Chapter 2

Mirit ran back to the house. The women had looked alarmed when Mirit rushed in and ran up to her room in nothing but a bathrobe. Luckily, her little brother had been outside playing with the baby. Mirit heard them laughing outside the window. She looked out and saw that Val was pretending to be a monster, chasing Justy. The baby giggled and ran.

The knock at the door was more subdued than the last time Jana had knocked.

Mirit walked over and opened the door.

"What happened," Jana asked, her face worried and pale.

"I don't know how we are going to make it here. We aren't people anymore, Jana."

"What?"

"We're things."

"Mirit . . . it's not that bad. I mean, some of us have it worse than others. I was lucky. My husband was smart. He played along right away, does whatever Negan says. As long as you stay on his good side . . ."

"His good side? There's no such thing. The man is evil. Pure and simple."

"Did he give you to one of his men? Which one? My husband can talk to him so he won't treat you too badly. . . . It wasn't Brutus?"

"Brutus? No."

"Thank God. That man's already killed two wives."

Mirit felt herself growing unsteady and had to sit on her bed. She thought about what had just happened. When she had gone to see Negan, he had told her that she had to earn her keep and Val's. Since it cost a lot to care for two people, she would be required to put in a lot of effort. He had been grinning at her the whole time. Then, he had looked her up and down and said that she looked like she could get good mileage, so she shouldn't worry too much.

"So what's his name?"

"Daryl, but I don't think he's one of Negan's men."

"He offered you to Daryl? Wow, that's interesting. I wonder how Dwight feels about that."

"Dwight wasn't there when it happened. He had already left."

"Tell me what happened."

Mirit shuddered, remembering her conversation with Negan. He had told her that she had to serve him faithfully and without question and he would spare her the more unpleasant jobs. Then, he had ordered her to bathe one of the prisoners. She had been shocked, thinking that this task was not counted among "the more unpleasant tasks." Negan had given her explicit directions to get the prisoner, transport him to the bath, get in there with him, and actually bathe him if necessary.

"But . . . what if he . . ."

"You'll let him do whatever he wants to as long as he comes out of that tub clean. If not, well, I don't have any use for people who can't follow simple directions."

"But . . . my brother," she had regretted the words as soon as they were spoken.

"Oh, yeah. Guess he'll just have to fend for himself. I guess there might be some of my guys who're into that sort of thing."

"Oh my God."

Mirit had been horrified to think that they would hurt her nine-year-old brother.

Negan had walked her to the cell door and told her to take Daryl to the hot tub room, which he had showed her on the way to get Daryl.

"Tell Daryl he needs to take a bath. The man stinks, and it's downright disturbing how comfortable he is in his own filth."

"And so now you're Daryl's wife?"

"What? No. I don't think so."

"No? Did Negan offer you to him or not?"

"Yes. . . ."

"Well there will have to be a ceremony, but that's just a formality. Negan likes to pretend like he's a moral type of guy from time to time."

"But . . ."

"He didn't hurt you too much, right? Sherry said he was a good guy. Apparently, he tried to help her and Dwight escape."

"What? They tried to escape?"

"Yeah, and now look at them. Don't entertain the thought, Mirit. They would hunt you down, and you wouldn't be as lucky as they were."

"And Daryl tried to help them?"

"That's what she said. Only they robbed him and left him to be killed by Negan and his men."

"This just keeps getting stranger."

"Yeah. There are worse men to end up with, but if he doesn't wisen up and start behaving, he could get you all killed. Anyway, I'll leave you alone now so you can get dressed."

With that, Jana left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mirit sat, thinking about what Jana had said. Daryl hadn't hurt her at all. In fact, he hadn't touched her. When Negan had offered Mirit to him, he had refused. This man had stood up to Negan, and he had tried to help Dwight and Sherry. Mirit's head spun with these revelations.

The music stopped, and the door opened. Daryl looked up and saw Mirit standing in the doorway.

"I washed your outfit for you," she said and bent down to hand it to Daryl.

Daryl took it from her and began changing out of the bathrobe. Mirit blushed and looked away. The man certainly had no modesty. Then again, he had been locked in this cell for Lord knew how long.

Dwight had come to get Mirit that morning to tell her that she would now be responsible for caring for the prisoner. Negan had decided that if torture wasn't going to break Daryl, then maybe showing him what he was missing would.

Mirit had been instructed to clean the outfit and return it to Daryl. She had also been shown where to find the dogfood and stale bread for his daily sandwich. Dwight had then taken her aside and said, "He needs to start doing what Negan wants, otherwise you're as good as dead."

Mirit remembered how Daryl had initially reacted to her when she had come to take him for a bath. He had refused even that, which she would have thought he would accept gratefully given his circumstances. Even though her pleading with him had worked that time, she felt that it would be useless to try to get Daryl to give in to Negan on her behalf. Instead, she focused on trying to help him as much as she could while she was there. If it came down to it, maybe he could help her and Val to get out of this place.

Mirit looked up at Daryl and found him fully dressed and staring at her. She was sure several seconds had passed since he'd finished dressing while she'd been lost in thought. However, she was also acutely aware that he was not just staring at her out of curiosity. Negan had sent her a variety of outfits she was to wear while caring for the prisoner. The first one was a risqué, black and white French maid's outfit. The corset pushed her breasts up so high, she felt like they would jump up and slap her in the face. If she were to bend over, her underwear would be in full view to anyone standing behind her.

"What the hell?"

"I brought you some food," she said, ignoring the question and reached into a bag she had tied to her wrist.

Daryl waited as she opened the bag and pulled out a fresh chicken sandwich. He gaped at it in disbelief. Tentatively, he reached for the sandwich, expecting her to pull it away or disappear. He suddenly wasn't sure he wasn't dreaming.

Mirit took his unsteady hand and held it, placing the sandwich onto his palm.

"It's okay. I snuck this in for you. A human being shouldn't have to eat dogfood."

Quickly, Daryl ate the sandwich. He barely chewed the food, but savored every bite.

Then, Mirit took out a bottle of water.

Daryl's whole body shook, and he took the water and gulped it down. They had been giving him only eight ounces of water every twelve hours. Mirit had brought him a full 16.9-ounce bottle, and it was cold.

Mirit looked at herself in the mirror and adjusted the old-fashioned nurse's cap on her head, pinning it in place with bobby pins. I can't believe I have to wear this, she thought for the fifth time that week. Negan had sent her a variety of outfits to wear every day, and it had become a great joke for all of the other women in the house. They had even set up a pool to guess which outfit she'd wear next. So far, she'd worn the French maid, the pirate wench, the school uniform, and the nun outfit. Now, she wore a short, white nurse's uniform.

Where did he even find all these, Mirit thought.

Negan had a sick sense of humor. The costumes were meant to tease Daryl, to make him regret his decision not to give in to Negan's will. He probably chose the outfits thinking that one of them would eventually appeal enough to Daryl to finally make him crack.

However, Daryl never reacted to Mirit when she would go see him beyond the occasional stare and gulping down the food she smuggled in for him. He hadn't asked about the outfits after that first day.

Mirit wondered what he was thinking about, alone in that dark room all day and night. She would go to see him at noon every day. She couldn't imagine what he must be feeling locked in there with that horrible music.

At first, she hadn't minded it, but having heard it every day for a week as she entered and left that place, had made her hate it. The only time the music would be turned off was during her visits.

Mirit walked with her bag tucked under her arm. She looked around and saw some people walking and talking together. They turned to look at her outfit and started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Oh! Get a load of that!" one said and laughed.

The other one just started laughing without saying a word.

Mirit walked faster and entered the room. She walked quickly to the cd player and turned off the music. Then, she walked to Daryl's door and unlocked it.

Daryl looked up at her and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. When he saw Mirit wearing an old-fashioned nurse's uniform, he almost smiled. Every day she had come to see him with a crazy outfit. The day before, he had had to look down and put his hand over his mouth in a fake cough to hide his smile. The nun outfit had gotten to him.

In the midst of the torture and horror, it seemed absurd that this woman would be here dressed like she was. He had pretended like he hadn't noticed anything strange after the first day, but finally he couldn't keep from commenting on it.

"Really?"

"What?"

"What did you bring today, Nurse Ratchet?"

"Oh."

Daryl couldn't keep the smile from making a fleeting appearance on his face.

Mirit didn't miss it. For some reason, it made her heart jump inside her chest. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing that expression on Daryl's face, even so briefly.

To hide her reaction, she pulled the bag out and opened it. Today, she had bought him a meatloaf sandwich and a bunch of grapes. She was getting bolder, bringing him the fruit. The sandwich was expected to be dogfood, but it clearly looked like a sandwich. She had hidden the loose grapes in the bag with the sandwich, but if anyone had inspected the bag, the grapes would be noticeable.

Daryl couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the grapes. Suddenly, he looked angrily at Mirit.

"Don't do this," he said gruffly.

"What?"

"Do they know you are bringing me this food?"

"No."

"You said you have a family, right?"

"Yes."

"Why are you risking this?"

"The grapes?"

"And the sandwich. I'll eat the dogfood."

"It isn't right."

"What does it matter? Your family is important to you, right?"

"Yes."

"Bring the dogfood next time. You can't play with these guys."

"You mean like you?"

"What?"

"You aren't following your own advice."

"I don't have anything to lose."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll bring the dogfood next time, but you better get rid of this evidence for now."

Daryl ate quickly and quietly, thinking about what Mirit had asked him. He hadn't been completely honest. He had his life to lose, but part of him felt like maybe he deserved it if it came down to that. What right did he have to live when he had caused his friend to be murdered? Still, he did have a strong survival instinct, and the guilt was wearing thin. Daryl knew he had to get out of here if he could. At the end of the day it made more sense for him to keep living. What did his own death add to Glenn's but more tragedy? Alive, maybe he could make a difference.

After Daryl finished eating, he was surprised when Mirit didn't leave right away. In fact, she sat down next to him on the floor, where the vomit had been until she had come and scrubbed it clean a few days before. She looked earnestly at him for a full minute.

"What?"

"You know, someone told me that you once tried to help Dwight and Sherry."

"Yeah? Who said that?"

"Sherry."

"You a friend of hers?"

"No."

"Well neither am I."

"What is it that Negan wants you to do?"

"What?"

"What is he telling you to do?"

"Why? You goin' to tell me to just listen like Dwight and Sherry?"

"No. I was just wondering what it was. It must be pretty terrible. He makes people do awful things."

"Like dressing up?"

Mirit smiled.

"Yeah," she said. "And bathing strange men," she mumbled under her breath.

Daryl barely heard it, but instantly he was struck by the memory of that day. He felt himself stop breathing for a few seconds, then looked away from her face and forced himself to breathe normally.

"You should go. They probably wouldn't like to walk in and see you talking to me like this."

"You're probably right."

Mirit stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. She walked toward the cd player to resume the music, then stopped. She looked back at the door to Daryl's cell. Then, she turned and walked toward the exit.

Daryl woke suddenly to the loud blaring music. He hadn't known how long he'd actually slept in the blissful quiet that followed Mirit's visit, but he had been drifting in and out of sleep for what seemed like several hours. He wondered if she had forgotten to turn the music back on before leaving and thought that it would be strange if she had.

As the music played, Daryl found his thoughts wandering back to Mirit despite his efforts to think about anything else. Previously, he had been able to clear his head and just block out the music by thinking about how and when he would escape. Now, every time he tried to think about escaping, Mirit would pop into his mind in one of her crazy outfits, or worse, in none of them.

If he tried to escape, would they kill her and her family? Daryl believed they had threatened to do so, and he knew Negan was sadistic enough to do it. So, if Daryl escaped, Mirit would have to go with him. So would her family. But Daryl didn't know anything about them. How many were there? How old were they? Was she married? The thoughts were worse than the music.

Mirit lay on her stomach and let the tears flow down her face. The deep welts on the tender skin of her butt bled slightly despite the ointment Jana and the others had prepared and slathered on her wounds. Negan had had her whipped fifteen times on the butt for leaving the radio off in Daryl's cell.

"Can't follow simple directions. You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood today," Negan had said.

He'd also said that she would have to stay home and heal for a few days. He had almost seemed to feel sorry for her after the whipping was over, saying that he would give her another chance once she felt better. However, this would be her only warning. From now on, she had to follow directions perfectly.

Mirit thought about what Daryl had said to her. He'd been right. Mirit had taken too many chances. If Negan had discovered any of the things she had been doing to help Daryl, she could be dead just that fast, or worse, he could hurt Val. The man was insane. She couldn't take any more risks.

Mirit's wounds had started to heal, but still hurt when there was any kind of pressure applied to them. This included any kind of pants and even underwear. She had been walking around in a loose-fitting nightgown for several days.

However, today, Negan insisted that she must return to her prisoner-watching duties. Negan had even picked out the outfit she had to wear. The tight, red dress was soft and slinky. It was reminiscent of a dress worn by a cartoon character Mirit had once seen in an old movie. The character had bright red hair and lipstick to match her dress. Mirit also put on bright red lipstick. The effect on her features was startling. Her face looked more exotic and striking with bright red lips.

The music stopped. The door opened. Daryl had gotten used to seeing Dwight again. He had been grateful that Dwight no longer talked to him but only handed him the food and waited for him to eat it.

Daryl's eyes adjusted to the light, and he reached for his dogfood sandwich. Only it wasn't Dwight who handed it to him. Mirit's soft fingers brushed against Daryl's wrist as she placed the sandwich in his hand. Daryl stared at her.

"Like old times. Me handing you a sandwich, you staring at me," Mirit joked.

Daryl dropped the sandwich and stood up. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then he grabbed Mirit and hugged her.

"I thought you were dead."

Mirit froze in Daryl's grasp. She had not expected him to react this way.

Daryl released her suddenly, aware of the awkwardness of the situation.

"Sorry. I thought you were dead," he repeated, looking confused.

"I'm fine. I wasn't feeling well."

"You left the radio off. I thought they killed you."

A thought struck Mirit suddenly, and she verbalized it, "You were worried about me."

"You were sick?" Daryl asked, still disoriented.

"Um . . . sort of."

"Tell me. What happened?"

"I was whipped."

"Whipped?"

Mirit blushed and instinctively put her hands behind her back. Without touching her butt, she almost caressed the air around it.

Before she knew what was happening, Daryl took her by the shoulder and spun her around. He lifted the back of her dress gently but quickly and looked at the damage.

Mirit opened her mouth to say something, but she was paralyzed. Her body had frozen the instant he'd touched her, and now she could only stand there, embarrassed.

Daryl gently lowered her dress.

"I'm sorry."

Mirit turned to face him.

"It's not your fault. You tried to warn me."

"Not soon enough."

"I'll live."

Just then, Negan and Dwight entered the hallway outside Daryl's room. They had seen Mirit enter and waited a few minutes before following her in.

"Aw, isn't this adorable," Negan said. "Aren't you just a precious little bunny?"

Mirit stiffened.

"Dwight, take her outside and tell her the good news."

Dwight motioned for Mirit to follow him, and she did. The two left.

"Well, Daryl. Time's up. So what'll it be?"

"What?"

"Today is the lady's wedding day. Who's going to be the lucky man? Better make up your mind quickly. Brutus is almost desperate to get hitched again."

Daryl glared at Negan. "Fine. I'll do what you say," he replied.