The car was almost out of gas when we pulled up to the gate of an old school. Amy was laying in the backseat, fast asleep. She said she wanted to try and pass out so she wouldn't have to feel the hunger pains. Eric was driving; he had suggested I try to sleep, but I just wanted to find a safe place to sleep for the night. This school looked promising; it had a big wall that went all around the building.

Eric parked the car and we watched as the gate opened, seemingly by itself. I got out of the car and approached the entrance to the school hesitantly. We hadn't had the best of luck with other survivors, and we needed to tread lightly. I figured if they killed me, Eric was still behind the wheel and could speed out of there.

A tall man stepped out beyond the gate and smiled at me. He had a shiny bald head, and a gentle face. His hand was rested on top of a ruger that was holstered at his side, but he didn't seem threatening. In fact, he seemed nice, even before he spoke to me.

"Hello," he greeted me.

I stepped up and raised my hands to show him that I wasn't going to attack.

"Please, my friends and I are out of food. We don't have anything but-"

"Say no more," the man cut me off and gestured towards the school. "Please, come in. We have plenty to share."

"Thank you," I said relieved, and I nodded at Eric to let him know things were good. He turned around in his seat to wake up Amy, and I looked back at the man.

"I'm Elle," I introduced myself.

"Philip," the man said, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. His smile was huge. "Welcome to Doveport."

I fell to my knees right in front of Adam's mangled body and stared off into space. No one said anything for a very long time, but it was far from silent. The chirping of crickets swirled with the soft sounds of Doveporters sobbing and sniffling. We all wanted to wake up from this horrendous nightmare, but it was real.

Philip was dead, and I had just brutally killed Adam in front of all my friends.

My legs started to hurt, but I didn't move. I deserved to feel the sharp pain that was starting to build in my knees.

I deserved worse.

Eventually I heard Eric's voice speak up, which startled me out of my trance.

"What…do we do?" he asked slowly, and sounded so helpless. The others didn't respond, and I kept my mouth shut. I didn't have the answer. I couldn't even get myself off the ground.

After a while, someone finally answered him.

"There's a spot next to Seth, opposite side of the school. We can bury him there." It was Vivienne speaking, and she sounded emotionless and drained. "The soil is soft. I was going to build my garden over there, but Phil said it would be better in the front."

I remembered back only a short while ago when Adam had ordered them to destroy the garden, and I had thought Vivienne's cries were the most heartbreaking thing I could hear. Now she was speaking so coldly, and it made my stomach turn.

None of it felt fucking real.

"What do we do with him?" Amy asked from where she was still standing next to me. She was looking down at Adam—or what was left of him. She turned away from the body, and I could tell she wanted to vomit. The sight looked like something straight out of a horror movie. I was trying not to notice the chunks of skin and blood that were scattered on the ground before me.

"Throw it out in the woods," Vivienne instructed. I noted she was referring to Adam's body as an 'it' rather than a him.

I hardly noticed as Eric and Ryan came around in front of me and picked up Adam's corpse. They carried it off out of my view, and I turned my head and looked over to Philip's body.

"Amy, take everyone inside," Vivienne ordered, and I heard her get to her feet. Amy squeezed my shoulder and headed into the school with the others following her in. Some of them were still crying. I looked up to watch them enter the building.

Then it was just Vivienne and me.

"You need to get up, Elle." Vivienne's voice was low, and she stood next to where I was still kneeling on the ground.

I didn't know what I could possibly say to her. Philip was dead, and it was my fault. I had killed A.J. He was Adam's friend, and his death had led to Philip's. I would never forgive myself for it. And on top of that, I had just beat a man to death with a barbed wire baseball bat.

"Elle?" Vivienne asked, even more gentler than before.

I slowly turned to look up at her and felt more tears fall down my face. Vivienne had streaks down her cheeks herself. She was looking down at me so concerned, the same way Philip used to look at me.

"I'm sorry." It came out as a whisper, and my hands clutched the ground tightly, digging up some grass and dirt. "I didn't… I didn't…"

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't have any words for how I felt, or what had happened. My eyes glanced back over to Philip, and I quickly turned my head, not wanting to see his body anymore. I just wanted to wake up from this fucking nightmare.

"It's okay, sweetheart. But you need to get up."

I swallowed hard, and nodded in agreement. I couldn't stay here forever, and it was late. Negan said we needed to get back to work. But how? How were we supposed to move forward after this?

I stood up slowly and looked down at myself. Adam's blood had splattered all over my clothes. I was covered in it.

We walked into the school, Vivienne leading the way with me following behind her in a haze. She led me back to the girls' locker room and told me to wait for a minute. I stood next to the metal lockers and stared off into space. Soon, she was back with a handful of things—a towel and a change of clothes.

I felt a sense of deja vu; after the man that attacked me—A.J.—had died, Negan had his men bring me similar items. It was becoming a habit. I killed a person, and someone helped me clean up.

Rinse, repeat.

"You need to change, Elle," Vivienne instructed, setting the items down on a bench off to the side. She approached me and put two hands on my shoulders, gripping them tightly.

I couldn't look at her. My mind kept replaying what had happened—Philip's lifeless eyes locked on mine—Adam's taunts, his cruel words about my friend—the anger that built in me so fast, and caused me to grip that baseball bat with all my might—the loud snapping sound as it connected with Adam's head.

I had killed him.

What did that mean for me? Would I continue to hurt people? Why did I kill him?

"Elle…" Vivienne murmured, trying to get my attention. Finally I looked back at her face, her soft features that looked so exhausted—so hopeless—so grim. How was she still willing to help me after what I had done?

"Am I a bad person?" My voice cracked as I spoke, and I looked away and off into space. I just wanted to be able to stop seeing Philip in my mind's eye, but he was haunting my every thought.

Vivienne squeezed my shoulders. "Look at me," she commanded, and I did. I turned slowly back to meet her gaze, and she looked so incredibly serious.

"Adam was a monster. That man was evil. Even Negan, who is a whole other kind of monster, knew it." She was gazing into my eyes with such ferocity that I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. "We need to keep moving forward. We have to survive against the monsters. The ones who want to eat us, and the ones like Adam."

I nodded at her, and she continued.

"Killing monsters doesn't make you a bad person, Elle. It makes you human."

Then why didn't I feel human right then?

I felt like a monster myself, standing in front of Vivienne with a man's blood soaking into my shirt.

She looked at me one last time with a sympathetic expression, and then left the locker room. I almost didn't want her to go.

I didn't want to be left alone with myself.

I didn't know who I was anymore.

We buried Phil in a spot next to Seth on the opposite side of the school from Vivienne's garden. I went to the funeral Doveport organized for him, and I did my best to ignore the multitude of stares I was getting. I knew what was going through their heads; it was the same thing that was haunting me over and over again.

Vivienne knocked on my door after the ceremony and handed me something. It was Philip's gun, a ruger. He had hardly used it, but she wanted me to have it. I didn't question it, and took the weapon from her. Part of me knew it was just a nice gesture, but another suspected she was giving it to me because she knew I was capable of using it now.

Over the next days, I stayed in my room or spent my time going out and looking for supplies. Once again, we weren't able to find anything of use. As the week went by, we all began to realize that we would be coming up empty yet again.

Savior trucks pulled up to the gate once our week was up, and Ryan went to exit the school to open the doors when I stopped him.

"Lock the doors," I told him, taking my ruger out from the new holster around my waist and setting it in his hands. "If they try to come in without me, shoot them."

Ryan's eyes were wide as he took the gun into his hands, but he nodded. I walked out through the front doors and heard them shut, and then the small click of the latch locking behind me.

I walked up to the gate and pulled it only partially open—not enough for their trucks to pull in, but wide enough that a person could walk through. Negan had gotten out of his truck and was standing right next to the opening grinning wide at me.

"Hey there, slugger," he said, leaning on his baseball bat. I looked down and noted it had been cleaned. Adam's face was no longer mangled in its sharp wires.

"We don't have anything," I informed him, "We tried. If someone has to die today, I ask that it be me."

His expression was hard to read as he stared me down without speaking. I started to feel nauseous as he studied me for a long time before swinging the bat up and onto his shoulder. The sudden movement made me flinch.

"We better go into your office and talk about this," Negan said, taking a step to walk through the gate.

I stepped into his path, blocking his entrance.

He looked amused at this, and leaned in close to me.

"You're not being very fucking nice, Elle. What happened to those manners?" He was so close to me, and I knew it was an intimidation tactic. I narrowed my eyes at him, and didn't budge.

"Your men stay out here." I wasn't asking. "And no one dies today." He narrowed his eyes a bit and then looked away from me, chuckling.

"Okay, Elle."

I was shocked he was willing to agree to it, but trusted he would keep his word. I took a step back and to the side to allow him to walk into Doveport's walls.

"No one comes in!" Negan barked at his men, while grabbing the gate and closing it. I couldn't help but stare at the baseball bat lying on his shoulder—the weapon I had used just a week before to kill someone.

We walked up to the front of the school where I could see the others were watching us approach from the glass windows around the door. I took a few steps in front of Negan and nodded to Ryan, who unlocked it and opened it to let us in. He was no longer holding the gun, and I assumed he had it tucked away. I didn't know if Negan would mind that we were armed. Philip had always kept the gun in the office and hadn't even carried it with him most days. I had forgotten of its existence until Vivienne placed it in my hands.

Negan didn't address anyone as we entered the school and made our way to the principal's office. Once inside, he shut the door behind him, and I rounded the desk and sat down in the big chair. We had been here before in the office, back when we were lying to him and Negan had thought I was in charge of Doveport.

Now I really was in charge.

He sat down in the chair across from me, setting the bat so it was leaning up against the large desk between us. He reached across and picked up the bottle of whiskey and one of the tumblers that was there. I didn't stop him—it wasn't like I was going to drink it.

At first, we didn't say anything, and I watched him pour the amber liquid into the glass. He brought it to his lips, and looked right at me as he drank.

"What do you want, Negan?" I demanded, sitting up more in the chair.

"How are you?" he asked, ignoring my question. I narrowed my eyes at him, not understanding where this was going.

"What?"

"Jesus fuck, it's not a trick question." He drank the rest of the whiskey and slammed the glass onto the desk. "How are you doing?"

I sat there staring at him without answering. Why was he asking me that?

I shifted in the chair, and felt very uncomfortable suddenly. Was he asking me because of what had happened with Adam? Or losing Philip? Or maybe it was because of what had happened back at his Sanctuary.

All of it was eating at me inside, tearing at my sanity every single second. I was losing my fucking mind.

"I'm fine," I muttered, avoiding his looming gaze.

"Bull-fuckin'-shit," he barked. "We both know that's a load of crap. You practically fell apart killing that piece-of-shit rapist, and said you hadn't killed anyone before. Then a few weeks later you're bashing in the skull of one of my men."

"He killed Phil," I whispered, looking down at the desk. I couldn't justify what I had done no matter how many times I went over it in my head, but it's why I had done it.

I must have looked pretty hopeless because Negan let out a long sigh that made me look up at him.

There it was. That sympathetic, kind expression. It didn't look like it belonged on him; it was a stark difference from the cruel smiles and harsh glares. I blinked a few times, but it didn't disappear before my eyes like normal.

Did Negan feel sorry for me?

"I want to talk to you about something. I know you're not gonna like it, but I need you to listen." He leaned back into the chair, making himself comfortable, his eyes were locked on me. "I want you to come back to the Sanctuary with me. And before you start fucking arguing with me and coming up with excuses, you can bring all your school friends. Momma Bear, Papa Bear, that garden lady, your new and improved gatekeeper, the whole gang can come."

I furrowed my brow and stared at him in silence.

"We have plenty of shit for you guys. Beds, food, and I need some people willing to work jobs. I'll have Carson arrange an ultrasound so Momma Bear can see Baby Bear. I'll even set garden lady up with-"

"No." My voice was cold and short, cutting him off from his pitch.

"No?" he asked me, as if he hadn't heard me correctly. I knew he had.

"We're not leaving."

Negan's hands gripped the sides of the chair and he squeezed.

"Why the fuck not?" he growled, glaring at me.

"Because I know they're not gonna like this." I said, gesturing to the hallway. "They don't want to live with you."

"I'm not asking," he warned.

"Doesn't matter. My answer is no."

Negan stood up from the chair and placed his hands on the desk, leaning across it and towards me.

"I am in charge!" he practically yelled, and I crossed my arms and held his sharp gaze.

"No, I am in charge. Of Doveport. And I'm going to run it the way Phil would have wanted me to—as a democracy. He built this for us. They're not going to want to leave, so we're not leaving."

"You people can't even wipe your own asses without our help. I'm making you the best offer of your miserable fucking lives!"

"Our lives weren't miserable until you came along!" I challenged, standing up and getting into his face, not willing to back down. If he wanted me to go with him, he'd have to drag me there. I wasn't leaving Doveport.

Negan leaned closer to me.

"You're being really fucking stupid right now," he snarled.

"Go fuck yourself," I spat back.

I hardly had time to react.

He moved so fast that it took me by surprise, and I gasped. In a second, he rounded the desk and was right in my face, towering over me with that scowl. I backed away from the chair and over to the wall where he cornered me. He leaned in so his face was inches from mine, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"I love this badass attitude you got going on, but don't forget who's in fucking charge here. I still own all of you. Just because you bashed fucknut's brains in doesn't mean you can start acting like you're the boss."

I scowled at him and pressed my back hard against the wall. The expression on his face was so serious, so menacing. I would have been terrified if it wasn't for that little hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

He was enjoying this.

My thoughts went to the way he had taunted Adam, coaxing him into insulting Philip and leading to my uncontrolled rage. Negan hadn't even been there originally, in fact, he hadn't been there for over a month. I hadn't seen him in all that time, and instead he had sent Adam in his place.

"It's your fault," I mumbled, breaking our stare and looking down at the ground, "You left us with Adam. If you hadn't put him in charge, Philip would still be alive. They'd both be alive…"

Negan didn't say anything, so I continued.

"Why did you send Adam?" I felt tears start to well up in my eyes as I thought about a reality where Philip wasn't dead, and Negan hadn't sent Adam.

Negan noticed my bubbling emotions and looked away. He shifted a bit, but still remained very close to me.

"I have other communities to deal with," he muttered under his breath.

I couldn't help but wonder that after what happened at the Sanctuary if Negan felt guilty and uncomfortable because of what A.J. had done. He had distanced himself from Doveport and me ever since, and I knew the two things had to be related.

"Why did you show up that night?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked in a low growl. I looked back at his face as he peered down at me. He seemed on edge, as if me blaming him for Philip's death had somehow hit a nerve. I didn't think he would care.

"Why did you show up the night Adam killed Phil?"

Negan hadn't bothered with us for weeks, and then he showed up moments after Adam shot Philip. It couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Adam's men radioed and said you hadn't provided," he explained, still not looking at me.

I wasn't satisfied with his answer.

"But why did you show up? You put him in charge and trusted him to dish out punishments. We didn't provide, and he was just doing his job. Why did you show up?"

Negan finally looked at me. He gazed into my eyes for a long time before he muttered, "It doesn't fucking matter."

"Tell me," I commanded, reaching out and grabbing his hand. His head snapped back and looked down at where my fingers were lightly squeezing his. He looked back up at me and smiled, but it was one of his more gentle ones.

"To make sure you were okay."

I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion and contemplated his words. I didn't understand what he was saying.

"Why?" My voice came out in a soft whisper, and I let go of his hand.

"Because if you haven't fucking figured it out yet, I like you," he reached out and took my hand back into his and squeezed it, "And I want you. I know things are fucking complicated, but they don't have to be." He laced his fingers through mine, and I stared down at our hands entwining, speechless. I knew he was attracted to me, but it was still hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"I want you to come back with me." He started to pull me closer to him, and I stumbled forward, my body pressing against his. He caught me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He leaned in as if he was about to kiss me, and then hesitated. It was like he was asking permission for it, allowing me to make the next move.

I turned my head down and away, rejecting it.

Negan sighed and let go of my waist. He took a step back, giving me space.

"You left us with Adam," I whispered, not able to look at him. I didn't even know what to think in the moment, but I knew that a part of me was blaming him for everything that had happened that night. "You haven't seen me in over a month, and you expect me to just go with you now?" If he liked me, why had he left me for so long?

"And I know you think it's amusing, but I'm not a killer, Negan. I don't know what's happening to me, but that's not who I am."

"You're adapting. There's nothing wrong with that," he answered in a deep voice, "You're fucking beautiful and I haven't wanted a woman this bad in a very long time."

Beautiful.

He said that same word when I had killed Adam. He had called me beautiful then too. I wondered if he really thought that, or if he just wanted to get in my pants. Negan was a hard man to read, and he wasn't bad looking. In fact, I found him quite handsome, but I had been in denial of any attraction because of the guilt that would accompany it.

Negan placed a hand on my arm and started to rub it.

"Come on, Ellie," he coaxed. My stomach churned, and I pulled away from him fast and winced.

Philip's voice was in my head a second later, "Be careful, Ellie."

Ellie.

It had been his nickname for me, something special between the two of us.

I took a deep breath, trying to shake the chills that were spreading through my body, and spoke.

"Please don't call me that."

"I can call you whatever the hell I want," Negan chuckled, tilting his head in amusement as if it was a lighthearted joke. He probably thought I didn't like the pet name, or that it made me feel like a child.

It was so much more than that.

"It's what Phil called me," I whispered, feeling a tear roll down my face. I knew Negan wouldn't give a shit, but I really didn't want to hear it.

"I'm sorry."

I turned to look at him in surprise as he apologized. Once again he looked sympathetic to me, or maybe it was something else I hadn't noticed before—something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of him having any real feelings towards me, but knew nothing could ever come of it.

"I can't be with you, Negan."

"Why? Because your classmates will judge?" he scoffed, raising his voice a bit, clearing getting frustrated by the rejection, "Stop giving a fuck what the others think about you. They already saw you mutilate someone. And I can fucking guarantee that being with me will be a helluva lot more fun than killing people."

"I didn't enjoy killing them!" I exclaimed. "I'm not like you."

"I don't enjoy it either!" he argued, furrowing his brow. "But it's part of living in this world now."

I wanted to argue with him on it because I didn't want to believe that he was right. I wanted to believe that it was possible to survive in this world without killing, but that wasn't the case. I was proof of that.

Negan shook his head and turned from me, rounding the table and going over to where his bat was leaning by the desk and taking it into his hand.

"We have a lot more in common than you think," Negan said, turning back to look at me, "One day you're going to see that."

"I don't think so," I said, crossing my arms.

Negan stared at me with that impossible expression, and then slowly nodded. He pursed his lips as if he was thinking, and then he pointed at me with the bat.

"I want you to come with me on a run tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" I asked, confused at the sudden change of topic. I still had questions for him, but he seemed to be shutting down from our current conversation.

"It's a surprise," he remarked.

I had no idea what this surprise could possibly be, and was extremely curious. Still, it had only been a week since losing my friend. I wasn't exactly feeling up to travelling, especially with Negan right then.

"I'm not really in the mood for surprises." I walked over to the office chair and pushed it in towards the desk. Negan watched me, and I could feel his frustration looming as the silence grew between us. I didn't feel like I could look at him. In the moment, I just wanted him gone.

"Fuckin' humor me. It'll be just us. I'll even leave my men at home," Negan offered, leaning back on his heels and raising his eyebrows at me. I closed my eyes, trying to decide if I really wanted to argue with him on this, and then nodded. I wasn't willing to fight him anymore, and a run couldn't hurt.

Negan smirked and then turned to leave the room without another word. As he left, I looked up at the open door and let out a long sigh. I couldn't help but wonder where the hell he was going to take me.