A/N: ***TRIGGER WARNING*** This is the chapter in which Rape/Non-Consensual is mentioned and referenced but there are NO explicit scenes, it is just spoken about 💔 Also thank you all for 30K you have literally blown me away!! Love you all <333
____
- Cass's POV -
- month one -
Scanning the slabs of glass and opaque paint obscuring my view, I angle my head until I find it- the chip in the paint that lets me look outside. Through the minuscule gap of paint, my heart fills with bittersweet emotion as I glimpse the mix of blurry grey abandoned buildings and the tinge of green weeds overtaking them.
Really, it's a view of nothing. It's such a small gap that there isn't much to see. And I know that.
It's my only way to see the outside world in this suffocatingly claustrophobic place.
I have the view memorized, etched in the back of my retinas and mind. As I fail to sleep at night, I close my eyes and see it.
But it's not the same.
Looking through this crack, finding this small part of the outside world, is the only thing that makes me feel like I can breathe here.
Clenching my jaw in a futile attempt to stop the uncontrollable shaking of my body, I huddle my knees even closer to my chest, seeking solace against the unyielding concrete wall behind me. The soreness of my spine and tailbone is the only sensation that grounds me in this new reality. Pain is the only thing sharp enough to pierce through the fog of numbness that has enveloped me for the past three weeks.
I swallow hard, fighting against the bile rising up my throat. That's been happening a lot, starting around two weeks ago, when I realized there was no escaping this place. That's when it all hit me.
Each morning, as I wake up to the stark realization that Rick isn't beside me, the reality of my surroundings crashes over me like a frozen wave, and the sheer disgust that consumes me is overpowering. It violently churns in my gut until I can't contain it any longer and have to run into the bathroom to throw it up.
I'm repulsed by myself to the very core. Repulsed by this place.
While I'm struggling numbly through these agonizing days of dread, nausea, and heart-wrenching grief- I have no idea if my family is alive. The unknowing of their well-being gnaws at my heart, a constant reminder that I'm separated from them and have no clue if they're alive.
I have no idea what that horn sound was. No idea if that massive herd made it home. No idea what those gunshots were on Rick's end of the walkie-talkie. And I have no idea if Daryl, Sasha, or Abraham made it after I got separated from them.
All I know with horrifying certainty is that I'm here. And the consuming hatred I have for this place festers with every second I'm forced to be here.
I hate every single thing about this damned 'Sanctuary'. The oppressive grey walls, the stupid and extravagant decorations that mimic some twisted version of the Playboy mansion, and the wasteful platters of wine and cheese.
I hate this stifling room, a suffocating cage of feigned comfort, that fuels my fierce hatred with each passing moment.
I hate the other wives, not because of their willingness to lounge around and pander to Negan's desires or their clear annoyance at my continuous refusal to speak, but because they're a reflection of me.
A reflection of the version of myself that I've become here- what I have to do here.
This mutual distaste between me and the wives results in a shared understanding that I steer clear of them, retreating to the corners of this miserable existence, and in turn, they ignore me.
But there are two wives who don't seem to understand this unspoken rule- Louise and Georgia- the women I share a bedroom with.
Georgia, the young and sweet blonde in her early twenties who somehow maintains the ability to smile warmly despite everything we go through. She's kind, almost painfully so.
But I've started to become fond of her. Just her.
Because then there's Louise. The loud-mouthed woman around my age, with unruly brown curls and a perpetual smirk on her face. Regardless of my continued refusal to speak, Louise persistently talks to me, making jokes, and attempting to coax me into conversation.
But I don't.
Unfortunately, Louise hasn't gotten the hint. She doesn't seem to understand that I don't want to befriend the woman who willingly throws herself at Negan. That was my first impression of her and since that, I can't stand the fact that she wants that monster.
The man who's ruined me.
- day one -
I'm trembling, trying desperately to control my fear by balling my fists tightly- so tight that my fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of my palm.
Back in the woods, when Simon and his men stumbled upon me, I had no choice but to feign fear and vulnerability, knowing that standing up against all fifteen of them would be impossible.
I had hoped they would just move on- find whoever they were looking for- but no.
Before I knew it, they descended upon me, wrestling me into the mud, taking my weapons, and herding me into their truck. Simon took me personally in his truck, forcing me to come with him to this foreboding factory that now looms before me.
The fear they're seeing now is far from faked.
Simon, unrelenting in his grip on my upper arm, tugs me through the dim maze of this sprawling compound, my gut churning with every person who casts a look in my direction. Their looks shift between lifeless eyes or predatory glares that send shivers down my spine.
The sheer number of people here is staggering.
The dread becomes suffocating with every stumbling step after Simon as I realize just how much trouble I'm in. This is the largest group of people I've seen since before the turn, with at least 200 people here.
And nearly every single one of them is armed.
My shivering escalates into an uncontrollable tremor as Simon pulls me to a halt before two imposing double doors. There are guards on either side, both with automatic rifles strapped across their chests.
The guards' gazes turn to me, a queasy sensation flooding my stomach as their predatory eyes rake over my figure. Simon raps a distinctive knock on the double doors, making me flinch, looking away quickly from the two men.
With a gulp, I force my gaze downward, my mind racing to figure out how the hell I'm going to get out of this.
My panicked thoughts are interrupted by a distant voice, muffled through the doors, ordering Simon to come in.
So Simon pushes open the door, dragging me behind him. Stumbling in tow, I blink in bewilderment at the strange room we've entered.
To the right, is a wall of large paneled windows, painted over so that you can't see through, which cast an eerie white light across the room. In the center, are two leather couches facing each other with a coffee table between. Behind them, lays a black four-poster bed that, for some reason, sends uneasiness through me.
My attention quickly shifts back to the couches, locking onto the tall man seated there, his penetrating gaze fixed on me with curiosity.
Unexplained terror wrenches my stomach as I meet his sharp hazel eyes. Beyond the distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and beard, his face is undeniably inviting. It's the face of what you would think would be a kind man, evident by the dimples growing on his cheeks as a grin begins to pull across his face.
But it's the unnerving look in his eyes as they brazenly drag down my body that tells a very different story.
I force down a thick swallow as Simon announces that they found me in the woods, alone, and he thought this man might... enjoy me?
As those words leave his mouth, my stomach throttles and I swiftly pivot my head to the right to look at Simon, dead serious as he speaks to this man.
He can't possibly mean...
"... so I brought her right here," Simon summarizes, not bothering to look at me, his hold relentless around my upper arm, despite the fact my hands are zip-tied.
The man on the couch lets out a long sigh, making my tentative gaze drag over to look at him. I don't miss the wooden baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around the top propped beside him.
"Simonnn," the man chastises as if Simon is a child. "You can't just snatch pretty ladies from the woods." He reminds Simon, clicking his tongue in disappointment and shaking his head.
A flicker of relief starts to uncoil the tension gripping my spine.
Is he...?
"But-" the man continues, tilting his head to the side, locking eyes with me, making my stomach drop. His grin broadens as he addresses me directly, his words laced with unsettling charm. "She's here now. Aren't you sweetheart?" he inquires, his raised eyebrows adding an eerie emphasis.
I just stare back at him in disbelief, that same horrible feeling I felt on Daryl's bike earlier washing over me. Just this morning I woke up in our warm, loving, and comfortable bed with the man I love.
How the hell did I end up here?
I don't have another moment to think about this as I'm shoved abruptly to the side, making me stagger clumsily, struggling to maintain my balance, throwing out my bound hands to keep me from falling flat on my face. My knees collide harshly with the floor as I tumble, and my heart begins to race, thudding in my chest with anxiety.
"When Negan asks you a question, you answer!" Simon barks, making me let out a heaving, incredulous breath as I look back up him in disbelief.
What the fuck?
"Simon, settle down." The man, Negan I suppose, orders as he rises from the couch. As he stands, I realize just how tall he is. I gulp involuntarily, suddenly a lot more intimidated than before.
I'm not exactly a petite woman, standing at around 5'7, but this man, Negan, towers well above six feet.
"Go on, I got her from here," Negan says as he strolls over to us, with me still on the floor.
Simon, after casting a single glance at me and then at Negan, nods and leaves. He slips through the door without another word, closing it firmly behind him.
I'm left staring at the wooden door in surprise.
With just one command- he leaves?
My gaze slowly drifts to the man I've been left alone with, a stark realization slamming into me.
Not only am I in the middle of a massive compound of undeniably dangerous people- this man... Negan... is their leader.
And I'm now alone with him.
I flinch as Negan grabs my shoulders, hoisting me to my feet, his large hands taking their time trailing down to mine. Bile rises up my throat as I stare back at him blankly, fighting the sudden urge to spit in his face.
Negan's grin widens, his lips curving into a smirk. "Single. Good. Husbands are so annoying to deal with," he comments, making confusion ripple through me, looking down at my muddied hands in his.
A sinking feeling claws at my stomach as I realize that my ring is missing. My heart plummets, a suffocating panic beginning to take hold of me.
My mind races to retrace my steps that led me here, the absence of my cherished jewelry gnawing at my heart.
Despite the predatory man's fumbling with my zip ties, my thoughts remain stubbornly fixated on the missing piece of love and commitment.
Rick found that for me.
A wave of sorrow crashes over me, my heart aching.
Rick...
I'm blinking back tears, my bottom lip quivering as Negan murmurs something under his breath, tossing the zip ties to the side as my world spirals into turmoil.
I flinch at his hand roughly grabbing my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. I blink at Negan in surprise, still reeling in disbelief at the situation I'm in.
"I said, Darlin'- " He starts, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. "what's your name?" Negan reiterates, impatience etched across his face as his darkened eyes search my expression.
"C-Cassandra," I stammer, my voice trembling with anxiety, unable to come up with another name on the spot, my mind still racing.
Negan's grin widens, showing off those deceptive dimples once again, sending a chill down my spine. My throat tightens, consumed by a paralyzing fear.
"Nice to meet you, Cassie," Negan breathes, his voice dropping to a menacing murmur. His intense gaze rakes over my face, his hot breath fanning over my skin, earning a wave of dread through me. "I have great news for you,"
- month one -
"Want a drink?" Someone asks, her voice breaking through my daze, jolting my nerves.
Still rooted in my corner by the window, I turn my gaze from my view to the left slowly. There, standing with a quizzical, expectant expression, is Louise.
Of course.
The irritating woman tilts her head to the side, her gaze fixed on me with an insistent curiosity as she extends a glass of amber liquid. My gaze flickers down to the glass and then back up to meet her green eyes. Louise raises her eyebrows once, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth.
I hold her gaze for a brief moment before I avert my eyes to the window once more, searching for my glimmer of relief. Finally, I find that precious speck of green amidst the overwhelming gray, and it's as if the oxygen that has been missing suddenly floods into my lungs.
An exasperated huff escapes Louise before her clicking heels echo away from me, carrying with them a muttered, "mute asshole," from under her breath.
But she doesn't get to me.
I don't like Louise, but she's a mere shadow in the pitch-black darkness that looms over me. Although she seems perfectly content living in it, willing to throw herself at Negan whenever the opportunity arises.
- day one -
"Now this is where you'll spend your days with the other wives," Negan whispers into my ear, his arm slung heavily around my shoulders.
I close my eyes briefly, reeling back the horrific sensations wracking my body, surprised that I'm able to stay on my feet.
You're doing this for your family.
I remind myself of this repeatedly, but the gnawing guilt in the pit of my stomach intensifies as I think of them, especially Rick.
If Negan, the Saviors, were to find out about Alexandria- their fucked. And there's no way in hell I'm letting that happen.
So I'll do this. I'll be his little 'wife' if it means they're safe. The kids, Rick, my friends- God, Maggie and that baby she's carrying, they need to be safe.
I will make sure they are safe.
As I spare a glance at Negan's grinning profile, I try to summon any amount of courage lingering within me to get through this. For them.
Until I can escape.
Negan guides me through more double doors, his iron-tight grip forcing me to follow him into the strange room. Like his quarters, it's in stark contrast to the rest of the dark, dingy, building.
It has the same windows that are claustrophobically painted over, with a table of what must be alcohol and scattered food underneath the concealed panes.
There's a collection of overly fancy couches around the clean and decorated room, accompanied by small tables and fake plants. Hung along the walls are paintings, gold shelves, and mirrors, all of which are bewildering.
But it's the sight of several women scattered throughout the room that sends my stomach plummeting. Around five of them, wearing black cocktail dresses, all perfectly clean and pretty.
As I stumble in beside Negan, in my muddied clothes and disheveled hair, I blink at the room in astonishment.
A few of the wives cast fleeting glances in my direction, their expressions ranging from curiosity to indifference, while the others are wholly disinterested.
One of the women nearby, a blonde, blinks in surprise, her brow crinkling with evident concern as she takes me in.
God, she looks younger than me.
"Dear wives!" Negan calls out, his voice brimming with glee as he pulls me closer to his side, crinkling his leather jacket.
A couple of sighs escape the women as they shift their collective attention to me and Negan. My cheeks burn under their scrutinizing gazes, feeling about an inch tall.
"This is Cassie. Our new wife," Negan declares, his words weighing painfully on my chest as I gulp nervously at his side, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
I hate that he calls me that. Sophia is the only one who calls me Cassie. Not this asshole.
Negan's arm on my shoulder feels like lead, weighing me down, only making my nervous heart rate worse. Strong discomfort overwhelms me, so intense I feel like I might cry, all of it suddenly becoming too much.
How the hell am I going to do this? Any of it?
The walls, the covered windows, and Negan's gravelly voice, all suddenly push in- enclosing me. I feel like I can't breathe, overwhelmed with the reality of my situation slamming into me, my vision blurring.
My limbs are tingling, lightheadedness swirling in my mind, and I suddenly worry that I'm about to faint.
But my attention is quickly jolted, shaking me out of my panic as one of the wives, a beautiful woman with green eyes and brown curls, approaches us. I cast a surprised glance her way, but she blatantly ignores me, heading straight for Negan, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Baby, I missed you," she purrs, her eyelashes fluttering as she gazes up at the imposing man. Disgust surges through me as I watch their intimate exchange.
The repulsion is quickly replaced with relief as Negan withdraws his arm from my shoulders to embrace this woman, kissing her passionately. I instinctively lean away, repulsed by the sight of her deep, possessive kiss that captivates his undivided attention.
After what feels like an eternity, Negan finally pulls away, a raspy contented sigh escaping his lips. "Ladies, take notes. This is how you greet your husband- good work Louise!" he gleefully compliments the woman, Louise, who grins back.
"Now, usually, I'd take you back to my room, but I gotta get to know our new wife first. I'll be back for you later," he murmurs to Louise with a wink.
Louise's grin falters, her eyes darting to meet mine, clear disappointment written behind them. I look away quickly, not exactly thrilled to be taking her place.
"Fine, see you later," Lousie sighs, patting Negan's shoulder, sending me one more look, before sitting beside the young blonde I noticed earlier.
"Come on Cassie, let's get you showered off," Negan murmurs into my ear, making a chill run down my spine before he guides me away from the wives' room and into hell itself.
- month one -
After Louise walks away, I settle back into my position in the corner, staring longingly out my small glimpse of the outside.
As I stare out at the tiny blur of grey and green, my mind whirls with endless anxieties for my family. If that herd got to the walls, what the hell that horn was, and most importantly- if they're okay.
A sharp, unbearable ache pierces my heart as Rick's face flashes before my eyes. A surge of strong emotions tightens my throat, compelling me to swallow hard, trying to dislodge the lump of worry that's taken residence there. God, I hope he's safe.
And if he is, I hope he's not worried about me.
The second the idea crosses my mind, I already know he would give me that exasperated look if he heard it.
It's a ridiculous thought, given everything we've been through together. He must be beside himself.
The thought makes me clench my eyes closed tightly with deep regret. All they know is that I got separated from Daryl and ran into the woods. They have no idea- I hope - about Negan and the Saviors.
I wonder what Rick must think. God.
Closing my eyes tightly, I curl further into myself, pressing my head against my knees as I remember everything about the man who is supposed to become my husband.
The memory of his soft curls, those captivating blue eyes that compelled me from the beginning, his lovely beard, his smell, his hands- every detail resurfaces, and the emptiness left behind by his absence is suffocating.
I haven't even let myself think about the children, but now, as I huddle against the cold wall, their faces flood my mind. Carl, Beth, Noah, and Judith – God, my Judie girl.
My baby.
Please let them be okay. Please.
A small, involuntary sound of defeat escapes me, the weight of my soul slowly crushing my chest. Despite my overwhelming misery, I don't cry. I haven't shed a tear since being here, not without desperate trying.
Countless nights have found me wide awake, silently pleading for tears to come, hoping for that emotional release. I ache for the relief that comes from breaking down and just letting this overwhelming pain out.
But it never happens. My tears remain elusive as if my very soul has barricaded itself against the vulnerability of breaking.
It's been four long, excruciating weeks – four weeks of hell without my family. And still, I haven't managed to cry a single tear.
What is wrong with me?
The somehow deafening sound of glass shattering makes me flinch so hard that I smack my shoulder blade against the concrete wall, making me let out a hiss of pain.
Blinking past my discomfort, I look over with confusion at the sound of hushed and concerned speaking. Through the blur of black dresses, I spot Georgia in the middle, standing with wide eyes, her hand hovering over her bleeding nose.
My brows knit together with worry as Louise rushes to Georgia's side, genuine concern contorted on her expression as she speaks to the sweet girl. I may not like Louise, but the friendship between her and Georgia is her one redeeming quality.
Trying to assess what happened, I notice that there's no sign of Negan and the other women look just as shocked as I feel. So it doesn't look like there was a fight.
Gingerly, I rise to my feet, wobbling slightly on the ridiculous heels I'm forced to wear. With the new height advantage, I furrow my brows as I spot the shattered wine glass at Georgia's feet. And across from Georgia, one of the mirrors is on the wall.
She must have gotten a nosebleed, got shocked by her reflection, and dropped her glass.
After realizing this, I look back at the sweet woman, tilting her head back, blinking in fear as Louise comforts her under her breath. The clear distress and worry on Georgia's face pangs my heart. She's the only one here I actually like, and seeing the usually cheerful woman hurt like this is not pleasant.
And she really shouldn't be tilting her head back like that.
But no one says anything, Sherry comes over with a towel, encouraging Georgia to keep her head tilted back. I knit my brows together as I watch them, as I see the continued discomfort crumpling Georgia's expression.
And I can't help myself anymore.
"Georgia- tilt your head forward," I say loudly from my spot by the window, behind the small crowd around the hurt woman.
The bustling, mutterings under breath, everything, goes silent. I gulp as all the women in the room slowly turn to face me, their eyebrows raised and eyes widened.
I spot Louise beside Georgia, her look of concern morphing into a wide grin of amazement.
"What?" Sherry questions, her arm still around Georgia, her brows furrowed.
I sigh, turning my attention to her. "If she tilts her head back, the blood will run down her throat and into her stomach, making her nauseous. If she tilts her head forward, it'll drain out," I explain flatly, nudging my head at the sweet girl looking at me with widened blue eyes.
No one else moves for a moment, making irritation flicker through me.
But Georgia listens, quickly tilting her head forward, letting the blood saturate the towel and saving herself from more discomfort. Slight satisfaction flutters through me, seeing that she's okay.
I nod once, before turning and returning to my original spot in the corner. Pressed against the concrete as I settle against the window, I relax slightly.
As I attempt to find the gap in the paint, a sudden voice makes me freeze before I turn to see Louise squatting beside me, awe behind her green eyes. "You know medical stuff," Louise tells me, her eyes alight with a sense of life I haven't felt in a while.
As she stares at me expectantly, I notice the green of her eyes is different than my green, which is more of a muddy color while hers is a bluey-green.
But I just look at her wordlessly, then I turn my attention back to the window.
In my periphery, I see her throwing her hands up in defeat, scoffing. "Jesus Christ, what's a girl gotta do to get you to talk?" she demands rhetorically, but I continue to ignore her as I find the chip in the paint.
Relief and oxygen fill my lungs once again as I get a glimpse of the outside world, feeling the tension in my body loosen slightly in response, despite the agitated woman beside me.
"Hey," Louise says as her hand gets placed on my shoulder.
Immediately, the sensation of her hand on me sends me back to that room, with Negan. The repulsion, guilt, and hatred crash over me like a tidal wave, blinding me with flashbacks.
Before I know that I'm moving, I've grabbed her wrist from my shoulder, twisted it to the side, and thrown her on the ground. I'm hovering above her, pinning both her wrists to the floor.
"Don't you ever touch me!" I shout, my voice trembling with rage and pent-up emotion. Louise blinks up at me in shock, but I'm blinded by rage, the floodgates pressing against the back of my retinas, urging me to let out the tears that won't come.
I lean in closer to her face, the edges of my vision pulsating red. "I will fucking kill you." I growl threateningly through my clenched teeth, my heartbeat echoing loudly in my eardrums.
We're frozen like this, with me glowering down at Louise, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, she just blinks up at me, taken aback.
It takes a second, but then the blinding rage fades from my periphery, making me blink harshly, realizing what I just did.
Shit.
I glance to the side, to see half of the wives blinking at us in shock, making my stomach sink.
"I knew it," Louise breathes underneath me, making me turn to her in surprise, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
"You still got life in you," Louise says, a grin breaking across her face, her curls splayed out around her head.
My chest shudders as I let out a sharp exhale, letting go of my tight grip on Louise's wrists. Guilt fluttering through me, I gingerly get off her.
"I-I'm sorry," I mutter, straightening my dress, trying to calm myself down after literally tackling a random woman to the ground and threatening her life.
When I glance back at Louise still on the floor, she has her hand held out so I can help her up. My mouth parts in surprise, a strange amusement fluttering through me at her expectant face which seems entirely unoffended by my attack.
Gulping, I grab her hand, helping her hoist herself to her feet. Shifting on her heels, Louise grins at me. "Don't apologize, Cassie, I'm just relieved you're finally speakin'," Louise assures me breezily, brushing off her dress.
I gulp, repulsion fluttering through me having her call me that. "Cass." I correct her hoarsely as I try to reel back the urge to throw up.
Louise looks at me for a moment, her eyes studying me in a strangely familiar way. Then she nods. "Cass," she says with a nod of confirmation.
As I look back at her expression, a strange feeling settles over me. Like déja vu.
But then a grin breaks out across her face, again. "Well, nice to finally meet you. Cass." Louise says with a nod, going to pat my shoulder before stopping herself. She pauses, before smiling slightly, withdrawing her hand.
She walks away, beelining for Georgia, who's now sitting down, seeming to be doing better.
As Louise walks past, I look over my shoulder, watching her go, a strange feeling settling in my chest. Because for some reason, after disliking Louise from the first moment I met her, something is telling me she might not be as bad as I thought.
Louise plops down beside Georgia, helping her clean off the skin under her nose of blood, grinning while talking to her.
My sense of bewilderment is shaken by the horrifically familiar whistle echoing down from the hallway.
Shit. Negan.
Even standing behind them, I can see the panic flood through Georgia and the way Louise tenses up. Louise turns to Georgia with a look of determination, saying something quickly under her breath, sending confusion fluttering through me.
As usual, Negan strolls in, whistling as he goes, Lucille resting on his shoulder. But he pauses in the doorway, mid-whistle as his eyes land on Georgia.
Despite the towel and effort of the other wives to help her, Georgia still has blood-stained on her face and dress. And by the look on her face, it's clear something happened.
"My, my, what happened here?" Negan questions lowly, his eyebrows pulling together with confusion, moving to step toward Georgia.
My stomach drops, watching the way Georgia flinches backward. She was already terrified once today, she doesn't need this too.
But I don't have to worry for another second because Louise quickly jumps to her feet, headed straight for Negan.
Blinking back my surprise, I watch as Louise latches onto Negan, talking to him smoothly and batting her eyelashes.
... Just like she did on my first day.
Grinning brazenly, Negan hooks his arm around Louise's waist and steers her out of the room. As I watch Louise glance over at her shoulder to Georgia to send her a reassuring look, a stark realization hits me.
A realization that makes me feel like a complete and utter asshole, chills flaring across my arms.
Louise doesn't throw herself at Negan because she wants to.
She's been doing it to protect us.
___
That night, when she slipped back into me, her, and Georgia's room, I stopped her from going to bed, offering for her to come sit on mine with me.
"Cass, hey," Louise breathes, forcing forward a smile that doesn't seem to reach her eyes. I don't blame her, after the few times a week I'm taken to his room, I'm in a fog afterward. A deeper, more suffocating fog than usual.
"I'm sorry," I tell her simply, making sure to keep my voice quiet enough to not wake Georgia sleeping on the other side of our small room.
Through the dark, I notice that Louise's smile reaches her eyes this time. "It's okay, that take-down was honestly impressive sister," Louise smirks, her sincerity somehow making a ghost of a smile cross my face- for the first time in four weeks.
"No, not that. I'm sorry, I uh- misjudged you." I tell her with a gulp, averting my gaze for a moment.
Louise tilts her head to the side curiously. "Misjudged?" she questions, making my eyes flit to meet hers, guilt flicking through me.
"I thought that you... wanted Negan. All those times you throw yourself at him-" I stop myself with a gulp at her expression flickering briefly.
"-I realized today with Georgia that you've been doing it to protect us," I tell Louise softly, watching as emotion crosses her expression.
Louise gulps, looking down at her hands, playing with the silver rings placed randomly across her fingers.
My heart aching with guilt for misjudging her actions, I reach over, grasping her hands in mine, making her eyes widen.
"Thank you," I tell her clearly and earnestly, searching her wide eyes, hoping to convey my gratitude.
Because of what she did today, Georgia was able to relax. I was able to go over and calm her down, assuring her that getting a random nosebleed is normal.
Because of what Louise did, Georgia didn't have to face him.
And that, being spared from Negan, is everything here. The days where I dodge even having to look at him are the only good days I have in this place.
Louise just blinks back at me for a moment, before her expression crinkles with emotion. The most sincere emotion I've seen from her apart from the concern she had for Georgia earlier today.
It's hard to tell in the dim light, but I swear she's teared up. "Um, you're welcome," Louise mutters, clearly not wanting to take credit.
I look back at her, emotion tightening my throat at the moment we're having. The moment with the mean wife I thought I hated.
"Well, it's nice to meet you too Louise," I whisper, my throat tight, answering the statement she said to me hours ago. Because I feel like now, I'm actually beginning to know her.
Louise looks at me as I say that, a smile pulling across her face.
Smiling back, a weight seems to lift from my chest as I begin to realize that I'm maybe not as alone as I think I am.
- month one and a half -
"What is it with you and this spot?" Louise asks, prompting me to turn and offer a faint smile from my usual spot in the corner.
I gently nudge her over, gesturing towards the minor chip in the paint. "See that? You can see outside," I murmur, my smile widening at the comforting sight.
Louise, now squatted beside me, gasps. "Wow, that is so not worth it," she mutters, earning a playful smack on the shoulder from me as she chuckles. Seeming pleased with herself, Louise settles back into her spot beside me, her back against the same concrete wall.
I look away from her, focusing on the window. "It's the only thing that makes me feel like I can breathe here," I remark softly, absently toying with the hem of my black dress as I stare longingly outside.
Louise is quiet for a moment.
"You know, when I first got here, back when there were only, like, two other wives, I used to try to fight the guards every time they opened the doors," Louise comments lowly, causing me to turn to her in astonishment, where I find her mischievous grin confirming it.
... two other wives?
"Wait- how long have you...?" I ask, trailing off as I tilt my head to the side with curiosity. I can't imagine Negan went from two to six wives in a short amount of time.
"A year or so," Louise replies, her grin fading.
Shock flashes through me, my stomach dropping. A year?
Louise sees my expression, which I'm clearly not hiding well enough, making her smile turn wistful.
"It's okay, I've gotten used to it. I am used to it, being with assholes like him. It's what got me into this goddamn mess." Louise mutters, looking down at her hands and clenching her jaw.
"You can tell me if you want," I offer softly, searching her distant expression.
Her eyes deepen with emotion before they slide to mine. "I was living in New York before this, in the city, dating this awful guy. Of course, we ended up breaking up. And as usual, I needed to leave," Louise says with a heavy sigh, breaking eye contact with me.
"Cause every time I got my heart broken, the first thing I would do is go see my brother. Our perfect catholic parents disowned me years ago when I got a tattoo for my drummer boyfriend. They turned on me, but my brother was always there." Lousie murmurs, making me smile softly as I watch her patiently, interested in getting to know her better.
"So after that last douche, my first instinct was to go to my brother. I got in my shitty Pontiac and started driving down the coast. I only realized what had happened to the world a day later at a rest stop when one of those bastards tried to bite my ass," Louise explains, meeting my gaze, laughing lightly at the memory.
Smiling myself at her story, I shift slightly to the side. "Did you meet up with your brother?" I ask curiously, but Louise shakes her head.
"No. To be fair, I hadn't talked to him for months beforehand, I was just gonna show up at his house like I usually do." She dismisses, waving her hand. "But I started running out of gas then was part of a group by the coast for a while. Then as it goes, shit happened and I was alone again. Thanks to yet another asshole," Louise mutters bitterly, shaking her head.
I nod in understanding, knowing the feeling all too well.
"Eventually after heading south again, I ran into the Saviors. I was a soldier grunt for a while until Negan noticed me, and then I was- upgraded," Louse mutters bitterly with a sigh and rolling her eyes.
Furrowing my brows, I look down, sympathy panging in my chest. "I'm sorry," I tell her softly, but Louise looks at me, shaking her head with a smile.
"Ah, it's not too bad. Do I fantasize about stabbing Negan with these stupid-ass heels every day? Definitely." Louise grins, making me snort.
"But despite how good that would feel, it'd just make shit worse," Louise sighs, her smile fading slightly.
I nod, that horrible feeling of dread prickling at my senses. It's the same sensation of claustrophobia, having the walls pushing in, reminding me there's no escape.
"But hey, I got George and now you," Louise says with a shrug. "Could be worse," she mumbles with a shrug, making a warm feeling settle in my chest.
A while later, my conversation with her and Georgia is interrupted as the door gets thrown open haphazardly.
Jumping, I look up as Sherry rushes into the room, shutting the door securely behind her.
"Guys!" Sherry pants, her chest heaving as if she just took all the flights of stairs up to this level in one go.
"What?" Georgia demands, her eyes widened as she turns to the panting woman. I exchange a look with Louise to see her equally confused expression.
"Something's happened," Sherry tells us, out of breath, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Jesus, spit it out," Louise snaps dryly from beside me, making me duck my head to hide my grin.
Sherry sends Louise an exasperated look. "Well, a couple of days ago, a group broke into the East outpost in the middle night, killing everyone inside," Sherry explains, tilting her head to the side, and crossing her arms, her eyebrows raised.
Shock flares through me as the women around me begin buzzing with excitement.
"The hilltop? Finally rebelling?" Louise questions, her brows furrowed as Sherry shrugs. Her information from Dwight must not be too detailed.
"Don't know. Apparently, it's some group they didn't know existed." Sherry mutters, shaking her head slightly. "But Negan got 'em last night with Lucille," She explains further, looking to the side as one of the wives comes up to talk to her.
Don't tell me...
As Georgia and Louise talk lowly between themselves, a sinking feeling settles in my stomach.
Please tell me that are not that stupid.
"Cass?" Lousie asks from beside me, making me slowly turn to face her, my stomach twisting with dread.
I just shake my head, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to calm myself down.
It might not be them. Don't think the worst.
But I've been enduring this nightmare to ensure Negan doesn't find out about them. And this... if it is them... it could mean this was all for nothing.
If Negan got back at them- A sudden and intense nausea wrenches my stomach at the mere thought.
"Cass, what's wrong?" Georgia's sweet southern lilt breaks through my thoughts, making me drop my hands to see her and Louise looking at me with concern.
"I have a feeling... those people might be mine," I say breathlessly, my chest heavy and heart pounding.
"What d'you mean? You have people?" Louise asks with interest, her eyebrows knitted together, shifting forward from her spot on the couch with concern.
I sigh. "It's a long story," I breathe, my stomach twisting.
Georgia and Louise exchange looks. "Does it look like we have anything else to do?" Georgia asks, a slight smile twitching at her mouth.
I pause, my brows crinkling with appreciation for these two women I never expected to become my friends. So, I tell them, only briefly summarizing everything my family has gone through and what happened before I ended up here.
- month two -
You need to do this. You need to find out. I remind myself as I'm escorted to Negan's room after requesting to see him.
The guard drops me off at the door before returning to the wive's room. After two months, they've started to allow me to walk around alone. Never too far though.
Because as far as they know, I'm still that terrified woman that they brought here.
Standing alone in front of Negan's door, I take a deep breath and as I let it go, I slump my posture slightly, making myself smaller. I rearrange my expression to be weak. Scared. Intimidated.
At Negan's call through the door, I slowly and gingerly open the door, purposefully entering hell in order to save my family.
"Ah, there's my quiet wife," Negan muses, lounging on one of the couches, sighing heavily. Fierce hatred sears through my veins as I lock eyes with him, trying my hardest to pretend to be the terrified version of me that he's used to.
"Oh, I have had the craziest few days," Negan sighs, placing his glass down on the table beside his chair. I don't miss Lucille leaning up against it, making my stomach backflip.
"Come here." Negan orders and I slowly do as he says, walking timidly towards him until his hand on my hip twists and pulls me down onto his lap roughly. I let out a pitiful squeak, not needing to fake my extreme discomfort at me having to be this close to him.
"God, you're so shy sometimes. Intimidated by me?" Negan asks lowly in my ear, his disgusting hot breath fanning across my neck. I purposefully make my body shake, nodding while not maintaining eye contact.
He grins, eating my bullshit up.
"You don't need to be. Not here. I wouldn't hurt you- well that's a lie. I would hurt you. I just don't want to. I enjoy you too much." Negan explains and I gulp with a nod, intense disgust flaring through me as I sit perched on one of his thighs.
"S-So, what made your days crazy?" I question, my voice soft and quiet, my heartbeat racing with anxiety.
"Oh speaking now? Well, it is a long story, one I'm sure a pretty and sweet lady like you doesn't want to hear," Negan says, his hand coming up my back, dismissing my question.
Shit. I close my eyes for a moment, preparing myself for what I have to say.
"The girls have told me some of it... it doesn't scare me. It e-excites me. Knowing what you're capable of," I say softly, trying not to choke on the disgusting words.
I also try not to think about how quickly I could grab Lucille and pound it into his skull- see how he fucking likes it.
Negan scoffs. "Wow- you are freakier than I thought!" He enthuses, making me look over my shoulder to see a large and proud grin pulling across his face.
I force a timid smile, looking down sheepishly, trying to swallow the acidic bile in my throat.
"Well that group- led by this dumbass Rick, shot up one of our bases," Negan starts, making every nerve in my body set alight with fire, my stomach contorting.
So it is them.
Oh my fucking God.
Hearing Negan say Rick's name like that- it's nearly too much to handle.
"Of course, I had to do something about it. Teach them a lesson," Negan explains as he slowly starts zipping down my dress. Goosebumps of disgust explode across my skin. But I endure it. As always.
"So I bashed two of their people's heads in." Negan says simply, making me let out a harsh gasp, feeling like someone punched me in the gut. Hearing him say it- so unabashed. So proud-
Negan pushes my dress straps off my shoulders, exposing me and making me clench my jaw to stop myself from letting out a sound of disgust. His hands travel around my torso as I face away from him, shaking.
"First I killed this military lookin' dude. D'you want to know what that ginger-fucker's last words were? 'Suck on my nuts'! Ha! Hilarious," Negan mutters, and I close my eyes, grief shuddering through me.
Abraham.
"And it was just supposed to be him. Then this big ol' black guy with one arm started lecturin' me, trying to tell me what to do, can you believe that?" Negan questions with a laugh, making me gulp.
Tyreese.
"So, I had to teach them another lesson. Again," Negan sighs as if the tyrannical power he chose is some a heavy burden on his shoulders. "I had to make them realize I'm in charge," He adds, and my stomach twists unpleasantly, dread coursing through my veins.
"So I picked this random idiot, and wow was that hard for them. I think his pregnant wife was there, or something, screaming out non-stop. God, was it annoying..."
Negan continues talking but it just fades out of my hearing as I stare at the wall across from me, stunned.
Glenn. H-He killed Glenn?
Oh my god- Maggie. Their baby-
I abruptly push off of Negan, clamping my hand to my mouth, my heartbeat echoing through my faded hearing as panic engulfs me.
"Hey! I wasn't done with you!" Negan objects, standing up quickly behind me, going to grab me. But I stumble backward, shaking my head, knowing I'm going to vomit.
Spotting it, I sprint into the corner before collapsing to my knees and throwing up into the trash can.
"Eugh- what the fuck?" Negan curses with disgust from somewhere behind me through my coughing and gagging.
My shoulders heave as I finish, wiping my wet forehead and cheeks, dripping with sweat.
"Jesus Christ. You said you wanted to hear it!" Negan snaps from behind me in disgust. Turning to the fuming man beside me, I shake my head slightly, fear adding to the sickening feeling overpowering me.
"I-I don't know what came over me," I gasp, slowly moving from the trashcan before slumping against the wall, panting.
Clenching my eyes closed, I fight against the surge of strong emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
He killed my family. Abraham, the man who helped protect me and my family on the road.
And Glenn... one of the first of my family that I met. I've been surviving with him since the beginning.
I watched him fall in love, get married, and have his beautiful family start to grow.
All for it to be lost.
"Well, you better not have that damn flu goin' around. Or be pregnant." Negan comments with annoyance, his harsh words cutting through my fog of grief, making me pause.
Wait-
Negan's words hit me like a truck, the air getting forced out of my heaving lungs, leaving them searing, desperate for air.
Dread sinks through my body as I reflect on my time here. I'm late. It's been two months and I've only gotten one short period in the beginning.
I was so consumed with stress at my situation that I didn't even realize- oh God.
This can't be happening.
Slowly dragging my gaze from the floor to meet Negan's eyes looking at me impatiently, I let out a shuddering exhale, fulll-blown terror washing over me.
Negan's eyes widen at my expression. "Holy shit. You're not pregnant, are you?" Negan demands, his eyebrows raised. I just blink helplessly back at him, my mind reeling at the horrific possibility of having a mini-Negan growing inside me.
Negan curses under his breath, turns, walks into his bathroom, and swiftly returns before throwing the plastic stick at me.
"Test" Negan orders flatly, making me close my eyes.
Fuck.
This can't be happening. It just can't. I repeat the same two sentences in my mind as I sit restlessly on Negan's couch, my head in my hands.
He's in the bathroom with the test, waiting through the longest three minutes of my life to find out what it is.
The guilt that has resided deep in my gut since the first night I endured sleeping with Negan is beginning to inflate into a gnarled monster.
The cruel reminder of what I've done echoes in my mind, reminding me over and over that I've slept with another man and now could be pregnant with his baby.
I can't put Rick through this again.
I flinch at the clatter in front of me, making me slowly drop my hands, my heart pounding aggressively, making my head throb. Through my blurred vision, I see that sitting there on the coffee table is the pregnancy test.
The positive pregnancy test.
___
Everything blurs into a haze as I stagger back into the wives' room, my hearing faded, my thoughts trapped in an agonizing cycle of regret and sorrow.
This can't be happening.
Desperately using my hands to steady myself against the cold, unfeeling grey walls, I stumble into the room, struggling to see through my tear-blurred vision.
Faintly, I hear the familiar voices of Louise and Georgia calling out to me, but I'm incapable of responding.
I can't. I can't look at them. I can't do anything.
My knees give way, and I crumple ungracefully to the floor, my chest heaving with the weight of overwhelming panic.
Why? Why is this happening to me?
My family is gone. I haven't seen them in two months.
I've been enduring hell to ensure their safety from Negan all for nothing. Because he got to them.
And I'm struck here, trapped in this suffocating, tiny room, and nothing is helping me breathe, nothing is helping.
Before I can stop it, tears finally find me, forcing their way out of my dried eyes. But it's not just tears, is body-convulsing, screaming so hard my voice is cracking, I can't catch a breath- sobbing.
I've bottled up my pain for far too long, and it's finally bursting out in an agonizing, horrific scream-cry.
Curled up against the unforgiving wall and the cold, unfeeling concrete floor, I lose it. I sob uncontrollably because I'm alone.
I'm living through my worst nightmare all for Negan to hurt my family despite it. And now I have a part of him growing inside me- a parasite.
Everything hurts- my eyes, my throat, my heart, my soul. I vaguely sense comforting arms around me and Louise's faint voice speaking to me.
All I know is that I'm crying and I can't stop.
___
When I finally break out of my haze of despair, I realize I've been moved to my bedroom. I'm curled up in the fetal position on top of my sheets, the pillow soaked beneath my face.
Sniffling, barely even being able to see through my swollen eyes, I groggily sit up. The room is darker than usual, but not dark enough to be lights-out, so Louise and Georgia aren't here yet.
Sitting up properly with my back to my headboard, I curl my knees into my chest, trying to get in even breaths to my lungs.
Then I stare blankly at the grey wall in front of me.
How am I supposed to do this?
There's no way I'm strong enough.
I hate myself enough for enduring Negan to try to protect my family, but this? Carrying his child? It's not something I'm sure I can survive.
I don't want this thing growing inside me, taking all my nutrients so it can grow up into a murdering bastard. My face crumples with deep emotion because I don't want this parasite- I want my baby.
Judith.
After the prison, when we were separated from the rest of our family, Judith was my lifeline. My baby girl- the reason I kept pushing forward.
I desperately want to see her precious face, hold her close, and hear her sweet little voice calling me Mama just one more time.
Oh, Jude.
The sobs return with a sharp ache in my chest, darkening my periphery with grief, wanting nothing more than to be reunited with my daughter.
But before I can fall into a full pit of despair once again, a tiny hand on my leg makes me jump out of my skin. I let out a startled gasp, jerking backward, my eyes snapping open.
I blink in astonishment at the small boy standing at my bedside, peering at me through thick glasses. The kid can't be older than five, maybe three years older than Judith.
Blonde hair frames his face, and his hazel eyes, weirdly familiar, blink back at me. He sniffs, his nose and cheeks a bit red as he extends a tissue toward me.
I gingerly accept the tissue, my eyes widening as I look at the child, wondering if I'm hallucinating.
"Are you sick too?" the boy inquires, tilting his head in curiosity.
I furrow my brows slightly, before remembering Negan mentioning the flu going around. "Oh- yeah, I am," I murmur, using the tissue to wipe away the tears from my cheeks.
The kid smiles, making his too-large glasses shift on his cheeks. "Me too. Nanny said I had to wait in here before she takes me to the doctor," he says, then, just like any child his age would, he climbs onto my bed without seeking permission.
With a gulp, I tuck my legs beneath me, sitting cross-legged to give him room. Watching this little boy, who's starting to remind me of Judith, somehow begins to ease that persistent ache in my chest.
"What's your name?" the boy asks, blinking his eyes, adorably enlarged by his glasses, up at me.
Before I know it, I'm fighting an amused smile at how cute this kid is. "Cassandra Grimes, what's yours?" I ask gently, my heart aching as I tell him what should be my full name.
"Derek Smith," the boy responds not looking at me as he toys with the folds of my comforter, sniffling through his illness.
Realization washes over me, the hazel eyes and presence in this hellhole suddenly making a lot of sense. "Your Dad is Negan?" I ask, making Derek nod.
It's hard to picture this sweet little kid being Negan's son of all people.
A strange feeling of hope flutters somewhere deep in my chest, the only thing seeming to alleviate the horrific dread contorting my gut.
Derek then proceeds to ask if I know any fairytales before climbing up the bed by me to snuggle close, his small and warm frame seeking comfort. I blink at him in surprise for a moment, my heart warming as I wrap an arm around him.
As I recount a few stories I have memorized from years of comforting children before surgery- something odd happens.
Because of all things to happen, speaking to the child of the monster who torments me daily, is the only thing making this whole situation remotely bearable.
___
- OC face claims -
*Louise*
( Evangeline Lilly - Louise )
---
*Georgia*
( Emilie de Ravin - Georgia Miller)
-- and --
*Young Derek*
(Jullian Hillard - young Derek Smith)
__________
A/N: Call me Peeta Mallark bc I just dropped the baby bomb 🤪 Also, anyone who has seen a specific tiktok of mine may know that adult Derek Smith plays a big role in the second (epilogue) book I have planned 🤭🤭