Chapter 18
Monsters We All Are
"Judy! It's been such a long time, now hasn't it?" Negan said strolling up to where I was.

"Never seems all that long to me." I grumbled leaning on my crutch.

"Oh man." He announced, noticing my leg. "What happened to you?"

"A tree climbed on me."

He burst into laughter. "That so? Well why don't we walk a bit and you can tell me that story?"

I bowed my head in defeat. Of course he would want to walk. "I don't… it's hard." I settled on. Honestly it wasn't wholly because it was difficult, but mostly because I didn't want to venture too close to Mari, Tanti, and Luis and have them catch his attention. I didn't want his focus on them ever if I could help it. In a way, I guess I felt they were my responsibility. I brought them to the town, so it was my job to watch out for them, and the last thing I needed was for this monster to find any interest in my charges.

He eyed my bad leg in thought. "Oh I guess it would be wouldn't it. Alright, we can park it at your place while we chat for a bit. We can catch up since we didn't have much of an opportunity for it last time."

"Last time…" I repeated, my mind going to the incident that was "last time". In a brief moment of terror I was back in the yard, gazing at the spilled intestines, the blood, the open wound, Spencer, and Negan's smiling face. My leg and crutches stopped dead. "I… I…"

Negan looked at me like he was sincerely confused. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"You should know." I snapped, refusing to look him in the eye. "…You killed him."

His tone darkened, and I could tell his smile was gone. "You should be thanking me. That man was plotting to kill your own dad and take his place as leader. I did your family a favor. He wanted me to kill Rick because he didn't have the stones to do it himself; instead I killed him. Anyone who's too weak to kill someone on their own, but needs to call in the man to do his dirty work, isn't worth shit to me. What do you say about that, Judith?"

I couldn't say anything to that, but I knew he wanted something from me, I just didn't know what that was.

He sighed as if this whole conversation wore him out. "Look, honey, you're still a kid, so I can't expect you to really get it, but I sort of hoped you would try. You surprise me like that, and that's what I like about you, plus you're already a fucking lil' kick-ass and I personally can't wait to see what you turn into. But you see the world in terms of black and white."

"Maybe that's how the world is." I shot back.

He laughed and steered me to our porch where he leaned comfortably back on one of the woven chairs.

"When you get older, you'll be eating those words. Take your father for example. You think he got where he is because he did the right thing all the time?"

I didn't sit down but faced Negan on my feet, difficult though it was. "He is where he is because he was ambushed in the forest and a monster hacked up our friends and now we have to provide for that bottomless pit because he's too stupid to provide for himself and too lazy to even try."

I watched his face widened in pure shock as if I had slapped him, but he was over it in an instant as he fired back darkly. "Get your fucking facts right, brat. Your people killed my people first. We weren't the ones to start this."

"That's not how I heard it." I announced putting a finger to my chin in mock thought. "I believe your people tried to rob our people, leave them with nothing on the side of the road, and kill one of them to send a twisted sort of message." I countered knowingly. "Now I'm no ambassador and I'm sure I know about as much as the next little kid about these sorts of things, but if you want my opinion, that didn't seem like a very diplomatic move on your part. That's how I believe it went down at least. I mean I've heard different accounts but it adds up rather well when comparing your history and methods of negotiation." As limited as our library was I found that the subject of government was rather engrossing and we had a few textbooks that explained the process rather well and I'd read anything I could get my hands on. It certainly had it' perks when I was allowed to school this asshole on basic diplomacy.

"So in our defense, killing your people was in self defense and it was purely your idea to take it as far as it's gotten. And if you lost more people than you had wanted you should have extended an olive branch by suggesting we could work together rather than demand we cough up half our supplies with no compensation for it."

His mouth twitched by that. "It's so impressive how you mix the truth up. I believe it was your people who attacked one of my outposts and killed every single fucking one of my people there."

"Maybe you and your wild dogs should only pick on people their own size."

"Maybe your people shouldn't pick fights they can't win."

"Well maybe…" I struggled to find an appropriate retort, but my time was stretching and I had to say something, "Maybe you should… shut up for once!"

That was weak and embarrassing especially when Negan laughed.

"Ooh nice try. If you had another minute and a few more brain cells you could probably figure out a decent comeback than that."

My bravado seemed to have been used up along with my wit after those words.

"You should count yourselves lucky, brat. Your people killed a whole outpost of my people—in their sleep no less. I could have returned the favor, instead I only made an example of two of yours."

"Four." I corrected with hate. "I count Spencer as one of ours and you still have my uncle Daryl, and are doing god knows what to him right now. I haven't seen him for three years so for all I know you've probably killed him by now, and I won't forget that! And furthermore, you think you're benevolent because you only killed two of us? You're not. I think you just didn't have the stones to kill all the men this time."

His eyes grew wide and a shadow of something I couldn't distinguish crossed his face with those words. I knew what he was thinking. When the Saviors first introduced themselves to us I often saw the spirits of men and young boys lingering around a few of the most ruthless of them. Weeks following their frequent visits I was often met with terrible dreams of groups of men and boys being lined up and executed in front of screaming girls and women.

I had decided to consult Vanessa about these night terrors and she had offered her wisdom, explaining that such premonitions may have been showing me what the Saviors had done to gain subjection from other groups in the past. It may have even been predicting what was to come should we cross them in ways they wouldn't forgive.

Negan's gaze pierced me while the wheels in his head turned, probably wondering if it was pure coincidence that I would say something like that.

"What makes you think I would ever stoop to killing so many?" He asked carefully.

My eyes narrowed in disgust and my tone darkened. "It doesn't seem all that out of character for you. I feel like that would be a very liberal way to gain subservience within a community. Although it would cause some… complications. The remaining community may all just decide to leave without warning or fight. I bet that would really put a damper on your dependency, now wouldn't it?"

The look Negan gave me was like a ghost had slapped him in the face.

"What do you know?" He asked suspiciously.

"Know? Know about what?" I responded, shrugging my shoulders innocently. "I'm just talking hypotheticals here."

His gaze narrowed and by the look in his eye I could tell he didn't buy that for one minute. I waited for him to say something else, press for more information about how I would be privy to something like that, where I may have gotten that information and if I knew where the remaining survivors of such a group was. But he did none of those.

Instead, his eyes turned again to my injury. "How bout we change the subject? Tell me about your leg? You told me a tree climbed on you?"

"Yeah… more or less."

"Why don't you elaborate?"

"It's not that interesting." I deadpanned.

"Bullshit, I'll bet it's plenty interesting if it managed to scathe you."

"It'd bore you. No one died or was gravely mutilated so you probably wouldn't be all too fascinated." That was a lie, but I wasn't about to talk to Negan about the ambush of Wolves I narrowly escaped from.

"If you'd rather we keep talking about your friends being brained in, just say the word. We could talk about the way your father cried or the way everyone screamed. Maybe we could do a reenactment."

That fury in me was stoked by those words. I wanted him worse than dead. I wanted to curse this man with every hex and jinx I knew of. I squashed those thoughts, though. It never made a difference.

Cast a curse and you curse two; You curse your victim and you curse you!

I said the rhyme in my head over and over again like a mantra, cooling that burn inside me the best I could manage.

"A tree just… fell on me."

"A tree fell on you?" He sounded confused and concerned, rather than amused as I expected him to be. It almost seemed convincing but he was faking it, obviously.

"I got caught in the storm a few weeks back. It's no big deal."

"A fucking tree fell on you? How big was the thing? You're still alive so it couldn't have possibly been that big."

"No it wasn't." I said hastily.

"Bullshit it wasn't. That thing was massive then."

"How—why do you think that?" I had tried to amend the first part, but the damage was already done and confirmed with that first word.

"I can always tell when you're lying or avoiding the truth. And you didn't really help yourself by saying "how" first."

I couldn't help but glance towards Dad. He didn't even know how I messed up my leg. He didn't know I spent that whole night under a tree. He still didn't even know I was ambushed. And I knew I couldn't tell him because if he found out, he'd go nuts and ground me again or renounce his decision to let me train under Aaron and I wasn't going to jeopardize that by telling the truth now.

Negan looked deeply impressed. "Holy fuck! A massive tree fell on you and you crawled away with nothing but a sprained ankle? Shit, kid, you are lucky. So fucking lucky!"

I turned on him hissing between my clenched teeth when his voice grew louder than I wanted. "I don't want it broadcasted!"

His brow lowered in confusion before a quick glance towards my dad seemed to ignite the light bulb in his brain.

"Oh… I get it, now."

His knowing, plotting tone set me off. "No you don't! You don't get it! I didn't want to talk about it because it's not important! It's not relevant. How I am injured has nothing to do with the here and now. My ankle is messed up and that's all you need to know. It doesn't matter how, it just is. I'm not letting you of all people mess up what I've worked so hard for by escalating this stupid situation with pointless details."

It wasn't all true. It just made me mad that he had gotten it out of me before I had even told my dad. I hadn't wanted to; in fact I kept putting it off for so long. Dad worried continuously about me. I was afraid of telling him because I wasn't sure how he would take it. He already had so much on his plate as it was. I didn't want him worrying over nothing. But I knew not telling him was even more dangerous.

If wolves were after me then that could have meant more was at stake than just my life. The others could have been in danger as well and precautions needed to be made. It dawned on me just then that it didn't matter if he overheard this conversation or not. I'd just have to tell him anyways.

Damn it…

"What are you working for?" Negan said bringing me out of my thoughts. "And why would this conversation mess that up? It's just small talk."

"I will not explain." I answered rebelliously.

I could feel the heat of fury that stoked inside the man with those words. He was not one to take refusal of any kind and especially not from a snotty little kid. Even with that knowledge I was testing him to the limits. I can't even really explain what was going through my head at the time I just knew I wasn't going to give him more of me.

By those words he rose to his feet and I stiffened, refusing to look up at him but bracing for his next move. I could feel he wanted to say something, probably a demand to get me to talk. Maybe he was about to hurt someone to get his way. I should have considered that before I challenged him, but it was too late to take it back so I only glared at the beam, refusing to give him the courtesy of a look in the eye and holding onto the defiance anyways.

He was furious. I knew he was, but I wouldn't back down. Sometimes it felt as though my pride was in constant battle with my commonsense and more often than not the first won out, and that could sometimes suck.

"I think I wanna see your room." Negan said from out of nowhere.

"What? Why?"

"I will not explain." He mimicked with a dark chuckle. "Lead the way, kiddo."

I gripped the armrests of my chair, glaring and uncertain what my next move should be. I had already tested him enough it just didn't feel wise to refuse him another time.

I rose from the chair and maneuvered around with my crutches ambling up the stairs with some difficulty. We reached my door and Negan leaned over to get it, stepping around me as he entered the room.

It boiled my blood worse than anything to see him inside my private space. This was not for him to observe or judge but I knew that's what he was doing as he took in the bedroom; humble and gaudy at the same time with bohemian elements. It was also slightly unkempt. I wasn't very loyal with my cleanliness and Dad had been after me for a while to tidy things up in here and clear out some things. Michonne called me a hoarder.

A pile of dirty clothes was shoved to a corner of the room nearest the wide opened closet, my green cloak left forgotten on the floor inside the door of it. With the summer months on us I wore it less often these days. Various bundles of drying plants hung upside-down from the ceiling; the ingredients for spells, blessings, teas, and remedies.

The rest of the room had been rearranged since Mari, Tanti, and Luis had arrived in Alexandria. I had given up the wool mattress that had been made for me from the sheep and gave it to them when they moved in with Aaron and Eric. Now I slept on a hammock suspended from the ceiling and reinforced with rafters to keep it from collapsing; although it was unlikely I would manage that with my tiny stature. A comforter provided extra insulation from under me when I slept while a thin sheet and quilt covered me at night. A dream catcher was suspended from the ceiling right over my pillow, an attempt to induce good dreams with very little accomplishment it seemed.

A black shelf was nailed at the head of my bed leaving a decent gap between the pole and the wall so in case it fell it wouldn't be on my head. Lining it were crystals, symbols, books and plants inducing pleasant dreams and clarity of mind as I slept. The crystals were a geode amethyst, lapis lazuli, moonstone, onyx and sodalite. The plants were potted lavender and a dried sage wand wrapped in ivy vines. The books were a dream dictionary, two poetry books, a book on teas, a dream journal I sometimes wrote in, and several picture books I had fallen in love with as a younger child.

Opposite it at the foot of my bed was another shelf, painted white. This one symbolized energy during the day. More symbols, crystals, books and plants filled the shelf. I had chosen jasper, tigers-eye, rose quartz, citrine, and a carnelian. The books on it were Healthy Habits for Tweens and Teens, Forget-Me-Not: a floral treasury, Legacy: the book of riddles, Sacred Symbols, and Charming: jewelry with a message. The plants were a potted cactus and a camellia in a vase.

The parallel shelves were meant to induce positive energy when I slept at night and when I woke again in the morning. They worked to an extent but demons had a way of slipping through even the most carefully built walls, like rats searching for gaps.

Under my "bed" was a chest of toys I never played with these days, forgotten in my pursuit for other things that I had deemed "helpful" for our people. Thinking of it as I stood with the invader in my room a pang of sadness hit me at the thought of the loss, but I brushed it aside.

I wasn't that little kid anymore. My games had changed. I no longer used toys but I still played in my own way. Maybe I'd give them to the Waifs. They'd be used again, at least.

Beside the foot of my hammock was a dresser with another shelf filled with more books and trinkets. And across it, on the opposite side by the head of my hammock was a small side table holding an unlit oil lamp with a pile of books stacked next to it on the floor. An empty teacup rested on the forgotten stack with one of Mrs. Byron's cookies half eaten beside it.

There was an old coffee table I used for a desk inches from the pile of books and a couch cushion for my chair. Various things littered the wood surface in an unorganized array of plans and projects. Over it hung another shelf filled with more books, crystals, plants, and symbols. This one also had jars of things like dried ingredients, stationary, small tools, and even animal bones.

At the top of it all were two figurines situated side by side. It was the father god (Aether) and the mother goddess (Gaia). They were both faceless and simplified. The mother was round and leaned forward to envelop an orb (Terra) which symbolized the earth. The father was tall and stood straight next to her. He was horned with antlers, just as Cernunnos was at the river Styx back at the island. These were the opposites of one another: yin and yang, love and hate, male and female, life and death.

Negan turned around, taking in the room with mixed amusement and judgment.

"What are you, kid; some kind of witch?"

"In training." I finished in answer. I stayed in the doorway leaning my back against the frame in disdain by the sight of him standing in my personal space.

"And your father supports this?" His brow lifted as if he would have never suspected we were the type of people to practice such rituals.

"He doesn't support it and he doesn't judge it. He allows me to practice my own beliefs as I wish."

His brow rose as he took the mother figurine from her place. "That so? What does your dad believe in?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I suggested through gritted teeth watching him as he fiddled with the idol.

"Being someone raised in a strict Catholic household this is a little odd for me. Is there much devil worshiping with all this?"

"No." I answered firmly. "There's no devil in the craft. At least not the stuff I was taught. Sure you get your psychos every now and then; animal sacrifices, dancing naked at night, human dismemberment, but that's rare if there are others left that still worship. The craft I use dabbles in harmless spells and healing. Not devil worshiping." I went on with bitterness, recalling when I was learning about the witch hunts, the Salem Trials, and all that needless uncalled for murder. "But all forms of faith have been twisted from their original messages to suit the ones who praise them at one time or another through history. Kill for this and that god, hurt to punish this and that sinner. Countless people worshipping countless gods and everyone believes they've found the right one."

He looked amused by my choice of words. "What god do you worship?"

"I'm still deciding, but I'd like to believe in something. I know there isn't just this world. There is something after death more than just wandering forever in hunger, I just don't know what it is. Those who choose to leave at last are gone for good so they don't come back to tell us what that is."

Then a pang of remorse hit me and new words I'd never thought of came pouring from my mouth. "For all the things I try to teach myself I know I know nothing. Why people in this world hate what is not them. Why they fear all they don't know. Why they hate themselves most of all for being weak, for being old or not old enough, for being everything altogether that is not godlike. Which of us can be that? Monsters all, are we not? And yet still," I cast him a furious sideways look, raw hatred boiling in the stare, "some perhaps more than others. What do you say to that, Negan?"

It was the first time I had ever addressed him by name, but I felt saying it now would have held the most impact verses any other time.

For once he had no words. He stared at me with a new expression now. Perhaps he hadn't expected me to speak so eloquently. Not even I really expected to speak so eloquently. It was like the words had been spoken once before long, long ago and an old soul had chosen to speak the words again through me. I definitely could feel the presence of another faint spirit, but it was hushed and small, almost like a shadow or a draft. There, but too small to really pose any impact, and yet its impact was strong nonetheless.

Negan left same as he always did, though he cast me a look before exiting our house wearing an expression I couldn't read. Something had changed with the discussion. It felt as though he seemed skeptical of me now, a bit like tiptoeing and it was only a guess about what his impression of me was now. Whatever it was didn't matter, or that's what I tried to tell myself.

His opinion didn't matter.

I didn't care.

That was all.

I watched the trucks load up and depart for good from my window. A few minutes later I heard steps approach from behind and could tell from the gait that it was Dad to see how I was. I didn't turn to him but continued to look out the window.

"Judith?"

"Yeah."

"What did he want this time?"

"Nothing. He just wanted to see my room."

There was a worrisome pause. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Do you need to talk?"

"No."

"Is there anything you need?"

"No."

Another pause and my father spoke again, uncertainly. "If there's something you need to talk about you know I'm here for you, right?"

"Yeah I know. If I need, right?"

"Yes… if you need."

I didn't say anything else and he took that as his cue to go, letting me be alone once again to sort through my thoughts. I still needed to tell dad the truth about the wolves, but right now all I wanted was to be left alone. There was always time for later.

But then again sometimes there wasn't.

"Wait." I called back to him. He appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Dad I need to tell you something."

"Is it about Negan?"

"No. It's about when I was out there. How I hurt myself."

I knew he'd been wondering about it since I got back, but had resisted asking me about it, preferring to let me talk when I was ready. Now that I was, I knew I had his full attention as I began.

"I was coming back from the island and it was beginning to rain. I wanted to get back fast but I saw a walker herd coming by and hid for a while. Then somebody grabbed me. It was the Wolves. They ambushed me and were going to drag me away. Then I yelled and it attracted the walkers. They distracted the Wolves while I got away, but it was storming really bad by then. I started running and I think I got turned around or something. Then a tree fell over and knocked me out. It hid me under the branches till morning and when I woke up I didn't know where I was. I decided to find a road. If I could find one I knew I could find home. Then I met the Waifs. They were afraid of me at first but after a while I was able to get them to trust me and we all came back together. And… that's what happened."

I glanced up at him and saw the worried frown on his face. I had been certain not to detail that it had been me specifically they had been looking for. I didn't feel it was entirely important. Making him aware of the coming threat was all that mattered.

"Look if I'm honest I wasn't going to tell you at all, but… the Wolves could still be out there. I know it's been years since we saw them but I don't want anyone going out there without knowing they're around so I'm telling you this now."

Dad looked very uneasy with the news.

"This isn't good." He said, turning to look out the window in thought.

"Does… does this mean I won't be able to apprentice with Aaron and you?"

He looked back at me and I could tell from his expression that he was considering it, but sighed. "I'm very concerned about it all, but if what you're saying is the truth then it looks like you handled yourself very well. There's always going to be people we'll need to be extra careful around and the worry of whether they're trustful or not is always going to be there. But you're not going to learn anything by staying behind these walls forever. We'll just need to be extra careful, alright?"

I breathed in relief. It was so great that he was still going to let me apprentice with him.

"I was scared of telling you." I admitted. "I wasn't sure what you would do. I thought it would jeopardize my shot. You're so overprotective!"

He crossed over and sat by me on my hammock, rubbing my back soothingly. "I'm more surprised that even after all you went through, you're still so eager to get back out there."

"It's just… it's part of me."

"I know and I'm starting to believe that keeping you cooped up would be worse than anything that could get you out there. I'm still concerned and it's still dangerous as hell, but… damn as much as I try you're just not going to stay put, are you?"

"No. Sorry."

"I'll just have to make plans about these threats. We'll have a meeting and see how we'll deal with them. I know it's hard but I'd really like you not to go out alone anymore, just till we've figured out a plan, understand?"

"Alright."

He turned me so that I was looking right up into his stern expression. "This time I mean it, Judith. You don't go out alone until this has been dealt with. No going to the island, no matter how much you want to, okay. Just… please… for me."

His face was so desperately imploring that I didn't have the heart to disobey him.

"Alright, I'll stay put. But figure something out fast, alright. It's been ages since I was at the island and I'm afraid things are starting to overgrow."

"Don't worry about that. Enid and I have been handling it."

"Really?"

"Sure. We can't let all those go to waste. That's a highly valuable asset."

I smiled up at him and felt a great weight lift off of me by that. I had been worrying about the island since the first day I received my cast. It was so nice to know I had the help of my dad and friend to keep that secret land from being overrun with weeds and pests.

Author's Notes: It's been a while since I posted but here we are. The final words Judith gives Negan is from the Cut-Wife Joanne Clayton in Penny Dreadful. There may be a small connection between her and the witch that is revealed in later chapters but I'm not going to say what just yet. For the moment you can believe that the reason Judith can recite those words now is because she has a very strong connection with spiritual forces and because of that she can recall things that would have otherwise been left forgotten.

If you can, I would appreciate feedback about how you like the story so far. You've no idea how much I enjoy reading those. Thank you all for your support and keep the reviews coming.