A/N Sorry for the missed update. I just haven't felt good this week.

There's some shitty motel we find to hold up in. I don't mind it, but it's a painful reminder of her. God, I hope Vin's not one of the dead. That those big beautiful brown eyes now a murky gray.

I pull the blinds off the window in the bathroom for more light so I can shave. When my motel room door opens, I roll my eyes and apply my shaving cream. It's more than likely Sherry, Dwight's wife. She's been trying to fuck me since day one. "Go away."

"What are you doing," she asks, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

"Shaving, the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" I guess she's not leaving. Lucky me… I don't know what it is about Sherry, but something doesn't sit right with me. She's way too nice to me. Women aren't nice to me. I mean, Vin was, but women don't look my fucking way. At least, not anymore. "Going to be dark and motherfucking spooky as all hell in here once the sun goes down, Sherry." As in go the fuck back to Dwight. "But this could get us through the winter. I've always liked hotels." It reminds me of Vin.

"Me, too. Mostly for the things that are typically done in them."

Is she fucking hitting on me again?

Sherry unfolds her arms and hops up on the counter. "Did you have a wife named Lucille?"

I lower my razor. "How the fuck did you know that?"

"You said her name in your sleep."

Fuck! I could have played that off if I didn't get so emotional about that shit.

"I figured you'd lost your family with how cold you were towards us, but when you said her name it all came together. Negan, I don't know how to tell you this or if you even care or if it matters. Hell, maybe you already know."

"Know what?" Now I'm concerned as fuck.

Sherry lowers her head. "I caught Dwight cheating a year after we'd been married. He wasn't very smart, taking her to his boat and shit... in the fucking driveway of all places. One night he said Lucille in his sleep, too. I asked him about it and he confessed to cheating with a woman-"

And that was all I fucking needed to hear. Dwight was the fucking sailor?! "Goddammit," I hiss, breaking the handle on this razor. "Fucking shit, fuck fuck fucking fuck! That fucking little prick? That greasy haired son of a bitch? I'm twice the fucking man he is!" I'm so fucking angry right now, I can't even think.

Sherry drops her jacket to the floor then pulls her tank top over her head.

My eyes trail her soft tear shaped breasts. Her slim waist. I am not attracted to this woman in the least, but I fuck her against that counter and then once over the desk in the room. Worst fucking lay in my life, but it's my middle finger to Dwight.

Sherry always has that look in her eyes like she fucking loves me or some shit when she sees me.

I use it to my advantage to blow my load whenever she comes onto me. Which is every night. Sometimes she even sneaks in in the morning and we go at it. I only fuck her because I hope that Dwight will walk in.

"Quiet, someone will hear us," she panics.

It isn't even good. And there is always that part of me that feels guilty because of Vin. Even though I will never see her again… even though I fucked her over beyond belief… I still care for that woman. God, I care for her.

Fucking Sherry is like fucking some plastic fuck doll. One night, I turn her away. I just can't even get it up. The more I fuck her, the guiltier I feel. It isn't helping me cope with the fact that my wife fucked Dwight. It's just fucking with my head. We need to get out of this fucking motel and fast before I lose my goddamn mind.

It's not WalMart, but it will do. "It's getting colder. Everyone grab a few extra layers. I don't want to hear any complaints. Warmth over style." Unless you find something with both. I pull the leather jacket from the back of the chair. Surprisingly, it fits. I say that because I'm a big motherfucker. Nothing ever fits. I look the scarf over that Vin gave me before stuffing it in my pocket. It faintly smells like her, and I'm not ready to give that up just yet.

"You got pretty comfortable telling us what to do," Dwight starts. "What were you... y'know before?"

"I was a bad motherfucker. And by bad motherfucker, I mean gym teacher. You care for the kids, you bark orders at them to keep them from getting fat. They may cry a little, but it's for their own fucking good. You assholes are growing on me. I don't want you to get yourselves killed."

"Fair enough. Think we should spend the night here or get a move on?"

"Hold that thought. Looks like we're not the only ones that decided to go shopping today." I walk towards the large group. "Greetings, folks. Come on in. More than plenty for all of us."

"Don't move." A gun is pointed at my face, even after I tell them I just want to talk. "I'd really like to. How do I know we can trust you?"

I've had enough. "Listen, asshole. I greeted with a smile and you pointed a fucking gun at me. We have guns too, but we don't aim them at the living. Trust me on that."

"You know what? I really like this guy. Where you people headed to next?"

"This is good. Safety in numbers, I say. We can really do some damage." I notice one of the women freezing and offer her my jacket. She acts like I'm going to hurt her.

"You like what you see," the leader starts. "You want to try the merchandise, you just let me know. Trust me, man. It's a whole new world now. Anything goes."

My eyes skim the group, especially the women when it hits me. These men are selling women to other men to do god knows what with in exchange for supplies. They all look so malnourished and frightened. To think that men would try something this evil-

Dark eyes lock on mine as she pushes her oversized glasses up with her knuckle.

Sweet Christ. Vin!