Chapter 51
Solitary Confinement

Those days inside that room alone were the longest of my entire life. Meals were brought in frequent succession always by the same guard. She never stayed longer than it took for her to drop off the tray and then leave promptly. I was glad for it. The trip to the small community bathroom was just as brief and I only seemed to visit when it was empty. I wasn't sure if it was coincidence or they had planned it that way. At least I had a sink in the room, giving me unlimited access to water when I was thirsty and providing me with an area I could brush my teeth and wash my face.

I wasn't very committed to bathing all that much, even back home when I had better access to the house shower and tub, but even if I didn't wash my hair as much as my family prompted me to, I always tried to take obsessive care of my teeth. There were no dentists in any of the communities and my brother carried a certain sort of relish in terrifying me with stories about cavities and tooth decay.

"They're big holes you get in your teeth when you don't take care of them." He had told me when I was eight. "And they just get worse and worse and worse and you're overcome with horrible stabbing pain in your mouth all day long till you can't eat anything except apple sauce and oatmeal. If nothing is done about it, they rot right out of your head while you're sleeping. Other times the pain is so horrible you have to get someone to help you wrench it out to make the pain go away. Sometimes they tie a wire to the tooth then connect the other end to a big rock and drop it out a window. The force pops the tooth right out. Other times, if no one has a rock or a wire, they get some big plyers or a monkey wrench and pull the sucker out themselves. I hear it's the most painful thing in the world, besides kidney stones."

The revelation had terrified me so much, I had obsessively scrubbed my teeth clean every morning and evening since. I never ever wanted my teeth to rot out of my head and I took extra care to preserve the health of the visible bone at all times.

Having the sink in there was really just another reason to deny me outside contact of any kind. I knew I was a prisoner, but the lack of people to speak to, trusted living people that is, was overwhelming at times. Back home when either people were too busy or unwilling to spend time with me, I had learned how I could sometimes even be my own friend.

So, I was no stranger to exclusion and sometimes even rejection, but this was almost crippling. There was so much pent up aggression and frustration inside of me that I was almost desperate enough to turn to my guard for someone to alleviate a bit of that tension.

But I never did, choosing to hold her in the same resentment I did for everyone else who called themselves Negan.

We never spoke a word to each other before (that is if you don't count the apology I was forced to give her) but now I was clearly losing my mind and was almost aching for her to say something to me.

There were only brief occasional respites when the ghosts would visit me. Their visits were short and they never seemed to speak coherently for some reason, something I had gotten used to over the years. Most tended to ramble at times, usually about the way they died, others would appear only to disappear a moment later. Beth visited me once or twice to sing a song but that was all she had ever done, though. Sing songs, usually sad ones.

I thought maybe Merle might visit me again, but I hadn't seen him since the advice he had given me to make that deal to get what my town needed. I sort of wished he would come again, just for someone to talk to and maybe argue with for a while. He was one of the few that was actually capable of that sort of coherent conversation, which was very unexpected for a spirit that had only allowed me to see glimpses of him before. Maybe he'd tell me how to handle my new situation, but it looked like I was on my own for this one.

The few that had the ability and the insight to knit together full active conversations were so rare. I didn't see very many in fact and when they came, it was usually in my dreams, of which I could hardly remember come morning. For some reason, it almost felt like the ghosts knew I was supposed to be in solitude and were keeping their distance. The thought sparked resentment, and I blamed them for leaving me when I needed them more than ever now. On the other hand, there was another thought that worried me more for their prolonged absence. Maybe it was just as I had feared back when Carl, Michonne, and I were exploring D.C. and I conveyed my worries to my brother that I may have been growing out of that strange sixth sense.

My mother, who had once been the one to visit me more than all the others, had abruptly vanished from my life the very moment I asked her if it would be okay if I began to call Michonne "Mom" the same way Carl had begun to. When I turned back to see what she would say about it, she was gone and hadn't come back since then. It happened without any sort of warning but I figured that perhaps she had merely left to think about my request and would be back soon with an answer for me. But she hadn't.

She was just… gone.

"Mama," I whispered one night, after being awoken from another nightmare. I lied out under the bed, feeling better with the security of the tight space, yet still somehow vulnerable thanks to the violence fathomed from the dream. I hugged tight to the pillow, wishing it was someone from back home that would offer comfort and calm me down. My thoughts were towards my mother though and I wished in that moment, more than anything, that she was with me. If not to hold me then to at least talk and whisper encouragements to ease me from terror.

An over-powering feeling of guilt and sorrow plagued me just then and I spoke again into the night for her.

"Mom, I—I'm sorry, okay. I don't want Michonne as my mother! I want you! Okay? I—I'm sorry I asked to call her that. I really am! I just want you back! I just… I need you back, now. Please come back to me."

But she didn't come back. I didn't know why she was staying away from me, other than to think I had hurt her feelings to ask her something that seemed so disrespectful. I wanted to be sorry for it, and I thought I was, but in my heart Michonne was just as much my mother as Lori had been. So maybe she wouldn't come back because she knew my true feelings.

So, she stayed away, and I stayed in the cell.

Aside from crippling loneliness, it wasn't all bad. At least I had things to occupy my time like the books from the shelves and my things from home. Vanessa's Book of Shadows was a good distraction, but as much as I loved pouring over the beautiful scrapbook it still didn't prevent me from feeling completely caged. I needed sunlight and fresh air. The stupid band across the wall that served as my only window had no way that allowed me to open it, even if it was possible to reach it!

I didn't even go down to the infirmary for blood donations, something that stunned me to realize I would have endured with no objections if only for a small change of scenery.

No. I was confined exclusively to the room.

As an additional affect, my apatite was lost in solitary. I didn't eat much; I mean, I never ate much, but I consumed even less than I did before. Eventually, I lost track of the days and couldn't remember how many had managed to go by. There were days when I didn't even bother changing from the pajamas I wore.

I found myself longing for human contact of any kind. Any kind but Negan's, at least.

No matter what I felt, no matter how boring and empty it was, I couldn't bring myself to believe that his company would have been better than none at all.

I'd rather die of loneliness than bear his presence ever again, but I knew I'd have to face him eventually, especially with the plague of nightmares that consumed me almost constantly.

The fear that he would release an endless herd on Alexandria ate at me day and night, though night, while I was at the mercy of my own morbid imagination seemed to carry the most damage.

Why, oh why had I provoked him? What was wrong with me? Just because I had a Free of Infection via Walker Bite VIP card, didn't mean other people had that same privilege. I was the only one in the world that drew them from me unscathed, yet I was acting as if everyone were capable of that feat. How could I have been so blind? Once again, I was putting the people I loved in jeopardy because I was letting my pride take control.

"Oh god," I whispered to the dark, fear gnawing at my insides for the conclusion I had finally reached. "I have to apologize, don't I?"

I didn't need someone to confirm my worst fears. I knew they were true. As much as it detested me and as much as I reeled at the idea, confident in the believe that it wasn't ME who should have felt the pressure to swallow my pride in the first place.

I always seemed to be humbling myself to that monster, but he had never EVER even once said sorry to me! It was disgusting that he literally carried so much leverage that it alleviated him of all responsibility towards his actions. He had seriously HIT ME—MULTIPLE TIMES! He abused people, he used people, enslaved them and then murdered them. He was an abhorrent ogre of the worst kind, and yet it was still ME who had to apologize. It was so unfair and I just about rejected the idea as easily as it had come to me, but I knew I couldn't refuse.

As much as I didn't want to, I knew I needed to apologize. For the sake of my people I had to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness to that animal. He had given me a month, so maybe he was still mulling it over. Perhaps he meant confining me to my room in a way to humble me towards him and even test to see how long it would take to admit my mistake.

Maybe if I put forth a sincere effort he would reconsider any decision he might have had to unleash anything drastic on my town. The only way to know for sure was to try.

When my guard came in the following morning, bearing a tray of porridge and fruit (which would probably go untouched for the most part), I turned towards her.

"I—I need to speak with Negan." I told her. My voice was surprisingly horse from lack of use and I was a little surprised by its rough sandy tone.

The woman looked at me, stunned to hear me speaking to her, much less acknowledging her in anyway. I had barely done either since she had been appointed to me.

"Negan said you're supposed to stay in here until he said you could come out." She announced firmly yet still a bit shook.

"But I want to… apologize to him." I confided with difficulty, trying to appease to her. "Could you at least tell him that?"

She gave me a careful look, then nodded as she put the tray on the table and left.

I waited for her to return, nibbling only a little on the food and unable to stomach enough of what the doctor had specified as necessary. It was hours before she finally came back and in that time I had worked myself up into crippling anxiety. What if he didn't want to forgive me? What if he wouldn't accept my apology and decided to just go ahead and doom Alexandria? Or worse, what if he did accept it, but only after he smugly told me it was already too late, and he had done what I feared more than anything?

The thought that I would have known right away if he killed anyone from my town, was not comforting. The worst thing I could have imagined was finding the spirit of someone who I had last seen alive, looming suddenly in my room. Because it meant that I had indirectly caused their death and it was thanks to my backtalk and thoughtless provocation of Negan and the other Saviors that had resulted in the fatal end of their lives.

Finally, the door opened and the woman came in.

"I told him you wanted to apologize." She confirmed stoically, with almost no emotion at all. "He said you could see him in an hour."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was willing to let me say my part and an hour gave me time to get ready.

Any time before being here I would have just met him in my regular clothes, but I had been provided a wardrobe full of different outfits, most of which had still remained unworn.

It was an awful concept to know it would possibly end in a better outcome for me if I chose to look a little presentable. The dresses in the wardrobe were probably my best bet to win him over so I chose to wear a beige knitted one with long sleeves and a red flowery design embroidered on the hem, an outfit that went alright with the scarlet cloak I had to wear at all times outside. I added some black leggings and wore them with my boots.

It was a Sunday Best sort of outfit; one that was wildly out of character for me to be seen in. Negan's words during my first few days here came back to mind at the sight of me wearing it in the tall mirror by the wardrobe. His whole spiel about reinventing myself while he held me by the throat against the table seared into my memory, making me flinch. If the dresses were anything to go by, it seemed pretty obvious what sort of reinvention he had meant.

Something quiet, domestic and trained. Something that would complement him when I stood at his side, something that wouldn't fight him, something that would fall into step and obey him like every other sort of livestock in this place.

Anything I tried would only be a farce, though, simmering in quiet, building fury while I waited for my opportunity to execute my rebellion.

When the guard escorted me to his room, I mulled over how I intended to apologize. I had come to realize that the bulk of my anger and fury ignited most ferociously whenever I looked at him. So, it seemed if I kept my gaze away, even trained at some distant point off to the side of him and making his features out of focus and blurred, I may have been able to do this without arousing the furious wild revenge in me.

For my own life and everyone else's, I couldn't look at him while I did this, I'd lose my nerve if I had to see that face and no matter what I tried, no matter how hard I attempted to hold it in, if I saw any sign of a grin or smugness on him, I wouldn't be able to control the resentful little monster in me, I wouldn't be able to keep it from trying to bite him. If I didn't have to look at him then maybe I could pretend that I was apologizing to someone else, someone who truly did deserve an apology. Maybe I could pretend to apologize to the kids of my town instead, and that would at least rid me of the guilt for not treating them better when I had the chance.

He stood by the windows when I entered and I felt his gaze studying me while I faced him, my eyes glanced to the side instead of focused.

"What do you want?" He demanded, sounding annoyed.

I swallowed nervously.

"I'm, s-sorry," I struggled out. It was like pushing a boulder uphill, but once I had it over the edge the rest seemed to roll easily out at that point. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. It was out of line. I'm sorry for my behavior, too. I'll… do better. I'll try not to be so… impolite from now on."

There was a long pause as I kept my focus away from him. I wouldn't look at him. I just couldn't. No matter what, I couldn't let myself destroy this small bit of control I had. I couldn't even allow myself to look up and view his expression. If he wore a grin, the beast in me would want to bite and rip and snap and I couldn't let that happen.

Nothing had ever felt like agony until I met that endless silence. After years it felt like, Negan finally spoke. "I accept your apology," His announcement was devoid of all emotion, but the next part I unmistakably heard resented disgust, "now get back to your room until I tell you to come out again."

The words were like a slap in the face and the coldness prompted me to chance the smallest of glances towards him, but all I saw was his back was towards me, giving me the feeling that I was being brushed off.

I stood there, motionless and uncertain. I couldn't go back to the room, not yet. First, I had to know if he would send a horde back home. I had to know if my apology had done any good.

He glanced back behind him, realizing I was still standing there.

"I said you could go. Aren't you thrilled to leave already or was there something else you wanted?"

I swallowed nervously. "Are… did you send a horde to Alexandria?"

Only if someone who knew him well would have been able to detect the change in his expression by my question. He seemed emotionless about the inquiry, but I didn't miss the tightening in his jaw or the flash of angered unsurprise that crossed his brow.

"Oh, so I guess this visit isn't exactly warranted out of true apology but more so for fear I may do something drastic to that town?"

I flinched by his assessment but didn't attempt to deny it.

He chuckled darkly. "Even if you did mean it in the least, I don't think you're quite ready to come out of your room yet. If I can't trust you to behave properly around this factory then I can't allow you to run around free as a bird any more. All you do is embarrass me and I can't afford that right now."

My lips pressed tight and I felt a lump in my throat. "Am I just going to be locked up in there forever, then?" I hissed.

"Forever? I certainly hope not, but if necessary, then yes. You definitely will."

The revelation stunned me but he went on. "It's hardly even a punishment. You're living better than about ninety percent of the whole world right now. Most people would crawl like a dog to be given the perks you've got. You don't even realize how lucky you are."

"Weird." I muttered venomously. "I don't feel very lucky right now."

"Well maybe you should reexamine your condition." He said softly just barely away from sounding like a snarl. "You're relatively safe. You get three full meals every day (even if you do let most of it go to waste), and it's not like I left you in an empty room with nothing to do. You have distractions to occupy yourself, don't you? Though some would say you barely deserve that much. You've been nothing but a pain in my ass since the moment you got here."

"I never asked for any of this." I fired back in outrage, forgetting myself completely. "I never asked for that room, or those things, or any of the stuff you gave me. You just shoved me in a room and put things in there that you thought would occupy me so you wouldn't have to deal with me."

"Oh, but I still have to deal with you anyways, now don't I?" He responded in a hiss. "And right now, I've had enough to deal with. So, turn around and get your scrawny ass back to your room and stay there until I think you've learned your lesson enough to come out."

His stare looked hot enough to boil water on and sent a strange sort of terror running through me. Fearfully, I turned on my heal and retreated.

Back again in the room, I removed the useless formal clothing and got once more into the pajamas I had barely changed out of since my sentence of confinement had gone into effect. Turning to view my reflection in one of the mirrors I gazed at the person who looked back at me.

I never really gave much thought to how I looked. Vanity was something I might've internally rejected subconsciously, but even so, I stared at myself and my transformed state.

Curiously, my fingers twined around a loch of my hair. Michonne had said that it was honey blond, but I thought it resembled more like the color of tree sap or earwax. It wasn't the color of either my mom or dad's hair and I despised it the most about myself. I glanced at my physique and frowned. I was skinny. Skinny and long. And puny, real puny. I looked pathetic. When I really considered it all, how could anyone really take me seriously with the way I was? Dad, Michonne and Carl commanded respect because they were strong and carried their strength in their faces.

But me...?

Pathetic. I looked pathetic. It was dumb to think that I'd ever be granted the same level of respect people gave them. I should've just stopped trying, already.

The one thing about my appearance that I was actually fairly proud of, were my eyes. As cliché as that sounded I did actually approve of them. They were blue like Dad's and was the only piece of proof I had that told me I might've been his after all. Then again… there was that whisper of doubt in me that always turned to memories of a shadowy specter lingering in the dark late at night when I tried to get back to sleep.

After ten years, I had never before seen what Shane looked like. His face always remained hidden in shadow where it couldn't be seen; and that was how I liked it.

The whole confusion between who might have been my real father, actually stumped me. I didn't know how it worked exactly, how moms and dads actually became moms and dads, but I had picked up bits and pieces of what might go on with that sort of stuff like pregnancy and babies from multiple sources. Sometimes it was the subject of gossip between kids at school. There were different theories we all swapped between ourselves, most sounding outlandish and fictitious while others seemed just straight up gross. I only knew that there were things you sometimes got from your mom and things you sometimes got from your dad, but the whole concept of genetics really just escaped me.

Looking back at the reflection, I continued to study my appearance.

I had changed. There was no doubt that I had definitely changed.

Somehow, I remembered my skin looking so much tanner than this pale hue that had taken on my complexion. It was a result of spending days and days working outside under the hot sun. But I no longer went outside anymore. The window barely provided enough to sunshine to light the room, it definitely didn't grant me any chance of absorbing the necessary amount of vitamin D I could have used.

I even looked thinner than before, if that was possible. My meal portions were larger than anything I had been given prior to coming here, but I still somehow looked smaller.

I was already under-weight before, but now…

Frightened, I examined my wrists and my waistline, discovering how pronounce the outline of my bones had become. The clothes had been big on me to begin with, but now it felt like I swam in the material. My ribs could have been used for a xylophone if I had some mallets.

This was scary. Really scary. I looked like a completely different person and not in a good way.

This was what time at the Factory had done to me. I was barely the weight of a shadow. Negan was just going to keep me locked in this room forever and ever, sucking me dry until there was nothing left of me. I was never going to go outside or see my home or people or run in the woods or hunt or visit the island or anything ever again.

A hopelessness fell over me at the idea. My breathing came in great heaves and I trembled uncontrollably. I lost control of my body as I slid to the floor, kneeling and shivering in complete shock and terror.

Our exchange of words rang through my head just then.

"Am I just going to be locked up in there forever, then?"

"Forever? I certainly hope not, but if necessary, then yes. You definitely will."

I curled on the floor, folding into a ball as the terrifying idea pressed down on me from all sides.

What was I going to do? I couldn't stay in here forever. I couldn't. I wouldn't just die, I'd wither away. I was already withering away. I'd become worse than Daryl if I was locked up.

Stuck here? In this room? This place? Forever?

I couldn't imagine such a life. Being called on for nothing but to be sucked empty for the rest of my life. To have more and more life being drained out of me till I was nothing but dry bones.

My breathing came in hurried panicked breaths heaving and shaking with terror. Despite the amount I sucked in, it somehow felt like I still wasn't getting as much as I needed. I couldn't seem to find air. Was this a panic attack? In the back of my mind I knew I needed to calm down but I couldn't.

Breathe… I tried to coax myself.

I just had to breathe…

Forcing myself out from my ball, I spread out on the floor and slowly sucked in a pained, deliberate breath.

Slow and steady.

I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. Working to calm myself despite the panic I just wanted to give in to.

I lied out on the floor, feeling the firm hardwood under my back while I continued to take in air at a decisive pace. I was going to be okay, I just had to maintain my breathing. In time I calmed down enough and became still, working myself out of my panicked state till I no longer had to think about my breathing. I was okay, I just had to keep my head above water.

I stayed there on the floor, feeling exhausted for the sudden attack and allowed myself to slip into a dreamless nap.