Chapter 47
If You Don't Bend, You will Break
I felt hopeless and constantly drained those first few weeks. It was the lowest I had ever been in my life. Negan wanted to stock up on the cure despite the doctor's advisement against taking too much from me too soon, especially since I was recovering from injuries and in dangerous emotional instability. I suspected he didn't care though and had no patience to wait for me to recover.
It was actually me who'd put the idea of expanding in Negan's head. With the cure at his disposal he could do a lot with it. By getting the word out to other groups, people would come to him of their own accord and would pay for it, too. For those people who extended beyond his reach through Virginia and neighboring regions, they would flock to the Sanctuary and offer him all the supplies and valuables he could have dreamed of.
Having the cure in his hands gave him more power than any other group could have ever dreamt of.
I was his "golden goose" as he'd put it. But if he butchered me it wasn't going to do him a lot of good.
It sucked and was a total piece of shit move on my part, but I figured I might just be able to come out of it winning.
In all honesty, it wasn't even really my idea. It took the appearance of a long-dead traveler to jar me from my depressive state and instruct me on just how I could turn this situation to my advantage.
A few nights after my suicide attempt, I woke in my room to find a spirit I hadn't seen for years. It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness but when I finally focused, I saw a large transparent figure sitting near the table.
"Merle?" I said, practically leaping up from my made-up bed on the floor. Out of all the entities I had seen before, he was the most surprising to encounter. "What—what are you doing here?"
He looked pissed.
"I'm tired of watchin' ya fuck up around here." He said bluntly. "I'm here t' watch over my brother but I also have to stand by and watch ya, too! I'm not a fucking babysitter. Ya got no idea what yer doin', brat."
My surprise for his appearance was only surpassed by strong offense. He had never said so much as a word to me, but he decided to show up now to give me a lecture? I shot back at him angrily. "Well of course I don't know what I'm doing. I'm only a kid!"
"Think!" He said, pointing at his head exasperatedly. "Yer the fuckin' cure! He needs ya!"
"I know that! But he's got more power than I do!"
"Maybe he does." He announced. "But if ya play yer cards right, he'll give ya whatever ya want."
"I don't want anything from him!" I announced, turning angrily. I wasn't going to abandon my pride and start asking that bastard for things. "I hate him and I don't need or want anything he could possibly give me!"
"That's yer fucking pride talking again. Ditch that stupidity already and listen for once."
"Listen?" I repeated with fury. "You've never so much as said one word to me, but you show up now to yell at me? I don't need your lectures!"
"Yes, ya do, because once more yer letting someone else call the shots for ya, without thinking of the big picture."
"Big picture?" I repeated in the same offensive tone, but then I paused. What was Merle trying to tell me? "What big picture?"
"The entire world wants the cure and yer the only one that exists." He elaborated. "Think about it; Negan will keep a tight-lip on it at first, but once people start figuring it out, they'll come here and try to take it by force or they'll have t' pay for it, and a lot of people will pay for it."
Suddenly, I understood what Merle was telling me.
Negan would get rich and powerful. In fact, he would get very rich and powerful. But I was the only thing that would ensure that. Without me... he had nothing. But he also knew I was a loose cannon if not properly monitored. I was crazy enough to do just about anything as was demonstrated, which was why he issued me a guard.
"Oh god. I am dumb." I said with self-disgusted realization.
"Play it to yer advantage, kid." Merle went on. "If he don't have ya, he don't have nuthin', but then neither will yer people."
It was like a light blinked on in my brain by those words. He saw the reaction on my face and nodded. This was exactly what he was telling me.
Alexandria could benefit from this.
The next day, I found Negan in the wives' quarters. It had taken a while but I eventually managed to ditch my constant escort somewhere in the market. Being small and skinny definitely has its advantages for sneaking around. Even if I did have a giant red sign on me, it was surprisingly easy to bribe another kid with a music player I found in the room into wearing the blazing cloak for me and giving the woman a bit of a chase while I did my work. I didn't need her hanging over my shoulder, and her absence was crucial to how I would make this pitch.
When I approached the door I paused, not completely sure if I should just barge in. Merle said it was the best time ever to confront him about it, though. Catching him off-guard was the way to do it, preferably when he wasn't expecting he would have to counterfire.
"Don't bow out, kid." He had said, his presence standing over mine. "And don't show 'im that yer scared. Yer not scared of 'im!"
But I was scared of Negan. He made Daryl beat me up! He let him get bitten. He could do anything he wanted to me and him and anyone else I cared about.
"No, he can't. He needs ya healthy." Merle argued. "Do not pussy out, ya hear me! Pussy out and yer family gits nuthin'!"
I shuffled outside the room nervously, reaching up and gripping Merle's fishhook charm on my neck. "Alright. But… stay with me?" I looked at him uneasily.
"Gotta learn to do these things on yer own, kid. What? You want me to hold yer hand in there?"
"No!" I snapped back, embarrassed that he had seen my weakness. "I just… want a little support. I don't know if I can do this on my own."
"I never got any support in life fer nuthin'. Learn t' do things on yer own!"
"I don't need you to stand by me!" I snapped. "But… it would be nice to know I wasn't alone. And what if I mess up or I don't know what to say next and everything goes wrong?"
He studied me. "Alright, little girl. If ya need I'll be around."
That was a bit of a relief. I sucked a breath in and stretched to my full height, filled with new determination. If Merle was around, maybe I could do this—No! I would do this!
I marched inside and spotted Negan drinking what I assumed was beer and lounging on the couch with one of the girls on his lap and another leaning against his side. Sucking another deep inhale, I approached him with confidence.
I could do this! I would do this!
He saw me coming and his brow raised in surprise to see me just wondering in there. Then he smirked. "Not sure if this is the best place for you right now. But maybe you're getting a little curious. Hard to say what goes on in your head, but they do say girls mature faster."
I didn't react to those words. Merle had told me to let him make his insults and not to react to any of them. That's how he wanted to catch me off guard.
Stay on topic. Keep thinking of what I was there for.
"I have… matters of business to discuss with you." I announced, puffing up to keep the determination in me from evaporating. It helped to be standing while he was sitting. I was still shorter than him but only by about a few inches now so the extra height made me feel a little braver.
He laughed and his head tilted while a brow rose in amusement. "Really? Business?" He lifted the drink to his lips and I reached over and pushed it away, letting him know I was entirely serious.
"Business." I repeated looking him in the eye with all the courage and authority I had to muster. Inside though, I was a trembling mess.
His brow lowered in anger at my impudence, voice growing dark and deadly. "Fuck." He said almost reproachfully. "You really don't know when to quit, do you? I guess that lesson your friend Daryl taught you didn't stick very well, if you're trying to fuck with me now."
A cold sweat lit on the back of my neck but I answered calmly either way, "It did, but this is more important than any of that and we're going to settle this now, not after you're done screwing your—your concubines!"
That had been Merle's suggestion to say, but I edited concubine from "hos". I only knew what a concubine was from watching the movie, Mulan. If they could say it in that children's movie then I thought it must not be as bad to say and I had decided earlier maybe it was better not to insult the wives too much. They were the ones I had to see more often after all and I didn't want to get too far on any of their bad sides even if I didn't really like or respect them.
The room went quiet as all attention turned to the discussion. Both the woman on his lap and the one at his side got up, sensing something bad was about to happen. Negan rose to his feet as well, towering over me and looking ten times more intimidating, but I held his gaze even if my heart rammed so hard against my ribs and pounded my ears in a way that sounded nearly deafening.
Glare! I told myself. Keep glaring!
"You're a real slow learner. I'll get Daryl back here to teach you a new one then, and this time—,"
"As unpleasant as that is for everyone," I declared cutting him off, "you want to hear what I say first! And if you don't like what it is—well part of it you won't like either way but you will hear it and I'm going to say it, so is there someplace we can discuss it professionally or no?!"
The room went entirely still. You could hear a pin drop.
"I don't have to hear anything from you." He said, sneering dangerously.
"Yes, you do, or I'm gunna be dead tomorrow and you will be out one cure for this epidemic and be dealing with a whole lot of shit from a lot of different people."
That got him to respond. He was the first to break from the stare down, glancing around at his women angrily as he took a moment to think. Moving a hand to my neck he steered me out of the quarters and back to his room. It was unnerving to be alone with him, but I glanced once behind his back and saw Merle leaning against the door and knew I wasn't ever really alone.
He said nothing but looked at the back of Negan's head like he were burning a hole through it. He had been with his brother even after his death. He couldn't help him, not really. No spirit could really interfere with the actions of the living. I didn't understand how it worked entirely, but I understood the ones that lingered didn't dwell entirely in the living world. Sometimes they existed in a sort of limbo. They didn't always see the living either, or so I had been told by Vanessa. Some spirits were stronger than others. If they had unfinished business, like a loved one they needed to look after it was easier for them to switch between the planes of existence.
In order to make an impression upon the world they needed to feel strong enough emotion to access the energy they no longer had in life. Sometimes it was just strong enough to move things, if only slightly. The more they managed to harness that energy then they'd be promoted to something of a poltergeist, but it was extremely rare and almost no spirit could do it, nor did they really wish to. It helped if there was something tethering them to the world like a physical object, or better yet, a place. Glenn could move back and forth from where I was to where Maggie was because I had my charm bracelet with the racecar that I used to represented him, and back at Hilltop, Maggie had the watch her father had given to him after they'd received his blessing when he asked to marry her.
Sometimes, if a spirit was persistent, they could visit their loved ones in sleep, the moment during life that imitated death the most, and send them fragmented messages from beyond the grave. Normally they were too scrambled by the spirit's excitement and it wasn't often that the living individual remembered the messages after waking, and over time then tended to forget them.
Better yet, spirits could make an even greater impression if they had a catalyst they could possess and act through, like a medium or a witch similar to me. After what Glenn had done that one time with Negan's bat, I never intended to let any spirit use me like that no matter what the reason. But that incident had prompted me to take extra precautions with a ritual that would deny any spiritual forces from ever puppeting me around like that again.
Still, I didn't quite know why I was able to see them so easily; if it was something other witches like me could normally do. From what I learned from the many books Vanessa had shown me, there wasn't much about such a subject. All I knew was that what I could do was something similar to Necromancy, but most of that required rituals and dark magic that needed to be called upon with materials and that specialized with that kind of energy. I had never required anything like that to talk to my dead before and I never dared to willfully call on them either. They always came to me themselves.
To force a conversation by way of a séance was considered rude, and not just that, it was dangerous. I could accidentally call on something negative and the last thing I wanted was to end up with a spirit like a banshee that'd scream at me when I was trying to go to sleep, and that wasn't even the worst-case scenario.
Vanessa had assured me she might be able to tell me more about it someday, but she said it was best if I was a bit older to really understand. Now it looked like I was never going to really understand.
I tried not to think about Vanessa very often these days. It hurt too much and I missed her greatly. Even if I had her tooth to a charm on my ankle her spirit was not like Glenn's or any of the others. She had been a witch when she was alive and sustained her shape with an energy much different than regular ghosts. Her shape could manifest and be maintained much more often than others only because of the spells and runes that were interwoven all around the diameter of the property where she lived with a physical body. She couldn't leave it, even if I did attempt to call upon her.
But I couldn't think too much about that right now. This meeting was too important to let my thoughts wonder. So, I tried to keep my attention on the conversation at hand and the two male presences I needed to consider.
Merle was still glaring at Negan from his place by the door, unable to act. After all he'd watched this man do to his little brother, I wonder if he hated him as much as I did.
I could do this. I could do this!
"You dragged me away from my lounge time, brat." His grip on my neck tightened so hard there would definitely be a bruise there. The tone his voice had was frightening enough to make me want to flee with my tail between my legs and crawl right back under a bed, where I could curl up in the dark space and never be seen again. "So, this had better be good. If you've wasted my time I'm going to take a whole arm off of Daryl."
I glanced at Merle, seeing the furious reaction he had with that last statement and swallowed hard. I could do this! I could do this!
"You do have me on a leash," I said to him. "I'm not arguing that, but you're on mine just as much as I'm on yours."
My words made him pause. "Is that what you tell yourself?" He mocked, chuckling loudly. "How do you figure that?"
"Let's face it," I announced bracing myself to keep from breaking, "I'm going to make you richer and more powerful than you've ever been before. People are going to come to the Sanctuary on their own when they find out what you've got. They'll want it and they'll pay for it with whatever they can offer you, but none of that matters if your golden goose is butchered." I paused for effect, glaring daggers at him and I could tell I had his entire focus on my words. "I could kill myself. I can do it, as we've established before. If you haven't noticed yet I don't have my guard. If I can slip away from her so easily, it wouldn't take a whole lot of effort to get something lethal in a few seconds. And in my opinion, it really doesn't matter which way I go so long as you aren't there on the other side. If it means I'd be rid of you, you know I'd do it. Then where would you be? Back to square one. And yeah, you can threaten to kill my family or hurt Daryl if I tried, but threats like that don't matter to a dead girl. And I think there would be a lot of people out there that'd be pretty angry to find out that you had a cure but, like always, you went and fucked it up for everyone."
He no longer smiled as he listened to my argument.
Good. I hated it when he smiled.
His eyes narrowed at me. "So, what do you want?"
"Half!" I said to him. "I want half of everything you collect from your trades to be distributed to my people, and you no longer are allowed to take anything from the town of Alexandria again, not so much as a loaf of bread. And—and Daryl is treated better! He gets a bed, clean clothes, and proper meals from now on! That's my deal!"
He was damn livid at the offer. In one fell swoop I was going to take away his favorite town to fuck over. I was taking my father away from him. With this deal, he would never be able to touch them again. And then maybe… just maybe my dad could summon his strength again, summon his courage and become the powerful leader I knew him to be and crush this motherfucker once and for all.
His grip moved from my neck to the collar of my shirt and hoisted me off my feet. I looked back at him, meeting his glare and consciously aware I couldn't flinch from it. This was strategy; I had to show him I meant business. Any moment of weakness would be used against me. "You really didn't learn much from that demonstration your friend Daryl made."
"I learned that you can make pretty much anyone do whatever you want," I said, "but I still have a trump card, and I'm using it!"
"No one," he began furiously with a rumbling growl, "tells me what to do."
"Except someone who can take a potential enterprise from you! And that someone is whoever the cure is, and right now that's me! I might not have an army or weapons or any of that. But my life is mine to take when I want to. Just try and stop me!"
Then he laughed. "You really think you're going to control me that way? You think I'm going to believe you would just kill yourself?"
"Are you serious? With how close I got the other day?" I said trying not to shake in my boots. "I was ready to do it! Gods know I was ready to do it! The world's a big giant cesspool filled to the brim with dead people or people like you! And I'm stuck here without any chance of leaving! If I've got nothing to gain and nothing to lose there's no reason to stick around? And with the disgusting way you treat people—even your own people—all you've managed to do is fill me up with—with dysphoria! And if there's no promise my situation will improve… well you imagine what happens!"
His eyes swept my expression, trying to detect a flicker of doubt or hesitation, but he found none. Finally, his hand opened, releasing my shirt so I stumbled away from him.
I couldn't tell what his expression was and my eyes flickered back and forth from Merle's transparent form to Negan. There was a terrible silence that filled the room, as if he were trying to find a loophole within the logic and threat I had proposed. Finally, his mouth turned up and he started to clap slowly.
"Well done." He announced with that unnerving shark grin. "Just when I thought I was beginning to figure you out, you're just full of more and more surprises. If you were a few years older I might just be in love."
My face twisted in disgust. "Messed up!" I deadpanned looking appalled. I snapped back on topic quickly, though. "Back to the point, those are my conditions."
"Hmm… 'fraid I don't think I'll be able to give you an even half. Let's say thirty percent."
I didn't need to look at Merle's shaking head to know what my decision was going to be. "No. My deal is already reasonable. Especially when I say half I mean HALF and not "half is whatever I say it is," quoting you."
The vein in his neck bulged as he tried to conceal his rising fury. "You run a hard bargain."
"Guess who I learned that from?" Ugh! Just thinking of similarities between me and him filled me with disgust. I was NOTHING like him! But I had a feeling he would enjoy the comparison so I ran with it. Behind him, Merle nodded in approval. Looks like he thought so, too.
Negan did like it. He strode passed me to the small bar in his room, unstopping one of the bottles and pouring a glass of something that smelled like gasoline or something like it. "I had no idea you looked up to me like that."
"Well I have to look up to everyone! That's the problem with being short."
"I guess it is. But we're running a hard bargain here I want something more. You've already proven that your tough as nails, you won't bend or break but this time you will."
I swallowed by those words feeling the sweat on my neck slide profoundly down as he went on to elaborate. "You will obey me. You will stop fighting me once and for all and you will fall in line right by my side. You will no longer force my hand and you will be thankful and sincere about anything I choose to do. Do we have an agreement?"
My anger flared hot as I prepared a retort to tell Negan to go straight to hell, but then I saw Merle and he looked angrily towards me. "Don't fuck this up now, kid. Just do it this time!"
Every instinct in me fought against the idea. But then the fire was doused and I swallowed hard against the angry ringing in my ear. To anyone else it seemed like a small thing, but what if Negan told me to do something I couldn't do, something that went against my nature, that challenged what I believed in. What if he ordered me to do something humiliating or demeaning. I wasn't quite certain what that could be, but knowing him, I could guess.
Even so, I knew there was no other way around it. Faces erupted in my head at that moment. Dad, Michonne, Carl, Mari, Tanti, Louis, Aaron, Eric, Rosita, everyone—they were counting on me to do this, to help them, even if they didn't know it. Other faces burst in my vision, too. Abraham, Glenn, Spencer, Tara, and the most recent victim, Olivia. They were all dead thanks to this terrible man. And there was Daryl to think about, too. My uncle was practically dead. He was like a ghost; he was worse than a ghost and it was far more likely things would get worse for him rather than better if I didn't do something to help him.
My comfort didn't matter in the long run, nor my pride, the one thing I held value over everything else I owned. But if I didn't do something about it now, it was going to cost me more than I had to give, and the next time it wouldn't be me who would pay that price. Negan had promised that.
There were other people to think about, there were other people to take care of. I had been selfish and stupid this whole time. Was I going to let one minor condition stand in the way of my people's freedom?
I swallowed, knowing what my answer was, but tasting ash as the words came out anyways. "Okay. Yes. We have an agreement."
He smiled, looking deeply pleased with himself. It took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to gut punch him. Then he handed me a glass of that same bitter smelling liquid. "Let's toast to a bargain well struck."
I looked down at it curiously. It smelled awful and I was suspicious, but a quick glance at Merle told me I wasn't going to be drugged or poisoned. My portion was smaller than the man's was, but I was still apprehensive towards the drink.
"You ever have whiskey?"
I looked down at the glass, smelling the fumes experimentally. Brewing alcohol had been our main form of tribute to the saviors for a long time. We chose good, because they took a lot of it.
I had grown up watching adults drink this stuff all the time and had been curious about it myself, but the smell of it always discouraged me from trying it in the end, that is, if a wiser adult didn't do the job first. But I had tried a beer once before.
There was a bottle I had snuck from shelves of the distillery back home. It was only out of curiosity that had caused my uncharacteristic act of theft. Growing up watching movies about grownups drinking this stuff, family members indulging in it every once in a while, even reading about it in books, my curiosity had gotten the better of me this one time.
Even if Carl was allowed to drink it Dad and Michonne absolutely refused to allow me any of till I had reached maturity. He told me it was for older people, after they've quit growing. I knew it made people feel funny when drunken in quantity but I didn't understand what sort of "funny" until I decided to sate my curiosity. So, stealing away into the forest one day while the Saviors were visiting, I took my prize to the island and sat in the boat to indulged in my beverage before seeing Vanessa for my lesson that day.
The taste was terrible and the first mouthful almost completely discouraged me from finishing it right then and there.
It was bitter and sour and dry. It was so gross and I hated it, but I wanted to know what Dad meant by "funny" and I wanted to know the whole extent. I didn't want to finish it, but I determinedly gulped down the rest of the bottle's contents before I could talk myself out of it.
What came after made me vow to never indulge in anything similar to it ever again. My head got dizzy and I stumbled around the cottage in a daze. I was convinced, though, that nothing much about me had changed. Well, besides having a bad taste in my mouth and maybe the floor seemed just a little tilted, now. Vanessa had shown up at the absolute worst possible moment right then and I spent the next few minutes hacking the drink back up in the kitchen sink. Later I had passed out right on the couch and didn't wake up until Vanessa had roused me to get back home.
To let my respected and deceased teacher see what an uncontrolled mess I had become under the influence, was one of the most humiliating moments of my life and I cringed at the memory as I stared into the glass.
"People drink it back home, but my dad wouldn't let me," I told him. "He said it isn't something kids should drink."
"Not often," Negan informed, "But maybe just once in a blue moon." He knocked his glass against mine making a loud clink as he tilted it back. "Word of advice for a first timer: don't keep it in your mouth long enough to taste it. Best to throw it back quickly. Bottoms up."
I glanced once at my glass, new apprehension for this beverage growing with his warning. I thought I knew a little about what to expect and my stomach clenched with the memory of that first time. Even with it in mind, I wasn't about to show him I was afraid of a drink. Before thinking of it too much, I inhaled a large breath and downed it in one gulp.
Beer had not prepared me for whiskey in the least. Fire and gasoline coasted down my throat. It was the worst thing that had ever been in my mouth but I forced it down all the way. The meager amount of whiskey was so much smaller than the larger portion of Negan's, but he was accustomed to the taste and passing sensation, I wasn't. My brain fogged and everything felt strange and fuzzy, just like with the beer only worse and instant rather than gradually back when I was finishing that one watered down bottle. I coughed, leaning on my knees as I tried to keep the liquid from rising up again. I wondered if that was what cyanide tasted like.
"Poison." I wheezed swallowing hard on spit to rid my mouth of the taste.
Negan laughed loudly and I felt so humiliated.
"That'll knock you on your ass, now won't it?"
"Shut up." I hissed at him, coughing more and trying not to black out.
"It's a little disappointing." He said, taking in my reaction with a frown. "I was partially expecting you would suck that down like a pro. Still, for a first timer and kid your age, I suppose you took it like a champ."
He took the glass from me and stacked it with his own at the table. "You really are the breadwinner in your family aren't you? Always finding ways to provide for them. Even all the way back here and you're still making sure they're taken care of."
He sounded like he admired it.
More than anything else I hated it when he praised me. I hated pleasing him in any way.
"Everyone does their part." I told him. Even if I was dizzy from the effects I still had my own venom along with my judgment on how I could utilize it with the maximum damage. "Everyone takes care of everyone. They're not like your people one bit. They're NOT Negan."
I had heard of how people seemed to all be Negan here. Just another shield for him to hide behind, used in a way to make it seem like they were all united somehow as a conglomerate organized force operating under the name of the individual that claimed to have "saved them." But it wasn't that way. I knew it, I saw the truth even if no one else here could. It was just another way to strip them of their individuality. That's why no one cared about anyone here. Why they didn't seem to morn their dead. It also served as a shield for him to use so that Negan could be the faceless destructive leader of the hated fascist regime. It was just another way for Negan to use all of them. To hide behind all of them. The fact that they couldn't see that, made them all worse than enemies; they were scum.
If they wanted to be Negan they were the absolute worst people that ever lived on planet Earth in the history of civilization and I'd make sure they would all burn for it.
My words, though I understood that they were going to cost me even before I said them, I still did said so anyways, because I hated him, and that hatred was blinding.
Negan's pleased expression was gone just as soon as it'd appeared. "I'm going to put our little deal to the test now and give you an opportunity to apologize for that statement, sweetheart, because you promised to behave from now on."
I didn't want to apologize. I meant what I said. Every word. But I knew I had to. I deflated, forcing myself to lose my tense indifference and adopt sometime like… not submission, exactly, but accepted weariness, like this battle was beneath me.
"I… I'm sorry." I struggled, trying to sound as earnest as I could, because I really didn't want to have to say it again like he would probably make me if it didn't satisfy.
But despite my effort Negan wouldn't let me get off that easy. "Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for being disrespectful."
There was a short pause while he considered it. "I forgive you."
He said it like it was incredibly benevolent of him to do so.
You're not. I wanted to snap at him so, so badly. You're not benevolent. You're not merciful. You're not GOOD! There's nothing good about any part of you and I'm going to hate you till the day I die!
"I can see this is a bit of a struggle for you." He said out of nowhere, studying my strained expression.
So maybe I wasn't as good at disguising my features as I had tried to be.
"And I'm not entirely convinced, but I'm willing to give you a chance to demonstrate it. So, you're going to find Claire and you're going to apologize to her."
I looked at him in confusion. "Clare?" I didn't know a woman named Clare, only a man. A man who was long gone by now and Negan couldn't have possibly known about him.
"Claire," He insisted. "The woman who keeps an eye on you."
"Oh." One of my many babysitters I realized. The guard that I ditched. But what did I do wrong to her? "Apologize for what, though?"
"For sending her on a wild goose chase trying to find you. I'll bet she's been all up and down the Sanctuary looking for you and is panicking right now because she has no idea where you are."
I snorted involuntarily at the thought. "What am I supposed to say to her? 'Sorry you can't do your job very well?'" I announced it all without thinking. I swallowed the rest of the words that were on my tongue, mindful that I had agreed to behave from now on.
Damnit. There I go again.
Negan wasn't amused and I knew by the way the vein bulged in his neck he was close to getting angry with me. "S." He tested sternly.
Oh man, I already hated this. Still, it was best to just take the pill than resist it, at least then I could take it my own way. I could apologize, but that didn't mean I needed to lower myself to her. Just because I promised to behave didn't mean I promised to be courteous. They could be sure I wouldn't rebel, or shout, or insult them if their egos proved to be so delicate.
"Okay. Yes. If she needs one so bad, I'll apologize to her, but I want something for it."
My response must not have been what he had expected, as I did not stubbornly refuse nor meekly surrender reluctantly, as was my nature. Negan stilled himself, glowering and waiting for my demands.
"Daryl." I told him firmly. "I want his living conditions improved right now. After you've done that I'll trust you can answer to the rest like I insist and then I'll apologize to the woman."
Negan wasn't pleased. He had meant the demand to subdue or humiliate me, because he didn't expect my pride would allow me to admit I was wrong. I wasn't wrong and I didn't regret what I had done. Then I had turned the situation around on him by agreeing to it, and only by my conditions.
He seemed to think wildly of a way to bring me to heel again.
"And after you do that you're going to get cleaned up and put something decent on. I want you ready for dinner tonight and I want you wearing something suitable WITH your cloak. Wherever you've put it, you're going to find it and I never want to see you without it again."
I grimaced with the reminder. I hated that thing so much, but there was no way I could refuse it. For the life of me, I didn't understand why he wanted me to wear it all the time. What was his nasty obsession with the cloak? It was straight up creepy.
"Fine." I said with no other words than that. Even if, for the past few weeks, I had been allowed my meals alone my most frequent company was only the wives and or my guard. Not since the first time I promptly shut the possibility down, none of them had even attempted a conversation with me, and I was perfectly content with this development. I did not want to get to know anyone. Still, I quietly knew that I would eventually have to endure another dinner with my warden sooner or later, it was just a matter of when that was going to be.
Yet still, I knew this dinner was established more as a test to see how well I intended to behave for him, rather than an opportunity for so called "quality time". I was beginning to sincerely hope he was starting to despise my company as much as I hated his.
And yet I continued to wonder dismally just how much Negan intended to test my boundaries tonight and shuddered at the idea.
With my agreement, Negan seemed satisfied and turned me towards the door. "Alrighty then, let's go find Clair then."
Author's Notes: I know right. It's been so long since I updated. I've been procrastinating with it so much because I wanted to try and post some artwork like I promised I would.
Well… I did! Yay! You can view it on my deviantart account. And since fanfiction is mean and doesn't let anyone attach links or pictures to their stories (I should really just keep this on archive of our own, but that sight makes things even harder to edit sometimes) here is the link itself with spaces doodlebugqt . deviantart . com
I've only got like three pictures up right now, but I will post more later.
In the meantime, OHMYGOSH! Did you watch the recent episodes? I'm so emotionally invested in this horror story and yet at the same time it is seriously the only show that makes me want to kill myself after every episode! Not even Game of Thrones could do this, since they usually showed us the horrible stuff first and then ended with Khaleesi being a freaking badass! That way, it didn't leave such a horrible sensation of anticipated anxiety and fear for next week's abuse on our beloved characters. I mean it was still there but we were comforted with thoughts of Starks becoming more and more awesome and honorable. It sure feels like there's no comfort AT ALL in TWD!
I mean, do they seriously have to kill off EVERY doctor? These writers SUCK!
I just want everyone to live happily ever after already. Although, I can't really talk for myself, I guess. I assure you there will be more suffering to follow in this tale, but as much suffering as I promise there were will be a fair amount of fluff to compensate.
As always, I encourage and appreciate all your wonderful comments.
Luv ya lots, guys!