A/N I usually write from Negan's point of view, but this story will actually be from the OC's point of view. Just a couple of warnings. The OC is a drug addict, so there are several drug references and drug use. She's also particularly vulgar. Smut is another normal occurrence. Then the typical things you'd expect. Violence, Negan's filthy mouth, and sensitive situations. I had this story in the comic section, but as I progress with it, I guess it doesn't really matter because the OC doesn't conflict with the story and it really just focuses on her and Negan. Plus, I really love Simon (Steven Ogg's character on the show) so I'd like to eventually work him in the story. There's a reference picture for the OC on my profile.

A clammy tongue runs along my calf. "Ew, gross," I grimace, shooing Amber's dog away. When the fucking thing comes back for round two, I slide my feet up the molding on the wall. "Keep yapping and I'll throw you out the fucking window." I clap my hands together. "Splat!"

"You're an asshole, RM," Amber sneers, scooping up the dog. "What kind of a person threatens an animal?"

"It'd be a more humane way to kill the fucking thing than whatever death the animal got to make that fucking fur coat you're wearing. I'm curious, what dead animal are you showcasing this evening?"

"Alright, that's enough, you two," Sherry intervenes. "It will be home soon, and none of us are going to get any peace and quiet then."

I'll agree with her on that. In fact, it arrives sooner than anticipated this evening. I watch out the window as Negan storms out of the first truck. He's riled up about something. I tuck myself away on this windowsill, hoping to make myself invisible. Just so we're clear, Negan would never force himself on any of us. You can say no if you don't wanna fuck. It's just… I really don't want to fuck him sober. That big hairy body. Yuck. So why am I a wife if I don't want his sweaty skin pressed against mine as he spews out profanity? Funny you should ask. All of Negan's Saviors are on a point system. Frankly, I'm way too goddamn lazy to work for my points. Being a wife you forgo that. Negan calls it a privilege to be with him. He's so full of himself. Shit! He's already heading inside! I claim the bathroom before one of the other girls. There's a loose spot in one of the tiles in the floor that I hide pills. I pop a few of my pain pills, and chase it with the rest of my bottom shelf bourbon in this flask. Negan's parlor is like a goddamn pain pill Easter egg hunt. I have shit hidden everywhere.

"RM, hurry up!"

I return to my spot back on the windowsill, and wait for its arrival. Oh, shit, I don't think those were pain pills. Fuck, what was that? Fuck it. I've only been here at Negan's place for two weeks. Who would have thought to hold up in a fucking factory? Guess it's better than the tin can I-

"Ladies, line up for a shot in the mouth."

Great. It. It's like someone wakes up every morning and draws him he's that fucking ridiculous. He. Has. No. Game. Look at him… Rubbing his denim boner on Sherry. Ugh. I have to keep myself from laughing when Sherry rejects him. Shit, I've been discovered.

"RM." He extends his index finger towards his bedroom.

Okay, now, like I said, I don't have to do anything I don't wanna fucking do. Except for one thing. Tomorrow is the day we get to cash in all our points for goods in the supply room. I know if I butter up to this idiot, I'll have a better shot at scooping up as much shit as I possibly can. I drop my feet to the ground and make my way to his room.

He grunts displeased at my combat boots, his displeasure continuing as his eyes move up my legs.

I wear the same thing every single day so I don't know why he acts fucking surprised. Boots aka RM's DMs. Some type of black stockings, either fishnet or these beauties with stars on them. Then my cut off denim shorts. Shirt? Whatever I fucking find. I don't know why he fucking cares what I wear, anyhow. I take it all off except for my stockings when we fuck. Those fucking stay on. Always. I've ripped a hole for his dick to go through. My pills start kicking in. Right on time. Negan's sexual prowess is at best four minutes, and that's if we don't work him up. If that's the case, like today, we're talking forty-nine seconds of seizuring on top of you while he asks who the king dick motherfucker is. What an idiot. There's water spots on the ceiling again. Reminds me of home. Complete with a fresh coat of black mold paint.

"Fuck, you close?"

Time to Oscar the fuck out of this shit. And the academy award goes to?

"Yeah, fuck, yeah, RM."

Fuck yeah, fuck yeah. Just thinking about all those pills I'm going to get tomorrow gives me that euphoric daze he mistakes for an orgasm. Well, that and the pills I took.

"Wanna drink?" He buttons his pants, grabbing the bottle from his cabinet.

"I better not." I know what you're thinking. Me? Passing up alcohol? That's how annoying this motherfucker really is, but… I'm a weak piece of shit. "Fill it up," I reply after I toss back the first glass.

"I didn't ask you to stay so you'd get fucking wasted. Why don't you try sleeping at night? Those dark circles aren't doing you any favors to complement your bloodshot eyes."

"Who fucking sleeps anymore? The dead are eating the living."

He latches onto the glass before I can take it back. "You know I'd protect you girls with my life. You know that right?"

Truthfully, that is one admirable quality about Negan. He holds the safety of his people at such an imposing standard, and puts his wives at an even bigger one.

"Why do you bust my balls so goddamn hard?"

"Because I can." I yank the glass from his hand.

He chuckles more amused than he should be. Probably because the fucker knows I'm right. He's a real pussy when it comes to his wives. If any of his men talked to him the way that I did, they'd be chained to that fence outside with the dead. "I got you something." He fishes a pair of aviator sunglasses out of his pants pocket.

"Really? This is for me?"

"How many other RM's do you see in here?"

No one's ever given me shit. How am I supposed to know what a goddamn gift is like?

Negan slides them on my face. "There. Now I can't see your unsettling bloodshot eyes."

"Thanks. These are real fucking nice." Someone sat on my last pair, which I have a sneaking suspicion it was his gigantic ass that broke them.

"Don't fucking thank me. Besides, I kinda sat on your last pair."

I knew it. He tried to blame that shit on Sherry.

"What kind of a name is RM, anyway?"

"What kind of a name is Negan?" I really don't care about his stupid name, and honestly, I don't know why he cares about mine. Shit. He looks mad. Can't have him mad before tomorrow. "RM is an abbreviation."

"For?"

"Can I really not smoke in here?"

"No."

"Please? I don't want to go up to the roof."

"Answer my question and I'll make an exception."

I sigh heavily, before making him wait while I light my cigarette. "It stands for rude motherfucker."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"Huh? I already fucked you."

"Goddamn, woman. You're a fucking mess."

I ash on his floor before having a seat on the windowsill. "Why were you so pissed off today when you got off the truck?"

"Because it was a waste of my precious motherfucking time." He plops down on the couch that's under the windowsill.

"I thought you had people for that. You know, to do the grunt shit." I slap his hand away when he starts rubbing on my stockings.

"Yeah, but every now and then you gotta show these fucks who's king dick. Make people fall in line."

"What a shit job."

"Nothing makes me harder. Not you girls. Not even Lucille over there."

Don't even get me started on Lucille. The man named a goddamn barbed wire baseball bat after this chick named Lucille. Hell, I'm not even sure if Lucille is even a real person, but what he does to the fucking thing is real. He rubs his dick on it sometimes. I made the mistake once of asking if he keeps the wire on, and got to witness my own personal show. For the record, he does.

"You ever do anything you wish you hadn't?" He must be close to the end of that bottle. Negan and I have never had an actual conversation but he's chatty fucking Cathy this evening.

I'm way too high to keep up my surly façade. "Gauge my ears."

"…the fuck is that?"

I flip some of my hair to the side so he can see the hole in my earlobe.

"No goddamn way. Let me put my dick through that."

"It's not that wide."

He snickers when I put my own foot in my mouth. "Yeah, I do have a wide cock."

Guess I'll give him that, too. While he doesn't have the length, the man's got girth. "Zip your pants back up."

"Come on, RM. Little Negan wants to play again."

I ash my cigarette near his crotch. "Pour me another drink."

"You don't need another goddamn drink. I like my women conscious when I fuck them."

"Oh, Negan," I snort. If you only knew…

Hurry up, hurry up! I swear to Christ, Amber is taking her sweet ass time as payback for threatening her mongrel. Finally! Alright, now as long as dingus here doesn't interrupt my concentration.

His hands are already all over me.

I shove him off, and continue collecting things for the other Saviors.

"No, goddamn way. You're not getting two cartons of smokes for one week."

Fuck. If I don't get Connor these smokes, he's not going to give me my coke. "There's an entire wall of smokes."

"No. Cigarettes are always the first to go. That means they're worth more than what you put out for in a week. Which is practically nothing."

"Please?"

"I want anal then," he smirks, unbuttoning my pants.

I don't care what he fucks as long as I get my coke. I'll do anything for cocaine. Anything.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Connor smirks.

"The pleasure is all mine."

"The boys at the outpost scored heroin."

"Get the fuck out of here." I haven't done heroin since…

"I sure ain't giving it up for a carton of smokes."

"What do you want?"

He grins devilishly.

"I don't solicit sex for drugs."

"You and Negan holding each other at night then?"

"That's different. He takes care of me."

"I'll take care of you, Blondie."

I should have said no. I tried to say no. I really did, I swear!

He tightens his bandana around my arm.

"Alright," I whimper. "Leave my stockings on." Honestly, I wouldn't have even known if he took them off. That heroin hit me as soon as he pulled the needle from my arm.

Don't worry about me, RM.

Connor slaps my face a few times. "Hey, wake the fuck up." He's putting my shorts back on.

How do I not remember him fucking me? "I want more." Fuck pills. That's the high I've been missing.

"You know what I want."

"Anything. I'll give you anything."

"I'll get you more Friday."

I snap on a nitrile black glove. The doctor in the infirmary traded a box of them to me for two cases of soda.

A shadow casts over me.

Great. Him.

"The fuck are you doing?"

I roll my eyes skyward. Why does everyone always give me shit for wearing gloves when I eat? "Look here, you judgmental fuck. If I wanna wear gloves so I don't get chip dust on my hands, I will. I don't give you shit when you rub your dick on your golf club."

"Wanna play doctor?" Negan moves his erection closer to my head.

It should be no surprise he was all about me sticking a finger in his ass. Waste of a goddamn glove.

If I wear too much, Negan bitches. If I don't wear enough, I gotta hear Sherry squawking. I'm actually excited for Negan to come home today and get me the fuck away from the other girls, only, he wants two of us tonight. I don't swing that way, and walk past him annoyed, up to the roof. There's a few pills I have tucked under a rock like a hide-a-key that I take and wait for them to kick in. I walk close to the edge and look over it.

"You don't wanna play?"

"Not with dumb and dumber."

"They have names, you know."

"Really don't give a fuck."

"If I had known you were wearing just stockings and a garter belt, I wouldn't have picked dumb and dumber."

"Thought they had names?"

"Really don't give a fuck."

I laugh, looking over my shoulder. "Yes you do."

"Why won't you tell me your name?"

"I told you my name."

"Show me a birth certificate with motherfucker on it."

"I'll suck your dick if we can change the subject." The pills haven't even kicked in, I just don't want to talk about my goddamn name.

"Don't suppose I could convince you to join us?"

"No motherfucking way. You can't even hold your load with one of us, how the fuck are you going to keep up with two?"

"Goddamn, you're sexy. Why don't you ever talk like this when we fuck?"

"Because that means you'd have to last long enough to actually have a conversation."

"What-the-fuck-ever, bitch. Bring that ass over here and let's see how long I last."

I make a buzzing noise. "Sorry, maybe next time."

"Tch, fucking fine."

I sway, taking a step from the ledge. Shit. My stomach. Ugh. I cross my arms over it, hunching over a bit.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought you left." Fuck. This is not good. I'm sweating profusely, and it ain't from the heat.

He presses the tips of his fingers to my back. "Answer me."

"I don't know, I'm not a goddamn doctor!" I lunge forward, gripping the edge before throwing up over it. "Fuck." This sucks. I'm half way tempted to go dig through my vomit, but I think most of the pills have been digested, if I could even find them. Would you believe this motherfucker held my hair while I puked? Mr. I'm the king dick sure fucking did. I thought when I was done, the pain would subside, but shit.

"She doesn't feel well," Negan speaks for me, setting me down in the restroom.

Jesus, the last thing I want is Sherry in my business any more than she already is.

"Make her some tea shit, put it in my room," he tells her.

Fuck, I think I'm starting to sober up. That must be the problem. "Can I have some privacy? You know to shower and shit."

"I can help you. I'll get you real clean." He sets my clothes on the counter.

Oh, god gross. Is he serious? Stupid question. Shit, that coke Connor gave me is in my other shorts. I think I have some pills in the vent though. Dingus here finally leaves. I retrieve my pills and flip on the shower to drown out the noise. Stupid, even for me, but I crush the shit up and snort it. Damn, that's fucking good. Holy shit!

I almost forgot to shower I'm so fucked up, and even put my shorts on backwards. The girls are eating something that upsets my stomach. I'll be honest. I don't remember much of anything for the next few hours. When I come to, I'm only wearing my stockings. He must have fucked me. Now he's rummaging through his armoire. The sight of him bent over and his balls hanging between his legs grosses me out, but I can't look away. It's like some kind of hairy pendulum. I stretch my fingers out, running them down what appears to be some type of seam on his balls.

"Fuck," he screams when he hits his head.

"I didn't mean to startle you, I was just curious."

"All that time you had my balls in your mouth and you couldn't be curious then?" He massages the side of his head.

Oh god, is he fucking serious?! I run my tongue along his sheet.

"Fuck you." He pours me a shallow drink.

Is he going to put on pants? His meat log is way too fucking close to my face. Thank Christ, he found pajama pants. My eyes trail the fabric. Fuck. That pattern. That color. Even the frayed uneven drawstring. What are the odds he'd have the same pair as... The only thing that's missing is the cigarette between his thumb and index finger… and a faint smile in the dark turned my way. "Can I smoke in here?"

"No. But you're probably going to do it any-fucking-way."

"Do you want one?"

"Why would I just casually want one?"

"I think it would be hot."

"You just want to picture me sucking dick."

No, you bastard. You don't know my fucking reasoning. "Just forget it." I force the pack back into my shorts pocket before slipping them on.

He stills my wrist. "Stay with me."

"No, let go."

He releases his grip as soon as the words leave my lips. "Okay," he murmurs, having a seat on his bed.

I toss back the drink before setting it in his palm. "Good night."

He doesn't respond, he just keeps that pathetic gaze on the empty glass in his hand.

There's this dopey ass look that Negan gives us sometimes. His eyebrows push up, and lips part. It's pathetic, but it's goddamn effective whether or not he means it that way. I move between his legs and have a seat on his thigh. I tug at some of the hair by his belly button. "I'm not good company."

"No shit." He reaches behind him and gets my shirt, helping me put it on. "Good night."

"Yeah." I take one last look back at him before I close the door. "Negan asked for two of you." Guess I'll help the poor fuck out.

Dumb and dumber waste no time hurrying into his room.

"You're welcome," I smirk.

I jerk awake from a deep nap. "Holy Jesus fuck, what the hell was that noise?"

"Relax. It sounds a lot worse than it is because of the metal," Sherry tells me.

I wince, stepping into my boots. I'm convinced this fucking wind is going to rip this motherfucker in half. The more I ascend into the belly of Sanctuary, the louder it gets. I stick my index fingers in my ears as I make my way for the front door. It's flung open before I get there. Thank fuck. I weed through Negan's men, and out the door. The rain is coming down so hard, it's difficult to make out where the trucks are. "N- Negan?" I tremble, folding my arms across my chest. Oh, no, where is he? A loud clap of thunder startles me, knocking my feet from under me. I huddle into a little ball as I cover my ears. Lightning brightens the dark sky, followed by another clap of thunder. I'm paralyzed. Fuck! I just want Negan! What he did for me yesterday was real decent. Maybe he's not so bad after all?

"Heh, look at this, boys. United States Pussy Service delivers right to your doorstep," Negan snickers.

I peek up at the other Saviors all getting a real good chuckle.

"Her box looks a little used," one of the men laugh, nudging me with his muddy boot.

I know what I am, and I'm not fucking ashamed to be that girl. My mother always said that if a man wants it, he'll take it, and he has the right to do so. But I bet if I were Sherry, things would be a lot different. That Negan would have snapped this man's ankle in half for touching her. I'm upset because as soon as I show this moment of weakness, it's exploited. Not just for his own personal amusement, but for some cheap ass laugh in front of his men.

"I'd return that cunt to the sender," another grimaces, spitting next to me before walking inside.

I don't resort to violence. It's just not in my nature to cause harm to anyone. I slug him hard, and break his nose doing it. "You wish pussy like this got delivered to your doorstep, bitch. Fucking spit at me again, and I'll break your goddamn jaw next time. How you gonna suck cock then, huh?" My tough façade is all bullshit, obviously, but fuck this motherfucker.

He rears his hand back half way to hit me before it's like the rug gets taken out from under him.

"You raise your hand to that woman again, and see what happens. I'll cut your goddamn hands off and make you feed it to the undead on the fence. You could use those little nubs like chopsticks," Negan snarls.

"He can't protect you every second," the Savior whispers to me.

Negan yanks him back by his skullet. "I'm sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch that last thing you said." Negan makes an example of the man by chaining him alive to the fence, so the surrounding dead can feed on him.

Most women would have dropped their panties right then. Proclaimed their love for this man because he protected them and shit. Not me. Negan is a fucking hypocrite. He can call me a slut, but takes this shithead's life because he did? Fuck that. I'm not about that shit. I get a grocery sack and pack my things. Three pairs of stockings, my spare pair of shorts, and the rest of my smokes. I tie the sack so my things don't get ruined by the rain.

"Girls, out," Negan orders them.

I try to hurry out with them.

"Wait just a goddamn minute, RM."

"Fuck you, man, you fucking snake!"

He grabs me by the jaw. "What the fuck was that?"

"You heard me. Go ahead, hit me. I don't give a fuck. If you think I'm going to reward that shit by spreading my legs, you're in for some serious fucking disappointment. Let me go, or get whatever it is you're going to do over with." It's the only time I've seen this man speechless, and it gives me my chance to escape. The thunder is overpowering, with no end in sight when I'm out the front doors. I try to leave, but I can't take another step from under this awning. So I'm in the same fucking position I was earlier. Weak as fuck, and scared as shit. I huddle in the corner in hopes the storm will pass soon so I can get the fuck out of this nightmare. Oh, god… why did he follow me? "You murdered that man!"

"Sorry, but he's dead as fuck. Get over it."

"Fuck you, Negan."

"Look, I ain't about to chase after pussy. Not when I've got women lining up to be in the position that you are. Yet, here I motherfucking stand. You're the coolest pair of tits I've ever met, and you haven't even been here a month. I know how you think, because, whether you want to admit it, we're a lot alike. An apology doesn't mean fuck all for people like us. For whatever reason, that I don't want to know, you don't seem to be bothered by being called a whore, but you broke a man's nose for it. Do you see what I'm getting at, RM?"

"My vague illusion of you is shattered."

"You get that line from the tea box the other night?"

"That ain't some fucking line, bitch, it's the truth."

"So how do I unshatter this illusion?"

"You can go fuck yourself."

"Do you wanna watch?"

Ugh. That's hardly punishment. The fucker would probably be on vacation. I guess the only person to be punished here is me. I let my guard down like an idiot and look what happened?

"You were waiting on me, weren't you?"

"Maybe," I murmur against my knees.

"Don't bullshit me. You don't smell like an ashtray, so why the fuck else would you be outside?"

I sit up straight, furrowing my brow. "I came out here and I fucking shouted your name and you were nowhere to be found and I couldn't even see the trucks in this rain and I kept calling for you and the fucking lightning and thunder and fuck you, okay?"

"Jesus Christ, woman, take a goddamn breath!"

I jump when the lightning strikes so close, it makes the hair on my arms stand up.

"Holy fuck! That almost hit me! Did you see that shit?"

I cover my ears from the shaking thunder.

He cocks his head some. "I'll be goddamned. You're scared of this shit, aren't you? Like, piss your panties scared."

"I don't wear panties."

"See? That's what I fucking like about you, RM."

"That I don't wear panties?" I'm not surprised.

"No," he laughs, "I mean, yes, but… bitch, will you just come home?"

"I want restitution! That pretty bottle of vodka the one Savior brought in."

"That skull one?"

"Goddamn right! That thing was classy as shit!" I love skeletons for the record.

"Alright," he shrugs.

That fucker isn't too happy about giving up his vodka, and even more so when Negan places it in my hands.

Now to celebrate. 750ml of elation here we come.

Friday finally fucking came. I'm practically pulling my skin off.

"Good shit, huh?"

Holy fuck me. I came back to Connor's the following night. Not only did I not remember him fucking me, but Negan wanted to mess around later that night which I don't remember, either. Nor do I really know what the fuck is going on at this exact moment.

"You can sleep here if you want," Negan tells me.

I don't… feel… too… I throw up at the foot of his bed, before slipping on it and passing out.

I gasp, then start a coughing fit. What the fuck?

"Jesus fucking Christ, RM. I thought you were fucking dead!"

I'm in the bathtub and Negan is… bathing me?

"I cleaned up the floor." Mother Sherry is already all up in my shit. Inspecting my face. Yeah, she knows I'm fucking high. Stay out of it! "Let me know if you need anything else," Sherry tells Negan, touching his shoulder before leaving us alone.

"You left my stockings on."

"You said you don't want anyone to take them off. Lean your head back so I can get the soap out of your hair."

Things are tense between Negan and me. I'm not really sure why. For all he knows I just don't feel well.

"I set you some clothes out. Wear them."

By clothes he means a fucking g-string and some bullshit underbust bra for tits that I don't even have. "No goddamn way. You gonna put a pair of panties up your ass? I didn't fucking think so-"

"You know where the goddamn door is, RM."

"You'll kick me out over fucking lingerie? Because I-"

"Because I make the fucking rules! Frankly, I've grown a little tired of your mouth. So don't open it unless it's to put my dick in it."

Fucking dumpy shithead.

Negan starts for the door, then looks back at me before he leaves. "If you ever put a needle in your fucking arm, you're gone."

I know he can see the panicked look on my face.

"Do you really think I'm that goddamn stupid?"

Oh, god. Does he know how I got the heroin? I flinch when the bathroom door slams shut. Guess not.

I'm actually sober today. It's fucking miserable. I've been a good little girl and dodged Connor for the last week to give Negan time to chill the fuck out.

He's rather chipper as he waltzes in the room. "Line up. And it ain't for a shot in the mouth, although you all might reconsider after you see what I have for you in this box."

I slither off the windowsill to take a look. There's some dumb ass book, perfume, and chocolates that get taken.

He pulls out nylons from the box and flashes me a grin.

"Can I just have the box?" I yank it from his grip before he can retort. The metal chairs on the roof burn my ass. This way, I can sit inside the box and smoke without having my ass seared since he won't let me smoke in the parlor. My oasis is often brief, although today it's him who interrupts me.

"RM, I wanna talk to you."

I can't deal with his shit sober. Please go the fuck away. Why isn't he leaving? "Talk?"

"Yeah, you know, like you fucking move your jaw and then I'll move mine"

"Is this like role playing? I'm in trouble and you've come to discipline me. I ain't calling you daddy, that shit is fucking stupid."

"Do I look like your fucking daddy?"

"I dunno, I never met him."

"RM!"

"Jesus Christ, what!?" Now I'm getting fucking pissed off. I've already wasted half this cigarette with this pointless banter.

"Look. I know you're still pissed at me, but you need to get the fuck over it."

"I'm not mad at you, man, now can you move to the right some. Your big ass proves useful for providing shade."

"I got those stockings specifically for you, and you didn't say fuck all. That other shit was just junk I scraped up so the other girls wouldn't be jealous."

I think he's just worried that I'm going to leave him. We haven't fucked since that night I passed out.

"How come you never let me get you anything nice?"

"What, like a velvet painting?"

"Are you being fucking serious? Because I motherfucking am."

That's a first.

"You don't like me, do you?"

On a personal level, no, but he ain't that bad I guess. Better than my last leader, that's for sure. He is kinda funny.

"I'm not stupid. I know none of you girls would look at me twice if not for the end of the fucking world. But you're the only one that looks at me like what I'm doing is wrong. If you don't want to fuck, tell me no. There's other positions to be filled."

I award him my dimples because his humor saves his ass once again. "Wanna get in this box with me?"

"I always want in your box."

"I'll scoot over."

"I don't think I'll fit."

I briefly glance down at his arousal. "Nah, you'll fit."

"Fucking hilarious. Who wouldn't fit in your box? Used cunt," he murmurs, stomping back down the side steps.

Good riddance. If I knew insulting his snot rocket would give me peace and quiet I would have done it a long fucking time ago.

It's Negan's 36th birthday. The girls are getting things ready for some kind of bullshit party. Like I give a Baker's fuck. Birthdays are so fucking stupid.

"RM, little help here?"

"Fuck off, Amber. I didn't so arrogantly offer to throw the goddamn birthday party. I'm watching TV."

Sherry folds her arms displeased. "RM, throw that fucking thing away! It's broken."

"Be quiet, I'm missing the best part." I toss my head back, cackling as loud as I can.

"It doesn't even work! It's not even fucking plugged in. Oh my god!" Sherry grabs me by the cheeks as she studies my face. "I knew it. You're higher than a kite right now!"

"What do you know, Sherry?" I shove her out of the way, and slam the bathroom door behind me. I dig into my denim shorts and pull out my baggie. I've been saving this for a special occasion. That first rail is so fucking good. The door flings open and I give Sherry the middle finger before I snort my second rail, only… it's not Sherry. Oh, damn… he's livid, shouting and shit. I don't even try to wipe the coke from my nose.

"Get out." He refrains from profanity.

"How is shoving coke up my nose any worse than whatever person's blood drips on the floor from that fucking disgusting baseball-"

He strikes me in the mouth with the back of his hand. "Show some fucking respect for Lucille!"

"Was she special to you? Huh?" I start to snicker. "Where's she now? Fucking dead. Probably because of you!" I blink my eyes, and take a step back. Whoa, fuck. The fuck? I fall back into the bathtub as my body starts to convulse. Well. It would appear I'm about to fucking die.

Fuck. I ain't fucking dead. Nope. Not even close. Maybe a close call. My shit has been packed and set in my box on the edge of the infirmary table. Seems Negan doesn't approve of my drug use. What a judgmental fuckhead. Fuck him, I don't need his goddamn handouts.

"Your room is on level four, second door from the staircase," Carson informs me.

Negan's even taken the luxury of tasking me with my new job.

I ain't no fucking janitor. I'll do what I've always done. Look after me. It's time I go pay Connor and the boys a visit.