A/N I've been in kind of a weird place lately so I just started writing to purge all my emotions. Hence the title. This is from the OC's point of view. This takes place right as the outbreak has started and Negan first meets Dwight.

Things were pretty good with Dwight's group. We had a system. Routine. People genuinely gave a shit about each other. That is until one day things changed.

"Negan, allow me to introduce you to-"

The arrogant prick didn't even want to bother to learn our names. Something about if we last more than a few days he'd learn them.

I hated him from the moment I set eyes on him.

Sherry was quite taken with him. Always sniffing around, asking if he needed any help. She probably just wanted to suck his dick.

I always had that impression from Sherry. The way she overcompensated her affection with Dwight to purposely make Negan jealous, though it never really seemed to have an effect on Negan. No one did because it was obvious Negan was still recovering from losing his wife. The tan line on his left ring finger aside, sometimes he'd sneak off into the woods at night and just stare at nothing. He embodied all the traits of mourning. I'd know. It had been almost six months now since I lost my husband. I told him not to go with such a small group, that we were fine on supplies but he insisted. After he passed away, nothing was ever the same.

Our group was growing. Thriving. Something Negan took credit for. I could tell that Dwight felt emasculated, but Dwight just brushed everything off. Even though Negan and I never actually spoke more than two words to each other, we both loathed each other. Every time he opened that mouth I wanted to stick my gun in it and pull the trigger. Maybe then he'd shut the fuck up, though I doubt the fucker would die quietly.

Winter was fast approaching. The first snow had already fallen and it was miserable. Though it was my idea, Negan makes it known that it was his idea for the hotel we decided to make base camp in. Haughty son of a bitch. I guess it's safe to say that I hated that motherfucker which makes what happens every night even more pathetic.

"Fuck," Negan moans.

"That all you got?"

"Bitch." His gigantic hand wraps around my frail neck as he slams against me.

I know it's fucked up, but his dick is so good. At night, it's completely pitch black in the hotel. Negan has no idea that it's me. After our exchange, I quietly slip out each night. Then in the morning we resume our hatred for each other. "Your poor decision has us circling in the wrong place for supplies again," I snap.

"If I want you to open your mouth, I'll pull my dick out," Negan growls.

Misogynist pig. I unsheathe my knife. "Go ahead, big boy. Pull it out and lose it."

"Try it, you stupid fuck."

"Fuck you."

All the aggression we hold back during the day, we take out on each other at night. He gets a nice decent sized black eye. I have his hand impression on my neck. Thankfully, I'll be able to cover it up with my jacket lapels.

"Stay," he asks, taking me by the wrist when we're done.

I yank it from his grip, trying to keep my speech to a minimum. If he found out it was me these last few weeks, things wouldn't go over too well. It makes no sense to me. I hate everything about this man. Calling him a man is a joke. He's a coward. Okay, maybe that's a lie. Negan is anything but a coward. He is a man in full. The alpha male. He'd done more for our group than Dwight ever could. Everyone sees it, too. Maybe that's why I come back each night.

We found an entire case of Maker's Mark today. That's bourbon for you non alcoholics. It makes for some of the best sex I've ever had with him. The drinking continues for a few nights until we both become sloppy. I open my eyes the next morning. I'm warm. I haven't been warm since summer. My eyes trail down the large muscular limb over me. Fuck! We must have both passed out! The sun fills the entire room and I know I've got to get out of here before he sees me. It's easier said than done. That thing is impossible to move, but I finally manage.

"What the fuck?!" Negan grabs the side of my head and slams it into the end table.

It disorients me as I fall to the floor.

He pins me to it, his hand keeping me there by my neck. "Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?! It's been you all along?"

I'd respond if I could manage more than some choking gasp. I'm struck across the mouth twice.

"You fucking twisted fuck."

I spit the collecting blood from my mouth at him.

Negan reaches for my gun, forcing the dirty barrel in my mouth. "Let me empty into you one last time." He cocks the trigger.

I could fight back if I wanted to, but who am I kidding. I'd never even make it to the door before he'd unload the clip into my back. Eyes usually tell everything about a person. His tell me he's never actually killed a human being before. The gun is taken from my mouth, flipped around, and I'm struck over the head with it. When I wake up, I'm in my bed. He's even sewn up the gash in my head from where the gun split my head open. When Dwight comes to check on me later that day, I make up some lie as to why I didn't show up for the supply run. The following day was extremely difficult. Sometimes I'd sneak a peek at Negan. Before we head home for the night, I actually catch him looking at me. It becomes quite clear what I need to do because being with this group, with Negan, will only hurt me.

I miss being on top of him. I miss commanding some kind of power over him. I miss making him come undone. I miss… him. There were a couple of nights I was foolish enough to try and go to his room. I never made it past the first turn to it and returned back to mine. He had spared me for whatever reason, yet I keep trying to put myself in harm's way again. Maybe he just couldn't kill a woman. A lot of people say that I'm strong. It couldn't be farther from the truth. I was strong because I had my husband. Then when he passed, as much as Negan and I hated each other, Negan protected me more times that I could count. I'm not going to make it on my own. I'd rather die in here than out there. I slip the gun between my lips, gripping it tight. The courage I had before is fading fast. I pull it from my mouth and take a deep breath before sticking it back in. Still the same result. My finger just flirts with the trigger, shying away from it.

"The safety is on." Negan slides the switch. "There."

I can't bring myself to look at him because I don't want him to see that I've been crying. He despises weak people. Though I don't know why I care. "Are you just going to stand there and watch?"

"Just wanna make sure you destroy the brain, that way I don't have to do it later."

What was once so clear before becomes muddled and uncertain. I can't fucking do it. I can't pull this trigger. Tears stream down my face as I lower the gun.

"God, you're fucking pathetic."

"Fuck you." The gun goes right back in my mouth. I'll fucking show this motherfucker.

He shoves the gun from my hands, forcefully pressing his lips to mine.

It doesn't make any fucking sense, but since when did they really ever make sense with him? It's strange seeing him in the light as he stretches over me. The hard contours of his chest I could touch and fantasize about is now right there when his shirt comes off. I only manage to free one of my legs from my pants and underwear before he's between my legs.

He doesn't even try to unhook my bra, just pushes it up and he takes a greedy mouthful.

My stomach tightens in anticipation when I hear the metal of his belt clank against the button on his jeans. They're pushed down enough to pull himself from them as his hips join against mine.

"Fuck," we both moan.

I love that he can't be bothered with taking any more clothes off than necessary. Like he can't wait to be inside me.

"I should have fucking known it was you all that time." His lips and tongue seize my neck, followed by his sharp teeth.

My nails assault his flesh.

The pain only makes him delve farther inside of me.

I've trained him well. I lean my head back off the bed, moaning his name.

He pulls me back on the bed. "I'm right here."

"Arrogant bastard." I moan when he moves deep within me.

"That's right."

I really thought that he'd just be someone to have fun. I'd get what I want and carry on about my business, but it's become so clear that I need this man. I move his hand to my throat.

He seems hesitant, then shakes his head side to side.

I slap him across the face.

"Bitch," he sneers, using his weight to thrust into me. His fingers settle in place as I welcome home familiarity. "Fuck," he grunts.

I cry out, tightening around him. He doesn't hold back and I'm grateful that he's still aroused when it's not entirely pitch black in this room.

His two rows of perfect teeth clench tight together before he starts shouting out profanity until his hips still.

I'm smothered under the brute fuck, but take it as an opportunity to inhale his scent. Let's face it, it's the end of the world. Things are pretty fucking gross these days. But I've notice this one spot under his ear the many times I've mounted this man. It's distinct to him, and it drives me crazy.

He rolls off me, catching his breath.

Now I can actually take off my clothes.

Negan watches everything I'm doing like he's never seen a naked woman before. Or maybe it's just been that long.

I slick his damp hair back.

"What are you doing?"

"It looks better slicked back. Not all in your face."

"Who gives a fuck what I look like?"

"I do. What do you think attracted me to you in the first place? Your welcoming personality?" I roll my eyes.

"I didn't even know what your face looked like the first week I was here because I spent more time staring at your tits." He settles his face against them when he brings me back to the bed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"Don't bullshit me."

"The first few times were hard. I'd be kinda fucked up after you left. It's just… been a while since I've been with a woman."

Just like I thought. "I'm sorry about your wife." I know he's wondering how I knew, but you'd have to be blind not to see how much pain this man is in every single day. Am I a fool to think that I could help him heal?

"Lucille," Negan tells me, running his finger over my wedding ring.

"I'm sorry about Lucille."

"Tell me about you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why bother?"

"Don't repeat my words to me. I hate that shit."

"Go to sleep."

"You're so bitchy," he smirks against my skin.

We don't run into people anymore these days unless it's the dead ones. I fear that we've surpassed the point of ever being able to come back from this. It's been almost a year since the first report of the dead eating the living. I'm not one to be vocal in our group, but I don't agree with Dwight's decision to scavenge this location. It's dangerous, and there's too many ways to become trapped. My voice is only heard because of Negan. Thankfully, Negan's pull convinces the rest of the group that risk outweighs the reward. Except, it's too late. We fight our way through, but there's just too goddamn many of them. Negan tries to save one of the women. He only ends up trapping himself. I won't watch someone else I love die and quickly rush to his aid. I put myself between him and the dead, reaching for my gun. It spares Negan and he's quick to put down the rest of the dead. I, unfortunately, am not that lucky. There's bites in places that can't be saved by being lopped off. I'm losing blood at such an alarming rate, I collapse to my knees.

"Help," Negan screams, kneeling beside me.

Fuck, the pain is indescribable.

"What do I do," he panics.

"Go, before the others leave you behind."

"Fuck you! This is bull-fucking-shit!"

I'm starting to choke on my own blood.

"I'm going to fucking kill Dwight," he sneers.

"It's not his fault. Don't-" I gasp for a breath.

"Fuck," Negan whines. "I'm sorry." His tears fall against my face. "I don't even know your name."

"What's the point?"

"I was angry from losing people. Everyone I know has died. Tell me your name."

"No."

He presses his hand to my side as if it's going to somehow stop the bleeding or cure the virus.

Fuck, just as I was starting to settle into my life with this man, something comes and strips that away. "Here." I give him my gun. "Before I turn, okay?"

"The fucking safety is on," he cries.

"I'm sorry I wasn't stronger."

"You saved my life, and I can't even give you a thank you fuck."

"Ne-gan…"

He settles his lips against my temple. They linger for a few minutes before they're replaced with the gun. "Goodbye."