!! ⚠️TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT ⚠️!!
The door slams shut behind you. Water beads and drips off of your face from running in the falling rain. Every muscle burns as well as your lungs. The pain in your shoulder becomes more excruciating as the adrenaline wears off. You force yourself into the bathroom to try and examine the wound. In the mirror, you stare into your wincing face and you peel the soaked jacket from your arm.
There is no exit wound, the bullet is still embedded into the soft flesh of your shoulder. Your arm is almost completely useless. You open the medicine cabinet with a shaky hand and throw gauze, rubbing alcohol, and bandages onto the bathroom counter in front of you. Closing it, you turn to examine the bullet wound only to find your arm is sliced open as well. You know they won't be far behind, you have to be quick.
Your eyes scan the bathroom looking for anything to bite down on. Landing on a decorative towel you fold it up and stick it between your teeth. You grab the alcohol and flip the cap open. Taking a deep breath in, you shut your eyes and squirt the substance onto your bullet wound. You scream into the towel and bite as hard as you can. You've never experienced pain this terrible.
With a substantially shakier hand than before, you shower your cut with it too, letting out another wail. You throw the alcohol back onto the counter and begin taping the gauze onto the wounds and wrapping them with bandages.
Still shaking from the immense amount of pain, you exit the bathroom only to hear footsteps coming up onto the porch. You knew they would follow the trail of blood but you didn't have any other choice but to patch yourself up. Your blood runs cold as the sound of their muffled voices get closer to the door. Pulling the gun from your waistband, you pull out the clip.
Five left.
You duck behind the couch and chamber a bullet, waiting for them to enter. Your hands shake as you point the barrel of Dwight's pistol at the door about head high. Your nostrils flare from the sheer amount of air you're rapidly breathing. The door creaks open but no one comes into sight right away. You keep as quiet as you can, waiting with your finger tightly wrapped around the trigger.
The adrenaline starts to pump through your body. One of the men finally step through the door, gun drawn. The moment his head of long wet hair rests between the sights of your gun, you squeeze the trigger and his body crumples to the floor. Through the sound of your rapid heartbeat, you hear the floor creak behind you. You whip around only to be met by the swing of a baseball bat and then everything goes dark.
-
The throbbing sensation in your head only grows as you regain consciousness. You try to bring your hand up to touch your head but you're restrained. Your eyes try to flutter open to no avail. The light in the room beams into your eyelids like a heat lamp turned to the maximum. In turn, making the pounding in your head worse. You let out a small groan and start realizing why you're restrained.
"About time you got up.", an unfamiliar voice retorts.
Your eyes fly open despite the immense pain it causes you. Through blurred vision, you see a man standing across from you eating a can of your food. His black hair is wet and matted and his face is adorned with a long beard with bits of grey sprinkled throughout. His eyes are small, beady, and pale in color. You're in the kitchen, and it looks like he's made himself at home.
"How long have you been alone?", he asks, mouth full of spaghetti-o's.
Lie.
"I'm not alone", you spit.
Shoving another spoonful into his mouth; he looks you up and down blankly.
"Then why are there only your clothes here? Or is there a second girl? 'Cause I thought I was gonna have all the fun with just little ol' you but the more the merrier.", he inquires nonchalantly.
He went through my stuff? "Fun'?
Goosebumps form under your skin and you almost physically shudder at the thoughts whirling through your brain.
"Yeah I thought about killing you.", the man says, tossing his empty can into the trash and running the spoon under the faucet.
He steps in front of you and crouches to eye level. The smell of body odor and molded clothes fills your nose. His beady dead eyes scouring your wide, angry ones. You writhe under your restraints.
"And then, I started thinking about everything I could do to you. I mean I could've done it while you were conked out but where's the fun in that.", he trails off, attempting to tuck a strand of your wet hair behind your ear but you jerk your head away.
"Wayne.", he tells you, earning a twinge of confusion across your scowling face.
"I just want you to be yelling the right name while you're begging for more.", he smirks wickedly, revealing rotted black teeth.
You spit onto his face, heart racing. You pull and wriggle in the restraints but they won't budge.
"Fuck you.", you seethe through gritted teeth.
He takes two fingers and wipes the spit from his face and examines it before looking back at you. He inserts the two fingers into his mouth with a wild look in his eye. Without a word, he rounds your chair and you can feel him tugging at your restraints. He undoes the ones connected to the chair but not the ones disabling you. All of a sudden he lifts you from the chair from underneath your arms.
"Don't fucking touch me!", you scream, fighting as hard as you can.
((Last warning ⚠️ you can skip and go to the next chapter or I will leave another note when it ends))
He wraps you into a bear hug and begins dragging you down the hallway. You throw your head back as hard as you can, landing it on his face. He drops you and you fall to the ground with a thud. You frantically wiggle on the carpet, trying to put as much space between you and him as possible. Hearing him laugh from behind you, you wiggle faster, moving only inches at a time.
"Fighting's only gonna make it worse.", Wayne warns.
You fight as hard as you can to get away but he grabs you and flips you onto your back. His black mats hang down into your face and the image of his broken-toothed smile in this moment burns into your brain.
"If you can't wait to get to the bedroom, I'll just take you here."
You scream as loud as you can and fight like you never have before. He straddles you and pins your bound arms above your head.
"No! Let me go! Get off of me!", you wail.
He takes his free hand and rips your shirt from the collar all the way down, exposing your bare stomach and bra. You break out into sobs, begging for him to stop. His eyes gravitate to your bare torso, making you want to peel your skin off. He starts undoing the buckle on his belt and you give it your all, thrashing and screaming. It only seems to make it worse. You shut your eyes tightly and fight, you know you're not going to win, but you can't not try to fight him off. The clinking of the belt being undone permanently registers in your brain.
(END OF TW)
All of a sudden, it all stops. The weight of the man gets pulled off of you and the grip on your arms subsides. Your eyes fly open and through blurry vision you see Negan holding Wayne against the wall by his throat with a gun in his mouth. A newfound level of relief pours over you. Negan's eyes are pooled with utter wrath. You can almost see his veins constricting under the black glove over his hand from the sheer amount of grip he has on his throat. Wayne's face begins to turn purple and fear overcomes his shaking body.
"You're really gonna wish you hadn't done that.", Negan fumes.
He leads Wayne by the back of the neck, out from the hallway and into the living room. He heaves and pleads through his crushed throat. You shake as you pull yourself to your feet and watch as Negan drags him out the door and into the yard. They both disappear as they round the other side of the house, presumably to the shed. You push your back into the wall and slide down to sit, head in your hands. Sobs rack your body. The pain from your wound begins to radiate through your body. You hug your legs and press your forehead into your knees. The sound of distant, pained screaming rings through the house.
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