Chapter 1
You've been doing this for a while; stealing alcohol from Negan. You felt such a thrill the first time; you couldn't only do it once. You have to have some way of coping with being trapped here at the Sanctuary.
You've been here from when the whole world went crazy. You were a different person then. You were unsure and terrified about the new world much like everyone else, so you made the decision of joining the Saviors. You thought it was the smart choice but it was also one that would haunt you for the rest of your existence.
You've been a member of the Saviors for little over three years now. You're surviving. You know what the Saviors do. You've witnessed it a couple times when you've been on the runs to take half of everything some poor unlucky community had gathered in fear of Negan. You didn't feel sorry for them anymore. You didn't feel anything. You just wanted to get on with it and leave. The previous version of yourself, your pre-apocalyptic self wouldn't recognise you today. You've learnt to handle yourself against most people and walkers. You had to. You reckon that's why Negan kept you around for this long. He knew you didn't take any crap from anyone at the Sanctuary, including him.
You rebel often by talking back to Negan, Simon, Dwight and anyone else who thinks they're superior to you, but ultimately give into Negan after a while because you don't want to push him too far and end up with a scorching metal iron to your face. Negan has come close to raising a hand to you before now because of the way you mouth off. When he stops himself his excuse is he enjoys your "Couldn't give a rat's crusty-fucking-ass attitude." He also has admitted to admiring your guts and wit, amongst other things. You don't take yourself too seriously but are willing to stand up for yourself and others to an extent. You think that's why Negan's taken quite the liking to you.
In Negan's twisted way of keeping you second guessing him, he hasn't killed you yet but instead a couple of months ago he placed you in a scavenging team. You scavenge with your party as often as you can. It gives you the chance to leave the Sanctuary and taste the smallest bit of freedom you crave.
To keep the boss man sweet, whilst scavenging you occasionally find things you think Negan will like; more often than not he approves of the items you return to him. It's the same every time after scavenging; you're taken to Negan, then he searches your bag thoroughly as he knows what you're like by now. You've snuck a gun and bullets back to your room after a run before. The boss personally rifles through your rucksack every time you return. He doesn't trust the words that leave your lips when you say you've given him everything you found whilst you were gone.
On one of the days once he's satisfied that nothing is lurking in your bag, he gives you a grin and hugs you for longer than what's considered comfortable. You stiffen your body into the embrace and pat him awkwardly on the back then Negan pulls away to hold your shoulders. You can see it in the way he looks at you he knows you can't stand him, but it just eggs him on more. He then dips his head so his face is close and stares into your eyes.
"Thank you Y/N! Now I know you know, but I need to hear it again… Who are you?" Negan's arrogance made you grind your teeth. His gravelly voice made a faint echo in his large living room. He's holding onto you close to the door that you can't wait to leave out of. A couple of his wives were also present; two were standing by the small bar drinking straight vodka from glasses and two sat on the black leather couches off to your right. In your peripheral vision you saw Simon, Negan's right hand man, standing tall beside you. You felt Negan squeeze harshly at the tops of your arms as a sign of impatience for an answer. You clenched your jaw and glared back into his face.
"I'm Negan." You replied in a flat tone. Negan's black-leather-gloved hands run down your forearms to your hands. Feeling him stroke your arms gave you a chill down your spine. Negan held your hands gently and smiled at the floor. Your heart was racing at the uncertainty but then your focus was on the searing pain as Negan crushed your fingers together in his grip. Your yelps of pain were drowned out from his soft shushing noises. As you quietened down and dug your front teeth in your bottom lip, tears formed in your eyes. You listened to every syllable as you bowed your head to the man in front of you.
"Less of the stink eye next time baby." Negan ordered with a dark tone. You nodded frantically. When a tear spilled out of your eye and ran down your cheek, his large hands threw yours away from him. You rub your tear away then massage your throbbing fingers trying to soothe the pain. Negan stood up straight then poked his dimpled cheek with his long, gloved finger and pulled a menacing smile up with his mouth. You sighed not wanting to and stepped forward to peck his bristled cheek. Once again, Negan made you do what he wanted. You're aware this is an intimidation tactic. You just hate that you have to go along with it. A small, deep chuckle escaped from Negan's throat then he shooed you away. Simon who didn't leave your side, led you out of Negan's room and escorted you to your room.
You hated being handled by anyone and being pushed around by Negan's men. You couldn't do much about the shoving when you were followed back from speaking with Negan. You aren't as strong as some of Negan's men, like Simon for example. That guy is huge. When you were introduced your first thought was: it would probably only take one punch and he'd probably kill me. You expected him to be like Negan's other henchmen; pushing your shoulder every now and then from behind to keep you in line, but you soon noticed that Simon had never once been forceful with you. His presence alone was intimidating so you'd regularly walk back in silence. You preferred when Simon would walk with you. You wish you could think of something interesting to initiate a conversation that would last more than a few seconds and not have you fumbling your words when you'd hear him speak.
You aren't very physically strong but you are people smart. You've noticed you've picked up the knack of manipulating people; sometimes for the right reasons and sometimes for the wrong, it all depends on who's asking. Before the world went to shit you were interested in Psychology and studied the subject for a couple years. It ended up teaching you a lot about human behaviour.
You got to know Simon a little better whilst on runs together. You thought it was cute when he'd try his hardest to make light of the situation whilst guiding you from your meetings with Negan. He was making an effort for you to warm to him. You began to see his less intimidating side, sort of. Simon is far more intelligent than the majority of the Saviors, but he could also have a laugh and joke around. Some of the Saviors are so serious all the time. You just didn't fully trust Simon; you would regularly misjudge his reaction to certain situations. That annoyed you. You couldn't read him easily. It made him fascinating.
Your listening and observation skills were put to good use. After about two years of having no choice about being a Savior, Negan assigned you as the camp counsellor in a sense. You were hesitant to accept his offer at first, as you knew there had to be a catch. Negan simply said whilst raising his palms to you "No catch sweetheart. It'll keep you out of fucking trouble and I want you to be useful that's all." That's all? Yeah right. You soon came to realise he wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart, but instead for his own benefit so you'd feel like you had a purpose at the Sanctuary and guilty if you ever left your responsibilities and tried to escape. Mind games in other words. That's what being a Savior stuck with it regardless as it distracted you and kept Negan off your scent. You're poorly qualified for the role of course but no one knew or had any proof of the matter. As long as you acted as though you knew what you were talking about and used a few long psychological words now and then from the old days, you could fool anyone.
You did your rounds; visiting anyone who wanted to talk. It was a small amount of people as most of the folks at the Sanctuary didn't trust you'd keep details from their sessions a secret because they knew that eventually you'd have to tell Negan when he ordered you to do so. The small amount who did want to talk just stuck to the basics of what worried them about dealing with the world the way it is, whether it be critical life skills or having to deal with walkers. You were there to give your support and lie to them. You found yourself repeating the words "it's ok, everyone feels like this. This is how the world works now" etc.
You were made to visit Negan's wives on occasion. You were there to listen so his wives could tell you what was bothering them or what worries they had. You were under strict oath to not give them any advice Negan wouldn't. When Simon gave you these instructions on your first visit, you just scoffed softly which made him arch one of his eyebrows; confused you found what he said funny. You enjoyed the effect of interacting with Simon had on you. Speaking to Simon made your heart beat a bit faster.
Guards outside Negan's room reminded you on countless occasions before entering that you are not to get too involved with his wives' problems. You are there for them to vent. You will not give advice; you will be there for the sole purpose to listen and for them to get things off their chest, and nothing else. It was drummed into your head so frequently that you could recite it word for word when his minions spoke it.
You had an inkling that the recently amped up security was due to one of the wives confessing to Negan about you and Sherry's hidden friendship and planning of something. You didn't know which one spilled the beans but you thought you could trust them. You were hurt.
Whilst Sherry was at the Sanctuary you two were very close. She told you her whole life story about her and Dwight and her deal with Negan. It made you sympathise and have a little more patience with Dwight. You'd leave notes for each other instead of actually speaking in person in risk of getting caught. Burning the notes after reading them was agreed upon too. When Negan or anyone else was present you and Sherry acted as though you two hated the guts of one another. In reality it was quite the opposite. You admired her selflessness and bravery. When she told you she was planning to escape, you wished her all the luck in the world. The last thing you said to her before she escaped was "We'll see each other again soon." Some part of you really hoped you would. You stopped yourself leaving with Sherry; you had to use all of your will to do so because god knows you yearn for the freedom, but you didn't want to jeopardise her chance of a better life outside the walls so you decided against leaving the same time.
After listening to Negan's wives, you would reward yourself with a glass of alcohol he had on offer. Of course no one was aware of this treat but you couldn't resist. Good alcohol was a luxury and only the best was saved for Negan. Sometimes when you felt extra courageous you'd try and steal a full bottle of something alcoholic in your messenger bag. You never had enough time to do so and instead opt for the small airplane bottles of liquor that mysteriously made their way into your rucksack after your visits.
You leave one of the wives' rooms after a brief visit and her bedroom door clicks closed behind you. It leads out to the main room where you have your meetings with Negan. You're about to leave but as you pass the drinks cabinet, a bottle of tequila with a yellow plastic sombrero on the screw lid caught your eye. The liquid twinkled from the light that poured in from the window at the end of the room. The large room was empty and the air was still; waiting for you to make a decision. You jog over to the small bar at the end of the room and squat down behind the drinks cabinet. You hear blood pumping harshly in your ears as your hands quietly slide the bottle of tequila into your messenger bag draped over your shoulder. It sags as it rests on the floor whilst you're squatting.
You stand and can feel the weight of the bottle as it hung suspended in the bag. The door knob rattles then the door swings open. You positioned the strap comfortably and turn to make your way toward the door. The pit of your stomach turns when you see Simon leaning on the doorframe. The bicep he chose to hold his weight on is perfectly outlined by the material of his shirt. The tanned skin on his forearms is visible as he's rolled the long sleeves of his shirt up to the crook of his thick hairy arms. Your eyes become very wide out of fear of being caught and at the attractive sight before you. You feel your pulse in your throat.
"You finished Doc?" Good, he didn't see you stealing the bottle of tequila.
"Yeah." You reply uncomfortably. You watch Simon's beautiful brown eyes try and detect the reason of your awkward vibe. After scanning Negan's living room and finding nothing out of the ordinary, he turns back to you.
"Good. Let's go." Simon smiles a toothy grin and his moustache turns up with his mouth. He waits for you to exit with his thumbs resting in his belt loops. You're uncertain of his demeanour, something's off. When he stands aside to give you space as you're walking out the doorway, you twist your neck to glance at him. He just raises his eyebrows at you and hangs his muscular arm out in front of you. "Lead the way Y/N." Simon takes his usual position and follows close behind you.
It's an unsettling walk back to your room with Simon. The glugs and sloshing noises the bottle of tequila is making when you move or adjust the bag on your shoulder gives you heart palpitations. Can Simon hear it too? Your footsteps on the tiled floor seem louder than usual and Simon's whistle echoes in the hallway.
"What do you carry around in that bag of yours anyway?" Simon's low voice booms in the corridor as well as his heavy work boots, and belt buckle jingling as he marches behind you.
You keep your head forward. "Not much. Some bottled water maybe a pen and paper so I can write notes or follow up questions for my clients."
"Ooh Clients. Aren't we posh?" Simon mimics you. A small air of silence lingers before he speaks again. "… seems a bit heavier than a bottle of water and a pen n'paper…"
"It's a big bottle of water." You lie through your teeth keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the wall in front of you before turning the corner.
"Thirsty girl are ya?"
"… Yeah." You reply uneasily. You focus on the stillness for a couple seconds. Simon's boots make a light stomping noise as he walks. You adjust the strip of material hanging from your shoulder as a way of doing anything with your hands and distracting yourself from the tenseness of the situation. Simon takes this as a sign you're struggling to carry the bag. You're uncertain around Simon at the best of times, why was he being so weird? Why are you more aware of what you do or say around him?
"It's heavy huh? Jam packed full of notes and stuff?" Simon watches for your reaction.
"No-it's-fine. I'm fine." You rest your palm on the top of the bag as you walk. Simon's eyes stare at your hand then you can almost feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your skull.
"Suit yourself." He shrugs his heavy shoulders.
The two of you stop when you reach the door to your room. You've walked this route about a hundred times. As you turn the doorknob and go to step inside, a large hand grips your shoulder to turn you around. You feel the heat from Simon's grasp through your shirt. He reaches his other hand onto the shoulder where the strap from your bag hung. You stare up into his face hoping he can't read your mind. He's smart but not that smart… hopefully. You notice how much his moustache moves when he speaks.
"Now Y/N. You know you can talk to me about anything. A lot of folks come to you to get things off their chest. You need that too." Genuine concern was out of character for Simon. You weren't sure if he was winding you up or not. It made you nervous. Does he know about the alcohol?
"Ok…?" You acted like you didn't know what he was hinting at.
"Do you wanna talk? About an-y-thing?" Simon's speech slowed so you could hear his every word. He hung on every syllable, and watched you intensely, bowing his head slightly making his eyes seem darker and more sinister. You couldn't or didn't want to pull away from his gaze. You felt so small in his hold around your arms. His tight shirt strained around his wide shoulders.
"Uh… no. I'm fine." You swallow and give Simon an uneasy smile whilst staring into his coffee coloured eyes. He knows I'm lying. Simon waits for your confession but it's a long wait and you don't deliver. His grip on you weakens and his arms swing back to him. He sighs, places his hands on his hips and motions with his head for you to retreat into your room. You nod and disappear into your room shutting your door behind you and quickly locking it.
With your back against your door you inhale deeply to relax your heartbeat then breathe out slowly. After dumping your bag onto the small dining table, the glass from the bottle does a muffled clink when it hits the wood. You make small shushing motions towards the inanimate object and brace yourself for Simon to burst through your door, but there was nothing. You tell yourself you need to calm down and what better way to calm your nerves than with a glass of liquid courage. You grab a short glass cup that was draining by the sink and place it on the dining table next to your bag. Little did you know, Simon was leaning casually on the other side of your door with his ear pressed upon it; listening for the familiar twist sound of a bottle seal breaking and the glug of alcohol being poured.
After tugging your boots off you carefully bring out the bottle of tequila from your bag and prevent it making too much noise. You push your bag to the floor then break the seal of the bottle with a twist of the cap and begin to pour some of the amber liquid into your glass. You sit the bottle down on the table and swirl the glass around. It sloshes against the light coming in through the small window at the top of the wall to your left. Your nose inhales above the rim of the glass making your mouth moisten. You've longed for the taste of a good drink. No turning back now. You sigh and throw the liquid down your throat. It's been so long since you've had Tequila this strong so it instantly makes you cough when it burns your throat on the way down. Your hand pours another shot but before you can pick up the glass to drink it, you jump; startled at a loud thump from a fist on your door.
"Y/N? You're gonna wanna open this door. NOW." You hear Simon's brash voice on the other side of the wall. You can hear in his tone that he's not very happy. You suddenly start to panic.
"Just a second!" You frantically try to hide the bottle back in your bag that's on the floor.
"NOW! BEFORE I KICK IT THE FUCK DOWN!" Simon bellows through the door.
"Alright! Gimme a minute." You throw the glass cup in the sink not caring if it smashes on impact and scream as your door is being kicked off one of its hinges from the force and strength of Simon's leg. He's now standing in your room blocking the doorway so there's nowhere to run. Shit.
"I said, now." His eyebrow is arched and his eyes are scary. Why are you turned on at this moment?You glance down and frown at your door that's hanging on the doorframe and probably won't shut properly again.
