It was a gloomy September night; the shadows danced in the twilight and the growls of my undead neighbors fell silent. The fire I built earlier that afternoon became exhausted and extinguished quite some time ago. Although my eyes grew heavy and my limbs were aching, I couldn't bring myself to let the breeze and the sounds of the forest lull me to sleep.
In this world, I had to be constantly vigilant and aware of my surroundings. Before the apocalypse, however, I idled and carelessly danced my way through life. My naive tendencies and obliviousness were barriers that shattered once I came face to face with my undead father. He was the first walker I ever saw, and the image of him gnawing on my mother's flesh is something that still haunts me to this day. That was nearly three years ago, and I find that I still see my father's face among the walkers that I come across.
My reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of leaves and branches crackling somewhere close-by. I was incorrect to assume it was walkers because for once, it wasn't. One set of footsteps grew into two and only rose from that point on. Although the wooded area around me was drenched in darkness, I knew in my gut that I was surrounded.
"Don't move," a man's voice barked just as I reached for my machete. I pulled my arm back toward me, my fingers trembling and hovering over the scabbard.
"Hands up, nice and easy."
Multiple guns cocked, causing my knees to subtly quake beneath me. The footsteps commenced again, the foliage crunching under the heaviness of their boots. I slowly allowed my hands to rise above my head, trying to cope with the fact that there were guns trained on me and every movement that I made.
"There, now that wasn't so hard, now was it?"
A shadowy figure loomed out of the darkness and into my field of vision. My first instinct was to reach down to my blade, but my arms felt as if they were frozen solid, permanently reaching for the evening sky.
"Ah, so you're a woman," he mumbled as he drew near close enough to study me. I hesitated to respond, my eyes fixated on his every move. I realized that this wasn't the best time for sarcastic remarks, so I held my tongue and let the man draw near and look at me.
"What's your name, girl?"
Silence lingered in the air for several moments as I pondered whether or not I should lie, tell the truth, or if it really mattered either way.
"Speak when you're spoken to."
"Faye," I uttered quietly although loud enough for him to hear. I decided to tell the truth, but my final decision was that it didn't make a difference whether I did or not.
"So, Faye," the man said quite sarcastically, "are you aware that this land you are on belongs to Negan?"
I was extremely perplexed at this point, pondering on who this Negan character could possibly be and why the hell he was able to dictate what land was or wasn't his. I scoffed in response, immediately regretting that decision. The man forcefully grabbed my chin, gently resting a loaded pistol straight against my forehead. My face drained of all color. It was one thing to have guns pointed at you from afar, however it was nothing compared to the feeling of one pressed against your skin.
"That's right, girlie," the man said with a chuckle, "you better watch yourself."
After a few moments of absolute horror, he yanked his hand away and withdrew the small handgun.
"So, to continue what I said before your extremely impolite interruption, it isn't just the land that's his, it also happens to be whatever's in it. So hand over everything, and I mean every single little thing you have."
This was beyond fucked up, but there was little I could do besides cooperate. I slowly let my hands descend and I began to remove the weapons that clung to me. It wasn't easy for me to have to give up my only source of protection. I withdrew my machete from the sheath, slowly handing it to the stranger.
"Negan wants the sheath too."
It took less than a minute to be stripped of all my weapons, and once that was done, a few of the men swooped in to gather up the rest of my gear and supplies.
"Am I free to go now that you've taken everything from me?"
"No, sweetheart. Unfortunately not," he told me, taking a few seconds to scratch at the neatly kept mustache on his aging face.
"Yeah, hmm," he mumbled, beginning to pace around me, "you see, I said that every single thing on this land belongs to him. And you just so happen to be on this land. Does that make sense?"
I took a sharp inhale.
"Dwight, would you be so kind and bind this woman's hands? I'm really not feeling up to it."
Panic began to rise and boil within me. Shit. This was not good. Shit. Just, shit. Another man, this Dwight I assume, appeared behind the first. He bent down beside me, gently taking my hands and wrapping them as loose as he possibly could for me.
"I'm sorry," he muttered underneath his breath, "just a word of advice, stay out of trouble. You'll find out soon enough what they do to people who don't follow the rules. I would know because I was one of them."
Once the knots were tied, Dwight withdrew back to the shadows.
"All done, Simon," he reported as he left the scene completely.
"Good, thank you, my man," Simon grumbled in a low voice, "now, you two over there! Get her into the truck, and blindfold her just to be safe. I don't want her seeing anything."
Before I knew it, two men grabbed me forcefully, dragging me to the truck that would take me to either my imprisonment, death or both. A piece of fabric was wrapped tightly over my eyes. It rendered me completely visually unaware of my surroundings.
"Have a nice ride, Faye!" Simon exclaimed with a strong presence of sarcasm in his voice. I scoffed, and that's all that I remember before I was struck with what I assumed to be a pistol and lost consciousness.
"What if she doesn't wake up?" A familiar voice whispered angrily.
Maybe it was Dwight...I wasn't sure. My head was throbbing incessantly.
"For fuck's sake, man. Get yourself together. If she doesn't wake up, then fine, she's the enemy anyway! Hasta la vista, goodbye. She dies. If she does wake up, then whoop-de-fucking-doo! What happens, happens. Now go get yourself a drink or something and stop being a pathetic excuse for a Savior."
I groaned slightly, but I guess it had already been after Dwight had left. Damn. My eyes were too heavy to open, but that didn't stop me from doing everything I was able to convince them I was still alive. There was no response, just silence. It was eerie, but honestly quite calming. I would much rather be faced with the silence than the sounds of walker growls or gunfire.
Later that day, after several hours of slipping in and out of consciousness, I could finally begin to open my eyes.
"Faye?"
I didn't recognize this man's voice.
"Hey, can you hear me? If you can, my name is Dr. Carson and I've been taking care of you. You've been in a coma for a few weeks. They weren't going to keep you here past a month. You're very lucky to have woken up in time. The pistol that you were struck with caused a concussion, and you ended up in my care later that night. Everything has healed, I assure you, it was just the matter of you waking up."
I fully opened my eyes, the blinding white light of the infirmary greeting me back to the world. It felt like the breath had been taken out of my lungs.
"Doctor..." I mumbled, trying to sit up before instantly being laid back down. "Where am I?"
A worried look stretched across his face and seeing that made me realize that I needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
"You're in a place called The Sanctuary, however, it's anything but that. They wanted me to save you, yes, but don't assume it was for good intentions. Our leader, Negan, believes people are a resource and need to be used until they have exhausted all viability."
"Your leader is fucked up in the head," I replied with a smirk that I used to mask my anger.
Dr. Carson nodded, affirming my assumption.
"I gave us a little time to talk, but if you'll excuse me, I need to radio the others and let them know of your condition."
He slipped away from the hospital bed over to a very cluttered desk with folders, papers, and pens scattered everywhere. You could tell from looking at this man that he was being spread thin; the worry lines and wrinkles on his face gave it away. It makes me wonder how long he's been here.
"Come in, Negan. This is Carson."
"Can I fuckin' help you, doc?"
I tuned in to their conversation. Negan's voice was rough, but also had a certain smoothness to it. Just from his voice and the way he spoke, you could tell he was confident.
"Faye is awake. She's stable and is responding very well to stimuli."
"Well, holy fucking shit. I'll be goddamned. I'll be down there in a little bit."
"Yes, sir. We'll be expecting you."
There was no other answer from Negan, however, Dr. Carson came scurrying back to my side.
"You need to listen to me, Faye. Whatever you do, do not disrespect this man. He is set on horrible punishments for even minor indiscretions. He has rules, and you don't know them yet, but you need to be smart about this. Just, be respectful."
I nodded, both physically and mentally, letting my eyes close for a bit while I waited. I wasn't scared. Sure, a surge of anxiety panged throughout my body, but I wouldn't let myself fear him. He is planning on me cowering and wants to use that to his advantage. He wants to have control over me. That's what all the people in power in this walker-ridden world want. I let my mind wander until I heard the door to the infirmary begin to open. I kept my eyes closed.
"Is she asleep?" Negan mumbled to Dr. Carson.
I kept my eyes shut tight until a firm hand was placed on my shoulder. Whoever it was, shook me gently until I decided to open my eyes again.
A man stood above me. He was quite handsome, tall, and had greying hair with a five o'clock shadow to accompany it. His hazel eyes were calm, but they were locked on my face.
"Hey, darlin', how the fuck are you?" He questioned in a hushed tone, pulling up a chair to the side of the bed. "Dr. Carson, if you would give us some time to talk, that would be fuckin' great. Thanks."
My eyes followed Dr. Carson as he left me alone with this stranger.
"I'm fine, just tired. Head still hurts."
"Did he tell you how long you were out?"
I nodded, concentrating on his every move.
"That was one hell of a nap, kiddo," he spoke low and quiet with a concerned demeanor.
I cracked a smile not only because it was true, but to show respect as Dr. Carson advised. I had so many insults ready, most of them about how shitty his men were, but obviously, I kept them to myself.
"Why are you here?" I inquired, a sincere spike of curiosity led me to ask this question.
The look in his eyes transformed, they seemed to ignite right in front of me.
"Do you realize how much of our goddamn medical resources we used on you to help you get better? We turned away other people who needed help because we wanted to fucking help you," he replied viciously, "I'm here only because I needed to make sure that you were more than just dead weight."
Before I could respond, he stormed out of the room and left the sound of a slamming door reverberating through my ears.