Chapter 47
To be Feared is to be Respected

"I've got something for you."

Negan greeted me with those words a few days after his discussion with Doctor Carson. I hadn't seen much of him since their talk and actually held out the hope that he would steer clear for another few days. I needed the break. But it looked like he was eager enough for a new dose of disgust dished from yours truly.

Even so, I recalled first the agreement we had made and reeled in my instinct to growl or glare at him. For the moment, I didn't have a whole lot of strength for either. It was another donation day and I was already drained enough and in no mood to play any of his power games. But even with that I was already worked up, and it really had nothing to do with Negan or anything he'd done this time, at least.

I sat bent over with my legs dangling over the exam table, the tube stuck in my arm and watched silently as red seeped out of me and was divided into those two bags of red blood cells and yellow plasma. I tried to read while this was being done, and normally my mind kept slipping making it hard to concentrate through the nausea and fatigue that plagued me almost constantly now, but today was different thanks to the material I was engrossed in.

Negan took a seat beside me on the examination bed and I didn't feel like stopping him. I saw a bag in his hand and, were I a bit more lucid, I would have been equally curious and concerned at the sight of it.

"What are you reading there, kiddo?"

I tilted the book to show him the title: A Series of Unfortunate Events.

"Well I hope it's good." Negan said.

"It's not!" I deadpanned angrily. "It's horrible and I hope everyone dies in the end!"

Negan leaned back, stunned by my, perhaps, out-of-character and heartless outburst. But if he knew anything about these books he'd definitely understand and he'd definitely want everyone dead in the end, too!

The concept and summery on the back of it sounded engrossing when I first read it, and the clear instructions to not read these books because they were sad and unfortunate, only seemed to make me want to read them even more. But as I got further and further into the stories, I became less saddened for the children's horrible run of bad luck and only more pissed off.

I mean, exactly how stupid was everyone in this universe?

Of course, the shady stranger whom no one had ever heard of before was Count Olaf!

I seemed to have a habit of voicing my complaints about the book out loud, without actually realizing it, as I sat there reading in the infirmary. When something irritating happened, I'd growl. When the adults refused to acknowledge the absurd disguises the Baudelaries saw through right away, I'd say something along the lines of, "Are you kidding me?" And when someone dismissed their warnings and concerns or made an insult that was WAY below the belt (usually involving their deceased parents who burned alive in a fire) I could never restrain my cry of, "You motherfucker!"

As much as everything that was happening to them pissed me off, what was worse was how easily these kids just took everything lying down! If I was in their position I could think of a hundred ways to stop what was happening to these children from happening again. For one, it would have been nice if they would just STOP being so fricken nice!

Stop repressing yourself! Yell at people, throw a punch, kick some ass, and take charge already! If you're going to fight back, then fight fucking back, and fight! Fucking! Dirty!

If they were mad, then be mad! They had every reason for it! Their parents were killed in a clearly devious manner, they were stalked by some creep that tried to marry the eldest, and people kept dumping them on one horrible guardian after another. And why the hell was a banker in charge of their welfare? Where was Social Services or hell even a lawyer would have been more qualified? What's with this VFD agency? As far as I was concerned, this mysterious secret service their parents were tangled in were not good guys one bit and all of them needed to fill a hole right along with Count Olaf and his mediocre acting troupe!

Everything about the stinken' book was so patronizing—a word which here meant, being an asshole to kids that have seen and been through some SHIT, so you're actually not nice, you're just a fucking retard!

If it was me in their situation, I would have stabbed everyone by now, and that braindead, coughing, Petri dish of a banker would have been the first one I killed!

The doctor didn't seem to appreciate my random growls of disgust though, and so finally issued his concerns on it. "You know if it bothers you that much, why are you already on the… seventh book?"

I muttered bitterly, diving back down at the page I was on awkwardly. "…because I want to make SURE everyone dies in the end."

Negan's bark of laughter grinded on my nerves, but I endured it all the same.

"Well I hope it meets your expectations then, even if it involves the death of unloved book characters."

"I sure hope it does." The doctor said from his place at his desk.

"In the meantime, I made a house call to Alexandria."

My head snapped up by that announcement. "You said you weren't going to be taking anymore tributes from them."

"I'll hold up my end of the deal after you've held up your end." He said simply.

"Hold up my…" I was just about stunned speechless by those offensive words. "What the hell do you think I'm doing right now?" I gestured, completely outraged, and held out my arm where the tube was impaled under my skin. "Alexandria paid the last of their fees to you when they gave you the cure!"

"They didn't give it, you handed yourself over."

"I'm still a citizen of Alexandria, ergo Alexandria still gave you the cure and by those rights we won't pay you anymore!"

"An active cure hasn't been successfully extracted yet so until then our house calls will continue only till it's been developed."

"But there's a treatment now! For all anyone knows, a fully active cure could take years to make."

"Well then I guess you should have worded your conditions a little better."

I didn't respond to that other than to gawk with my mouth hung open in appall. So, I was just bleeding myself dry for nothing!?

"You know what I meant!" I shouted angrily.

"Oh, don't act so betrayed. If it makes you feel better, I didn't take anything for myself today; only the things from your room."

That made me pause. "Why?"

"I want to make sure you're comfortable here, so I thought it might help if you were surrounded by some nostalgic items."

Those words stunned me for a moment, before a surge of anger shot through me by the news. I never asked him to do that. This place wasn't my home and I sure as hell didn't want the majority of my belongings held hostage with me in this place. He had no right to pack up my things and move me here so permanently against my wishes. I wasn't going to stay here forever! I was a breath away from telling him exactly this when I was stopped.

I watched him pull something from that same bag and hand it to me. My eyes grew big at the sight of what it was and took hold of the Book of Shadows that Vanessa had given me. The novel in my hands was tossed to the side as I took up the homemade tome. Its weight nearly toppled me over. I used to be able to carry it with hardly any trouble but now it felt as though I was trying to balance a stack of bricks. Even so, my hands traced over the ancient journal.

It was like seeing a friend.

Even with the spell book in my arms I was still so angry that he'd made my dad pack my room up for him. This wasn't my home and I didn't want to make it my home. It boiled my blood to find out he'd even looked through this sacred treasure, poked fun at the rituals, noted on the poetry, and judged the minds that fathomed them. He, of all people, was not one to comment on others' beliefs—not with his track record.

But even if I wanted to, I didn't bite at him… not immediately at least.

He seemed to be waiting for a reaction however, and cleared his throat to prompt me. "Well… what do you say, Judy?"

He wanted me to thank him, again. I answered his question with a question to avoid it.

"How was everyone?"

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it distracted him. "They looked alright from my perspective. Of course, they always look so grim during my visits so it's a bit hard to tell sometimes."

"How did my dad react when you told him to pack up all my things?"

The air became immediately tense with the question. Apparently, he had really thought having my things here would cheer me up, but he was wrong, just like he was wrong about everything. I knew the answer to that question but it was interesting to listen to the wheels in Negan's head turning to try and formulate a good lie or witty explanation. I heard him open his mouth, but I cut him off before he started.

"Never mind." I said bitterly. "I guess I already know."

His tone of voice turned drastically from his usual cheer. "I assumed having your things would make you feel more at home."

"Would you like this place to be my home?" I asked, distracting him again.

"I would very much like it to be."

I glared sideways at him and deadpanned back. "Well it's not."

I could feel him tense beside me. "What did I tell you about behaving, Judy? You've done so rather well for a while, don't fuck up now. Remember what I said about manners?"

My mouth set in a straight angry line while I kept my face from him and muttered a low, "Thank you for my things."

I would have definitely retorted something clever if I had the energy but I just didn't want to fight right now. Just to demonstrate that reality, a wave of exhaustion over powered me at that moment, and my head spun, watching the ground bobbing close to me. Shakily I righted myself before I had fallen off the bed, but the dizziness did not abate as easily.

Dr. Carson came over at that moment and severed the connection immediately while also thrusting a glass of juice in my hands. "Don't start any of that. Drink your juice."

I did as I was told and began sipping the cider without really tasting it. My strength was slow in returning and Negan was talking again, but I heard almost none of what he said. I think he was talking more to the doctor anyways because he got up and went towards him.

It seemed an opportune time to be paying attention but I just couldn't summon the energy for that much brain power. If I started to feel too faint I was told to lie back and rest against the pillows till it subsided. I decided to close my eyes for a moment, but when I opened them again Negan was gone, as was the doctor. I didn't know where they had gone but I decided it didn't really matter anyways.

Precious energy couldn't be wasted worrying about it, so I just leaned back and tried to rest a bit more before I had to tolerate either of them again.


In the bedroom I swayed a bit, feeling weak and faint despite my instance to the doctor that I felt fine to leave. I entered to find two boxes stacked in the center of the room. My belongings no doubt.

There was nothing else for me to do as I rooted through them. Clothes, books, and other personal items greeted me, filling me with their memories as I fiddled through it all. I had missed them, but I hated that they were here. It was like they could see me, see what I had turned into. Was I much different since I was last with them all? My hands touched something soft just then and I withdrew a familiar green cloak.

My cloak.

Pressing it to my face I inhaled a deep fresh scent. It smelled just like the woods. Just like the island, its garden, the greenhouse, the old cottage, it even smelled like town.

The pang of homesickness that greeted me was nothing I'd known before.

I tore off the crimson collar that ensnared me and threw it in a corner, leaving it there like a child in timeout, while I wrapped the emerald fabric around me and soaked in the magic of its scent. I curled under the bed with it, basking in the feelings of home that it carried. I still remembered when Michonne had given it to me.


I was seven and the motherlike woman asked me what I wanted for my birthday. We couldn't spare much, it was right after the Saviors had raided us, but she asked all the same. I begged her for a cloak much like the sand colored one she wore, just green—green like a pine tree. If that was all I got that year it would be fine with me. That's all I wanted, and I promised I wouldn't need anything else other than that.

As small as the request was, she hadn't been able to deliver for my birthday. Instead I got a new knife and belt with a holster. I was grateful for it all the same and it provided a distraction for my father to teach me how to use it properly. However, a few weeks later, Michonne returned from a supply run and presented me with a gift bag.

"I found something for you today."

I was overjoyed to find a green cloak, fashioned similarly to the one Michonne had, made from heavy, soft material, and green; so, so green. I held it closed with a violet scarab brooch when I wore it and the color of the shimmering jewelry made it look that much more magical.

It was like a shield was around me while I wore it. My space and my strength were threaded into the seams as thick as the scents were. But scents could fade… like the scent was beginning to fade right now. Thankfully magic is harder to kill; much harder.

I stayed curled under the bed until dusk began to fall and a knock wrapped at my door.

"Miss Grimes, Negan wants to see you for dinner tonight."

There was another thing that had changed recently. People called me Miss Grimes around here with my insistence after I had snapped furiously at the first man to ever address me by name. The scene was quiet amusing and at times I even entertained myself with the reaction the man had had afterwards.


I had been in the library when a man I had never seen before in my life walked up to me. "Judith. Negan wants…"

"Excuse me!" I snapped furious and loudly, making him jump nearly out of his skin. "But who the hell are you?"

He looked completely taken aback. "Umm… I'm—,"

"That was a rhetorical question!" I hissed. "Do you know how very uncomfortable it is for some stranger to use your first name like we're intimate?"

"Uh… I don't…"

"Another rhetorical question!" I snapped, straightening to my full height and putting the book I'd been about to grab back on the shelf disdainfully. "Since I don't know you and I don't intend to really get to know any of you people while I'm being held here, you can call me Miss Grimes and I would appreciate it if you passed that on to your friends. Anyone who ignores this and decides to call me by my first name like we're passing buddy-buddy anecdotes, well… you might find yourself on the bad end of a very unfortunate walker accident and—oh no! When you come in for treatment there just might not be any available for you, and you better hope that bite is on a limb and all you'll need to do is shave off a few pounds, or you'll be succumbing to a very tragic death within a few painfully short hours. You got that? Answer me!"

He looked stunned and startled enough to shakily respond with, "Yes—yes I get it."

"Good. Now my warden wants to see me?"

"Yes..."

"Now?"

"Yes, he does, Miss. Grimes."

"He's in his room?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. I'll see him there then. Now get the fuck out of my sight!" And with those words I dismissed him without another look his way, marching off unescorted.


The memory inspired strength when I looked back on it. I had scared the man so easily and it'd felt so good to do it. Being well feared around town had always been nice, too, at least among my peers. I hated to admit it but as ostracized as I was at times, there were occasions where I actually enjoyed the intimidation I may have inspired on occasion.

Just ask Jimmy Richards.


It was common knowledge around town that I was a bit of an outcast, especially among the other children. Before the waifs, being teased and gossiped about behind my back was nothing specifically new to me, though most everyone refused to do it to my face for various reasons.

In third grade though, there was this one particular boy who made it his duty to poke at me whenever he got the opportunity. His name was Jimmy Richards and a few months younger than me, so that may have been a factor in his immaturity. Of course, he did it discretely, in the lunch line, when I was seated at my desk, and even if I happened to ever pass him. His finger would somehow be aimed directly to jab at me wherever he could reach; behind my neck, my back, in my side or arm—one time he even got me under the arm pit. It became a bit of a game for him, I suppose, to watch me glance at him in outrage while he feigned innocence like he knew nothing about it.

Gradually, he moved on to bigger pranks; stepping on my toes, tripping me up, walking on my heels. It was aggravating but he acted just accordingly to make it seem like it was all by accident. Whenever I attempted to complain of this abuse, the teacher would curtly order him to stop and additionally instruct me to simply ignore him. I fumed in outrage at the negligent order, feeling blatantly brushed off. Jimmy may have ceased momentarily, but the behavior picked up again not long once her back was turned.

She wouldn't do anything about it. It was then that I realized I would just have to settle this matter on my own.

So, I didn't try to seek her again for help with anything else after that, even when his tricks reached new heights.

Eventually the antics were caught by the other kids who occasionally egged him on, seeing if they would get a reaction from me. Undoubtedly, they were expecting some explosion along the lines of how I normally reacted in the past, but I had a better idea for handling this.

One day during free period I sat down across from him, my hands propping my chin up as I addressed him in a formal business-like manner.

"I think you and I need to have a talk, Jimmy."

He looked very amused as he leaned back in his chair and grinned at me. "About what, Judy?"

"I think you know what." I told him, making my voice as heavy and intimidating as I could for the next part. "I'm only going to tell you one more time: Stop mocking me."

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders innocently. "What? I'm not doing anything. Is it my fault you always seem to be in the way of where I'm moving?"

"It happens so often I think it is your fault. But I'm at least going to give you a chance to back down before something bad happens to you."

"Oh, something bad is going to happen to me?"

"You'll only find out if you continue this behavior. Everyone knows I have a short fuse but I've stretched it a bit in this situation. I'm working on a little experiment and I'm in need of a guinea pig. If you turn this situation where I want it to go, you're going to be in for a very big surprise."

His brow rose as he looked at me unimpressed. "You know, using big, fancy words like that doesn't make you sound smarter, if that's what you think you're doing."

"So, most of what I just said flew over your head then. Very well; I'll spell it out in words you understand." I cleared my throat and leaned forward in my chair. "Stop teasing me or you will regret it… forever!"

For a moment, he looked a little worried. Then he chuckled uneasily and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll stop. I can take a hint."

"Good." I got up from my seat and turned from him, but just as I was about to leave something caught on my shorts and yanked them all the way down to my knees. My head snapped down to view my own pair of white underpants exposed for everyone to see. I heard a howl of laughter from behind me and my brain suddenly understood what had just happened.

Jimmy had just pantsed me right in front of the whole school.

My face blazed red while Jimmy was rolling with laughter with the other kids looking very tempted to follow his lead, giggles escaping them despite their resolve. Several caught the reaction on my face, however, and held their breaths. My neck grew slick with sweat and I felt the blood pound in my ears. As much as I wanted to turn and tackle that slimy leech into the dirt I held off.

Calmly, I pulled my shorts back up, forcing an evil smile on my face as I glanced around at him. "Thank you for turning this in my direction now. By the way, I heard you saying the other day that your least favorite animal was a horsefly, right?"

He was still laughing when he looked back at me, wiping the tears from his face. "Yeah, but who cares about that right now? That was hilarious, underwear girl!"

"Let's hope this is still funny to you in a week." I announced, with my back to him as I walked to my desk. There were several nervous giggles that followed me as I did so. I could only hope that my reputation as a witch hadn't worn off. I needed him to stew about it for a few days.

My words did shake him slightly for the next week and I think I could feel his eyes (clouded with what I hoped was concern) burn into my back on occasion. But a few days went by and he got over that rather quickly. An hour after he'd resumed his foot-stepping habit I snuck into the classroom during recess while it was empty, to place a plain cardboard box on his desk and then ran back out before anyone had missed me.

As we filed into the room, I used the reflection from the window to watch his reaction towards the strange box on his desk. I kept my gaze on the reflection while he looked towards me suspiciously, probably suspecting trickery but too dumb to turn away. Then he opened the lid, triggering the mechanism from inside. A puff of yellow dust immediately assaulted his face.

He coughed in surprise, swatting to clear the air. Everyone looked at him in bewilderment and the teacher asked what had just happened.

"Someone put a bomb on my desk!"

"Did it burn off your eyebrows?" Mrs. Lakely asked impatiently.

"No…"

"Do you have any injuries?"

"Well... no."

"Can you breathe alright?"

"Now I can."

"Then put the box away, Jimmy, and take your seat so we can get started."

He did as he was told but not before glancing my way. This time I was faced entirely towards him, my cheek propped up by my hand and owning a devious, satisfied smirk. The moment he caught sight of my expression I saw his entire face drain of all color as he looked back in total shock.

"Faze one complete." I whispered delightfully to myself.

For the rest of the day Jimmy stole worried cautious glances towards me and whenever I caught him nervously scratching his neck I couldn't help but smile knowingly.

By the end of the day there were scaly hives that had spread all over his face and hands. He only noticed them when we were allowed out of class for a bathroom break and he looked down and saw the dots marking him all up and down his arms. I watched the horrified reaction evolve on his face at the sight of them and it only increased tenfold when I materialized from right behind, seemingly out of nowhere, and leaned down to whisper sinisterly in his ear.

"The mutation has begun. My gods are pleased."

As added horror, his nose began to bleed just then (not from my doing I assure you) and with my words combined with the rash, Jimmy Richards instantly screamed at the top of his lungs and bolted away from me. He burst back into the classroom, gasping and crying so uncontrollably he couldn't speak properly. But Mrs. Lakely was more concerned with his bleeding nose as well as the spots that had spread all over his body. Since we only had another half hour of school, the class was dismissed while Mrs. Lakely escorted him to the infirmary.

Even despite Jimmy's insistence that I had cast a spell to turn him into a fly, Tobin assured him that all he had was a mild case of hives and that they would clear up with the appliance of a cream.

That was true.

I knew Jimmy had a slight allergic reaction towards dandelions and had ground them into a dried powder that I implanted inside a booby-trapped box to dust all over him. The rest was psychology. Although, I am stumped about his nosebleed. It was a very nice touch. Probably just the dry air, I suppose.

That had been one of my more masterful tricks and it would be a long time before I topped it.

As soon as the hives were beginning to clear up, I met him again, this time alone. Even if now he knew it was hives, the fear was still fresh on him and he learned to tread carefully now.

I leaned against the wall as I surveyed his clearing skin and sighed. "I guess it was a dud batch. My bad. Next time then…"

I left him with those frightening words as I turned away and climbed up on the monkey bars, every other child vacating them the moment I had touched the metal. From that point on, Jimmy tiptoed around me much in the way the other children did, though he cowed within my presence in a way that seemed like I had practically neutered him.

As twisted as it was, I couldn't help but smile while I hung upside down.

It felt good to be so feared.


I may have felt a little guilty for the way I handled that situation. As much as they drove me crazy, those kids were still my people, they were part of my town and they were part of my responsibility.

Thinking of it now, especially trapped in this place with these people, I wondered why I never gave any of them much of a chance, choosing to isolate myself instead of befriending them. I only started making friends when the Waifs had arrived, and even then, my circle was so limited. They weren't much different from me, I just… I didn't quite know why I never realized it until now.

After all, you don't always have to like your family, but you do have to love them.


Author's Notes: Geeze! It's been forever since I updated. Been hard to get into the mood for writing now that the show is over again, especially since I heard that you-know-who might be leaving the show. Well I guess we can predict who's going to die in the next season. Anyways, I thought I would give you guys two chapters today since I made you wait so long for them. I'm working really hard to make sure I don't abandoned this story like I normally do for the fics I upload. Lots of stuff going on here and, lots more to come.

As always, your reviews are amazing and always appreciated.

Luv ya lots, guys!