Negan, after taking away my gun and knife, motions to his bed. And I go rigid. Surely that's not what he's brought me here to do. He has a fully stocked harem. Full of women who look like they give a far bigger shit about what they look like than me.
He takes stock of my stillness, and gives a small chuckle. Dear God, was he going to laugh at my inhibition to go to bed with him? "Jessica, I'm not planning on joining you." He takes my hand and I try desperately not to flinch at the casualness of the touch, so foreign to me since I cannot remember the last time anyone had tried. The pads of his fingers are calloused, they remind me of Daryl's, but his hand seems bigger, more slender. He's tugging me toward the bed, and then, once standing in front of it, he tries to sooth me. "You look exhausted."
Do I? It seems like I'm always sleeping when I'm not taking care of Judith. My room in Alexandria had become a refuge from the world, and I'd had to force myself to leave it.
Negan watches me. And once again, I wish I could see what he saw. If my mask really had gone away, I wanted to know how far it had slipped, and how to put it back in place. "Go ahead, Jessica. I'll be working right over there," he points back to where we'd been seated.
Since sleep is the fastest way to nowhere, I take off my boots and without a shred of hesitancy left, I pull off my jeans and climb in the bed. The urge is heavy now, to escape again. To get away inside my own head, where nothing waits. Because, even if Negan can see that I'm broken, he can't see that the dark release of nothing and nowhere is all I can ever wish for.
When I wake up, it's dark. Completely dark, without even the light of the stars and moon coming through the window we'd sat by when I'd arrived. I wondered, had it happened? Had the darkness that I'd slipped into so willingly finally taken me over completely? I felt no fear. No worry. I felt nothing. And in that, I found solace.
The next time I surface, the light's blinding. Sunlight shining through the window that I'd seen when we'd sat down and Negan had tried to unlock my secrets. I wished it hadn't come. Morning. Not, I told myself, because I wanted to die. Simply because I found safety in the nothing. In the dark of nowhere.
Negan is sitting in the chair he'd sat in the day before. At least I think it's the day before. I can see him without sitting up or giving him a sign I've awakened. And with this advantage, I study the man who had studied me. He's reading a sheaf of papers. The bat resting on the table before him, within reach, as seems to be his habit. There's a walkie talkie beside it. His leather jacket is gone, tossed over the chair I'd occupied before. One hand is shading his eyes, while the other is holding the papers. And I wonder, why him? Why could he see so easily what no one else could? What knowledge does this dangerous man have that my own father doesn't? What experience would give him the ability to read me easier than Daryl, a man I'd given everything to? And what would he do with the knowledge? The truth about Rick Grimes' daughter? The reality of my stability or instability? The fact that I wasn't strong, or brave, or built for this world? The veil that I'd worn so carefully and fully that not even those closest to me could see through it?
He fidgeted, as though he could feel my eyes on him. And I closed mine quickly. Feigning sleep, praying that the darkness would come again, that I'd be able to escape back to nowhere, to nothing.
It didn't work. He'd seen or thought he'd seen my eyes open. And he called to me, loudly and clearly. "Jessica, come over here." It was an order. Plain and simple. And since I'd traded my life for Glenn's, I complied.
I got out of his bed, pulled my jeans back on and walked barefoot over to where he was sitting. He'd tossed the papers onto the table and sat back in his chair to study me standing beside him. And I waited to see what he'd expect of me now. Whatever he saw, it didn't seem to please him.
"Put on your boots," he gestured to where I'd set them before resting. "Time for a fucking tour."
I pulled on my boots and sighed. It wasn't loud, but he'd heard it, I'm sure. It seemed like he was attuned to every fucking minutia of my being, and I'd just met him. I could hear him pulling on his jacket, the sound of him taking his bat in hand. I turned around to see him far closer than I'd expected him to be. His hand reached out and cupped my chin so he could tilt my face up for his inspection. A rough thumbpad traced beneath my eye, as he studied my face.
"Not much of an improvement," his voice was low, quiet even. He shook his head and released me. "Let's fucking go, let you see what you gave up your fucking life for."
I should have felt fear. It should have made me worry about what I was going to see. Yet, I felt nothing. I wasn't here, not really, not as long as I could slip back inside myself, back to nowhere.
I followed him, again close enough to keep up without exerting myself, but far enough that I didn't have to be near him. As I'd been able to do for months, or years now, I took note of everything without taking in anything. Going through the motions, seeing but not experiencing, taking stock but not worrying, all of that was as second nature to me as breathing. As fighting. As surviving.
The marketplace, or whatever he termed it, where his people bartered points earned through work for necessities or luxuries. The cafeteria, again based around earnings through these jobs that he kept mentioning. He stopped our tour long enough to give me food. Hovering to watch me eat, making sure everything was consumed. Satisfied that I'd gotten something down, as though I didn't eat, we kept going and I wondered, perhaps he had decided on my purpose. Perhaps. Outside, a closer look at his walker security system, I wondered if eventually we'd all be found here, guarding a building without any notice of what or who we had been before. Back inside, to the infirmary, where the wife that had introduced herself, Sherry, was getting results of a pregnancy test.
I had a flicker, as she told Negan it was negative, as the man with the ruined face was nearby, of something tugging in the back of my mind. Hadn't I, at some point, wanted this? The hope of a child. The future of a family. With Daryl? Maybe, but that was once upon a time, and this was the real world.
I didn't pay attention to the interaction between Negan and the doctor, or Negan and the man he called 'D' or the wife. The doctor, I'm sure I was told his name, but what need did we have of names? What did it matter? He stepped forward, toward me, and asked me to sit on the exam table. I sat. I did what was asked of me, nothing more, nothing less. It was automatic, muscle memory with a hint of listening to what was necessary. Simple. Done. I didn't notice what he'd checked, or what he said. I didn't care. I was healthy, clearly, since I was still breathing. I'm sure Negan and the doctor spoke. I'm sure they shot me looks. I didn't pay attention, I'd gone back to nothing. To nowhere. Where it was blank and easy.
I was told to follow him again. And I did. Back through the building, more hallways, more information. Then we returned to the room filled with women. All clamoring for attention, and he brushed them off and took me back to his private space. And he told me to get more rest, and I wondered why? What was so important about my resting? But I only pondered for a moment, because in the end, nowhere was beckoning. And that temptation of nothing was too powerful to resist.
I woke to darkness again. Complete and perfect. Home. And as I let my internal darkness tempt me away, I wondered if it mattered where I was physically, since I wasn't there. Not really.
