The Sound and the Fury
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead or any related title, character, plot, setting, etc. These rights are the sole property of Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, AMC, and various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements in this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.
Trigger Warning - This chapter contains physical assault and graphic descriptions of violence. If these are triggers for you, skip this chapter, PM me, and I'll write a milder version to send you. Be warned, friends.
Chapter Eight
The Sanctuary was quiet for the better part of a month after that. Collins worked diligently to keep the upper levels clean and Negan continued to allot her more points than he should. Her savings toward the toolkit were growing.
However, there was a constant feeling of doom. Collins wasn't sure whether it was in her head or not, but all around the Sanctuary were signs of disintegration. The building was the same as it had ever been, but the people inside were showing signs of decline. It seemed that someone robbing the marketplace was a near-daily occurrence and more than one Sanctuary resident had been beaten for some slight or another.
More shocking than all of this was that Negan had not given any kind of response. He spent most days shut in his office, going over paperwork and occasionally calling a handful of Saviors in to discuss things. Few people saw him, and rumors that he had died had swept the Sanctuary on several occasions.
Collins, of course, saw him every day. She was still under orders to report to his office before the start of every shift and before leaving in the early evening. She hadn't truly understood how badly things were going until she was cornered by Negan's wives after her shift ended one night.
"How's your hand?" Frankie asked, sympathy on her expressive face.
Collins shrugged, holding up her left hand to show the scar on her palm. The cut had healed well, closing without any infection or torn edges. Doctor Carson had done a fantastic job, even with Collins panicking through most of the process.
"I'm sorry," Amber suddenly said. "I really didn't know you had gotten hurt. I felt awful."
"She was actually guilty," Sherry affirmed, sounding like she had been more than a little shocked by the development. "She's wanted to apologize to you since it happened."
"I just- you're hard to catch, you know?" Amber said. "You always go from the office to the front door and never look anyone in the eye. You always look like you're in a hurry to get out of here and I didn't want to stop you."
Collins pulled her notepad from her pocket and carefully wrote, Thank you, but there's no need to apologize. I know the couch was an accident and I'm all healed up - no worries.
Amber read the pad before offering Collins the closest she had ever come to a full, heartfelt smile. "Thanks, Collins. I'm glad you're okay."
"Hey, Collins?" Tanya asked softly, not continuing immediately when Collins lifted an inquisitive brow. When she spoke, her voice was so soft Collins had to read her lips for real to understand what she said. "How is he?"
All four women stepped closer, more than one casting furtive glances at the closed door behind Collins's shoulder. She started to write, and paused, pointing to the sofa that was still intact. The wives drew away, regrouping on the plush surface as Collins wrote.
He's different. He doesn't say or do much of anything. He doesn't smile or laugh, and I actually had to dust Lucille yesterday. I'm a little worried.
The pad was passed around, held between wives in a spot that would allow multiple women to read it at once.
"That's what we've been worried about," Tanya said. "He's been quiet."
"Quiet?" Frankie asked with a snort. "We haven't seen him in almost a week. For all we knew, he had died in there!"
Startled, Collins locked eyes with Sherry. It made sense that Sanctuary residents didn't see Negan on a regular basis, but for his wives not to know if he was even alive?
As though she were reading Collins' mind, Sherry shook her head. "He goes into his office early in the morning and doesn't go to bed until after midnight. We don't see him for more than a few moments in a day."
Collins nodded her understanding, but it was a surprise, to say the least. In the span of a few weeks, Negan had lost the big personality that he had been famous for. If even his wives were doubting him, that could mean only one thing: the Sanctuary was falling.
The sound of pacing footsteps came from Negan's office, and Collins turned her head with the rest of the women to stare at the closed door.
"Don't worry," Amber told her, patting her lightly on the arm. "He's just restless. You should go, though. He'll have questions if he comes out here for some reason."
"He won't leave that room," Frankie grumbled, but ushered Collins from the apartment with the other wives all the same.
Collins tried to convince herself that the conversation hadn't meant anything, but she found she couldn't sleep that night. As she stared at the shadowed ceiling and listened to her neighbors snoring through the bedsheet walls, she turned the problem over and over in her mind.
If there was one thing Negan loved, it was to feel important and powerful. The best way to do that was to use those closest to himself to inflate his ego. Negan was a consummate extrovert. He couldn't survive without someone being awed by him. The fact that he had stopped looking to someone to gratify his need for attention said bad things about his mental state.
Collins had known for a while that the Sanctuary was descending from structured society into lawless chaos, but she had never considered that its flashy leader could be taken down with it. Negan had always seemed untouchable, immune to every attack. If his wives were to be believed, he wasn't.
She scoffed at herself. She didn't need to rely on second-hand information from his wives. She had seen for herself how Negan had changed. He hadn't shaved in over a week, his clothes were wrinkled and his hair untamed. Even his eyes seemed to have lost their trademark glint.
The end of the Sanctuary could very well be the end of Negan.
But, for some twisted reason, Collins couldn't let that happen. Coming to that conclusion, she promised herself that she would speak with him the very next day. She was scheduled to clean his office most of the day anyway. Somehow, she would find a way to reach him, to bring him back to his old, dazzling self.
With that decided, Collins turned to her side and fell deeply asleep.
Her plans were not to be.
Collins swore to herself as she hurriedly stuffed her feet into her work shoes and buckled her belt at the same time. She didn't have access to a clock, but judging from the light coming through the high windows, she was already late for work by an hour or more.
She rushed to the upper levels, trying to make it look less like she had overslept. Still, she caught sympathetic glances from many of the main floor Sanctuary workers and her blood ran cold.
Negan had been in such a strange mood lately. How would he react to her being late? More likely than not, he would only yell at her and deduct some points, but what if it would be worse than that? What if he decided that the only way to feel like himself again was to have a good meeting between himself, Collins, and Lucille?
With that lovely thought in her mind, Collins sprinted up the stairs and knocked on the apartment door.
Tanya pulled it open, staring at her with wide eyes. "He's in the shower. Has been for a while. Hurry into his office and maybe he won't realize you were late."
Collins signed a quick thank you and jogged to Negan's office, letting herself in and shutting the door before taking a few deep breaths to slow her heartbeat. After a minute or two of thinking calming thoughts, Collins set to work, dusting the room from the non-operational ceiling fan down.
She was placing freshly-dusted items back on the clean corner bookshelf when she heard the office door open and shut. She kept her eyes on her task until the shelf was filled with random knick-knacks one more, then turned as she steeled herself to meet Negan's gaze.
Instead, Collins found herself facing Brandon. The man she had once thought of as being Negan's biggest fan was now apparently playing the role to its limit. He was lounging back in Negan's chair, shabby leather jacket squeaking against the backrest as he reclined to rest his feet on the surface of the desk. The soles of his worn boots were crushing the papers scattered everywhere, but Brandon didn't seem to care.
Recovering from her shock, Collins sent Brandon a quick smile. After all, he had been the one to escort her to Negan's office on her first day on the upper levels. True, she hadn't seen him since Negan had warned him not to call her 'the deaf girl', but he had seemed harmless enough.
Brandon smiled back, but there was something sickly in the expression that made Collins's stomach turn.
"You're his whore, aren't you?"
Collins blinked at the blunt question, but he only grinned more widely. "Everyone knows you are. The man has four wives, but he's always looking for a new piece of ass. Maybe he'll ask you to marry him, maybe he won't, but it doesn't really matter."
Brandon cupped his hands behind his neck and stared around the room. "Negan won't last much longer. He's losing the Saviors, he's losing the people, and he's losing his balls. No one's scared of him anymore and that was the only reason he was in charge."
She had known things were growing worse, but if Negan had already lost the Saviors, he could be in danger. As Brandon let his boots thump down to the floor, she was forced to deal with a more pressing problem: she was in a fair bit of danger, herself.
"I mean, Negan was the one who was obsessed with getting the old world back. We don't need it anymore. In the old world, you had to worry about who had a college degree or could buy and sell you. Now, everyone strong is already in power and we don't have to ask permission from anyone for anything. We just take what we want." Brandon stood up and Collins didn't think he was harmless at all. "It's time you got used to that, deaf girl. Negan won't be around to keep you safe for much longer and, right now, you're what I want."
He lunged for her and she dodged away neatly, running for the door. Negan's wives weren't necessarily chosen for their ability to kick ass, but surely they wouldn't stand by and let some guy rape her. Brandon recovered quickly, and slammed her up against Negan's desk before she could reach the door.
The sharp wooden edge dug into her stomach and Collins gasped, momentarily stunned as all the air left her lungs. Wedged up behind her, Brandon grabbed roughly at Collins's chest and groaned in her ear.
In one sharp motion, Collins launched her elbow up and back, satisfied by the crunch of breaking cartilage. Brandon reared back, clutching at his now-broken nose, but didn't move further away.
"You bitch!" he shouted. "For that, I'm gonna make it hurt."
"If you touch me, I'll snap your dick in half and use it to splint your nose," Collins threatened, too scared and angry to keep her act going any longer.
Brandon's eyes widened and she saw him grinning behind his cupped hand. "I don't think you're gonna do that, whore. In fact, I think you're gonna kiss my nose all better, then you can move on to my dick. And if you don't, I'll tell Negan that you can hear and speak. He'll kill you for me, and I don't think you've pretended to be deaf this long only to let him smash your skull flat with Lucille. You can avoid that. All you have to do is let me smash you in a fun way."
He pressed his hips closer and Collins fought the urge to gag. "I would quite honestly rather die. You tell him about my lie, and I'll tell him what you tried and how you're ready to overthrow him. He'll kill you painfully, but you can avoid that if you just keep your fucking mouth shut."
She set a quick pace for the door, dodging away from Brandon's grasp and delivering a brutal kick to the back of his knee to knock him to the floor. Brandon was smarter than he seemed, though, grabbing her by the cuff of her work-issue cargo pants and dragging her down to join him on the ground.
Collins could hear the voice of the ex-Marine who taught her to fight hand-to-hand: 90% of all fights end up on the ground. Are you gonna let some dumb fuck beat you just because he managed to knock you down? No. Take a second to figure out your plan and take the power back.
In the moment it took Collins to catch her breath, Brandon had dragged himself up her body and lifted her shirt to expose her hips and stomach. As he started to work on her belt, she cupped her hands and smacked them over Brandon's ears. He screamed, and if she hadn't punctured an eardrum, she had come damned close.
She tried to push Brandon off of her, but he came in with an unexpected strike to her jaw that left Collins stunned as he unbuckled her belt and worked at the button of her pants.
Come on! the voice in her head growled. Fight! Do something! Move!
Still, Collins could only lie staring at Negan's freshly-dusted ceiling fan as Brandon finally slipped the button free and worked at his own belt and pants. Colors and darkness swirled at the edges of her vision and she wondered if she would lose consciousness. It might be the better option.
"I hope you're ready for this, bitch. I hope you're ready for me. But if you're not, you'll take me anyway. After the fight you put up, I don't feel like being nice."
Collins frowned. She must be worse off than she had thought, because she could swear she saw Negan - hair wet from his shower - bracing Lucille over his shoulder just behind Brandon's shoulder.
"Funny, neither do I," Negan quipped.
Brandon's eyes widened as he twisted around on top of Collins. "Ne-"
The crack of barbed wire-wrapped wood against a skull was loud in the room, but not as loud as the flood of profanity and threats that poured from Negan's mouth as he swung Lucille again and again. He continued to beat Brandon long after the ex-Savior had become nothing but a fleshy bag of shattered bones.
When Negan was done, he threw Lucille away from him, not flinching as the bat hit a wall and clattered loudly to the floor. He helped Collins stand, buckling her belt when her fingers were too numb to do it herself.
"Are you… Fuck. Are you okay? Did he..?"
Collins shook her head. Despite Brandon's best efforts, he hadn't gotten much further than dragging his boxers down before Negan put a stop to the assault.
Negan nodded and led her over to the couch in his office, the one she had never seen used. Collins sat shakily, trying to ignore the way the blood droplets on her pants smeared against the worn leather. Negan collapsed onto the couch beside her a moment later, looking defeated.
Weird, Collins thought. She hadn't seen him beat anyone to death in person, but those stories were popular around the Sanctuary. From everything she had heard, Negan had always seemed energized by killing people, like it satisfied some weird urge in him. But now… He just looks sad.
"I've lost them," he said eventually, breaking the silence. "I've lost my men. That was always my one damn rule: no rape. If they're breaking that rule, that means the Sanctuary is gone and I won't be far behind it."
He looked up, locking eyes with Collins as he reached to hold her hands. His every motion was slow, giving her plenty of time to pull away, but she found the gesture comforting. "Collins, I am so fucking sorry. That should never have happened; not in the Sanctuary and definitely not in my own damn office."
She squeezed Negan's hands and he shook his head. "You shouldn't accept my apology. My wives had to come get me out of the shower, and even that took longer than it should have. I've been such a prick lately that they put it off for a while, fought about who should have to talk to me."
Negan laughed, but it was full of self-loathing. "They put your life in danger and it's my fault. You're the only one in this whole place I give a damn about and I can't keep you safe."
Collins tried to keep the shock from her face, but knew some of it had to be showing through. Negan glanced at her and understanding dawned in his eyes. "You didn't know that, did you? Of fucking course not. It's hard to tell with the whole silent thing. Makes you mysterious as hell."
He looked away, falling quiet as Collins studied him. Under the ashamed expression, his features were familiar and comforting. That salt-and-pepper stubble had been shaved away as he showered, leaving his expressive face free from visual distractions. The smile lines framing his mouth spoke of a life filled with joy - savage though some of it had undoubtedly been. The lines radiating from his eyes were more honest, remnants of true smiles rather than ones filled with vengeance. His eyes were dark and frank. Despite what the rest of his face was doing, Collins always knew exactly how Negan was feeling based only on the expression in his eyes.
For the first time since she had decided on this course of action, Collins was truly tempted to speak. If she revealed herself, told him her secret, it would be so much easier. She could reassure him that this wasn't his fault, thank him for stopping the assault, convince him that he needed to leave the Sanctuary before he lost any control of his men. At this point, it was only a matter of time until the Saviors took control - and Collins would be willing to bet that killing Negan would be their first move.
She moved slightly, fixing Negan with a sympathetic stare as she squeezed his hands once more, opening her mouth to speak. Negan's eyes flew up, filled with such a pure, undiluted hope that her heart squeezed. With a start, Collins realized that she was definitely attracted to the man, but worse yet, her feelings may run deeper than simple lust. With sudden clarity, she closed her mouth once more. He could throw off every one of her careful plans. Worse, he wouldn't even have to try. She would give them all up if he would just keep looking at her like that.
When she didn't speak or try to communicate nonverbally, Negan's hopeful expression had faded into one of weary resignation. He released Collins' hands, setting them down with a pat. "Listen, why don't you head out for the day? You've had a hell of a time already, and I don't think you can keep working with all that hanging over your head. I'll get someone else up here to get rid of the shithead."
Collins nodded and stood up, but Negan stopped her with a raised finger. "Hang on, let me get you something."
He walked over to his desk, sitting in his worn desk chair to scrawl something on a piece of paper before handing it to her. She could have read it, but Collins watched Negan instead, waiting for him to explain.
"It's hazard pay," he said with a gesture toward the paper. "Get anything you want from the marketplace. It's on me. Also, stop by laundry and get yourself a new pair of pants, my orders. If you need to take some time before you go out there, I'll send someone else to do it."
Collins shook her head and Negan sighed. "And if you need a few days before you're ready to come up here again, send a note with one of my men. I'll understand. Hell, I'll even reassign you to the lower levels if you decide that's what you want. Just think about and let me know what you decide. You're getting a raise either way."
Before she could respond to the flood of generosity, Collins was ushered from the office and made her way down to the lower levels. As she walked, she read Negan's neat handwriting over and over.
Collins gets whatever the fuck she wants. Send me the bill.
- Negan
She could get her toolkit, an extra pair of pants, and make her escape that very night. With so much going right, why did Collins have such a bad feeling about leaving?
Author's Note - I know this chapter seems a little abrupt, but that's how a lot of collapses go. There are warning signs that people try to ignore until they just... can't. And the unfortunate part about human nature is that, if you tell someone they can't do something (in this case, rape people), that's what they're going to fixate on needing to do. It was only fear of Negan that kept Sanctuary residents safe from that, at least in my version of the universe.
Anyway! Thanks to those who favorited or followed this story last week. I appreciate you! If you have any feedback or questions, feel free to leave me a review or PM me. Like all authors, I adore feedback of most forms (not wild about the abusive ones), so that's a really great way to become one of my absolute favorite people! In any case, have a great day and I'll see you next week!
Also, I don't intend for this to be a spoiler, but I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before: This story will have ten chapters in total, so there will only be another two chapters after this one. I didn't want to trick anyone into thinking that this will be a 200k+ story!