"Michelle? MICHELLE?! You open this goddamn door RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

He was banging, pounding on the door, jiggling the handle. Doing whatever he could to try and get the door open but it was of no use. Michelle sat against it, feeling every impact and it almost felt like he was beating her.

Taking quick breaths, she swallowed suddenly as she tried to calm herself down. Small hands came up to press her face into them, the gravity of her actions hitting her more and more, especially with each slam Negan did against the door.

"HEY! MICHELLE!"

Michelle was startled as he gave a particularly loud bang, causing her to pull her hands away from her face as she shouted, "Stop! Just stop!"

She breathed heavily as Negan finally seemed to stop and she could hear him just on the other side of the door, "Here I was under the impression we were on the same page. Reading every fuckin' sentence, word for word, together. We were right there. Right. There."

Nothing but silence passed Michelle's lips for what felt like hours, even Negan on the other side remaining incredibly silent. She could hear him groaning and shifting.

"Fuck, you really knocked the shit outta me," he hissed, the pain obvious even in his tone. "Not cool, Michelle. Really not cool. Goddamn that hurt like BALLS."

"Good," Michelle called over her shoulder. "It was supposed to."

Yet more silence passed before she could hear Negan beginning to chuckle, though even through the door she could hear it was mirthless, "So what were you hoping to accomplish here? Was that attempted murder numero uno? Or is that just your way of showing me some tough love? Because I am not a huge ass fan of either answer."

Michelle shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she responded quietly, perhaps too quiet for Negan to hear, "I don't know…"

And she would be right. It seemed that maybe he didn't hear her, silence passing between the door again. In fact, the silence lasted at least five minutes, the music in the living room the only sound flowing through the house.

"Listen to me, Michelle," he finally spoke once more, his voice surprisingly calm. "I get it. I really fuckin' get it to the very T. I told you some really shitty news and you couldn't handle it, so you took it out on me. You shot the shitting messenger. Because guess what? Things got out of my hands and into Ramsay's."

Don't listen to him, the little voice in Michelle's head told her. Don't listen to him. But how could she not?

"Don't think for a damn second I didn't try to work shit out for you," he breathed against the door, the sound of yet another hit to the wood following, though much softer than before. "Ramsay threw a wrench in the works. Because he wasn't happy you didn't wanna see him again. He was really, REALLY not happy. And he sure as shit wasn't happy I was willing to go with that plan."

Leaning her head down, she curled her legs up to her chest and pressed her forehead against her knees. Don't listen to him. Don't listen to him. Don't listen to him.

Negan's voice came to a growl as he went on, "He's got my wives, you know that much. But you know what else? You know what you don't know and what I was gonna get to before you whacked the holy hell outta me? He's threatenin' to hurt or even kill my wives because of this little deal you worked out."

Michelle put her hands atop her head, shaking her head, "No… No, why would he do that? Why?! He listens to you. Why is that changing now?!"

"Because he is a volatile little shit that I've been holdin' a leash on too tight for too long," he admitted, a small bitterness in his tone. "We've had an agreement for a long time now. He does what I want, when I ask him to, because I both saved his ass and got dirt on him, all in one day. I made a bet on him that ended up paying off. He became my top guy in no time at all. But that didn't change how much of a loose cannon he was."

It didn't make sense. Why did Ramsay want Michelle so badly he was threatening Negan's wives? And in that, wouldn't that include Dawn? Of course it would. Fuck.

Fuck.

The silence stretched as Michelle said nothing, hoping that maybe what Negan was saying wasn't true in the slightest. It couldn't be. He had to be lying.

"Look," Negan spoke up once more. "I am willing to overlook this crappy thing you just did, because I am more than willing to chalk it up to miscommunication and a whole lot of pent up emotions. You got out the anger, you sure as hell took it out on me, and I'm sure you feel a fuckload of a lot better for it."

"I don't," she quickly and bluntly responded. She could feel her voice shaking, whether in anger or terror, she wasn't sure. "I really don't."

"Well, shit," Negan sighed heavily. "Welcome to the club. We all got a lot of unresolved emotions. We should get matching shirts at some point. But listen to me: we can work through this. Just unlock the door, let me out, and we'll figure somethin' out. Somethin' that isn't me being locked up in my own damn basement for starters."

The feeling of wetness along her face brought her back to her own space as she realized tears were falling. She quickly sniffled before wiping them away and shaking her head. It was all so much to take in, so much to process that she couldn't even get her mind clear. It was overwhelming the amount of bad in this situation and how it felt like there was no clear answer.

Michelle didn't bother to answer for several long moments before she laughed, humorless and vindictive.

"It sucks, doesn't it?" she called out through clenched teeth, pressing the back of her head against the door. "Being stuck in a room, held against your will? With no way out and no one to help you? It really sucks, doesn't it?"

She could hear Negan snort on the other side of the door, "Oh, darlin'. Darlin', darlin', the bitter, resentful tone does not suit you one little bit. My offer is still on the table here. But just know you've got until Ramsay shows up to reach that decision. Because I cannot guarantee you will be safe all alone with him. Especially if he finds out just what you did."

She scoffed, "Now you're worried about me being all alone with him? What happened, Negan? Because him being alone with me isn't convenient for you anymore?"

"Shit, even the deadliest viper couldn't hold a fuckin' candle to the venom you're spewing," Negan chuckled, the sound of him sliding along the door following. He groaned as he seemed to be settling against the door.

"You ruined my life," Michelle growled, feeling her fingernails digging into her palms. "At least let me have this."

"You sure about that?" he asked back, Michelle knowing just by the tone of his voice that he was smiling. Of course he was. "Sure it wasn't that dear old boyfriend that forgot about you quicker than it took for you to orgasm with me inside you? Because that's all that is still out there. That's the greener grass on the other side, baby."

She could feel more tears falling, betraying her and leading her back to thinking of Tenth. Now wasn't the time. It would never be the time to think of him or what he did. So she pushed herself away from the door and began walking back into the living room.

The sound of Negan calling out for Michelle was barely audible as she came to the stereo playing music just as it started playing Struggling Man. Again. Fucking again. She immediately turned it down before turning away, looking to the floor to see the wine and blood. Within the wine was Negan's cracked phone, now certain to never work again.

Bringing up her hands, she wiped away the tears and shook her head before thoughts began swimming into her mind. Terrible, terrible thoughts that she didn't dare chase away. In fact, she welcomed them with open arms and a need to sate the desire of vengeance came over her. The thought was clear in her mind and she would see it done.

Minutes later, she was returning back to the door of the basement, everything looking exactly as she left it. Almost like part of her was convinced Negan would somehow escape.

"I'm going to kill him," she muttered against the door, placing her hands against it.

A small beat passed before Negan was responding, "..What?"

So she spoke louder this time, much more certain, "I'm going to kill Ramsay. He won't hurt me. He won't hurt those women you wrongly and deludedly call your wives. And then I'm going to kill you."

"Wow... " Slowly, Negan was laughing, taking a long, audible breath, "You're gonna become a murderer. Just kill the both of us in cold blood, huh? Just like that? How're you gonna do it then? You gonna use my knife, drive it right through our skin into our hearts? Throats? Heads? Or you gonna use somethin' else? Whatever you can find in my house? Tell me how that's gonna go because I am dyin' to know the details you're comin' up with in this murderous, killer mind of yours."

"It doesn't matter," she answered quickly, to the point. "Because I don't care how it's done. All I know is I'm going to kill both of you."

"Well then consider me aching with suspense, darlin'," Negan responded, probably still smiling. "My offer still stands if you change your mind. Because cold ass murder is one hell of a big step in the wrong direction. One that does not suit you in the slightest."


It had been hours. Michelle must have fallen asleep at some point or another because before she knew it, she was peeling open bleary eyes to see the sun on the opposite side of the house. The house was still, silent, and the door to her back was still untouched, still locked. Beside her hand, she held Negan's pocket knife, a black and serrated blade that laid loosely in her fingertips.

She groaned, stiff as hell from sleeping on the wooden floor, as she pushed herself up, bringing up a hand to rub at her eyes. Part of her had almost hoped the whole thing had been a nightmare. And that same part of her wished that the deal had worked out. She didn't care anymore that she had to be Negan's wife, she had committed herself to it. With Dawn in it, it couldn't have been all that terrible. But that would've been the easy way out of it all.

Instead, she had this new, waking nightmare to deal with.

"Y'know, you're a way worse host than I ever was," Negan's voice spoke up, his tone husky and croaking as he gave a lazy chuckle. Michelle felt herself startle a bit at the words but she quickly sighed as she sat up more properly against the door. "At least I gave you food and water regularly. Came down to visit you. Gave you company."

Michelle then scowled, even her tone scowling, "Then maybe I should just let you starve down there."

She could hear him snorting almost like he was amused, "And here I thought you said you wanted to kill me. Don't pussy out on me by letting my own body kill me because I doesn't have anything to shove down my mouth. At least deliver on what you promise. No halfsies here."

Michelle then went quiet, looking over towards the nearest window. It must've been early morning. She'd spent all the rest of the previous night trying to form plan after plan of how to approach this situation and just how she'd deliver on killing both of them.

While her words were bold and gave promises she wanted to deliver on, Negan's words had gotten to her. Of course they had gotten to her. Of course. When didn't his words get to her? Talking about killing someone was one thing but actually doing it? Actually contemplating doing it, even? That was something else entirely.

More and more she was coming to realize that was the case and it was a whole new terrifying thought process. But she had to hold onto every single memory of what these men had done to her. Of what they'd made her experience. Of what they did to Dawn. That last one, alone, was almost enough to convince her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she could do this. No regrets and no looking back. The anger had to fuel her.

But it was so much more complicated than that. Because after they were dead, then what? She could return back to her old life. Yet what was that anymore? It felt like it was nothing, like it was empty. Tenth wouldn't be there for her anymore. And she could only hope that they would be able to find Dawn. Maybe she could get Ramsay to spill it all before she killed him.

At any rate, it felt like it would be empty in the end. Empty and nothing.

Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the threatening of tears at the backs of her eyes as she spoke in wavering words, "You took everything from me. You took… Everything. You took parts of me that I'll never get back."

Surprisingly, a long, long silence fell over the house as Negan wasn't responding. She was taken aback by it somewhat, expecting him to come out with some sort of witty or stupid response. He always did. But instead, it was nothing this time. Silent. Quiet. Until he was finally speaking against the door quietly.

"If it's any consolation, I had everything taken away from me too," his tone through the door was somber, solemn. "Couple'a broken people, talkin' through a damn door about how sad our lives are. That's what this is turnin' into."

But Michelle wasn't having it, shaking her head, "This isn't about you-"

"If I'm gonna die in this big ass house, the least you could do is listen to me," he interrupted suddenly, his voice still holding a seriousness to it that felt unpredictable. "At least one person can hear my fuckin' sob story. Maybe we can be miserable together for a while. Let's make it poetic."

She didn't respond, instead taking a slow and shaky breath. She looked down at the pocket knife in her hands, studying it carefully as she listened.

"All this shit, the diner, my wives, it was all part of my new life," he went on quietly, just loud enough to make it through the door. "I told you about my wife... My wife, wife. Before all this. Lucille. But there was a part of that I didn't include..."

Yet more silence followed his trailing words. It was a silence that felt as though it lasted an eternity and Michelle was nearly convinced that he wasn't going to continue. That maybe he wasn't going to continue and she could feel the hesitation in the air, even between the door itself.

But he finally found his voice again, though still uncertain as it was, "I had a kid. A daughter. I don't tell many people about her..."

It was hard to imagine Negan being a father. A father. A father to a daughter that Michelle had no doubt he would never have wanted her to see him like this. She couldn't even picture it, the man he was now so far removed from any kind of ideal parental figure.

"My daughter's name was Lexi. After Lucille and I separated, we had joint custody. And that kid became my world." He paused, his voice fading for several moments before he continued, "After my wife was killed, Lexi was all I had left. She was it. All I had goin' for me. Then less than a year later, after she turned five, my daughter collapsed and the doctors told me the worst fuckin' news I could've ever gotten...

Negan grew still, silent, not another word coming through the door for several long, long moments. So long that Michelle started to think that maybe he wasn't going to finish what he started again. It wasn't hard to tell this was difficult for him. But then, his voice broke through, sounding rough and hard, "She had cancer... Leukemia. Just like Lucille. It was genetic."

If anything, Michelle felt sorry for his daughter. It was obvious Negan was trying to buy some sort of sympathy points but it wasn't going to change anything here. It couldn't have, no matter how sad of a story his life had been until this point. He lost any kind of privilege of sympathy when he decided to start kidnapping women and holding them against their will.

Negan took a long breath, seeming to try and keep his composure, "I did whatever I could to make sure my daughter would survive that shit but it didn't work. Not a single bit of it. So I had to sit there and watch her waste away, attached to machines every fuckin' day until I couldn't take it anymore."

Michelle closed her eyes as she swallowed. "You gave up on her?" she asked solemnly.

"No," Negan shot back quickly. "Not for a single fuckin' second. But her body gave up. And there was nothing else." Michelle could hear his voice growing darker, harder. "Fucking. Nothing. Else. That could save her."

He sounded… Angry. Obviously upset. And it almost surprised Michelle. There was something about it that sounded too genuine to doubt.

"Last time I talked to her, I told her all the pain would go away. I told her that shit would be okay, lying to her to make it easier for her and me," he muttered through a strained and clenched tone. "And I watched that piece of shit cancer steal my daughter. Maybe that fucked me up too good. Just watching your whole world being eaten alive while you can do fuck all about it but watch... Fucked me up enough to use my uncle's inheritance to open a diner in Lucille's memory and start finding all of you. Whatever it did, it stopped me from destroying myself."

"None of that excuses what you did," Michelle said over her shoulder, gripping the pocket knife in her hand tighter.

She just heard Negan laughing, bitter and mirthless, "Oh I know it doesn't… I know. And I'm not lookin' for it to, either. I'm just trying to get you to see things from my perspective a little better. To see that maybe the world screwed me over so I'm just out here trying to get back at it. Trying to make myself a little happier in the process."

Finally opening her eyes, Michelle sat up a little more properly, "So you fuck up other peoples' lives to make yours feel better? Is that it..?"

"Huh. Maybe," he hummed, the sound of his body shifting on the other side. "In that case… Well, shit, I'm sorry. Whatever that's worth to you. Which probably ain't much. But there it is. Sorry I fucked your life up."

That didn't even deserve a response and Michelle sure as hell wasn't about to dignify it with one either. He couldn't have been sorry. Sorry implied that he wanted to change and try to make things better, but she knew that wasn't about to happen. Not anytime soon whatsoever. He was only sorry because now she had control over the situation. Only sorry because he had no other choice.

"Do you know why you do what you do?" she finally responded, the question genuine. "Do you even understand it?"

Negan just snorted at that, "I guess I don't. Isn't that just messed up?"

It was silent for many minutes more, Michelle still contemplating everything to come within her mind. Even the offer Negan laid out was still dangling at the edge of her thoughts. But there were too many cons to it all- knowing that Negan wouldn't just let her go, knowing that Negan probably wouldn't do anything about Ramsay anyway. They were too close. Even with the fact that Ramsay was threatening his wives, Negan didn't seem as worried about it as he probably should've.

"It's not too late," Negan muttered, the sound of his hand pressing against the door. "You can still let me out before Ramsay saunters on over. Because I can promise you things are not gonna go well for you if I'm still in here and you're out there with him all by yourself."

Michelle bit down on her lower lip, looking off to the side as she considered his words and took a deep breath. "He still wants one day with me," she finally responded, standing and turning to face the door. She looked down at the lock, feeling the keys in her pocket beginning to burn. "One day with me that you agreed to. You know who he is better than anyone and you agreed to it."

"C'mon, Michelle," he urged. "At least try to be a little smart about it. You're right. I do know who he is better than anyone; I know him painfully well and because of that, I know the best way to protect you from him. I can butter his biscuit right back up and he will do nothin' to you that I won't let him."

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the keys, looking down at them and then to the lock itself. What if he was right? In all this time, it was always Ramsay she feared more. It was always Ramsay that had harmed her and he was never shy about wanting to do so much more to her than Negan allowed. But it had always been Negan that kept him from doing more. Negan had been the barrier the whole time.

If he figured out that she'd knocked Negan out, locked him up, she had no doubts that Ramsay wouldn't take kindly to that. He'd use it to his advantage, if anything. If he was already to the point of threatening Negan's own wives then what was to stop him from hurting Michelle? Or simply outright killing her?

"I can handle him," Negan went on, still trying to persuade her through clenched teeth. "And as much as I think you're a downright badass babe, you aren't gonna survive five minutes on your own with him."

The sound of the front door clicking open suddenly caught her attention, dragging her eyes over towards the front of the house. Michelle could feel her heart stop dead in its tracks as she realized that had to have been Ramsay. She thought Negan said he was coming by tonight. Not now. Why now?!

Negan's phone. Ramsay must've gotten suspicious. Those two communicated pretty regularly so without his line of communication all night, he must've gotten curious.

"Negan? You around?"

That was his voice and it sent chills down her spine. Internally, Michelle was freaking out. Every bit of any plan ran out from her mind as she realized this was it. She panicked, quickly running across the hall as Negan was calling out to her, calling her name again and again to no avail.

She ducked into the living room, dipping behind the couch where she clutched the black pocket knife to her hands. Already, she could feel herself beginning to shake and her heart felt as though it was going to burst from her chest.

The sound of his footsteps grew closer before they stopped on the other side of the living room. He was so close. So close.

"Michelle?"

This had to be it. This was going to be it.