to give it to him.
Time passed as I found myself in my usual corner. Curled into a ball and shaking. My mind kept drifting to my family. What were they doing right now? Were they okay? Was everyone still breathing? I hoped. I hoped that my deal had worked. That Negan hadn't found a loophole and killed more people.
Days, possibly weeks, passed. I became accustomed to being cold. It became the only reminder I was still alive. Dwight would give me a sandwich every so often. Then he would leave, locking the door behind him each time. The man in the cell next to me wasn't in his cell as often. Dwight would drag him out of his cell and return him within a few hours. I wonder what he was doing to the man.
I rested my head against the wall. My wrists had gotten worse. Why'd it have to be ropes? Cuffs would've hurt too, but ropes were a whole other definition of hurt. It made sense. Dwight wanted to break me. Give him and Negan information on my group, on my family. They would have to kill me. I'd never give anything up. Rick needed any advantage he could get. The people of Alexandria weren't just going to roll over and allow Negan to take charge. They were going to end in a fight sooner or later. Negan had the numbers and most likely the weapons. Rick had less than Negan. Fewer men. Fewer guns. If they fought the outcome wouldn't be good.
Exhaustion kicked in as my eyes slowly started to fade. Sleep hasn't come easy to me for the last few days. Fear created nightmares. Everytime my eyes closed, a nightmare shook me awake. Sometimes it was my past. Other times it was my family. Maggie, Glenn, Daryl, and Rick mostly. They had their heads bashed in or they were turning to walkers. They were the worst. In my dream I never had the strength to kill them. I always hesitated and paid the price when their teeth would sink into my skin.
As sleep began to take over I was startled awake by the sound of children's songs. The music blared as the woman sang. What the hell? Was this just another attempt to get me to break? Or was this just a way of Dwight to say I could be on Easy Street, as the song put it. I've always found children's songs a little creepy. Like, why are they so happy? Most of them are about something messed up. Ring Around The Rosie is about the bubonic plague. Rock-a-bye Baby is about a baby plummeting to their death. You see where I'm coming from yet? People literally sing about this like this and just push it off as a song. Now I'm being forced to listen to this overly happy bullshit.
I banged my head against the wall as the song finished for the 15th time. This would never end. I covered my ears and did my best to block out the preppy music. Hours passed as the music only continued to loop. Soon days passed. The music would turn on and off every now and then. It always seemed to turn on when I was about to fall asleep or had finally thought it was all over. I discovered that if I covered my ears and hummed it would drown out most of the music. Covering my ears caused the ropes to hurt my wrists more, but as time passed the pain became less and less noticeable. Probably not a good thing.
The music had finally stopped and I had a moment to enjoy the silence before my cell door opened. I kept my gaze down expecting Dwight to toss my sandwich on the floor like usual. Instead Dwight dragged a chair into the room and closed the door behind him.
"Sit."
Dwight pushed the chair against the farthest wall. I glanced up at him confused. I stayed seated against the wall. He sighed before grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. His grip on my arm was tight. He pushed me into the chair and pressed a button on the lantern he brought with him. Light illuminated the room. I looked up at Dwight, who looked beyond tired.
"How many guns does Rick have?"
I stayed silent. He must've realized that just leaving me in a cell was going to break me. This was where the real torture began. I watched as he paced the room. He seemed pissed. Almost as if he had just gotten yelled at. Probably for not getting any information out of me. He faced me as his eyes became dark.
"Listen, I don't like hitting women, but if you aren't going to give me the answers I need, I will. How many guns does he have?"
I stoned my face as I looked up at him. I truly didn't know but he didn't need to know that. If I wasted his time trying to get an answer I didn't have, maybe there would be some sort of benefit to it. He sighed as he balled his fist. Within seconds it connected to my cheek. I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt to stop myself from yelping.
He continued his questions. Each time, I didn't answer. By the end of it all my body ached and blood had caked Dwight's hands. Dwight left me in the cell and returned a few minutes later with a doctor. The man examined me and sent me a soft smile.
"Negan, can take care of you. No more pain for as long as you live."
I avoided his eyes and looked towards the ground. Good cop, bad cop. Smart. Dwight beats the shit out of me and the good guy swoops in as comfort. How weak did Dwight think I was? The doctor didn't speak after that. He only left with a nod towards Dwight. Dwight stepped forward and grabbed my arm. He pulled me to my feet and tossed me into the corner. He grabbed the chair as he opened the door. The door closed behind him. The familiar sound of the lock, left me in utter silence.
I carefully moved my body into a more comfortable position. Dwight's vest still perplexed me. I should know that vest. I know it from somewhere, but where? I jumped as the music started back up. I rested my head, resisting every urge I had to show emotion. Someone could be listening. I couldn't make any noise. I couldn't show any signs that this was working. That this was breaking me. I needed to stay strong for Daryl, for my family.
A few days passed and Dwight stopped by every so often. He would ask the same questions. I would stay silent. It had been awhile since the last time he came. He stopped by to toss in my sandwich, but that was all. I was starting to think he gave up on trying to break me with pyhsical torture.
If only I knew how wrong I was. Dwight had returned this time with something other than his fists. This time he strapped me to the chair. The ropes dug into my skin as he tightened them. I watched as a man handed Dwight a hot iron. He looked at me and asked me the same question.
"How many guns does Rick have?"
When I didn't answer he looked down at the hot iron. He seemed to pity me for a moment as one of his hands traced the severely scared side of his face. He must've been burned too. I wonder what he did to deserve that? And why he was still following Negan, if he did that to him. Dwight stepped forward and scanned my body. He was going to burn me, wasn't he? Now he was deciding where to burn me. He smirked as he made his decision. I closed my eyes as the iron grazed passed my arm and landed on my hip. I failed to hold back a scream. He held the iron to my skin for a minute and it increasingly became worse. When he removed the iron I could feel my skin peeling off with it. I looked up at Dwight as tears unwillingly fell from my eyes.
"Look at that. Most people would have passed out by now."
Dwight looked at my skin attached to the iron. He smiled as he gestured to someone outside. The doctor from before came in and knelt down to address the burn. This time the man didn't speak. I looked down at the burn. It looked as though my skin had melted. That was going to be nasty scar. I glanced at my forearm. It wasn't as bad. Probably wouldn't scar.
Dwight unstrapped me from the chair and pushed me to the ground. The burn protested to the movement. Dwight left and the music began to play again. I rested my head against the wall as my body shook from being cold and in pain. Why didn't they just kill me yet? It's not like getting this information from me was better than Rick. I know I made Daryl a promise, but There wasn't a way I could complete it. It was impossible.
I wonder what Daryl is doing. Was he hunting? Sleeping? Fighting? I hope he's okay. I hope everyone's okay. I hope Maggie's baby was just fine and she was fine. I wish I could go back to them. Be with my family again. If I made it back it would mean one thing. They fought the Saviors and won. There would be casualties. Possibly even my family would die. It wasn't worth it. They should just co-exist with Negan. They'll lose if they clash with him again. He won't be as lenient.
My stomach growled in pain. Dwight hasn't returned for a while. I hadn't eaten in a long time. This was probably one of Dwight's ideas to get me to break. Or maybe they were finally going to kill me in one of the cruelest ways possible. My body would begin to eat away at itself and slowly I would fade away.
A few days passed, maybe. My body had begun to become weaker and weaker. The aching in my body began to dull. This was the end for me. Unless Dwight magically showed up with one of those disgusting sandwiches. At the moment one of those didn't sound so bad. I'd be joining the dead soon. I'd probably be put up on the fence with the other walkers. Mom, Angel, Abraham, Noah, Deana, everyone we've lost. If there was really something after death, then I'd get to see them all again.
I could feel my body fading as my eyes became heavy. I was reaching my final stretch. I'll see you soon, mom. I'll be set free from this cell. I'll be free. Death was something I always feared. Now it didn't seem so bad. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. Here I come mom.
I flinched as the sound of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts. Dwight tossed a sandwich on the ground and stood at the door. He gestured to the sandwich. Damn it. He couldn't just let me die. He sighed.
"Eat or I'll force you to."
That didn't sound fun in my mind. I moved as fast as my body allowed me and grabbed the sandwich. I took a bite. My stomach protested as I finished the sandwich. Happy, Dwight left, closing the door behind him. My stomach churned. Most people can't eat a lot after going a prolonged period without eating. I must've pushed it.
I tried to focus on something else. Tring to prevent myself from puking. Dwight's vest. I still couldn't figure out how I knew it. Had he taken it from someone back home? What had Negan taken from everyone back home? Were they still able to survive after giving up half of what we had? I closed my eyes as my stomach started to calm. I needed to keep fighting. Death might be a release from this pain, but my family needed me. If something happened, I needed to help. In whatever way possible.
I was bolted awake by the sound of the door opening. Dwight stood there with a knife in his hand. He pushed the chair back into the cell and pulled me onto it. He closed the door and turned to look at me. Here we go again.
"You know the drill by now. How many guns does Rick have?"
Dwight sighed at my silence. He stepped forward and ran the knife across my leg. I bit on my lip trying to hold back a small scream. Dwight repeated his question and when I didn't answer yet again. He sliced into my side. A small scream escaped my mouth. Dwight continued the cycle for a while before giving up.
He pushed me to the ground and left. Blood poured from the cuts. None of which were life threatening. Dwight knew what he was doing. Almost like he's done this before. The sound of the children's song reached my ears. I leaned against the wall and rested my eyes. I tuned out the music. A few minutes passed before sleep graced me with it's presence.
Some time passed and my wounds started to heal. When the door opened I looked up to see a different face. In Dwight's place was a chubby man. He never met my eyes and only looked at the ground. He extended the sandwich to me. I looked at it warily. Who was this guy? He gave me a pitiful glance and placed the sandwich on the ground. He closed the door behind him. I waited for the final sound of the door locking but it never came.
The door hadn't locked. I could escape. I slowly made it to my feet and opened the door slowly. I glanced out in the hallway hesitantly. I didn't trust this. What if it was a trap? What if it wasn't? What if this was my only chance to get out of here? I made a promise to Daryl. I told if there was a chance I would take it. But this didn't feel right. Something in my gut was telling me to close the door.
I'm sorry Daryl. I closed the door and curled back into my corner. Negan could've told that man to leave the door unlocked. To see what I would do. Maybe to see if I would try to leave. To go against our agreement. If I did, Negan would have freedom to kill my family. I rested my head on my knees and sighed. If I was wrong, I could never make it back to my family.
The sound of the door opening caused me to leave my thoughts. I looked up at the person who entered. Negan. He smiled as he looked over me. He propped his bat against the wall and signaled to someone outside. Soon a chair was dragged to the door. Negan took the chair and sat down. He looked back at me.
"Look at you Puppet. Staying strong. Dwighty boy is pissed." He chuckled. "You're gonna break some day. You're gonna wish that you chose to live as a queen. It's not too late Puppet. You can still turn back. Just answer Dwight's questions."
I glanced up to him and locked eyes. No. Never. I have a family to protect. He can torture me. Hell, even kill me. I'm not saying anything. He nodded and stood. He opened the door. He glanced back at me.
"Puppet, I hope you come to your senses soon."
He pushed the chair out of the cell and closed the door. The sound of the click told me he had locked the door this time. A few hours passed and Dwight opened the door. He tossed a sandwich on the floor, along with something else. He closed the door in silence. I glanced down at the other object. I seemed to be a piece of paper. I lifted it and immediately regretted it.
There was a picture of Abraham's headless body. It was my fault I should've stepped in. Something caught my eye in the picture. Daryl was in the background. It all clicked. Dwight's vest was Daryl's. He'd taken Daryl's vest. Dwight better not have hurt him. I tossed the picture in frustration as the children's song started again.
~~Hi, Fallen_Angel here. This chapter took me forever to write. Quick note for everyone. I start school next week so I'm gonna change my posting day to Sunday. I've posted this chapter early cause tomorrow's gonna be a busy day for me. These chapters take forever to write so I might change my posting day around some as the school year starts, so just bare with me for awhile. Have a good day. Be good people.~~