A week went by in the blink of an eye. The nightmares continued to plague my sleep every night, and I found myself relying on the pain meds to drown them out. I thought I would have become numb to their haunting faces, but every time they visited my dreams, I felt utter dread and guilt—especially when I saw Philip.

Many of my cuts had started to scab over and close, leaving scars that decorated my body. Even the gash on my neck had started to heal and was less tender, but I wasn't taking the pills for the physical pain anymore. They were more like an emotional anesthetic.

My mind was constantly trying to pull me back to everything that had happened. I often dreamed of being in bed and suddenly being pinned down by A.J. I watched in horror again and again as Philip was shot. I found myself gripping a blood soaked barbed-wire baseball bat after beating Adam to death. I shrieked in horror as Caleb sliced open my skin.

But it didn't stop there. I started seeing their faces when I was awake, lingering in the background everywhere I went. I couldn't escape them. I swallowed countless pills, hoping it would make them disappear, but they only made me indifferent to them. I tried to sleep as much as I could to avoid them, but in doing so, I also avoided my friends.

One day the pills ran out, and I had to get a new bottle from Carson. Thankfully, he didn't question the fact I already needed a second bottle. As the Sanctuary's only doctor, he was an extremely busy man.

Then another week passed, and I emptied that bottle twice as fast.

I wasn't addicted—at least, that's what I told myself. This was only temporary, and that constant pull I was feeling was a need to not be in any pain. Only hours after running out, I was faced with an agonizing headache. My entire body was aching, and the cuts that hadn't bothered me were on fire.

I needed more pills.

I was almost to the infirmary on my way to talk to Dr. Carson when I saw Amy headed towards me. Her stomach was really starting to extend and she had been given larger clothes to compensate. I stared at her baby bump as she approached me and realized it had grown so much in the time we'd been here.

"Elle, guess what!" she exclaimed, smiling wide at me. Normally I would have met her enthusiasm, but I didn't have time to talk to her. I needed to get to the infirmary.

"Carson set up the ultrasound machine today. I'm having a girl!" Amy was beaming.

I should have been ecstatic for her.

I should have congratulated her.

I should have cared.

But all I wanted were my pills.

"That's great, Amy," I said in an apathetic voice. Fortunately, Amy didn't pick up on my tone.

"I think I'm gonna name her Abigail, after my mom. Eric likes that name too, what do you think?"

"Sure…" I placed a hand to lean on the wall, and looked over her shoulder. Dr. Carson's office was right behind her. I was so close to getting my meds.

"Listen Amy, I gotta go talk to Carson."

"Hold on, I gotta show you-"

"I don't have time." I pushed past her to make my way to the office. I wasn't going to stand around with her until I had my medication, and her cheery attitude was getting on my nerves. She had been holding something in her hand, but I couldn't focus long enough to see what it was. To be honest, I didn't care. All I cared about was getting my pills so that I could avoid the pain for just a little longer.

Amy didn't follow me into Carson's office. I knew she would probably be hurt by my reaction, or lack thereof, but I could fix everything once I took the pain medication.

Dr. Carson was sitting behind his desk and filling out some paperwork. I always thought it was strange that he was so meticulous about his files and wondered if Negan made him be so organized. What was the point? The world had gone to shit. Maybe that's just how he was. He glanced up at me and then looked back down at his paperwork.

"Hello, Elle. What can I do for you today?" He wrote something down, and then set his pen onto the desk and looked up at me with a thin smile.

"I need more pain meds." I decided to be upfront with him, and hoped it would work out in my favor.

"You can't possibly be out. Those bottles are a two weeks supply." He sat back in his chair and regarded me. "Are you taking more than the recommended dose?"

"I just need another bottle. It's no big deal." I was trying to play it cool.

"I'm sorry Elle, but I can't let you take any more. Abusing those kinds of opiates is dangerous. Your cuts have started to heal nicely. I think you should stay off them from now on."

"No, please!" I begged, slamming my hands down onto his desk and startling him. "I need them. Please, just give me a few more!"

Carson stood up and crossed his arms. He seemed a bit nervous, but was doing his best to be stoic.

"You don't need anymore, Elle. I think you should try going without them. I don't want to have to talk to Negan about this."

It was a warning—he was mentioning Negan to remind me that I was still under his roof. I didn't need Negan getting involved, but I didn't appreciate the threat. If Negan found out I was taking more pills than I was supposed to, he'd take them away for good.

And I couldn't have that.

I narrowed my eyes at him and felt anger surge through me.

"Fine!" I seethed, turning to march out of the infirmary.

I would figure something else out.

The evening dragged on forever. I laid in my bed and tried to ignore the throbbing migraine and aches in my bones.

I couldn't focus.

I couldn't think.

I needed those pills.

Talking to Carson was a lost cause. He wasn't going to give me the medication willingly, and I knew threatening him would just land my ass in trouble. After hours of trying to come up with a solution, I decided I had no other choice.

I had to steal them.

I waited until the sun set and the moon rose high in the sky. I looked out the glass pane window and hoped Negan's men wouldn't be on patrol or that Carson would be working late.

Creeping into the hallway, I made sure that the coast was clear. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could move through the hallways to Carson's office with ease. The door was closed, but I was relieved to discover it was unlocked. Negan probably figured no one was stupid enough to steal medication. In my eyes, he was the stupid one for making this all too easy.

And it was too easy.

None of the medication was locked up. I closed the door behind me and immediately went over to the cupboard where I had seen Carson fetch the pain medication before. Using the moonlight coming through the window, I studied the different colored canisters until I found what I was looking for.

I grabbed three bottles and closed the cabinet doors. Turning off the light and opening the door slowly, I glanced around to make sure I wasn't being watched. I was just about to enter the hallway when a voice from over my shoulder made me jump.

"Don't do this."

I dropped the pill bottles onto the ground and they clattered; the shrill sound seemed to echo off the walls. My heart jumped into my throat. I knew that voice immediately, and I turned slowly to look behind me.

Philip was standing in the doctor's office with wide, sad eyes. He was staring at the bottles on the ground and he shook his head.

"Please, Elle." His eyes went to mine. "Put them back."

"Leave me alone!" I whispered sharply, and just as I turned away from Philip I came face to face with A.J.

"It's okay, new girl. Take as many as you need. They'll help you relax." He reached out a hand to grab me and I winced.

"Better yet, find a knife!" Caleb was inside Carson's office and sitting on top of his desk. "Or a scalpel. Something sharp. Let's reopen those wounds! I'd hate to see my work go to waste."

I brought my hand to my face and pinched the bridge of my nose. I wanted them to shut up. Why wouldn't they just shut the hell up?

When I looked around again, they were gone. I let out a sigh of relief, and then I noticed a figure leaning against the wall out in the dark hallway.

"You should swallow as many as you can and just fucking end it already," Adam said. I knew his head was mangled, same as always. Letting out a breath and doing my best to ignore him, I bent over and collected the bottles.

I hurried back to my bedroom, and once inside, I closed the door silently and locked it. I sat down on the edge of my bed and placed two of the little white canisters on my nightstand. Taking the third into my hand, I screwed off the top and poured four pills into my hand. I tossed them into my mouth and swallowed.

I felt instant relief. I knew the drugs couldn't be affecting me yet, but I was just happy that I would have enough to last me a while. It was a great comfort.

I curled up into my blankets and sighed contently, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

I slept much later than I intended. Not that it really mattered. It wasn't like Negan had assigned us any jobs or responsibilities.

I sat up and stretched, looking around my room. The pill bottles were still sitting on the nightstand, and I smiled at them. I opened the same bottle from the night before and took four more pills. Once I swallowed them, I grabbed all three canisters and stuffed them into my pillow case.

I got dressed and glanced out the window. My room was facing the back of the Sanctuary, and I could see Vivienne working out in the garden. In the few weeks we'd been living at Negan's humble abode, Vivienne had made a huge amount of progress. She showed the community members living here how to grow their own produce, and already the garden had a wide variety of vegetation growing. I wondered if Negan was impressed. He was always very busy, and I hadn't seen him.

Once I was out of my room, I headed down the hallway with a big grin on my face. I was feeling a lot better, and I decided I'd try to find Amy and Eric. It didn't take long. They were sitting in the recreation room together, and as I looked in through the open door, I noticed how happy they were. Both of them were sitting on a wide couch and they were watching a movie on a big tv screen. A few Sanctuary members and Doveporters were sitting with them, and they'd occasionally laugh. The smile on my face faded as I realized what was happening.

Between Vivienne with her garden, and Amy and Eric becoming acclimated, everyone was becoming a little too comfortable. I found myself glaring at the sight and the comforting sensation from the pills wasn't helping. In fact, I wasn't feeling better at all.

I started to make my way back to my bedroom when I started to feel faint. I leaned up against the wall and closed my eyes, willing myself not to throw up.

"Excuse me?" a voice came from right in front of my face and my eyes flew open. There was a woman with dark brown hair with bangs, and perfectly plucked eyebrows gazing down at me in concern. "Are you alright?"

I glanced up at her as I swayed from side to side.

Was she wearing a dress?

"I just need to lay down…" I felt like I could sleep right there in the hallway, but the woman placed a hand on my arm.

"Come with me." She started to pull me away from the wall. I thought I would fall, but she moved carefully. We came to a set of two large wooden doors and she pushed one open, escorting me inside. She led me to a big couch and I sat down and closed my eyes. My head lolled back and I passed out.

When I woke up again, that all too familiar headache was back and worse than ever before. How could that be the case? I had just taken the pills…

I opened my eyes to take in my surroundings. There was a glass table in front of me with a leafy plant—in fact, there were potted plants all over the huge room. It was decorated with all kinds of furniture including leather chairs and couches. I noticed a huge bed with a black wingback headboard, and covered in pillows of all sorts of colors, shapes and sizes. There was a huge chandelier on the ceiling, fancy lamps standing in the corners, and colorful artwork hanging on the walls. My eyes went to the wine rack off in the far corner of the room—I could see the wine glasses hanging up neatly on a stand.

And then my eyes went to the person standing above me—or rather, the people.

Five women had gathered around me, and they were staring down in concern. I squinted up at them, trying to figure out if I was imagining this. They looked like actresses or models; all of them had perfect hair and form fitting, black dresses on. I glanced from each one and then realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

Wives.

It was something I learned about Negan before I even met him. Danny had first told me about it, and then Naomi had mentioned them. Although everyone had talked about it, I hadn't really thought they were real.

But here they were, looming over me with worried expressions. I sat up a bit and brought a hand up to my forehead.

"I'm fine," I said looking over to the brunette that had found me. "Thank you."

"See Tanya, she's gonna be okay." A red-headed woman smiled at the brunette, or Tanya.

Tanya smiled a bit at me.

"You scared us." She held out a glass of water towards me and I took it, chugging it down gratefully. The pain was somehow getting worse, and I was still trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

I was meeting his wives.

"Where am I?" I asked, looking around.

"You're in the parlor room. It's where we stay," the redhead said, and she reached out a hand towards me. "I'm Frankie."

"Elle." I shook her hand and glanced around again. It didn't feel real.

"She doesn't care about our names," said a woman with the long blonde hair. "She probably just needs some space."

"I'm trying to be polite, Amber," Frankie said sternly. She smiled down at me. "Ignore her. She's moody."

"Well you can be polite without breathing down her neck," Amber retorted, walking over to the large bed with the pillows and flopping over onto it. Her feet flew up into the air and I noticed she was wearing heels. They all were.

"It's not Elle's fault you're all too curious for your own good," Amber added.

"I was just trying to help," Tanya explained. She moved across the room to sit on another couch as if to give me space, but her eyes were still locked on me.

The other wives dispersed throughout the room too, except for Frankie, who continued to stand before me. She seemed to be studying me, and it felt really awkward.

"You're that girl from the school, right?" she asked, sitting down next to me on the couch. I nodded, and rubbed at my arm, suddenly very aware of the bandages and scars.

"Yeah," I mumbled, bringing the glass back to my mouth and taking a sip.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

I nodded and closed my eyes, trying to figure out how the hell I had gotten here. I didn't want to think about what happened with Caleb. I didn't want to be meeting these women under these circumstances.

"This is a nice place," I mumbled, hoping to change the subject.

"Negan gets the best for his girls," Amber replied from where she was on the bed.

"Are you guys… forced?" The word wasn't eloquent, but it just spilled out of my mouth. I couldn't understand why he needed so many women. "I mean… Did he make you…"

"Marry him?" Amber asked, finishing my sentence for me. "No, he didn't make us."

"He added some incentives so we'd be more willing," Frankie explained. She fidgeted and played with the hem of her dress.

It felt wrong.

All of this felt so fucking wrong.

"You're not being held against your will?" I asked, glancing over to where Tanya was staring at the floor. They had all seemed so friendly, and now they were avoiding my gaze.

"Negan's helped us all out in some way. We're here because we want to be." Frankie finally spoke.

"Doesn't look that way to me," I muttered, sitting up and setting the glass down on the table.

"There are people who have it much worse than us. We're the lucky ones." She smiled a bit at me.

I didn't know what to say.

My relationship with Negan had changed drastically since our first kiss, and then Caleb happened. I had been at this factory for weeks, and this was the first time I was seeing any of these women. Did he keep them locked up? Were they allowed to even leave the room? They had to be—Tanya had found me out in the hall.

Still, I felt uneasy and slowly stood up from the couch. My head throbbed and my legs were shaky, but I needed to get out of this room.

"Thanks for helping me, but I'm good. I just need to go lay down."

Preferably in a room that's not filled with the wives of a man I've been kissing.

"I'll walk you back," Tayna said, getting up. I shook my head and the movement made me feel dizzy.

"No, it's okay. Thank you. I'll be alright." I smiled at her, trying to be reassuring and then headed for the doors.

"Oh, Elle?" Frankie's voice made me freeze, and I turned to look at her.

"I used to be a massage therapist, so if Negan's okay with it, I can give you a massage. It might help with all the stress."

"Okay…" I nodded at her, and tried my best to smile. I wanted to vomit. It was such a nice offer, but their kindness was somehow making this so much worse.

I left without another word and started to head back to my bedroom. I needed to try and sleep it off.

But as I walked, I kept thinking back to his wives. I couldn't get my mind off them.

They were all wearing dresses and heels. Did Negan make them do that? Did he lock them up in that room? They looked like they were trapped to me. The more I thought about them, the more pissed off I became.

He had been trying to get me to stay here, and was clearly attracted to me. Was he planning on asking me to become one of his wives? He probably had, if Caleb hadn't carved me up. I had felt so insecure sitting among such attractive women, while I looked worse than the walkers outside.

Why did he need me if he had them?

I didn't know if he was home or not, but I knew right then and there that I needed to talk to him. Instead of heading to my bedroom, I turned and made my way back down the hall. I glared ahead and tried to ignore the intense pain that was branching out in my head. I couldn't stay in this factory one more night.

It was time to go home.

I barged into Negan's room without warning. He was laying on top of his bed with his legs stretched out. As soon as the door opened, his hand went to his bat that was leaning up against his bed.

"I need to talk to you." I slammed the door shut behind me and stood there glaring across the room at him.

"I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing right now-"

"You're going to let us go back to Doveport. Tonight." It wasn't a request.

Negan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, regarding me with narrowed eyes.

"Absolutely not." His tone was stern, and I wanted to throw something at him.

"Why?" I yelled.

"You're not completely healed. Besides, your friends seem to like it here. Maybe we should have a vote? Didn't you say you guys run on a democracy?"

"Fuck you, Negan!" My head felt fuzzy, but I ignored it.

"I'm not taking you back to that shitty ass school," Negan said. My vision was becoming hazy, but I blinked a few times, trying to concentrate on the man in front of me.

"I can't live here," I affirmed, shaking my head. "I'm not gonna wear a fucking dress or become a part of your little harem."

"Careful, Elle." Negan's voice was low as he stood up from the bed. "I don't appreciate your tone."

"I don't appreciate the fact you have a room filled with women who you call your WIVES!" I was shouting, and it was making me even more nauseous than I already was. "I didn't want to believe it was true, but it is. You have five fucking wives. Five."

"I can count." Negan walked across to the room and reached out to touch my arm.

"Don't touch me." I winced and took a step back. Negan didn't pursue me, but let out a sigh.

"I'm not a one woman kind of guy."

That's your idea of an excuse?!

"You're disgusting," I scoffed and shook my head.

Negan's eyes narrowed at me.

"I'm honest. I like women. Why eat the same meal every day when you can enjoy the entire buffet?"

"WE'RE NOT FOOD!" I shouted, and my brain pulsed as I yelled. I saw black spots start to form over my vision and I placed a hand onto the back of the nearby chair to steady myself.

I took a few breaths, desperately trying to make myself feel better. Something was wrong, but I needed to win this argument.

"We're going home. Today." My heart started to race, but I looked up and met his gaze.

"That's not happening," he said. His indifference to my anger and outburst was infuriating.

"Negan, I-"

I stopped mid-sentence. My tongue wouldn't move and my jaw felt lax. In a single instant, my brain turned to mush and my knees buckled beneath me. Negan's mocking expression changed to one of concern, and I dropped to the ground.

I couldn't breathe. It was like I was underwater—Negan's voice was muffled and far away as if the sound was being sucked out of the room. I couldn't feel it, but I was vaguely aware that my entire body was jerking.

Negan was next to me on the ground and held my head as I continued to shake. I was aware that he was there, but I couldn't see him. It was like my brain had disconnected and I had lost all control. Soon my vision started to fade—a black ink spilled across my eyes, bleeding inward, until everything went black.