Rosie wondered why. Why did Coach Smith- or Negan, rather- insist on keeping her in this room? Why did he do what he did? Why was he so angry? What could have happened? It felt like torture, being kept in that room. What she worried about more, though, was Daryl. Negan had taken Daryl, too. Rosie hadn't seen him since they took them inside and separated them. She could only imagine what they were doing to him. She wanted to help him, but she was just as stuck as he was.
Never in her life would Rosie have thought she'd be bothered by loneliness. All she used to long for was loneliness. She always wanted to be left alone, back before the end of the world. Even at the Atlanta camp, she isolated herself, but people never let her. So she'd never truly experienced this type of loneliness. There was really no one there. No one came to speak to her, no one came to entertain her, no one came to ask if she was ok, no one was there.
In the loneliness in which she found herself, squeezed into the corner of this small room- loneliness after months and months of constant togetherness, loneliness that could not be more absolute anywhere, either at the bottom of the sea or deep into outer space- Rosie lived only by her memories in the past. She found herself imagining she was crouched behind home plate, her baseball glove held open and ready in front of her, as she glanced over to first base, where Coach Smith stood with a somewhat proud expression on his face. Her imagination went back to when she met Coach Smith, to when he took care of her when her father wouldn't, to when he would check up on her after each practice, to her childhood, and she stayed there.
How could the man who just bashed in Abraham's and Glenn's skulls be the same man who let six-year-old Rosie stay with him when her father was high and/or out of his mind, or missing?
And why had he taken her if just to leave her alone in this room?
Rosie wasn't sure how much time had passed since she was torn away from Daryl; since she was patted down and searched; since she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and could only listen as the men stripped Daryl of all of his clothing and belongings and dragged him away; since she was dragged away into this cell herself. Whether it was morning or night, whether it had been days or hours since she knelt in the dirt, was irrelevant.
It was all the same: the images that flashed in her brain every time she closed her eyes; the sickening sound of the bat breaking Abraham's skull into bits and pieces right before Negan- not Coach Smith, they were not the same- made her show off her swing; the darkness of the van where the only thing that kept her grounded and conscious was the feeling of Daryl's arms wrapped around her; the silence of this god damn cell she was being kept in. Every thought and memory put a sick feeling into Rosie's gut. But none of it mattered. It would all lead to death, whether it be Rosie's or someone else's. So what did minutes, hours, or times of day matter for?
They didn't.
The only sound that Rosie could occasionally hear were the footsteps and murmuring voices from outside of the cell. Each time she'd hear it, there'd be a small flash of hope in her gut, only to be replaced by the crushing feeling Rosie couldn't put her finger on. Maybe it was hopelessness, maybe despair, maybe confusion, or maybe it was just the hunger. All Rosie knew was that she felt sick.
But this time, the footsteps stopped outside of the door. The flash of hope wasn't replaced by the sick feeling; it was replaced by terror. There were three light knocks on the door.
"Banks."
Coach Smith.
No, not Coach Smith. He wasn't Coach Smith anymore. He was Negan.
Yet the name had been so deeply rooted into her brain. Just like with her father- it didn't matter if she knew how evil of a man he was and how bad of a dad he was, he would always be Daddy in her mind, even if Daryl had started referring to him as nothing else but David. Negan, no matter how sick of a man he was, he would always be Coach Smith in Rosie's head. He taught her to swing a bat, how to catch a fly ball, how to steal a base, how to properly lead off. Not only that, but he took care of her. He didn't have to, but he did. Because he was a good man. He was.
Rosie couldn't bring herself to answer. She felt so conflicted, just like she did when her dad died. Was he good or was he bad? But this time, the man was standing, alive, on the other side of the door. And he had just killed two members of her family.
There was a deep sigh, and the door handle started to turn. As light began to seep into the darkness of the cell, Rosie scrambled to the back wall, making herself small in the back left corner. Negan stepped inside the cell, leaving the door open behind him. Rosie considered making a run for it, but she knew any attempt to escape would be futile. So she just watched, the entire bottom half of her face buried in her arms, only leaving her wide and frightened eyes to be seen, as Negan slid down to the floor, sitting on the ground by the door casually.
"Sorry about this whole... arrangement," he said. The way he spoke sounded just like the way he did when he was Coach Smith, but nothing like the way Rosie heard him speak when she knelt in front of him that night in the woods. "Thought it'd be better if you were in an empty room for a few days 'cause... you're angry. And I know you."
"You don't know shit," Rosie replied. She meant to say it with a venomous quality to her voice, but instead it came out sounding quiet, weak, and broken down, her voice cracking like it wasn't used to speaking anymore.
Negan chuckled humorlessly. It honestly sounded quite sad, if he was even capable of feeling such emotions anymore. "I know a lot of shit about you. I know you like dinosaurs. And bugs. I know your favorite catcher is Carlton Fisk. I know you wanted a pet snake. I know you like to read," he went on listing out the things a person might know about Rosie Banks.
Rosie listened intently. She tried not to show it, but it was getting to her; pulling at something in her chest. Some of these things she'd even forgotten herself. It seemed as the years went by, and her life got overtaken by the dead and the dying, she lost some of the bits and pieces that made her into who she was. But at the same time, she'd gained new things- new people- that made her into who she was now. She'd turned over a new leaf. As Rick would put it, she'd changed, for the better.
"I know you like Black Sabbath. And Nirvana. And David Bowie. I know you can solve a Rubik's cube in less than a minute. And, if all of that is the same now, I know your favorite food is mac and cheese, which I so graciously brought for you," Negan said. He sat up and reached out into the hall before revealing a bowl of warm, gooey macaroni and cheese to the small girl.
After going over it in her head for a good twenty seconds, Rosie quickly scooted forward and snatched the bowl out of Negan's hands before hurrying back to her corner. She was very hungry, considering she hadn't eaten anything, and she figured she'd be no use dead. Starving herself in spite of Negan would be like drinking poison and hoping he'd be the one to die. So, she let herself enjoy the nice, warm bowl of mac and cheese, savoring the taste she hadn't been able to enjoy for years.
She looked at Negan, waiting for him to start talking again as she enjoyed her meal, but he didn't say anything for a moment, just eyeing her with a look of content. She already felt less angry than she did before, almost forgetting that this wasn't the same Coach Smith who'd she'd spent countless hours playing catch with. But then she'd look at him and see that leather jacket and that black hair slicked back upon his head and she'd remember, no, this isn't Coach Smith.
Coach Smith had messy, greying hair and sometimes he wore glasses. He often wore graphic tees and sometimes even button-ups. He used to have a real smile. Negan was different.
"I went to your house at the beginning of all this. To make sure your dad didn't just leave," Negan finally said.
"He took me with 'im. Don't think he'd just leave me," Rosie replied, more focused on her mac and cheese than the conversation at hand. Her eyebrows were permanently furrowed, and her lips were permanently shaped into a frown. They would stay that way until she was back home with Daryl.
"I wouldn't put it past him," Negan scoffed and chuckled humorlessly again. "What happened to him? Did you kill him?"
"Killed him after he a'ready turned. Daryl's brother killed him, apparently. Said he knocked his teeth in 'cause he was an asshole an' he deserved it," Rosie said. She spoke as if it were just some normal story that didn't mean much to her. She'd become desensitized to the death and the killing, and after learning what a good man actually was like, she didn't miss her dad much anymore.
One thing she wondered about was, if Coach Smith knew that her dad was terrible, which he most certainly did, then why did he let her stay there? Why didn't he do something? He was a teacher, he should have known what to do. But whatever he could've done, he didn't do it. Maybe there was a reason for that, maybe there wasn't. Rosie could stop wondering.
The moment Rosie realized what she had said, her mind immediately went to Daryl, Abraham, and Glenn. Daryl, Abraham, and Glenn because they'd been some of the examples of good men she'd learned from. Her eyes started to burn at the thought of it, and she put down her bowl, looking up at Negan with watery eyes.
"Why'd you do it? Why'd you bring me here? Why... why are you..." Rosie couldn't seem to figure out what her real question was for a few moments. "What happened to you?"
The question seemed unreal to Negan. None of the Saviors knew him before the fall, so none of them ever asked about it- not that they'd have the balls to in the first place. But that wasn't the reason it seemed so unreal. The reason was that he expected Rosie to feel nothing but anger and hatred towards him. From all the time he spent with her, all the time he spent watching her grow up, he'd never seen her with this emotion. He couldn't even put his finger on what emotion it was. He'd seen her angry. She always seemed so angry. Whether she was angry at herself, or her dad, or the kids who picked on her at school, she was always just that: angry.
Never before had Rosie ever bothered to ask other people why they were the way they were. She never bothered to ask herself why she was the way that she was; so quick to anger, so isolated, so quiet, so obedient. Not until she met Daryl. Not until he taught her that her father wasn't a normal father. That was when she learned that bad people weren't always bad people. Some people were good people who did bad things because of things that happened to them. She was a good person who sometimes did bad things because of the things that happened to her.
So, Rosie found herself wondering: is Coach Smith a good man who has done bad things or is he just a bad man?
Negan neglected answering the last question. "Your people killed a shit ton of my people, Rosie. A lot more than just two," he said.
"They were my friends!" Rosie said bitterly, her face twisted up as she tried to look angry rather than devastated. She hadn't felt like crying this much in a long time.
"They killed my people. My friends," Negan replied, keeping his face blank, even though he felt guilt rising up inside of him. He never felt guilty for what he did, but seeing how much it affected Rosie- a girl he knew before the end of the world- made him actually feel bad.
"I did, too. Are you gonna kill me? Is that why ya took me here?" Rosie asked, shrinking even smaller into her corner.
Negan shook his head. "I brought you here because it's safer in here than it is out there," he told her.
"Away from my family?" Rosie asked sarcastically. "That's better for me?!"
"I've been looking for you all this time because it is safer here. I want you safe. I care about you. I cared about you before any of this shit, and they're your family?" Negan asked, a sour look on his face. Rosie only glared at him, her insides burning. "That sounds like a load of horse shit to me, Banks."
"Stop callin' me Banks," Rosie said, her voice tense. She didn't mind it before, but now she didn't want to be Banks. She didn't want that name. "That ain't my name no more."
Negan chuckled dryly. "Yeah? What is it then?"
"Rosie Starling," Rosie told him. Rosie Starling. Fraser would always say that their momma named Rosie after her favorite flower and her favorite bird.
"Rosie Starling what?"
"Don't know," Rosie murmured, now staring at the ground. She waited for some other comment out of Negan's mouth, but he didn't say anything. He stayed quiet, which only urged Rosie to fill the silence. "I'm not stayin' here," she said.
"You are. And you're staying in this room until I can trust that you're not gonna try something stupid," Negan said. His voice made him sound like he knew that was he was saying was true. Rosie knew that it wasn't.
"If you cared 'bout me, I wouldn't be in here. I'd be at home. With Daryl, and Abraham, and Glenn. But you don't," Rosie said, her voice shaking. She wanted to scream these things at him, but her voice was weak and scratchy from all of the crying she'd been doing. She didn't have the strength to hit him and scream at him. "I don't want to be here!" was all she could manage to shout.
"You're in here because in here, you're alive!" Negan shouted back. Rosie stared at him, her eyes wet and angry. She tried to look tough, even if she was afraid. Negan sighed and pinched the bridge if his nose. "I'm not doing this to hurt you, Rosie Starling. I'm doing this for you. I know it'll take a shit ton of time for you to understand that, but you will."
"You're wrong. I'm not stayin' here," Rosie told him, her eyes narrowed. She knew it was true. She wasn't staying here. Daryl would get out, and then she would. The only comfort she had was knowing that she wouldn't die here. Negan wouldn't hurt her- physically. "I'm not stayin' here with you. After you... you-" she couldn't finish her sentence. Her face scrunched up and she turned her head away, hiding herself.
Negan looked away, not wanting to see her crying. He didn't need to feel bad. In his mind, he'd done what he had to do. "I didn't want to hurt you. I needed to make a point. Rick's people needed to understand. Sacrifices had to be made. No exceptions," he said, staring at the wall.
"Rick's people are my people. And you... you killed 'em. They're- they're gone, and you took 'em away from me," Rosie managed to say with her face hidden in her hands. Negan didn't say anything in response. The thought of her people reminded Rosie that Daryl was there, too. She wanted to see him. She needed to see him, or she might just break down into nothingness at the thought that he might not be ok. She wiped her tears from her face and brought her hands back down, out of the way. "Where's Daryl? I wanna see Daryl," she said, trying not to let her voice waver.
Standing up and taking the empty bowl from the floor in front of Rosie, Negan stepped into the doorway to the cell. "I can't let you see him," he said.
"Yes, you can," Rosie growled out, furrowing her eyebrows at her old baseball coach. Almost all of her sadness was replaced by anger and frustration. "You have to! Please! I know you. You have to!"
Negan started closing the door behind him, the sliver of light from outside getting thinner. "I'm not the same man you knew before, Rosie," he said.
Every ounce of hope Rosie had to convince him started to disappear just as the sunlight in the cell disappeared into darkness. In one last effort to convince him, Rosie reminded him in a small, quiet voice: "You're Coach Smith."
Yet the door still shut and the sound of the lock clicking rang in Rosie's ears, soon replaced by the familiar silence. She shot up onto her feet, quickly stepping closer to the door. She reached for the handle and turned, but it was locked. She kicked the door hard and slammed the side of her fist against it. "No! No! Please! Let me go! Coach Smith! Please! No!"
Rosie's cries and pleads were ignored, and she was left in the emptiness of her cell to spend her time in the past once again.
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Triple update?!?!? Motivation fr hit today