I can't sleep. I've been lying here, staring at the ceiling for what has felt like hours. The room is nearly dark except for the little bit of light peaking through the blinds from the spotlights. The only sound is Negan's slow, rhythmic breathing. Occasionally, he will stir in his sleep, causing me to hold my breath as I wait to hear his breathing steady again as he drifts back to sleep. I want to reposition myself but the chain noisily clinks together every time that I move, and that last thing that I want to do is wake the sleeping giant that is a mere few feet away from me.

My mind wanders to my father and of how he got us both into this hopeless situation. I can't help but feel anger rising within me. He always taught me to face my problems head on, no matter the circumstances. He couldn't even follow his own advice…. Hell, all he could do was stand there like a coward when his 'problem' was starring him in the face. Now look what happened….

Angry tears flow down my cheeks, adding to my frustration. God dammit, I refuse to be like my father! His version of dealing with Negan may have been running, but it won't be mine. As much as it pains me to admit, the smartest and safest way to face my 'problem' is to submit to his demands…. Running away and fighting back did no good for my father and I. I only hope that being a good 'pup' will give me some extra time and leeway to come up with a plan to outsmart the bastard. The pocket knife hidden underneath my head will have to lay in wait for a little while longer, but the right moment will come.

I feel myself slowly beginning to nod off as my anger wears off, my exhaustion finally getting the best of me.

XXXXXX

"Wakie Wakie! Rise and fucking shine, pup!"

I'm startled awake as a pillow slams against my head.

My eyes shoot open and I see Negan looming over me, another pillow in his hand, ready to beam it at my head. The corner of his mouth rises into a grin as he cocks his arm back, preparing for another throw.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I throw my good arm up, anticipating another blow. Negan can't help but chuckle as he tosses the pillow back on the bed.

Negan heads over to his dresser, whistling to himself as he gathers his clothes. He starts to undress right in front of me. Embarrassed and partially disgusted, I turn my head.

"You can watch if you want," he calls with a chuckle. "No need to be shy pup."

I ignore him and his mocking laughter keeping my back to the bed. Thank god he didn't try and force me to watch.

After a few minutes, he was dressed back into his black pants and leather, his jacket unzipped revealing his white t-shirt.

A clock on his nightstand reads that it's 6 AM. My body confirms it, protesting the few hours of sleep.

I gingerly adjust myself up against his bed frame, the contusions on my ribs protesting the sudden change in positioning. I twist and readjust my weight multiple times until I finally find a comfortable position that lessens the amount of discomfort.

I rotate my neck, trying my best to relieve the tense muscles. This damn collar is doing a number on me. There is one hell of a kink in my neck from having to sleep with my head situated at an awkward angle due to the chain's positioning. My good arm rises off the bed as I reach to rub the tension out of my sore muscles.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Negan suddenly snaps. He drops what he was doing and steps towards me.

I freeze, my fingers grazing the leather. His stern tone taking me aback. "I-it hurts my neck. I, um, was just readjusting it, I swear."

Negan slowly approaches from the other side of his bed, halts in front of me, and kneels until his piercing gaze is level with mine. His lips are pressed into a hard line, showing his displeasure in my actions.

The tension mounts as he pauses a few beats before speaking.

"Now…. Did I tell you to fucking move?" he says barely above a whisper.

"N-no, but –"

He raises his hand, stopping me mid-sentence.

"It's a 'yes' or 'no' question. I don't give a shit about why you thought it was a fucking good idea, to do something when I didn't give you any direction,' he spoke in a low, authoritative tone.

'I don't care if the damn thing is burning a hole through your god damn neck! You don't touch the collar; you don't do anything unless I fucking say that you can. You understand, pup?"

Negan leans in until he is practically nose-to-nose with me, his cold expression waiting for a response.

I shakily nod my head, but then remember that I am expected to speak when spoken too.

"I'm sorry that I disobeyed you…. I promise that it won't happen again." The words tasted like poison in my mouth, but I know it's what he wanted to hear from me. I cast my eyes down and bite my tongue as I again submit to him.

Negan slowly claps his hands. "That was a damn good apology, sweetheart. I almost fucking believed you! But you really thought, I'd expect your feelings for me to change overnight? Next time, put a little more effort into that fucking apology 'cause I know that you didn't mean a word you said."

My head snaps up as he practically reads my mind. Damn, the bastard is good.

"Doll, I can read you like a fucking fairytale," he chuckles, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

My blood begins to boil at hearing the playful tone of his voice, annoyed by the fact that I can't hide anything from him. My teeth clamp down on my tongue as I use ever ounce of strength to not retort, but….

"If you can read me so damn well, then I'm sure you know how ecstatic I am to be your own personal prisoner." The statement not hiding my sass and sarcasm.

Negan remains motionless upon hearing my words, his expression unreadable. After a few seconds, he lets out a whistle.

"Oh, we got us a feisty little Chihuahua! I gotta admit, you surprise me. You still got some fucking spunk left in ya. I don't mind a little spunk. Hell, it makes for a lot of fun between the sheets, if you know what I mean." I notice Negan eye me up and down as he makes the comment.

That quickly backfired. Any attempt to stand up to him is immediately reversed and twisted into some perverted fantasy of his. I can't help but feel uneasy as his gaze lingers on me for a few seconds too long. He bites down on his lower lip as he appears to regain his train of thought.

"Fuck, what was I getting at with all of that shit? Oh yeah, that fucking reminds me…. I was so busy shoving your pretty little face in the dirt last night that it slipped my god damn mind to break down the few rules that your ass will abide by.'

'Like I was saying, I don't mind a tad bit of spunk, it keeps things fucking interesting, but you gotta keep that shit it in check. And to do that, I have a few simple rules that even a piece of shit like you could understand. You ready? Here goes, pay attention.'

'Rule number one: that collar does not come off unless I fucking take it off myself. You don't dare touch it. If you behave like a good little pup," he continues as he plays with the length of chain attached to the collar, "maybe then I'll throw you a god damn bone. But you have to prove that you'll be a good little pup for me first.'

'Rule number two: you will mind your fucking manners while you're a guest in my home."

My eyes nearly roll at the notion that I am his 'guest.' Hell of a way to treat a guest….

"You only speak when you're fucking spoken too and I only want to hear 'yes sir' and 'no sir' out of that pretty little mouth of yours.'

'Rule number three: your ass stays in my apartment. Like I said, you belong to me and I don't need my shady-as-fuck crew getting blue balls from seeing you strutting around on the main floor."

Negan pauses, his demeanor suddenly shifts. His hazel eyes narrow and the grin is replaced with a menacing snarl. I shrink back as the look in his eyes mirrors that of what I saw last night with Lucille.

"If you disobey me or break one fucking rule, I won't hesitate to dish out a healthy dose of punishment to get your ass back in line. I'm not going to put up with a yelping little mutt who thinks that they're the top of the fucking dog show. You understand?"

I finally find my voice as I quickly belt out a 'yes sir.'

"Now we're getting somewhere! You should be good to fucking go now, I think I've spelled everything out for ya."

Negan scruffs up my hair as he stands and zips up his jacket. I'm hesitant to move from my position off the floor without direction. He continues to finish getting dressed as he grabs a red scarf off a hook by his bedroom door. It's not until he's wrapped it around his neck that he peers down and notices my dilemma.

"Aw shucks, look at my wittle pup waiting for permission to get off her ass….. Well, get up and put some damn clothes on. You'll at least look like you've done something today. I've got some shit to take care of downstairs, I'll be back sometime tonight."

I immediately stand to my feet at his command, my demeanor suddenly chipper at the thought of spending the entire day without Negan's looming presence.

Negan once again picks up on my train of thought. "Oh, don't get any ideas. You think I'm fucking stupid?" he asks as he lets out a guttural laugh. "Jesus fucking Christ, like I would leave your ass up here alone. Oh, that's a good one! One of my trusted men will be monitoring you while I'm keeping the rest of those sorry-fucks in line."

Damn, I knew it was too good to be true. Still, a random 'Savior' keeping watch is still better than Negan himself. Maybe he will even assign Simon to do the job. I mean, he's still intimidating and all, but he also seems more lenient. Besides, our little powwow was cut short last night before I could really feel him out.

My inner dialogue is interrupted as Negan turns and begins coming towards me. I flinch as I see him reach his hand up, instinctively expecting a blow, only to realize that he is unhooking the chain from the collar, allowing me to move freely around the room. Most importantly, I can now reach the bathroom, my filling bladder grateful for the freedom.

"Don't need you pissing on my new carpet… You'll only be tethered at night, unless you piss me off."

Quickly, I grab my bag and dart to the bathroom and close the door before Negan changes his mind. Footsteps are heard stomping out of the room, followed by the slam of a door. He must be gone. I sink down to the tile floor, my mind processing the new terms laid before me.

God, give me strength…. I'm going to have a time keeping my 'spunk' under wraps. All I want to do is lash out at the bastard every time a snarky comment leaves his damn mouth. I only hope that dad scraps together the money for the first payment soon. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

I take my time in the bathroom, enjoying not having to work against Negan's personal ticking clock. Again, I inspect my wounds. The bruises look even worse today, the purple blotches nearly doubling in size as it covers nearly my entire side down to my hip. Gently removing the bandages from my wrists, I see that Negan's handy work paid off. The cuts do not appear to be infected, but it will still take time for the skin to heal back together. The only injury that appears to have worsened is my shoulder, any attempt to bring my arm away from my side causes excruciating pain. The arm is practically useless, I fear that it may even be dislocated.

Finally freshened up, I step out of the bathroom clad in a pair of black basketball shorts and my favorite AJ Styles t-shirt, the leather collar still secured around my petite neck.

I make sure to place my backpack under my pillow once again, knowing that was the safest place for it to be. As much as I wanted to keep it near me twenty-four seven, it would raise immediate red flags to Negan.

It is an eerie feeling being alone in Negan's apartment. There are virtually no personal items to be seen, not even photos. His drawers reveal nothing out of the ordinary; socks, underwear, pants, and white t-shirts. Filling his small closet are only a few more t-shirts, another leather jacket, and a spare pair of boots.

After putting everything back in place, I found myself pondering my next move. How the hell am I supposed to pass the time before Negan returns tonight? A sudden gurgle from my empty stomach makes up my mind for me. First, I need to find food.

Making my way into the kitchen, I begin flinging open cabinets in search of food, my stomach continuously alerting me to that fact that my last meal was over twenty-four hours ago.

The first few cabinets are stocked full of booze, booze, and more booze. There has to be something here that I can eat! He can't survive on alcohol alone. As I grip the handle of the fourth cabinet, I utter a silent prayer.

Upon first inspection, the cabinet appears to be stocked with more liquor. I shuffle around the glass containers, halfway crawling into the cabinet to search every nook and cranny.

Please let there be something in here.… I move aside a bottle of Jack Daniels and reveal….. Jackpot! A box of crackers! I've never been more excited in my life to see a box of plain crackers!

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

My whole body jolts as I'm startled by the rage-filled voice, causing me to bang my head on the underside of the cabinet. Rubbing my throbbing head, I turn to the source of the question and see an unknown man. He's of average build with a buzzcut and tattoos adorning his exposed arms. I can only assume that he's the man that Negan selected to keep watch.

"I'm hungry… He- Negan hasn't fed me anything. I was just looking for some food," showing the box in my hand.

The man's hard expression remains unmoved as he stomps towards me.

"If you're looking for food, you're looking in the wrong damn place. This," he says as he snatches the box of crackers from me, "is for people, not for you."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to eat around here?" Not at all hiding my pissed-off tone.

A sly grin sweeps across his face at my question.

"I'm glad you asked…."

I have no time to react as he grabs me by my hair. I let out a pitched cry as he drags me like a dog to the other side of the kitchen, my arms and legs kick and claw for traction, but to no avail. I'm shoved hard onto the ground, my face making contact with the tile. The familiar metallic taste of blood fills my mouth from an apparent busted lip.

"Boss filled me in on his little 'pup,' gave me permission to fucking treat you like one if needed be. I'd say that looting through his cabinets when he specifically told you to 'mind your manners' counts."

I wipe a trickle of blood off my bottom lip. "Look, I'm sorry. It was just a box of crackers, I was starving!"

The stranger doesn't respond, but instead turns his back to me and proceeds to fumble with something on the counter, my view from the floor preventing me from seeing exactly what. After a few moments, he tosses a plate at my feet. Brown, gelatinous meat slathered in what appeared to be gravy laid splattered on the plate.

"You won't have to worry about starving anymore! You'll get every vitamin and mineral that growing pups need to survive," he says, pointing to the wet dog food.

Dog food? I turn my nose in disgust as the stench of the food reaches my nostrils. The smell resembled that of rotten beef and eggs. My stomach is doing is best to keep its contents inside.

"Eat or starve, doesn't make a damn difference to me. Hell, I didn't even wanna be up here in the first god damn place." His comment was laced with annoyance.

I look up, dumbfounded, staring back and forth between him and the grotesque 'meal' before me. An inner battle ensues between my stomach and my nose, my stomach urgently wanting relief from its hunger and my nose screaming at my body to refuse the 'food.'

I take my foot and roughly push the plate away from me, giving Negan's lackey my answer. Negan said that he would be back later tonight, I just need to hold on until then and pray that he will be in a generous enough mood to feed me.

The tattooed man releases a huff of anger as he crouches down and grabs me by the front of my shirt, pulling me towards him. "You are sadly mistaken if you think that I'm going to put up with your fucking attitude. I didn't ask for this shit! The fucking boss-man just docked my pay cause apparently, I wasn't working fast enough for him.'

'I tell him the bombshell of all news, the best one he's gotten in months and he sends me to fucking babysit?! I was the one who found out where your loser of a father lived! I don't deserve to be up here babysitting his new 'plaything.' Fuck that shit, fuck him, and fuck you, darlin."

I stare in shock at the Savior. The news made my body numb at the thought of this lowlife having anything to do with discovering where my dad lived.

He momentarily looks away from me, eyeing the open cabinet full of Negan's booze. Looking back and forth between the cabinet and me, he appeared to be contemplating an idea.

I'm pushed to the ground as he releases my shirt and stands to his feet.

My sore head begins throbbing once more from the impact. I glance up and see him reaching inside the cabinet where I found the crackers. His hands wrap around one of the bottles of booze, turning the contents over in his hands.

"Maybe you're not so worthless after all, kid… You can help me turn this situation around."

Smash!

Negan's man aggressively throws the bottle to the floor, dark liquid and glass scatter.

"Damn, kid! I knew you had to be ticked off at Negan, but why'd you have to go and destroy the man's stuff?"

My eyes widen in shock at his false accusations as he smashes bottle after bottle of Negan's precious alcohol, taking his rage out on the containers. I try to step forward to stop him but the shards of glass fly in all directions, causeing me to stop and shield my face to avoid impalement. Three… four… now five bottles lay in a million pieces, the overwhelming aroma of the booze filling the entire apartment.

He stands over the carnage, panting and wiping the thin layer of sweat that developed on his forehead. The man evilly laughs as he admires his handy work. "Boy, do I feel fucking better! I appreciate you taking the bullet for me, kid,' he winks, insinuating that I had a choice in the matter.

'Boss isn't going to be too thrilled when he sees the mess that you made… How does this sound? – 'Boss, I walked in right as she was smashing your bottles! She was crazy… She even tried to fight back when I chained her back up to keep her under control. I just don't understand why she would do such a thing.' I think he'll buy that!"

Son of a bitch. That cold and calculated excuse-for-a-man just signed my death certificate. My mind is still trying to process the situation as the coward again leans down, catches hold of my shirt, and pulls me towards Negan's room. He makes sure to drag me through the sharp shards of glass on the floor, causing a few pieces to lodge into the flesh of my hands and knees.

He aggressively throws me down onto my bed upon reaching Negan's room. A cry of pain leaves me as I land square on my mangled right shoulder. I clutch the limb with my good arm and attempt to roll onto my left side to relieve the pressure. The bastard prevents me from doing so as he kneels and tries to get access to the collar and reattach the chain, grabbing me by the hair and forcing my head down against the mattress. My attempts to squirm out of his grip are futile as he securely holds me down and connects the chain.

"Thanks again for the help, kid. Don't worry, he won't mess you up too bad… maybe." The lackey utters as he stands and walks out of the room, slamming the door.

My fist angrily beats down against the floor as tears once again fall from my face. There is no way to prepare myself for what's to come. The man threatened me for a simple infraction of touching the collar. What will he do when his own man spits the tale of lies? God, please let Negan have mercy.

Hours pass. The clock now reads 3:45 PM. The man hasn't returned, but he's been heard cleaning up 'my' mess and moving about the apartment. The pain in my head and shoulder has finally subsided. I've also managed to take advantage of the time, picking the small pieces of glass from my hands and knees, the wounds only superficial scrapes.

I prop myself up against the bed frame as the day drags on towards my execution.

My heart skips a beat as I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening. It may not be him… it could be Simon, or even Dwight. I strain my ears to distinguish the identity of the muffled voice speaking to the henchman.

"She did what?!" Negan's unmistaken roar echoes through the walls.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

He came back early!

Thunderous steps stomped near the bedroom door. I'm damn near shaking out of my skin as I frantically prepare myself for what's to come.

Boom!

Negan kicks the door down in rage, causing the door the hang from the hinges. His fiery gaze scans the room until they fix on the cowering figure next to his bed.

I force myself to raise my head and peak at him. Lucille is slung on his shoulder, his hands squeezing the wood so tightly that his knuckles appear white. He is so enraged that his breathing resembles a predatory growl emitting from his chest.

"You've really fucked up this time, doll."

Edited by Spitfire47.