This is the first story I've ever posted on here and I'm honestly excited! Having been on this site for years, I never actually thought that I'd ever publish something! But here we are! This will be a Negan/OC (Jeffrey Dean Morgan is such a fox). Mostly a Negan-centric story line, but also keep in mind that I'm still testing out the waters with this so i may expand on that eventually. I'll try to update as often as I'm able to. Enjoy and I'd love to know everyone's thoughts!
Decked out only in a pair of raggedy, old jean shorts and a slashed tank top, the medieval torture contraption that wrapped around her head seemed to serve as a statement piece, that painfully dug into the sides of her face and scalp as she ran for her life. "Run! Run! Run!" Her mind chanted as she frantically ran through the dense forest, while random twigs and brush scraped across her bare legs. She was running away from them. Those savage Wolves.
How they even came across such a device, still leaves her speechless. It left her speechless all right, considering that the contraption prevented her from speaking freely and if she did speak, there was a considerable amount of pain to follow. But putting the hellish pain aside, she was lucky that she decided to head-butt one of the wolves that was tried to carve a "W" into her forehead when she did and when she did, she hightailed it the fuck outta there.
"Can't stop. Won't stop. Don't stop. Keep moving." Her mindless mantra continued as she found herself stumbling into a dangerous clearing. She couldn't be so exposed, living or dead, she was defenseless. Being defenseless in today's world was a signed death warrant. She refused to die, though. She got this far, she knew she had to get further if she even wanted to figure out a way to get this blasted thing off her head. It was heavy melded on iron, littered with thousands of tiny spikes that constantly dug into any exposed skin when jostled, especially when she had initially tried to pry it off her face.
Taking a much needed, painful breath, she knew she needed to find somewhere to hide and rest before the day turned dark. Furthermore, she needed to find something strong enough to cut through something as tough as iron - if that was even possible. Unsure of her location, she doubted her ability to maneuver her way quick enough to where the nearest town was. And not having a means to fend off any deadhead roaming around, well this struck a cruel problem.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I gonna do? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Her manic thoughts cried out. She felt around the iron plates on the back of her scalp and felt a keyhole sized shape. "Oh, my god! Yes, hope is alive!"
As she continued running, she started to notice headlights and incoherent chatter through the trees on what appeared to be a dirt road. Skidding to a stop, she hid behind a large tree as her heart began pumping so hard and loud, she thought she'd drop dead right there. She couldn't get caught again.
"But what if they can help?" The desperate side of her mind argued "What if they have or can find the means to get this blasted thing off your head?" She wasn't sure if the chance of that was worth it.
Before she had the chance to delve deeper into that thought, the chatter she heard seemed to be inch closer and closer.