"Who the fuck is Negan?" Caleb demanded, glaring down at me. When I didn't answer, he pressed the tip of my knife against the open wound on my neck, making me cry out in a hoarse voice.

"He's the guy I trade supplies with every few weeks! He's here for his stuff."

"What stuff?" Caleb asked, pulling the blade away from my skin.

"We grow vegetables in the garden," I explained in a shaky voice. "There's a box of them in the kitchen."

"There's only two trucks and about five men waiting outside," Pete informed Caleb. "Want us to kill them?"

Caleb stared down at me for a few seconds, clearly trying to come up with a plan. The cut on my neck started to sting, and I winced as he regarded me. He seemed to be indifferent to my pain, and instead he seemed irritated that Pete had interrupted him.

"No. It's a waste of bullets." He sighed, and then glanced back up at Pete. "We'll send Elle out to give them their shit. She can make them think everything is fine. We'll plan on taking him out later."

The idea of seeing Negan and having him slaughter these assholes made me feel hopeful, but the happy feeling was fleeting.

"If you tell him about us being here, I'll shoot all your little friends. Then I'll kill this Negan guy, too."

All hope I had of being saved was immediately washed away. I knew Caleb wasn't joking around—that he would kill them all if I fucked this up. I couldn't risk their lives. We would have to find another way out of this.

"I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt anyone," I begged, meeting his gaze.

Caleb reached down and cupped my face, pulling me up to a sitting position. I swallowed hard as he grinned at me.

"That all depends on you, Elle."

A few minutes later, Caleb had every Doveporter gathered in the front hall of the school. They weren't visible through the windows, but close enough to the front doors that I would absolutely hear the sound of gunfire if I didn't do as asked. His men all took out their guns and pointed them at my cowering friends. Amy and Vivienne were huddled together, and I noticed that Eric was still not among them.

Caleb came over and handed me a box of vegetables—the same box we had been using to collect Negan's food. I took it into my arms, and as I did, Caleb licked his thumb and reached over to wipe at the blood that was trickling down my neck.

"Tell him you got hurt escaping a walker," he ordered, bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucking on it. I nodded and then turned my attention to the door. Amy was studying me with frightened eyes, probably trying to figure out what had happened to me as I walked past her. I tried to appear valiant as I passed my friends. I noted everyone was still alive, and hoped I could keep it that way.

As I exited the school and the door closed behind me, I had a sudden urge to run. I walked across the yard swiftly, but doing my best not to look panicked. As I reached the gate, I placed a hand on it and pulled it open part ways.

Negan was standing right by the entrance, with a look of irritation on his face and Lucille draped over his shoulder. I hung my head down almost immediately and didn't step into the open. I was suddenly very aware of the bleeding wound on my neck, and the black eye that I knew were going to cause questions—questions that wouldn't be believed by Negan if I told him it was from a walker. I made sure to keep my body positioned behind the gate so he wouldn't see the bleeding wound, and my head down so he wouldn't see my eye.

"Where the fuck have you been, Elle? I've been waiting here for fucking ever!" Negan said in a grumpy voice. It had only been a week, and his stubbornness was the only reason he was standing in front of me. I was grateful for it, but knew that if I didn't tread carefully, we would all pay.

I held the box out towards Negan, hoping he would just take it and go.

But he didn't take the box.

A short silence followed, and I wondered if he was trying to study me and figure out what was happening.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on…" he said in an unsure voice. He still sounded irritated. Of course he was. I had never made him wait before.

I didn't say anything and continued to avert my eyes down, silently praying he would just leave. In the back of my mind's eye, I could still see all of the Doveporters cowering together inside of the school with guns pointed at them. With every second that passed I expected to hear shots ring out.

"Elle, look at me," his voice was so gentle suddenly—all trace of anger gone and replaced with worry. Hearing that sound, I couldn't help it.

I looked up at him, feeling the tears build.

Negan's eyes widened a bit and went straight to the cut on my neck, and then to my black eye.

"What the fuck happened to you?!" he asked concerned. He went to reach out and touch the bleeding wound with his gloved hand, but I pulled away and shoved the box into him instead. I knew he wasn't going to leave until he got an answer, but what could I say that wouldn't make him charge towards the school, guns blazing?

"Did someone hurt you?" he asked softly, his eyes examining the rest of me. I swallowed and nodded once, eyes wide. I wished he could read my mind—to know about the nightmare that was happening to us.

He went to step into the yard of the school, but I blocked him with my body.

"Don't," I whispered, hanging my head down again. He was almost touching me—the close proximity would have caused butterflies after our last interaction. Instead, my stomach was doing somersaults. Caleb was watching, and if he even got slightly suspicious, it was game over.

Negan caught on right away that we needed to tread carefully. He took a step back so he was beyond the gate once more, and a thin smile spread on his face. It was fake, and I knew he was putting on a show.

"They're inside, aren't they?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I knew Caleb couldn't see my expression, and I widened my eyes more at him and nodded once again.

"With guns held to the backs of our heads," I whispered low.

I could tell he wanted to glance over at the school, but he continued to look at me instead. Then he whistled, and one of his men came up to take the box out of my hands. While his man came up to me, Negan stepped off to the side so he was out of view from the school and pressed up against the gate, opposite side of me.

"Come with me," he said low.

"I can't," I whispered, as tears threatened to fall down my face. How many times had he asked me to come with him to the Sanctuary? In the past, it had always been a flirtation. Now he was trying to protect me.

The Savior took the box just as I heard Negan take a frustrated breath.

"They're watching," I added.

"I know," he answered back. "Can you hold out for a few hours."

His man stepped out of the way, and Negan reappeared back in his place, smiling at me. His face seemed so relaxed, but I could see it in his eyes—he was already thinking of all the things he was going to do to the man who had hurt me.

"I think so. But I have to get back."

Negan nodded in understanding, and then motioned for his men to head out. They all started to get into their trucks, and I frowned as I watched them get ready to leave. I didn't want him to go, but he had to—he had to figure out a way to save us.

Before he turned to leave, Negan reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. His grip was hard, and I knew he was ready to pull me away from this place.

We both knew I wouldn't leave my people.

"For every fucking time he hurts you, I'm going to hurt him even fucking worse." His voice was ice cold, and he squeezed my shoulder tightly. His smile had turned grim, and his eyes trailed back to my bleeding cut. I knew Caleb would be seeing me soon, so I swallowed hard and fought the tears, not wanting to appear distraught.

"Hurry," I whispered.

He nodded, and then turned and walked up to a truck. I watched them drive away, and then pulled the gate shut. Instead of locking it, I mimicked the action. I hoped if I left it unlocked, it would make our rescue that much easier—and I really hoped Caleb didn't bother to check it.

"You didn't tell him anything, did you Elle?" Caleb called, stepping outside of the school. I shook my head and met his gaze, doing my best to look as defeated as I had been before.

"He said I need to be more careful with walkers, and that he'd be back in a week for more food. Same time."

Caleb read my expression carefully, and I fought the urge to gulp. I needed him to believe that Negan wasn't a threat, and that he had us where he wanted. I was relieved when Caleb grinned wide.

"Good girl. He can enjoy one more week alive. Once he's dead, I'm totally taking that sick bat of his." He placed his hand around my wrist and pulled me back towards the school. He led me through the doors and passed my friends.

"Lock them back up," he ordered. Amy and Vivienne looked at me desperately, trying to figure out if we were going to get out of this—if Negan was going to save us. I hung my head down, not wanting to look at them and expose that I hadn't done what Caleb asked. He needed to think he was going to win—that we were giving up.

I was shoved back into my room, and I started to shake as I watched Caleb pull my knife out again.

"Now… where were we?"

If the nightmare had been bad before, it was even worse once Caleb had me alone, uninterrupted. He never intended to rape me, but instead he got off on making me bleed.

His sick obsession came with a ritual. He would take the knife and slowly slice into my skin, causing a shallow cut to form—not enough to make me bleed out, but enough to cause a sharp pain to spread across my whole body. He would watch the blood flow out, and then bring his lips to the wound, sucking roughly against my sore flesh.

And I learned quickly not to fight it.

Each time I writhed and tried to pull away, he would press the knife to a new spot and slice. He started with my neck and chest, and then moved on to cutting my arms and legs, arbitrarily cutting into different places along my body.

Each time he brought his mouth to the lacerations, I would cry out, which only seemed to encourage him. My blood coated his mouth and rolled down in lines to his chin. I hadn't said anything the entire time when he lifted the blade once again. I had already lost track of how many cuts he had made.

"Please stop," I sobbed, as he lifted up my shirt and sliced into my abdomen. I struggled to remain stationary, and the blade cut deeper than it usually went, making Caleb hiss out.

"Hold still!" he ordered, pressing me down onto the bed. I began to tremble, and squeezed my eyes shut as he brought his mouth down to the new cut. It hurt so bad, and I wondered if I was going to bleed out. I was already starting to feel light headed.

When I wasn't fighting him anymore, he spent longer periods of time focusing on the cuts he made. Although he lingered with each one, he still continued to slice into my flesh and make new ones. Every time the blade broke skin, I cried out, but I stopped physically struggling. There was no use.

I tried to focus on Negan. I pictured the way he had looked at me before he had left. I wondered if he would come soon.

I needed him to come soon.

"I bet you think this is fucked up, huh?" Caleb asked, sitting up from a fresh cut he had made along my leg. "I bet you think I'm disgusting."

I didn't answer him, and was just thankful he wasn't cutting or sucking my skin.

"But this is who I am. Who I have always been, even before the world ended." I finally looked up at him to see he was studying my blood coated knife. "Even after all the therapy sessions and all the medication, nothing seemed to fix me. And you know why that is?" His eyes met mine, and I gulped.

"It's because I'm not broken."

He placed the blade onto my shoulder and dragged it down with one swift motion, making me cry out.

"You're one of the lucky ones, Elle. You could be one of those creatures out there, but you survived this whole time, just to become mine." He continued to pin me down as I writhed in pain. I felt more tears roll down my face as he placed his hand onto the wound and spread the skin a bit. I screamed out; the pain was unbearable, and I thought I was going to black out.

"They're eating each other out there. That's just the world we live in now." He let go of my skin, and my whole body shook from the trauma. "It's a world made for people like me."

He leaned down and slid is tongue into the deep wound and I began to sob, clutching the bed sheets tight.

"And you taste so sweet," he added, his lips moving against my bloodied flesh.

He continued to cut me, over and over and over. Each time he carved into me, I tried to twist from his grasp, but he held me down with little effort. I wanted to become numb to it, but each time the knife slipped into my flesh, it hurt even worse than before.

Eventually I stopped screaming. There was no use.

I had almost passed out when a loud BANG made me open my eyes wide.

Gunfire.

Caleb's head shot up, and before I could react, he was grabbing me and pulling me up from the bed. As soon as I was sitting upwards I could tell something was wrong—I was dizzy, and could barely keep myself up on my own. I glanced down to see my shirt was covered in blood. My pants had been pulled off, and my bare legs were covered in his cuts. I almost fell back onto the bed, but Caleb pulled me up onto my feet and led me out of the room.

He dragged me towards the cafeteria quickly, and I stumbled as we went. Screams started filling the halls as I stumbled, and my head whipped to the side as I desperately tried to figure out who was yelling. The screams were followed with gunfire—and it was coming from the classroom they had been keeping all the Doveporters in.

Once we reached the cafeteria, Caleb pulled me towards the middle of the room. He was frantically looking around for a way out. My eyes went over to the ground where Eric was laying.

He looked dead.

Caleb brought the knife up against my throat and held it there.

"You bitch," he hissed against my ear, and positioned himself so we were both facing the hall. He knew who was coming for him.

Gunshots continued to echo through the halls as we stood in the middle of the big open room. I had never thought I would be so relieved to hear the loud sound. The cool air was harshly licking away at my exposed wounds, and I shivered as my skin felt like ice. I wanted so badly to succumb to the tempting urge to pass out, but I focused my sights on the hall.

I couldn't give up now.

A familiar face rounded the corner slowly, a revolver in her hand. It was Naomi, the woman who had showed me around the Sanctuary. She aimed her gun right at Caleb, who was still holding me hostage. When her eyes reached me, she looked shocked when she noticed the many cuts covering my skin. She slowly reached over and removed a radio from her side and brought it to her mouth.

"Negan, I've got her. She's in the cafeteria."

There was no response from the radio, and she placed it back to her side carefully, still aiming her gun at Caleb.

"It's okay, Elle," she tried to reassure me, but as she spoke, Caleb pressed the blade deeper into my skin, making a line of blood trickle down. I whimpered at the sharp feeling.

"Stay back!" he yelled. "Or I'll slit her fucking throat."

Naomi didn't move for a few moments before I saw someone else come around the corner.

Negan.

He had a pistol in his hands and a scowl on his face as his eyes went to Caleb, holding me against him with a knife to my throat. I smiled a little bit, knowing that no matter what happened to me, Caleb's little reign of terror was over.

"Drop your guns, or I'll kill her!" Caleb threatened.

Negan took a step forward, and I could have sworn I heard Caleb gulp.

"What the fuck did you do to her?!" Negan demanded. I watched as his eyes scanned my body.

"I gave her a purpose!" Caleb shouted. His hand was shaking as he continued to press the knife into my skin. "Isn't my work beautiful? Here, let me show you!" He went to cut into my neck, but froze as Negan took another step forward.

"All your men are dead," Negan informed him in a booming voice. "All you're fucking showing me is that you're about to join them."

Caleb was breathing hard; there was no way out of this, and he knew it. He dug the blade into the skin of my neck, making me cry out in pain.

"Let her go, you sick fuck!" Negan shouted. I could feel my vision start to blur as I struggled to hold myself up. Caleb pulled the blade away from my neck, and for a single moment, I thought he was going to let me go—that I was going to be free.

Instead, he brought the knife to the side of my neck, and went to slit my throat.

The gunshot was quick and precise; the bullet flew through the air and dug deep into Caleb's shoulder—the shoulder that was holding the knife. As it hit him, Caleb's grip on the knife slipped, and I felt the blade tear deep into my neck. Caleb stumbled back and fell onto one of the lunch tables, and I dropped down to the floor. Blood seeped out from the new wound—the last wound Caleb would ever make on me.

I reached up to feel blood was gushing from my neck and I sputtered out, trying to find my voice but I couldn't talk. I could barely breathe. I gasped for breath and looked around frantically. Naomi was at my side a few moments later, lifting my head up and pressing something against my neck.

"Stay with me, Elle," she said loudly, cradling my head. She had placed her hands over the wound of my neck and was trying to stop the blood flow. My head lolled to the side and I tried to keep my eyes open as best I could, but everything was fuzzy.

As darkness engulfed my vision, the last thing I saw was Naomi's worried face looking down at me.

"Elle!" Negan's voice sounded distant.

And then everything went black.