I needed to move on from Negan.

I avoided him over the next few days and tried to focus on myself. No more drinks, no more excuses. I had allowed myself to fall into a rut, and I decided to pick myself up.

I apologized to Simon and explained I just wanted to be friends. He understood, and was very nice about the whole thing. I was grateful for him.

And I decided that because I'd been spending so much time drowning my sorrows in liquor, that I could use that recent passion to make myself useful. I cleaned up one of the lounge rooms that had an old bar, and I set out to become the Sanctuary's bartender. I talked to Simon about my idea and he loved it. He brought me multiple different bottles, and told me it was free of charge. He suggested I make people pay for drinks with points so that I could make some, now that I was no longer a wife.

So I did.

And it was a huge success.

It had only been a day, but all sorts of community members and Saviors stopped by to see the new setup and ordered their drinks. They sat together and visited while I organized the shelves and cleaned up the area better. By the end of the day, I had made more points than most people made in a week, and I was very proud of myself.

I was wiping down the bar and getting ready to retire for the night when I heard someone come in. I looked up to see Wendy, Negan's eighteen-year-old wife make her way over to the counter where I was standing. She sat down at a stool right in front of me. I bit my tongue and swallowed the urge to glare at her. It wasn't her fault I had left Negan, but she had been a playing factor into it.

"Can I get a drink?" she asked in a quiet voice. I peered at her, and wondered if I should tell her to fuck off. Part of me absolutely hated this girl, but there was something in her demeanor that said I needed to wait before I brought the claws out. She was underage, but it wasn't like we lived under government law anymore. The only rules that mattered were Negan's, and he had never said anything about not being able to serve his wives alcohol.

"What do you want?" I asked, turning to look at my small collection of liquor. There wasn't much left, but I still had a few bottles of vodka and whiskey left.

"I don't know. I've never had anything before," she confessed. I glanced over my shoulder at her and then turned to look back at my bottles. The rum I had been downing only days before was sitting towards the bottom, and I bent down to pick it up. I opened a little cooler that Simon had provided me and scooped out some ice, and then grabbed a can of Coca-Cola from another shelf.

As I prepared her drink, I glanced up quickly to see she was fidgeting in her seat. It only took me a few seconds, and then her drink was ready. I set it down in front of her, and she picked it up slowly and took a sip.

"Not bad," she mumbled, and then took a longer drink. I watched her silently. I had been planning on going back to my room to sleep, but I could tell something was wrong with her. It wasn't my place to ask, and I didn't want to get involved with her personal affairs.

"You were a wife, right?" she asked, breaking the silence. I had a glass in my hand and was cleaning it with a rag.

"Yes," I answered, not looking up from the glass. She knew I had been. We hadn't talked much when I was still with Negan, but she had spent countless hours inside the parlor room with me. I really wished she would just down her drink and leave, but I had a feeling she wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"How did you leave?" she blurted, setting her drink down and watching me. I set the glass on the little shelf behind me and turned back to face her.

"I just did. He's not forcing you to be with him." I was becoming increasingly annoyed that she had come to me of all people to talk about this. Could I blame her though? None of his other wives had ever left him. I was the first of my kind.

She nodded and then let out a long sigh. While her eyes were averted, I glanced down at her little black dress and perfectly curled blonde hair. She looked like a doll, and I remembered what it was like—spending the day doing my hair and makeup to look my best for Negan. A few days ago I would have given anything to be back in her boat. Now swimming didn't sound so bad.

"I miss my boyfriend," she announced suddenly. "I really wish I had never said yes to Negan, but I didn't want to work for points."

"If you want to be with your boyfriend, you shouldn't be with Negan," I pointed out, while wiping the rag across the counter.

"I know. I'm just scared Negan will get mad at me." Wendy was staring down at the little round glass and holding her head in her hands. I hadn't realized how distraught she was until right then, but as I did, I started to pity her. I had been there—kinda. I had felt trapped when I was with him, and so I had left. Unlike Wendy, I didn't have a young boyfriend waiting for me once I got out. I had booze, and awkward sex with Simon.

"Of course he's not gonna like it, but he can get happy in the same pants he got mad in," I said, trying to reassure her. She looked up at me with confused eyes and I smiled at her.

"He won't hurt you. It will be okay."

Wendy stared at me for a long time as if she was trying to read my expression. I was being genuine, and after a while, she smiled back at me and nodded.

"You're right. I'm gonna go talk to him now. Thank you." She stood up from the stool and left the room. I reached over to take her drink, which she had barely touched, and downed it. I hoped the advice I gave her was good. Yes I had left Negan, but I had ended up regretting it.

I headed back to my bedroom for the night and changed into a pretty black nightgown that Negan had given me when I was his wife. He had allowed me to take it when I left, and I was grateful because it had always been one of my favorites. As I sat on the edge of my bed, I looked over the little notebook where I had tracked the points I had made for the day. As I checked the inventory and marked down the bit of rum I gave Wendy (and myself), I realized that I was going to bed sober for the first time in weeks. Sure I had downed her drink, but I hadn't even put a full shot of rum into it. I was coherent, and it felt good.

My head was just about to hit the pillow when my bedroom door flew open. I sat up just as Negan stormed in and slammed the door shut behind him. He looked furious.

"I bet you think you're so fucking clever," he growled, standing across the room with his fists clenched.

"What?" I asked, scrunching my face in confusion. He was fuming. If looks could kill, I would have been dead.

"Wendy left. Doesn't want to be my wife anymore. She said she talked to you, and you fucking convinced her to leave me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find any words. What he was saying sounded so harsh, but there was truth to it. I had convinced Wendy to leave him, but not for the reason he thought.

"Are you gonna fucking say something?" he yelled, taking a step toward me. His anger was apparent, and it pissed me off. He had no right to barge into my room and throw a fit at me. So I decided to push him even further.

A smile slowly formed on my face.

"Awwww, you lost your favorite play thing!" I taunted.

His eyes turned to fire, and he scowled at me; I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with something to say. I continued to grin at him. For the first time since I had known him, I felt like I had the upper hand.

"I liked you better when you were a fucked up, drunken mess, begging to suck my cock." He slowly began walking up to me, in an attempt to intimidate me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up to show I wasn't afraid of him.

"Just because Wendy wants to fuck someone younger doesn't mean you need to take this out on me."

"No one fucks better than me," he said in a low voice as he reached the edge of the bed. He towered over me, and I smirked up at him.

"Simon did."

Negan leaned down so his face was parallel with mine. We remained close and un-touching for a few solid seconds as he gazed into my eyes. My heart was pounding loud in my ears, and I felt him press against my leg. He was hard. I could only imagine he had probably expected to be dick deep inside of Wendy right about then, and instead he was now down another wife.

And yet, he came to me.

"Then I have something to prove, don't I?" he snarled.

Suddenly, he grabbed my jaw and his mouth came crashing down onto mine. His kiss was rough, and his tongue slipped inside and found mine. His hand on my jaw brought me forward, deepening our kiss, and I gasped against his mouth.

When he finally broke away, I took a deep breath as his mouth trailed down to my neck. He began to nip at my skin, and then his hand began to slide under my nightgown. He cupped my mound, making me tremble as his warm fingers began to slip past my lower lips and into my heat. I squirmed at the feeling, and he placed his other hand onto my chest and forced me to lay back on the bed. I watched as he pulled his jacket off, and then he joined me on the bed.

"Negan…" I started to say, but didn't know if I wanted to tell him to stop or beg him to keep going. I knew we shouldn't be doing this—that we were both making a huge mistake, but I didn't care. I wanted him so fucking bad, and knowing he wanted me just as much was ecstasy.

"Shut up," he growled just as his mouth found mine again. His kiss was even rougher, and I cried out against his lips just as he entered a second finger inside me. I was starting to get wet, and he smirked as my arousal began to coat his fingers. He continued to kiss me passionately, and then his lips left mine. His fingers retreated from my core, and he gently bit my bottom lip as he sat up. I stared up in amazement as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor of my room. He unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the belt loops before joining me on the mattress again, with the belt still in his hand. I sat up to kiss him, but then my eyes went wide.

He had placed the belt around my neck; the thick leather strip was resting around my throat.

And then he tightened it.

It was a makeshift collar—and it hurt, but not enough to kill the mood. I stared up at him with big eyes, knowing that I was completely at his mercy.

"You want to act like a bitch?" he asked, yanking the collar a bit so I moved closer to him. He placed his hand on my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. "Then I'm gonna fuck you like a bitch."

I should have snapped at him for calling me such a horrible thing, but his vulgar words turned me on even more. His mouth met mine once again, and as we tasted one another, I almost forgot the belt was there. Then he tugged on it roughly, and I gasped out.

"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered, standing up from the bed and letting go of the belt. I did as he said, turning around so my ass was facing him. I shivered as I heard the sound of his zipper.

I had thought I was done with him. I was going to move on, but here I was, getting ready to feel him all over again. He really was like a drug—a high I knew I would always end up chasing.

His fingers pinched the bottom of my nightgown and he pulled it up past my hips. I tried to brace for it, but he entered me fast and hard. I cried out, and leaned forward in an attempt to remedy the sudden pain, but he gripped the belt and pulled me harder against him. My back arched up and he slid even further inside me, making me moan loud. I felt tears well up in my eyes as he started to move in and out, but this time it was deep and slow. It was painful, but it was a good pain—the kind of pain I had been yearning for.

Negan panted loudly behind me and held me in that position with the belt for a long time. As the leather tightened around my neck, I knew it would leave a big mark, but I didn't care. It was his mark—his claim on me. I didn't care about anything in that moment.

I was his.

He pumped in roughly, without any sign of slowing down. His grip remained on the belt, and as he continued to pull it tight, I struggled to breathe. I gasped out, reaching out a hand to try and signal that it was too much, but he didn't let up.

The lack of oxygen caused my body to go into a panic, and I felt myself start to slightly jerk beneath him. He had shoved himself in so deep, and my arms gave in from holding myself up on the mattress. I fell forward onto the bed, and my hands went to the leather belt at my neck, desperately clawing at it. Instead of letting go, he pulled me back once again; his dick rammed into me with such force, I jolted forward. He fucked my body as it spasmed, and I desperately tried to find air.

Negan finally loosened his grip on the belt, and I gasped for breath. As I laid against the bed sheets and felt relief, he slid out and stood up behind me. I breathed in and out, grateful for the cool air that filled my lungs. He grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed to get better access to my soaked cunt. After getting a few good breaths, his hand returned to the belt.

"Get up," he commanded, and yanked the belt. I slowly got back onto my hands and propped myself up doggy-style again. My arms were shaking, but I did as he said.

I'd always do as he said.

He entered back into me with a hard thrust, and I tried to brace myself. With one hand on the belt, he placed the other onto the curve of my ass and pulled me back and forth onto his cock.

Both of us were moaning carelessly. My limbs hurt, and I knew I would be sore the next day, but I didn't care. It was a small price to pay just to be with him—to feel him filling me up.

I could feel that sweet ache start to grow just as he tightened the belt. I was struggling to breathe again just as my walls clenched around him. He let go of the belt and oxygen flooded into my lungs at the same time my orgasm overcame me. I gripped the sheets into my hands as Negan fucked me through my delicious high. A few moments later, his thrusts became sporadic, and then he came deep inside me.

He fell onto the bed next to me where I had collapsed onto my stomach—his belt still wrapped around my neck. I turned my head to look at him, and he was gazing down at me with a mixture of emotions on his face.

I couldn't tell if he hated me or loved me. Our relationship was such a complicated mess, and I knew things still weren't solved between the two of us.

We stayed like that for a long time just staring at one another. I closed my eyes and had almost fell asleep when I felt his lips meet mine in a gentle kiss. I opened my lids to see he was staring down at me with a serious expression.

"You can go get your dress," he mumbled.

My dress?

It took me a few moments to realize he was referring to the one I had worn when I was his wife.

He wanted me to be a wife again.

I should have felt euphoric at this, but instead I felt anger start to grow inside of me. He was only here because he had lost Wendy. His ego had been drastically damaged after losing two wives, and he assumed I was guaranteed to come back to him.

I sat up and removed the belt that was still wrapped around my neck, and shook my head at him.

"You need to leave," I said coldly, holding his belt out to him. Those were the same words he had said to me a few days ago, when I had spilled my heart and soul out before him, and he had sent me away after we fucked. He realized this, and climbed off the bed. I watched as he collected his clothes and started getting dressed. I could tell he was irritated with me.

"We can't keep doing this, Negan," I explained, watching him.

He laughed in disbelief as he continued to pull his clothes back on.

"First you cost me my wife-"

"No, you cost yourself that wife," I fired back, sitting up so I was propped up against my pillows. "I didn't tell her to leave you to try and hurt you. I don't even want to be a wife anymore."

Negan didn't even look up as he pulled his shirt back on over his head.

"Of course you don't," he mumbled.

"Women don't just want to be fucked good, Negan. We have other needs to." He was clearly getting annoyed with me, but was trying to pretend like everything was fine. It was far from it. He didn't understand why Wendy left, and he really didn't understand why I had left.

I wanted to make him understand.

"Maybe your wives would actually stay with you if you were a decent husband."

He stopped trying to buckle his belt and looked up at me. Of all the shit I had said to him, THAT seemed to be the one to hit a nerve.

He wasn't glaring at me. He looked upset. It was the same look of hurt in his eyes that I had seen when I had told him I'd been with Simon.

He leaned over and grabbed his jacket and went to leave.

"Negan, wait-" I called out to him, but it was too late. He left my room without another word and shut the door behind him. I remained sitting on the bed and closed my eyes.

I regretted saying that to him.

We were always at each other's throats, but when I had been a wife, he had treated me like a queen, beside him giving attention to the other women. Our relationship had never been this ugly when we were together, but since I had made the decision to leave, things had become messy and complicated.

I turned on my side and let out a sigh.

As I came down from the high, I wondered…

Was Negan as addicted to me as I was to him?