You had always been a sucker for autumn; the transitioning of greens to various shades of red, oranges, and yellows a thing of beauty and splendor in your eyes. But, much like the leaves you once grew to love so much, your love for the season withered to the ground along with the downfall of humanity. You simply couldn't see the beauty in a world full of despair. Not anymore. Maybe it was because you no longer had the luxury of simply halting your movements and observing the change of seasons. After all, any sort of distractions could mean the end of your life. It wasn't until he found you that your outlook began to shift to its former glory. It is here, amongst the stunted rows of corn in the makeshift garden of the Sanctuary that you stood, admiring the beauty of the sunset as it cast its golden glow upon leaves of crimson and amber.
"What you got good for me today," asks a familiar voice from behind you, the sound eliciting a jump in surprise. In the throws of your scare, your hand involuntarily presses down onto the tomato you had been holding, effectively squashing it into an unsalvageable mess. "Shame," the same voice speaks yet again, "could've used that for my sandwich."
Pivoting on the balls of your feet, you turn and face none other than Dwight, strands of flaxen hair hanging messily in front of the left half of his face. A single brow arches in a display of defiance at his words, and despite the mess remaining in your hands, you take a step closer to him.
"You've taken more than your fare share," you reply. It is the truth, after all, and though you're well aware of the consequences of back talking any of the Saviors, you feel more than comfortable doing it to Dwight. Deep down a portion of you feels for Dwight. It's hard to imagine going through what he's experienced only to come out the other end and not be turned into a hardened version of your former self. Then again, Dwight needn't be such a dick. He had Negan to carry that cross. That is, after all, how he keeps his hold on people here: fear and intimidation.
You'd been so wrapped up in your final thoughts that you'd barely managed to take in the abrupt widening of Dwight's eyes; a signal that either one or both of you are about to be in some deep shit.
"Well. Well. It looks like we've got ourselves a fuckin' problem here."
The familiar voice booms with certainty from behind you. You swear that in this moment your blood turns to ice, and an unwelcome shiver slides along your spine as you turn away from Dwight to face the source of the remark.
"Negan." It's the only word that you can muster in this exact moment, his name sounding more like a question rather than a statement. He isn't wearing the crimson scarf that he'd donned the first day you ever stepped foot into the Sanctuary, but his usual ensemble remains.
You can't help but notice the way his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip as he peers down at you; the look he gives is one of a parched man gazing upon a much needed glass of water. Or perhaps that's merely your feelings projected onto the man before you. You open your mouth to speak, but before any words are able to form, Negan is quick to cut you off.
"You botherin' this poor fuckin' girl, Dwight?"
Negan's eyes have long since bypassed you to stare down the man behind you. You can't see him, but you're certain that Dwight's head is shaking from side to side.
"No, sir. Just came to check on the crops. Makin' sure they're coming along as needed."
Liar, you think to yourself. And it's as if Negan is able to read your mind. His gaze now travels downward to where you stand, and reaching out one of his gloved hands, he takes one of your own and gingerly twists your wrist to face your palm upward. The evidence of the squished, now drying tomato still covers the entirety of your hand. He grunts to himself, the sound so faint that you initially think you've made the noise up in your own mind, just before he releases his hold on you.
"This looks like some wasted shit to me." You watch silently while Negan's gaze flickers between both you and Dwight, his neutral expression giving no sign as to what he's thinking. "You," he says, now bringing his full attention down to you. "I want you to come with me. Dwight, go find someone else to tend to the harvesting for today."
Negan wastes no time at all in turning his back to the two of you, leaving you to dart off after him once the initial shock of his command wears off. You're unsure of just where it is you're going, and though you're curious, you know better than to ask. You haven't been here long, maybe a couple of weeks maximum, but in the short amount of time that you've called the Sanctuary home you've had limited interaction with the head of the Saviors.
If you put in your time and effort and earn those points of yours, you'll be off my radar. Plain and simple.
Negan's words still ring clearly in your mind from the first day you stepped foot on safe soil. And it was plain and simple. You did as you were told, when you were told, and yet here you were, certain that you were walking one step at a time toward your death with your maker only feet ahead of you.