Vanessa POV
three months later.
(Trigger warning.)
I groan at the sight of the Governor perched in the corner on a chair. He venomously grins when my gaze lands on him, "hello little lady. It's been too long." I shake my head, hating that my subconscious decided to conjure a different breed of lunatic to drive me further into insanity. Though, he's more of a welcome sight than Owen himself.
How far into insanity have I gone if I actually admitted that? I run my hand along my exhausted face. "Fuck me," I whisper, exasperated.
I've lost track of time between the hallucinations and the torture. Every fucking day is a new form of physical or psychological abuse. My nose seems to be broken from the dangerous game of fifty questions. Almost every inch of flesh is bruised. New cuts liter new parts of my body that he left untouched previously. The burns now scar my flesh. A permanent nasty reminder of my stay that I'll have to live with until my dying breath. My rib cage moans under every breath from the repeated beatings that have become a daily occurrence. I've come to the conclusion that they seem to just be cracked. It takes everything inside my soul to sit and take it, knowing I'm capable of killing him, even in my current state. But, I have to be complicit to protect my brother and chosen family.
I've stopped eating everyday once I realized that they were lacing my food with some sort of a drug. I only eat enough to stay alive. However, the hallucinations have remained. Every person that has died around me has come to haunt me. Another slap in the face, and further proof that my own mind is an enemy of mine; reminding me of everyone that I have failed in some way shape or form.
Kelly joins my side when Owen enters my prison, lending his support to help keep me focused on staying with the land of the living, forcing me to watch his face while Owen defiles and hurts me. Maybe it's a way my subconscious is using to protect me. Though, my heart breaks every time I see his figure, reminding me of the biggest loss I have faced to this day.
I have forced myself to stay awake as much as my body can handle it, needing to be on guard at all times. I can barely tell the difference between reality and warped delusions.
Emotionally, I feel myself grow more and more numb. My heart is hardening. I lost hope long ago that my family is coming to save me. After everything I've done for them, I feel as if they've thrown me away. I know I saved Negan, but I'm still family, right? If I somehow am able to get out of here, I'm considering taking my babies and running for the hills. I wipe a stray tear, realizing, I might have to do this to myself. However, I doubt James will come out on the other side of this alive. I refuse to take him down with me in a moment of recklessness.
My hand seeks out the spot along my shoulder blade that Owen had cut into, removing my tattoo for Loki. In his usual sick fashion, he forced James to patch me up, protecting me from a terrible infection. At some point I had passed out from the pain, throat raw from the ear splitting scream that escaped my pink lips. I have no idea why he'd do something so twisted but I doubt a man like him needs any type of reasoning to do some something as fucked up like cutting pieces off of me. He's even taken some of my hair into his possession.
My fingers brush the image of Daryl and our twins that was thrown in front of me yesterday. His face is etched in sadness while he watches our children smile up at their father. I reach up, wiping another tear that has escaped from behind my blue eyes. I'd give anything to see Caroline and Kellin one more time; to kiss their little faces. My heart sinks, as I grasp that I'm facing down my death at any point. My babies will have to grow up without their mother, not having a single memory of me. I sob at the heart wrenching thought and conclusion.
"You know what's funny, Vanessa?" I don't, but I'm sure he is going to tell me anyway. "I rape you and allow Merle to cut you up, yet you still didn't break. You came at me and my people over and over without hesitating. Yet you're taking this shit laying down. That's not the feisty bitch I remember. Ain't he a kitten compared to me? Get up!" I cover my ears as his voice gets louder and louder, repeating the last demand over and over. I shut my eyes, willing it to end.
SLAM!
I startle as The Governor is suddenly in my face, bellowing loudly, "wake up!"
My eyes land on open door as Owen struts through. I panic seeing the old slimy smirk on his face. "No, no, no!" I beg, knowing this was only a matter of time. His fingers grip my hair, forcing my front to the ground while his fingers force my only remaining clothes off. While I thrash around, his hand finds my wound, pushing on it. I wail at the pain that slithers across my flesh. I relent, allowing hot silent tears drift down my face.
Charlee POV
I hang my head, stepping out of yet another abandoned building and dead end with Daryl and Jesus on my heels. I quickly reach up, wiping a tear. Though, I refuse to give up hope. She has to be out there somewhere. I know how Owen works; I can feel it in my soul that she's alive.
We would always joke about being soulmates on a platonic level, and I'm really hanging onto that. I haven't felt her soul leave this world, but I can tell she's in pain, barely hanging on. I plead with the universe to not let us be too late.
Carol had interrogated every savior on the list while Daryl left them fearing for their own safety, though, they all left us without any new route to take. I'm realizing that Daryl is growing unhinged without his wife and Rick; two of three people that could keep him in check. Carol can barely reason with the redneck. Carol mentioned that she and Ness witnessed this side of him at the farm with a boy named Randell. She seemed unnerved to see that side of him resurfacing.
Negan had the same empty answers for Daryl as he had with me. I could tell it took Daryl everything in his power to keep himself composed and not beat Negan into a bloodied, beaten heap. It later dawned on me; he did it for Vanessa. She cares for Negan, spending almost a year bringing him back from the brink of death, and he wasn't going to become unhinged to muck up her work. She wouldn't let him live it down. At this point, neither would I. What can I say? Bundy is growing on me.
We also came up empty handed at the sanctuary. We've resorted to searching every abandoned building in a twenty five mile radius.
"Aye!" Daryl shouts, waving us over. I stalk over, spotting the color drain out of his face. Curious, I step around the bike, covering my mouth in horror. While our backs were turned, someone dropped off a small box covered in dried blood next to Daryl's motorcycle. Jesus comes to a stop next to me, I peer over my shoulder, observing as his eyes scan the landscape, lips pursed as he comes up empty. Daryl kneels down, carefully opening the box. The first thing he drags out is a necklace.
I gasp, "that's Vanessa's. Her father gave that to her... she never went anywhere without it." I feel Jesus hand perch on my shoulder, lending his support as the horror continues.
Next he pulls out the clothes we seen her in last. With further inspection, "there's blood," Daryl offers. Fuck. I suck in a shaky breath as his face twists in pain, he drags out a piece of her hair... and skin. Swallowing the bile, I walk over, peering down. Her Loki tattoo. Damn it; Owen knew what it meant to the four of us. It kept us together at all times. I swear under my breath. I'm gonna choke him and laugh while the life drains out of his ugly face. He's trying to take her away from me. Red begins to dance into my vision. I kick the dirt in frustration. Asshole doesn't realize he's playing with fire. He's not as untouchable as he believes. This will only end with him getting burned.
"Oh my god," Jesus whispers.
I spot something else, I reach in, gently pulling a picture out. It's a Polaroid that shows three figures, but I drag my attention to my best friend. It's in blurry, shitty quality. But I can still discern some details. Vanessa is dressed in just her undergarments, but her skin is pale, drained of any color. It seems like she's lost so much weight that she's all bones. My eyes zero in on the blood seeping out of her shoulder. I steal a glance at the skin before returning to the image in my grip. Her flesh is bruised, and white; giving the illusion that she's gone. I shake my head, no, something tells me that she's only passed out from pain. She's a survivor. He did this to not only play with her head, but ours, too. In the corner of the image I spot a familiar face. Two familiar faces, I correct myself. James is peering inside the room, face in mourning. I gasp, spotting the second, the starting to rot figure reaching for her step brother. "Her father," I snarl, "bastard killed her father, but James is with her. This is proof Owen has her." I wave the picture. Daryl takes it from me while Jesus glances over his shoulder. "She's alive," I feel relief pealing the stress off of my bones.
"I'm gonna check the premises, maybe push out a bit further. Hopefully I'll find something from the person who left this." I watch as Jesus takes off without another word. I sigh, he had a special connection to her. He's taking it as hard as Daryl and I are. I'm grateful that he's been with us every step of the way.
"No, she ain't." Daryl groans. "She's gone."
My head snaps in his direction, "she what?"
"The walker," I narrow my eyes as he disregards that man; her father, "is reachin' for this man. Not Blue. She's dead." He sighs, blue eyes exhausted and heartbroken.
"Because James, her brother, is closer than she is, and probably making more noise than she is. That walker is her father, asshole." I snarl, words clipped. His face unreadable as he hears my voice ride on the air around us. "He killed her fucking father, Daryl!" I watch as he places everything back inside the box. I grab the photo, necklace and clothes from him, setting it on Vanessa's bike. I spin around, feeling rage light my soul on fire, "so you're giving up?"
He hangs his head, "yeah, I'm gonna go back and look for Rick, again. My wife is dead. It's been months, and we don't know when that picture was taken." His gruff tone somber, matching his expression.
I snort, "so you can find that girl you told Carol about?" His body tenses as I cross my arms, venom dripping from my tone, "I know Owen. Regardless of how he felt about me, I still dropped in on her as much as I could. He's toying with us as much as he's toying with her. If she were dead, her corpse would be here instead of a fucking box! You're giving him exactly what he wants!" At his silence, I grow more enraged, "Rick's fucking dead. He went down in an explosion on the bridge."
"Ya don't know that. There's no body." He argues through clenched teeth. He shakes his head, turning his back to me; it only manages to piss me off further. He can barely look at me after I called him out about moving on with another woman. I inwardly groan; that news is going to shatter Vanessa's heart, and she tends to like killing the messenger.
"Because the bridge fucking exploded! There will be no body, just bits and pieces in a mass of other fucking body parts from the herd."
He whirls around, facing me, eyes darkening, "is that what ya want me to tell Michonne? His pregnant wife! Or better yet, tell her that ya deemed a dead girl a more important than her husband!" He gestures to the photo in my possession, "that's proof of death!"
My mouth falls open, "so she's not your wife anymore? Just a dead girl. No sir, this is hope!" I rebuke, trying to contain the rage. My eyes flick the necklace dangling around his neck. I reach over, ripping it off. "This is her mothers ring. It belongs with me, her fucking family. You stay in those woods, with that strange woman I heard about. When Vanessa comes back - when, not if - don't come near her. Don't even think about rekindling this fake marriage. If you go near her, I will tear you limb from limb. I warned you, Dixon. Until then, stay away from her children since you clearly give a fuck less about their mother. I'd sleep better at night knowing you aren't the one raising those babies. You'd rather be in those woods, anyway, cozying up to some new cunt. This is the second fucking time you gave up on her while she was missing. You're lucky it's me standing here, and not Kelly." It's my turn to spin, placing my back towards Daryl, strutting towards her bike, dying to get out of here to regroup and re-attack the plan.
I refuse to let my hope go. I lost my brother, I can't lose my best fucking friend, too. I need you to come back to me, Ness.
"Kelly'd understand." I round on him, baring my teeth as the words escape his mouth. In two strides, I'm in front of him, I kick my leg out, aiming for his stomach. I watch him double over in pain, I tangle my fist into his hair while I allow my free hand to connect to his jaw.
"Whoa! Hey!" Jesus' voice is faint while I ambush Daryl for having the guts to utter my brothers name in such a vile way. He clearly didn't know him, me, or Vanessa. I put my hand up, stopping him from interfering, without taking my attention off of Daryl.
I drag the archer's head back, bringing my lips to his ears, "no, he wouldn't. He wouldn't give up. He'd be burning down the world down at my side, and when he brought her back, he would kill you for giving up on her. The woman he loved so much more than you ever could, the same woman he stepped down from, thinking you were better for her. He died watching her love a man who clearly didn't deserve her." I let him go, narrowing my eyes. Daryl steps back, hand flying to his jaw, watching me with caution. I realize he's never truly been exposed to exactly what I'm capable of; especially when it comes down to protecting Vanessa. I've done it all of her life. I've been the pitbull at her side for as long as both of us can remember. "Stay away from Vanessa when she returns." I straighten up, locking eyes with Jesus, "you giving up, too, or are you with me?"
He peers between me and Daryl, taking a moment to consider and assess the situation. "If she were dead, her body would've been here. Not this," he points the box. "From the story I heard of this man, this is something he'd do to throw us off our game and off his scent." I return my gaze to Daryl, sneering. "I found prints, but I lost them after awhile. What's next?"
"I want to take the photo to Negan, see if the background looks familiar." I straddle my best friend's bike; Jesus follows suit. I kick up the dirt, leaving Daryl in the dust, heading back to Alexandria.
Vanessa POV
Two months later.
I survey the corpse that was once my father, wondering why he isn't lunging for me. Instead, he's peering around, moaning in boredom, or starvation. Possibly both. I glance down, scrunching my nose. I smell like I'm rotting myself, I muse. I haven't bathed since before we started to rebuild the bridge. Memories of the stories Rick and Glenn had shared with me rush forward; they would cover themselves in blood and guts to walk through a herd in a stressful peace, going unnoticed. Additionally, I still wear my father's blood when Owen killed him in cold hearted murder. I might as well be one of the dead myself. I cock my head, curious and curiouser, debating on testing my theory.
I chew on my dried cracked lips, hope causing my heart to skip a beat. Maybe I can escape the walkers notice, and somehow get myself and James out of here. Though, in my current state, I'm unsure how I could manage such a feat. Maybe, just maybe...
"I wouldn't, my sweet baby sister." I sputter, eyes widening. I spot Merle sitting next to me, "unless ya got a death wish, but I'm pretty sure my baby bro wouldn't appreciate a suicide mission." He chuckles, "he needs ya help to raise those babies."
I scoff, of course, it was only a matter of time before my brother in law would decide to appear. "Yeah, I'm dead, are you here to drag me to hell?" Fuck it, I'll indulge the hallucinations. Merle might be a racist, irritating redneck, but he has his moments of being entertaining. I might as well enjoy my ride into insanity and brace it. The ghosts are seemingly keeping me company, and somehow, alive.
He cracks a smile, "I'm wounded. Ya really think I'm in hell?"
I shake my head, smirking, "have you met you? "Cause I'm pretty confident."
He shrugs under my amused gaze, "good news is, the scary woman I met at the prison is still in there somewhere." he gestures to my body, "how I've missed your humor, lil one. I want front row seats when ya get outta here. I gotta a feelin' it's gonna be good."
I groan at the reminder of my situation, setting my head against my knees, "I ain't getting out here, Merle. He's going to kill me." I'm barely hanging onto life as is. I've acquired a dislocated shoulder from this morning. Something is wrong with my leg; I'm having a hell of a time moving it. That's not counting the many other injuries I've sustained over the course of my imprisonment. Furthermore, I haven't eaten in a week; I'm starving and dehydrated.
I startle as the door swings open, I glance up expecting Owen. Instead I'm greeted by Arat, the woman savior that once held a gun on me. I watch her carefully as she glances over her shoulder. She steps inside, eyes surveying my state. A frown etches itself into her face. She sets some food in front of me, but she bends down, lips meeting my ears, "hold tight, Reaper. Carol is coming. We are getting you out of here. Eat up; you're gonna need your strength." She pulls back, gaze meeting mine. She brings her finger to her lips, my own blue eyes widening. Is this another one of his games? It fucking has to be. Give me hope and tear is away. Maybe he's waiting for me to give him a reason to kill my brother. I observe as she takes her leave. I cover my mouth, waiting for the click of the lock, but it never comes.
"Looks like the calvary is comin' baby sis." Merle smiles, "prepare for the worst, but ya gettin' out of here. Don't ever doubt me, again. Now go and give my baby bro hell for takin' so god damn long."
"God, I actually miss you, Dixon." I choke out, eyes not leaving the door. Is this really fucking happening?