Haley hadn't struggled for the knife, in fact she hadn't struggled at all. There was no hesitation as she turned her towards the stairs. She looked back for a moment but that was all that it was. A moment, nothing more. No protests, no kicking and screaming. Nothing.
Haley is the one that leads her into the room - her room, Carol's mind supplies. There's a colorful blanket on the unmade bed, with notebooks and pencils scattered over the available surface. Haley sits down, saying and doing nothing else. She's just watching - closely and quietly. It reminds her of the first time that she had seen Beth, back at the house. Only Haley's demeanor is less threatening, she's calmer. As if she hadn't just held a knife to someone's throat.
The girl was a Savior. That much she's willing to bet her little house by the Kingdom on. Beth was one, and she was clearly close to this girl - and the man they had captured Beth with. A Savior with conflicting views. She wanted to stay, and she had gone to extreme lengths to make that clear. She had no intention of returning with Beth.
If she leaves, she'll die.
Not many of the others had picked up on the full conversation. Not that she had. Most of it, yes. It had been ages since she had last used it but it had always been one of those things that just never really faded. Even the shelters, after Ed, after Sophia, all these years it was at the forefront of her mind just as soon as she realized what was going on. She knew enough to know that Haley was running, as far and as fast as she could away from the Saviors, away from Negan. Away from the life that waited for her two or three years down the road.
She stands by the doorway for a minute, taking it in. The room looks lived in now where it likely hadn't before. When Daryl chose to sleep at Aaron and Eric's, he didn't normally drag himself far enough up the stairs to disturb one of the extra bedrooms. They stare at each other. Haley, she imagines, is sizing her up. Trying to figure out what's what, weighing the potential danger on the scale.
If that is what the girl is doing, clearly the danger wasn't too threatening because she turns her back to her. Instead opting to rummage through the small pile of paper and notebooks that are covering a vast majority of the bed. "Why did you run away?" Carol asks, only to pause. Her hands go through the motions once the girl turns her eyes away from the pages to look at her.
The answer to the question, a question she seemed to have been prepared for. Without so much of a blink she hands over a spiral bound notebook. The pages speak for themselves. The very first page is simple enough. A young girl with her arms wrapped around an older woman's midsection, head buried into her side ."I don't have any other options. He needs the medication and she needs the batteries. I don't have anything else I can trade." Someone pulls the girl away, and the woman she had been holding onto to tightly vanishes through a doorway.
Pictured on the next page are a series of exchanges. No faces, but the items are the same. After four or five panels, there's only two figures instead of three. " She's gone, kid." as the figure hands over a small packet of batteries and a pill bottle. There's no more exchanges after that.
It shifts dramatically. Now the story follows her and two men. One older and the other younger. She had helpfully taken the liberty of labelling each in their first appearances as 'father' and 'brother' respectively. She rarely had drawn herself on the same page as the other two. The brother. Rarely made an appearance period. Her father was only ever pictured asleep on a bed across the room, or reaching for a pill bottle which she would always provide.
There's a lot of that. What had to be the day to day. Haley doing little jobs. Watching kids, washing clothes, sometimes drawing for others. She would work and work, and after all of her effort her reward was a small baggy with a select few pills. There's an odd sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The sort people got when they knew. When they just knew the next turn of a page, the next scene would lead to nothing but disaster.
Haley's watching her intently now. The weight of her gaze prompts her to look up from the book. Her face is stone. Marble, hard and set.
In ink she opens the door to what looked to be their room. After an undisclosed amount of time and work. Her father lays on the bed. Not responding to the flickering of the light switch or the shaking of the pill bottle. Haley creeps into the room, pausing just short of the bed. Carol wonders if the girl is feeling what she is. That sense of dread. That knowing. She wants to say don't look. As if the drawing on the pages could hear and be spared.
He's laying face down in the bed where the vomit has pooled. A pill bottle on the ground, a folded piece of paper on the pillow. He's gone. She has to know already but she tries only to slip in a puddle of sick on the floor that she'd missed. The body she had been just barely managing to hold upright tumbles with her. She's pinned there, underneath all that dead weight.
That's what he is. Dead.
She lays 's no more struggling, only acceptance. How long did she lay there? The image is unsettling. Any time, any second he could turn and Carol hadn't seen a weapon handily drawn onto her person. Clearly she had survived.
Her brother had found them before the change, by some stroke of luck. He blamed her for it, the death. She hadn't watched him closely enough, she'd given him too much medication. No matter how she fought him, no matter how many times she told him the medicine had been properly rationed - it didn't matter. He grew angrier, distant. Until one day it came to a head. She returned to the room to find her world, her life thrown into a duffle bag and a large cardboard box.
"I'm tired of looking after you. Maybe in a few years Negan'll go looking for some new brides…" He'd either stopped speaking, or Haley hadn't felt the need to transcribe the rest of the conversation. He was sending her away, just like that. Like he was unloading a particularly heavy burden off of his shoulders. Their walk to the truck is wordless. There's others there. Older folks, young children. All being loaded up into various vehicles.
"Hey, buddy. Where can I put her?" He asks, tapping on a broad man's shoulder. The face that turns to respond is familiar. It's the man Rick had under watch on the other side of Alexandria.
Mac shrugs, taking the box out of her brothers arm. "Front seat's fine." There's no goodbye's, he doesn't even meet her eyes. Just turns and leaves. "Come on, kid." Haley doesn't respond right away. Carol's not sure she'd even heard him. The way she'd drawn herself doesn't indicate as much. On the page, Mac puts an arm on her shoulder - nudging her towards the truck. "Come on. You've got shotgun."
Satisfied to a point, the girl reaches over and skips a considerable number of pages. When she finally does stop she jabs her at the panel in the middle of the page. She's alone in a room with a woman. The woman she recognizes; the same one who delivered her the folder. " We'll need you to draw for us. Maps, can only take the material for a limited time so you'll need to work quickly."
Haley says okay, nodding vigorously.
" There's one more thing. We need Beth - she can't sit on the sidelines anymore. We can't do this without her. Do you understand? When you have her I want you to give her this," Luann holds out an envelope which Haley is eager to snatch up." Make sure this gets to the King. If not him, then to Alexandria."
Carol's eyes are glued to the page. So much so, she barely registers the fact that Haley's rummaging around in her backpack, brandishing a stained yellow envelope. Suddenly she looks nervous. No, maybe excited? Maybe both? She all but throws the envelope onto her lap. Carol's brows furrow as she picks it up. It's still sealed. The tone of the comic suggested that Beth was to deliver this - if it was the same one. Why did she have it?
Haley's scrawling feverishly on a small coil notepad, practically jams the thing right in her face when she finished.
" I'm here to talk to you about the Council Initiative."
—-
Rick doesn't say a word as she tries to squirm away. If she could get loose it wouldn't do anything. He's flanked by a small group and there's no doubt in her mind that they wouldn't be on her in a second if somehow she did manage to get away. She twisted and turned, spitting and snarling like some wild thing. She could try it. What did she have to lose? Mac was being hauled off, Haley had drawn her line in the sand. She'd picked a side. She'd picked them - picked Alexandria over her.
"I'll deal with you later." He jabs a finger at her after he all but throws her in the cell. He's rough but it's her doing. Wasn't like she'd willingly go in if he'd just asked her nicely. Sadie follows after her in confused hysterics, torn between checking on her and growling at the group outside the bars. They don't say anything else. They just leave her. She's surprised there's no talking. No ' What the fuck was that? ' - she certainly wanted to ask someone that herself.
They leave a light on and shut the door. They stay outside for a minute but she can't make out a goddamn thing they're saying. Probably planning a couple executions. It's what she would do.
Beth lowers herself against the back wall. Sliding until her ass finally hits the cold concrete. Sadie's beside her instantly, jamming her head against her chest. Her fingers toy with the muzzle. It's not a proper one, it's some homemade thing. Messily stitched, bits of mismatched leather, fabric and plastic. Where the hell had it even come from? She'd never muzzled her, not ever. What was the point in having someone watch your back if you weren't going to let them have a goddamn weapon? Haley must have done it. She takes it off and tosses it to the other side of the cell without a second thought. Sadie seems to be thankful, tail swishing back and forth. "Why'd you let her put it on in the first place then? Dumbass." Beth mutters, pulling Sadie onto her lap.
It's not her fault. Not really. Haley was one of the good ones. One of the people Sadie never gave a second look to, not even on day one. The poor sucker. Both of them.
She had to hand it to her - not in a million years would she have ever pegged Haley to be the stupid and reckless kind. Everything she'd ever tried to teach her lessons in caution. She'd thought Mac would fuck them over if anything. If she died, not by walker or her own hand, it'd be because he did something stupid. It wasn't supposed to be Haley.
Not that she was dead. Not yet, but Beth didn't like her odds. Not after that. She wondered if they knew. If any of them had picked up on the sign language - if any of them knew where they'd come from. Who they had to bow to.
Her fingers idly grazed Sadie's collar. She pauses for a moment, hands frozen. The muzzle may have been Haley's creation but the collar was hers. She can feel where Dwight had carved the letters out to spell Sadie's name. Her eyes dart to the door as she hastily undoes the buckle. If she's going to die, it won't be without a fight. Unless they decide to shoot her in the cell - then she'll be shit out of luck.
There's something comforting about the frayed edge of the collar. The knowledge of what was underneath was what did it, if she had to take a guess. The underside where she'd made just one minor adjustment. They'd taken her cuffs but not the collar. Why would they have? It's quick work tearing the stitching out. What's more comforting is seeing the glint of metal catch her eyes. It wasn't as long or are strong as her cuffs but it would work. Compete with cords on either end. Beth doesn't marvel at her potential savior. Once it's out of the collar, she wraps it carefully around her ankle and replaces the collar on Sadie's neck.
At least now she could take them by surprise.
Not that there's anyone to take by surprise. Not for awhile, and when the door finally does open it's not who she expects. It's not Haley with a shit-eating grin on her face, and it's not Rick or Carol. It's another one.
She doesn't know his name, at least there's not one floating around that she can pin to him. Animal seems fitting though. He's intimidating in a whole other way, Rick doesn't hold a candle to him. There's a crossbow slung over his shoulder and he's got a plastic container and a water bottle in his hands.
Wordlessly he turns the container sideways and shoves it through the bars. It's an opening. She grabs his arm and pulls. With any luck his head smashes against the metal. Over and over until he's out cold. He'll drop and then she can look for a key.
What if he doesn't have one though? He's so much bigger than she is, stands to reason he'll be stronger than she is too. He could smash her head against the bars. Or rip her arm right out of the socket.
Plastic rattles against the metal as he shakes it. "Take it," He says gruffly. Beth forces herself up, slipping cautiously towards the door with Sadie beside her. She grabs the empty container - all but rips it right out of his hands. He doesn't seemed phased, doesn't even curse. Just jams the water bottle through the same slot. "Give it to the dog." It's an order, one that makes her shoot him a glare.
She's not thirsty - not really. That doesn't stop her from pulling the cap off. A quick sniff, then she drinks. Not a fucking chance was she putting down anything they'd give her for Sadie. At least not until she knew it was safe.
It does smell like water, tastes like it too. Still she'll wait. He still glares at her, and Beth just moves closer to the bars, refusing to break eye contact. Usually people back off - or are thrown off by the small act of defiance. Particularly the men. He does nothing, doesn't even flinch. She thinks she hears him scoff before turning his back to the cage.
Beth doesn't plan on being the one to speak first. She really wasn't. He was supposed to say something else. Like how they killed Mac, or were gonna kill her, or something. Anything. It's almost irritating how he drops his ass into the chair opposite her and then does nothing else.
"What did you do to Mac?" It's not the ideal way to pose a question - not one that actually needs to be answered.
He catches her meaning, what she's asking. If he's dead or not. "Still breathin'." He knew what she wanted him to say, so he had to know that she thought it was pure bullshit - too. Turns out he did.
"He isn't the one claimin' kids and forcin' them to do shit." There's a new edge to his voice now. He sounds pissed. Like he's taking how she'd responded to Hailey's ingenious fit personally. If they were gonna be killing anyone - it would be her. That was what the tone implied. Which is funny, given that she didn't pull a knife on anyone. Not this time at least.
Odds were good that Mac was still locked up somewhere. Even if he wasn't about to be put to death, they weren't likely to be letting him walk around Alexandria. So that meant that she was alone. Alone, locked up in a cell like some animal. "What're you going to do to me ?" That was the better question to ask.
It was hard to tell from her vantage point, and the terrible lighting, but she could swear he narrowed his eyes. "The hell are you talking about?" He accents the question with a grunt.
Was it not obvious? Clearly she'd committed some sort of cardinal sin, she was locked up. What'd people do to anyone in her situation these days? "Do I get to pick? Or is it dealers choice?" He doesn't so much as flinch at that. Some places had their methods, people had their preferences. She had seen people only use hanging trees, whole fucking yard of bodies swinging in the trees. Less mess they claimed. Kept the bullets for more important shit. When she'd asked why they didn't just cut them all she'd been met with in response was a shrug and the strangest answer she'd ever heard. Why would they slit their throats? They weren't butchers, that type of shit was for the truly sick fucks.
She'd thought about it. Granted, it was never in an execution scenario. Early on she'd planned to end it and she'd put a good amount of thought into it. She could barely speak, couldn't remember shit like the days of the week, what colour the flag was. What her own name was, Edwards had worked with her, and gradually she'd gotten most of it back. Before that, she'd imagined all the ways she could have offed herself.
He's not taking the bait, still. "Wouldn't use a gun if I were you." Beth can't help it, the smirk that tugs at the corners of her lips. "Been there, done that. Bullets don't take." She's not sure why she says it. She's not sure why his fist comes down so hard on the table the way it does. Or why her tired, shallow laughter fills the cell. But it does.
Realistically, it probably would take a second time. What were the odds of surviving that shit twice, really? It was a miracle she'd made it this far.
There's something different about him now. He had been on edge before but now, Beth isn't sure what word existed to describe how he looked now. How she felt looking at him, like he was liable to fly off his own damn hinges the next time she opened her mouth.
Which suited her just fine. Served him right for locking her up in a cage. She lets out an overly theatrical sigh. "If anyone asks, I'd prefer quick. You'd prefer it, too. Best not to give me a chance to fight back."
He's up fast. In a blink of an eye he's on his feet and he's jabbing a finger at her, mouth opening and closing uselessly. He wants to say something. Probably wants to tell her to shut up but he can't. He doesn't try again either. Instead he opts to head towards the door on the turn of his heel. "Oh come on. We're all gonna die someday. I'm clearly gonna be there sooner than later." He doesn't stop walking.
"Water the fucking dog." It's an order again, barked like he's almost a dog himself. Last thing she hears before the slamming of the door. He's gone now, for the time being at least.
Beth lingers at the bars for a few minutes, keeping watch at the door. Once she's satisfied he wasn't going to storm back in she retreats to the corner and pours out the water, offering a judgemental looking Sadie a long awaited drink. "We'll get out." She says in a hushed tone, like she's sharing a secret. "We aren't dying here."
