When I came to, my head was throbbing and my muscles felt tight and tense. I didn't sit up right away, and instead opened my eyes to stare up at the ceiling above me. It was vaguely familiar. As I slowly turned my head, I realized I was in Negan's room—in Negan's bed, but I had no idea how I had gotten there.

My whole body felt like it was still asleep, and I tried to stretch my limbs. The movement made me feel even more sore, and I whimpered.

"Well look who's awake."

My neck twisted so I could look across the room. Negan was sitting on the love-seat and watching me with a stern expression. I swallowed and my throat felt very dry.

"Can I have some water?" I asked. My voice was very hoarse.

"Sure, there's some on the night stand next to you. Do you want these too?" He picked something up from the little table in front of him and tossed it towards me. It landed on the bed with a rattle.

The pills.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember how I ended up here. I had been yelling at Negan about something…

His wives.

I had met his wives.

I had wanted to go home, and I had been angry at him.

The rest was a blur.

"What happened?" I asked, slowly sitting up. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I reached over to the nightstand and picked up the glass of water and gulped it down. My eyes went to the medication, but I didn't grab it because Negan's gaze was completely fixated on me.

"Carson thinks you had a seizure."

A seizure?

I had never had a seizure before, but I could barely remember anything other than my argument with Negan. It made sense though. If I had seized, then I would have fallen down. It was why my body was hurting. I tried to recall when it happened, but my mind was drawing blanks. It didn't help that Negan wouldn't stop staring at me.

"How long have I been out?" I reached up to rub my eyes. That familiar headache was as intense as ever.

"A couple hours. Why don't you take some pills to help with that pain?"

There was something in this tone, like a thin line of sarcasm and condescension. I furrowed my brow at him, and then my eyes went to the little table in front of him. Two more familiar white bottles were sitting on top of it.

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. They were the three bottles I had stolen from Carson's office. I tried to calm my nerves, but I was growing more anxious by the second.

"Need another fix?" Negan taunted, picking up another bottle and tossing it onto the bed. "I wasn't sure how many you'd need, seeing as you're going through them like fucking candy."

I didn't know what to say. I had been so fixated on getting my pills and not feeling anything that I hadn't factored in getting caught. Part of me wanted to fire back at him and try to explain the extra drug usage, but the throbbing pain in my skull prevented me from opening my mouth. And even as Negan stared at me from across the room with disapproval on his face, I wanted so badly to reach over to one of the bottles laying on the mattress and open it. As he continued to speak, I picked up one of the little, white canisters.

"Carson said some meds went missing and told me all about how you came to him asking for more pills. After you collapsed like some kind of fucking human vibrator, I had my men search your room, and sure as shit, the three missing bottles were in your fucking pillow case."

He picked up the last bottle from the table and tossed it onto the bed. It pattered next to the other one, and I winced at the sound.

"Your little addiction triggered the seizure. You were spasming on my floor for almost a full minute. Carson said it could have caused brain damage. I've been waiting for you to wake up to find out if you were a fucking vegetable or not."

My heart was pounding in my ears as he spoke. I felt like I was going to throw up at what he was saying.

I had overdosed on the pills.

He stood up from the love-seat and walked over to the bed to peer down at me.

"I can see the way you're looking at them. Go on. Take them. I know you want to." He placed his hands on the mattress and leaned over so his face was near mine. "Don't worry I'll take care of your people, even after you've killed yourself."

I closed my eyes again and wanted him to disappear. My wish was granted when I heard him leave the room.

I wished I could fall asleep. My head pulsed and I my eyes watered. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rest. I shifted a bit under the blankets, making the pill bottles rattle, and looked down at the one in my hand. I tried to ignore their call, but I knew if I wanted to feel okay, I needed them.

I opened the bottle and swallowed down two pills.

Leaning back against the pillow, I felt my heart rate slow, and I smiled as I started to finally relax and drift to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later to find I was alone in Negan's room. I was relieved to see Negan wasn't there—I didn't need him to scrutinize me. I had clearly made a mistake taking too many pills, but I just wouldn't do that anymore.

I picked up the pill bottles from the bed and carried them over to the door and turned the knob—or I tried to. My effort was in vain, and the door would not open.

I pulled on it a few times and then banged my fist against the door.

"Hello?" I called out. The door was locked from the other side.

He had locked me in.

I shook the knob a little more desperately and then began hitting the wood with my fist, calling out. Panic set in and I raised my voice.

"Please! Let me out of here!"

There was something about Negan's room that made me feel claustrophobic in the moment. The idea of being trapped inside had me hitting the door again and again, hoping anyone would hear that I was trapped inside.

Finally I heard the sound of the door unlocking and I took a step back. It flew open and Negan was standing there with a steely expression. I went to walk by him, but he blocked my way and instead took a step into the room.

"You need to keep it the fuck down!" He pulled the door shut as he entered, closing me in with him.

"I want to leave," I said sternly. The pill bottles were still in my hands.

Negan's eyes went to the little canisters and he frowned. I could already feel the lecture coming on, and I really didn't want to hear it.

"You're not going anywhere because I can't fucking trust you. You stole meds, and that's a big ass no-no. So until you get your act together, you can stay here. Either use this little opportunity as a personal rehab treatment, or you can keep poppin' pills until it kills you. Looks like you're choosing the latter." He gestured to the canisters in my hands.

He was being condescending, and both his tone and the fact he was telling me I was locked in here regardless made me see red.

"You can't be serious!" I shouted, glaring at him. "I'm not staying in here, Negan!"

"I am serious, and you fucking are. But don't worry. You can hang onto the pills. I know how bad you need them." He turned to leave the room and I lost it.

"You're gonna keep me locked up in here like some kind of fucking prisoner?!" I threw one of the pills bottles and it hit the wall next to his head. He turned and I could see fire in his eyes, but I was too far gone to care.

"Don't-" Negan went to scold me, but I continued yelling.

"I guess you're getting what you wanted, Negan. Oh I bet you LOOOOOVE this!" I threw another bottle at him and it rattled against the wall. He hadn't even flinched as it whipped past his head.

"You finally have me where you want me! Gonna bend me over your bed like you said? Or are you gonna pin me down like AJ?"

I went to throw the last bottle, but he closed the distance and grabbed my wrist that was held up in the air. I was seething, and he was just as angry at my reaction. I didn't care.

"You think I'm gonna be thankful for this? You have ruined my life. Things were FINE until you showed up. I have lost EVERYTHINGbecause of you."

The words were shooting out like arrows, and I didn't care how sharp they were. In fact, I wanted them to hurt. Negan was peering down at me and holding my wrist tightly, but he wasn't saying anything, which just made me angrier.

"YOU killed Seth. YOU brought me here and AJ almost raped me. Adam was YOUR man and he murdered Philip. And YOU left me with Caleb. It's all YOUR fault. YOU have hurt me worse than all of them combined."

I shook my head in disgust and took a step back from him. He was still gripping my wrist and the pill bottle was still in my balled up hand.

"I hate you."

If my words were affecting him, it didn't show. His expression remained grim and he just stared at me. I wanted him to react. I wanted him to shout and yell too, but he didn't. Instead he let go of my wrist and turned away from me to walk over to the door.

"You have a choice to make," he said with his back to me. His voice was void of emotion, and I squeezed the pill bottle in my hand.

No I didn't—I couldn't give up the meds. That was out of the question. How did I have a choice when all I wanted to do right then and there was go gather the other bottles that were now laying on his floor by the wall where I had flung them. I glared at him as he walked away from me.

"You can't do this!" I screamed as he pulled the door closed behind him. I ran over to it just in time to hear the lock click and the sounds of his footsteps walking away.

"NEGAN!" I shouted, as I banged against the door, but it was no use.

I was locked in.

Time felt as if it was moving slowly. Over the next couple of hours, I fought the urge to take the pain medication in an attempt to prove Negan wrong. The headache returned and felt like it was pulsing inside my skull. I couldn't sit still and found myself pacing the room. I spent a bit of time looking out the window at the Sanctuary's patrolling guards and the walkers at the fence, but I could hardly focus.

I needed the pills.

But I was addicted—the single fact I felt an urge to take them was proof enough of that. My eyes kept glancing over at the little bottles where I had placed them on Negan's nightstand. I was curled up on the love-seat, where I had gone to try and put some distance from myself and the medication.

Just one more dose…

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, pleading with an unknown force to end the aches and pains. I just wanted to feel like myself again, but I was afraid that person was long dead.

I knew there were only two options—Negan was right. I did have a choice. I could give up the pills or just give up all together.

"It would be really easy…" Adam appeared sitting across from me in one of Negan's box chairs. Bits of bloodied flesh slid off the slide of his face as he spoke. "Swallow a few more pills than you're used to, and you can drift right off to sleep."

It was tempting.

I felt so exhausted, and going to sleep without having to wake up sounded pretty good right about then. I glanced over at the bottles and wondered how that would go down. I would turn into a walker, that was a given. Negan would come back to check on me and find me as a living corpse.

Would he be sad?

Would he even care?

Adam had already disappeared, and I tried to calm my breathing that had picked up.

Was I really laying here debating killing myself?

I didn't have to commit suicide to make the pain stop. I could just take the recommended dose. That wouldn't hurt anyone. I would just go back to taking the medication the way Carson had directed me to. Then things could go back to normal.

Making a decision, I stood up on wobbly legs and walked over to the nightstand. I picked up one of the bottles and removed the lid, pouring two capsules out just as the door unlocked.

I turned to see it was Amy entering the room. Her eyes went to the pills in my open hand and she became distraught. The sight of her took me off guard, and I set the pills down on top of the nightstand. Before I could greet her, she spoke.

"I didn't think it was this bad."

She continued to stare at the capsules that were now laying on the little wooden shelf.

"You have to let me out of here, Amy. Negan is keeping me as his prisoner," I said, standing up from the bed.

"I can't." Amy's voice sounded strained, as if she was fighting the urge to cry.

"Of course you can!" I smiled at her. "We don't have to stay here anymore. We can go home."

Her bottom lip was quivering, and she averted her eyes.

"Elle, I'm the one who told Negan to keep you here and put a lock on the door."

I felt like the wind was being knocked out of me.

"What?" My smile faded and I stared at her confused. It had been her idea? Why? I didn't understand.

"You haven't been yourself for weeks. You've been avoiding all of us… You've shut me out. I knew something was wrong, but you wouldn't talk to me. About anything!" She started to cry, and any other time the sight would have broken my heart, but I was too busy soaking in what she was saying. This wasn't all Negan's doing.

How could she betray me like this?

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked between sobs.

My eyes went to the pills on the nightstand and I stood there an emotionless shell.

"I've been through hell, Amy. They help me cope." My voice was cold.

"Negan told me about the seizure, Elle. You could have died! Is that what you want? To die?!"

I couldn't answer her. I wasn't really sure if I did or not.

My lack of a response made her cry even harder. She brought her hands up to cover her face as she wept.

"Amy, you don't get it. You weren't there when Caleb was pinning me down and cutting into my skin. You didn't beat a man to death with a fucking baseball bat. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind!" My voice continued to raise, and I clenched my fists in frustration. "I see them, Amy. Adam, Caleb, AJ, Phil." Her eyes widened at the mention of our friend's name. "They're everywhere. They follow me, and I can't get them to shut the hell up!"

Amy grew quiet as she studied me, with tears still rolling down her cheeks. I wanted so badly to take the pills off the nightstand and down them, but I knew I couldn't. Not while she was in the room with me.

"It's the meds, Elle. They're making you hallucinate." She noticed my attention was on them and she took a step towards me, and then stopped.

"No, it's not. They help. You don't get it. Negan doesn't get it. None of you fucking get it! You don't understand what I'm going through." I was shaking my head as I spoke.

"You weren't the only one trapped in that school, Elle," Amy pointed out. "I might not have been cut up, and I'm really sorry that happened to you, but it was horrible for all of us. Eric was almost beaten to death, but he's not addicted to pain medication."

"Eric has a reason to live," I replied sharply, my eyes going to her extended stomach.

"And you don't?" she asked with a deep frown.

I looked away from her. I couldn't come up with a reason to keep going. I was completely broken, and I couldn't imagine a future where I could be fixed.

"I don't really care if I live or die anymore," I said, indifference thick in my voice.

Amy looked up at the ceiling as if she was trying to think of something to say. I reached over to take the pills off the nightstand, suddenly not caring if she saw me take them or not. I didn't need to stand here and suffer while we argued.

"It's the meds talking, Elle." Her voice made me freeze right before I picked up the little capsules. "You have a choice to make, and I'm rooting for you. We all are."

A choice.

Negan had said the same thing. It was almost as if they had planned these little speeches. I shook my head, not wanting to hear it. She was wrong. I didn't have a fucking choice.

"You might not care if you live or die, but I do. I need you. Your family needs you." Amy added. She walked across the room and I swiped up the pills and the bottle quick to hold them in my hand, thinking she was going to try and take them away from me. Instead, she placed a piece of paper on the nightstand where the pills had been before.

"She needs you."

With that, Amy turned and exited the room. I watched as she closed the door and heard the sound of the lock.

Amy didn't get it. None of them did. None of them knew what I had been through.

My heart was pounding and my head was throbbing. The tiny pills in my hand somehow felt heavy. I went to bring them to my mouth when my eyes looked down at the folded piece of paper.

I set the pills back onto the nightstand and picked it up. I opened it carefully and stared down at the page for a long time.

It was mostly black with little white curves and lines to show the shape. There were all sorts of numbers and letters at the top, but I was completely focused on what was in the center. I could see the head and body, and a little foot sticking up.

It was the ultrasound picture of Amy's baby.

I hadn't even realized I was crying until the tear drops fell onto the paper. I turned my head to make sure I wouldn't get any more on the page and brought it up to my chest clutching it to me as I started to sob.

I had been in denial up until this moment, but it was seeing this that made me realize just how bad things had gotten. I had disappointed my friends. Amy, Eric, and the other Doveporters were all I had left. I had been so focused on myself and my demons that I had forgotten about the people I loved—people who cared about me—people I was hurting because I was hurting myself.

I was supposed to be their leader. I was supposed to be strong, and here I was, addicted to pain medication and contemplating suicide.

I continued to cry and clutch the ultrasound close to my heart.

I was a mess, but I wasn't dead yet.

I still had a choice.

Negan came into the bedroom an hour later with his bat slung over his shoulder. I was slumped onto the floor with my back against the baseboard of the bed and my legs pulled up. The ultrasound picture was sitting on top of my knees and I was studying it, using it as an anchor—something to keep me from looking over at the bottles and pills that were now sitting on his nightstand, untouched. He didn't say anything and just stared down at me.

"Please take them away. I can't do this if they're here." I didn't look up from the photo, but he knew what I was referring to.

I heard the rattle of the pills as he picked them up.

"Good choice." He gathered all of it and then left the room.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, knowing I had just given up my crutch. But they were harming me, and I needed to get better—not just for Amy and the others, but for myself. I had to fight through this if I was going to survive.

I needed to be there to see Vivienne's garden succeed.

I needed to be there to see Eric fully heal.

I needed to be there when the baby came.

The pills weren't an option anymore.

I was choosing my family.