I was still sitting on the floor against the bed when Negan came back in after taking the pills away. The ultrasound picture was still on my knees, and I was still hyper-fixated on it.

"It's time for bed," he said, setting his bat down on one of the chairs. My eyes went to the big industrial windows and noticed the sun had gone down and it was late into the night. I slowly got to my feet while clutching the photo in my hand, and I started to make my way over to his love-seat.

"You're not sleeping over there." He pulled back the covers as he spoke. "It's a king size bed. I could have a fucking orgy and you'd still have your own half of the mattress."

I would have scoffed at his dirty remark, but I was so dizzy and nauseous—I felt like I was going to puke my guts up. So I didn't argue and rounded the bed, climbing onto it carefully. I placed the photo on the nightstand next to my side of the bed facing up so I could look at it any time I wanted.

I watched as Negan took off his jacket, and then his belts. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, he kicked off his boots and slid his pants off. He draped his clothes over the back of the chair that Lucille was resting, and then he was only wearing his t-shirt and boxers.

Negan's eyes met mine and I looked away feeling sheepish. I had been ogling him and hadn't even realized I was doing it. He grunted in amusement and then pulled his t-shirt over his head. I couldn't help myself—turning back to get a glimpse, I saw Negan's bare chest for the first time. He was covered in multiple tattoos and I gawked at them in silence. I hadn't expected him to have them, but then my eyes went to the salt and pepper hair that was sprinkled across his chest and trailed all the way down, disappearing into his boxers.

Negan cleared his throat and I looked back up to his face. He was smirking at me and I felt my cheeks heat up. I was already feeling so warm, and none of this was helping.

"You gonna keep eye-fucking me?" he asked with a grin.

I quickly turned my attention to the blankets, pulling them up towards me. Sure I was warm, but I wanted to crawl under them and hide. He kicked his legs up so he was laying against the pillows next to me and I froze.

He expected me to sleep next to him?

The first time I had spent a night in his bed, he hadn't joined me. Now we were supposed to share the space, and I wasn't really sure if I was okay with that.

As if reading my thoughts, or perhaps seeing the look of uneasiness on my face, Negan exhaled and turned so his back was facing me. He reached up and turned off the little lamp that was sitting on his bedside table.

"Trust me, it's a lot fucking better than sleeping on that couch. And you know I won't try anything," he assured.

"I know," I mumbled, laying down against the pillow and staring at where he was next to me, trying to see him in the dark. It wasn't that I didn't trust him. It was a bit more complicated than that.

"Then relax." He shifted a bit as if trying to get comfortable.

I didn't respond and I tried to calm my breathing. It wasn't just laying next to Negan, but I was also craving the pills worse than ever. My mind kept picturing the little capsules, and I would have given anything for even half a dose.

I don't remember crashing, but I passed out at some point. I was in a deep sleep when suddenly I felt a hand covering my mouth. My eyes widened as someone pressed up against me and my shirt was pulled away from my body. I sat up fast and tried to shout, but the hand stifled it.

"You better shut your mouth, bitch."

It was A.J., and he had a sick smile spread across his face. I looked up at him with frantic eyes as he pushed me back onto the bed. When I tried to get away, he pinned me down hard. I shoved against him with all my might, but he wouldn't budge.

He kissed my neck and I started to cry. I was trapped underneath him and watched in horror as he began to unbuckle his belt. He leaned over me and forced his mouth on mine. I felt his tongue probe past my lips, and I desperately grabbed at the bed-sheets, trying to get away. Then my hands went to my side where my knife had been—but it wasn't there. I desperately patted all around my hip and leg, but there was no sign of it.

I was defenseless against him.

He grinned wide over me, his hands going to my breasts and I screamed for help. My eyes squeezed shut and I yelled as loud as I could. I could see light through my eyelids, but I continued to flail. My hands finally felt my attacker, and my nails stabbed into his skin.

"Fuck!" a booming voice roared, and I dug my fingernails in deeper. My eyes flew open to see Negan was sitting over me—my hands were gripping his bare arms—my nails were jabbing into his skin. I slowly pulled away and he exhaled as I released him from my sharp grasp.

Negan was staring down at me with a look of a concern. I stared at the marks on his arms where my nails had been just as the bedroom door opened.

"Is everything okay?" I looked past Negan to see Naomi had entered the room, a look of concern on her face as she regarded me. "I heard shouting."

"She's fine. Go back to your post," Negan ordered in a cold voice. Naomi nodded and our eyes locked, but I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say or why she was there. She exited the room without another word.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?" Negan demanded.

"I- I don't know…" I stuttered out, reaching up to my forehead. It was drenched in sweat. "I think I had a nightmare." My heart was pounding and I continued to look around the room as if someone was going to jump out and attack me.

Then I remembered—it all came flooding back at once. I closed my eyes and brought my hand to my face to cover my eyes.

"A.J.," I whispered, taking a deep breath. "He was on top of me and…" I trailed off and shuddered.

It had felt so real.

"He can't hurt you anymore," Negan assured me. I nodded at his words and then my mind went to the one thing I'd been obsessing over.

"The pills helped… with the nightmares…" I explained, looking away from him as I spoke. "Maybe if I just had the normal dose, I could-"

"Forget it. You're not taking any more of that shit." Negan rolled onto his side and turned off the lamp, ridding the room of light once more.

I opened my mouth to argue, but then shut it and let out a frustrated sigh. I laid back onto my pillow and tried to calm down.

I knew he was right, but as I stared up at the ceiling in the dark room, I anxiously waited for another one of my monsters to pounce.

I woke up the next day and the room was illuminated by sunlight. I sat up and looked to the spot next to me to discover Negan was gone. With a quick glance around the room, I found he wasn't there, and I let out a long yawn. My vision was foggy from sleep, and I rubbed at my eyes, trying to wake up and gauge how shitty I felt. The headache was ever present, and I groaned while I rubbed my temples.

Just as soon as I made the noise, I heard the door unlock and open. I turned to see Naomi was peeking her head in.

"Good morning!" she greeted me with a sing-song voice, and leaned against the open door. "Sleep well?"

"Negan snores," I grumbled. Naomi grinned wide and ran a hand through her short blonde hair.

"Tell me about it. I can hear it through the damn door." I frowned at her words and she noticed. "I'm on guard duty. I volunteered. Hope that's okay. It's my job to bring you to the bathroom whenever you need it. I thought this might be easier to see a familiar face instead of some stranger."

I smiled at her a little bit. So not only was I locked up, but I had someone guarding my cage. Great. At least it was Naomi.

"I could use a shower," I muttered, standing up. My legs were like jelly, and I placed a hand on the mattress to steady my balance. I felt like I had the worst hangover of my life.

I walked over to where Naomi was holding the door open for me and she gestured to the hallway.

"Now don't try anything, okay? Negan said he'd have my ass if I let you go anywhere other than the bathroom." She started to walk with me down the hallway and pointed to a little room right off the side of Negan's.

"I won't. I promise." I was being absolutely sincere. I needed to get better, and I wasn't going to throw away the little bit of trust Negan was still giving me. Going through withdrawal was already hard enough and I needed to wash my sweat stained skin before I crawled out of it.

We headed into a bathroom I had never been to before; it had a personal shower, a small toilet to the side and a fairly large sink. The whole room looked like it belonged in a hotel.

"This is Negan's bathroom. He said you're allowed to use it whenever you want. There's soap in the cupboard, and towels on the counter. I'll be right outside if you need anything." Naomi pointed everything out quickly and then went to leave. I stood there in a daze, trying to take everything in. Before she shut the door, I turned to her.

"Thanks, Naomi," I said. She winked and pulled the door closed.

I faced the room again and my eye caught something off to the side. It was my reflection, and as I faced myself in the mirror, I took a deep breath.

There were bags underneath my red eyes, and my sweat drenched hair was sticking to my forehead. I may have felt hungover, but I looked the part too.

Averting my eyes quickly from the mirror, I opened the cupboard to find all sorts of toiletries. Tiny little bottles of shampoo and conditioner laid inside, and I took one of each. There was a bar of white soap that I grabbed out too, and then I opened another drawer to find a washcloth. There was a large, grey, fluffy towel neatly folded on the counter that I took, and then I gathered up all my supplies and pulled back the shower curtain.

The shower was simple, but fairly huge. On the shelves were two large bottles of shampoo and conditioner, which I could only assume were Negan's. A bar of soap was already sitting against the jagged edges of the shower's shelf, and I looked down at my supplies and wondered if I should have just used his stuff.

Deciding I wanted my own, I set the bottles and bar of soap down on the showers ledge, and then turned on the faucet. The water blasted out of the shower-head and started off ice cold, but soon heated up. I smiled as my hand felt the temperature.

I undressed quickly and tried not to look at my reflection as I did so. I still had a couple bandages on, but Carson had said it was okay to get them wet. I would have to be careful with the one on my neck, but I had been dealing with it for weeks, and I knew the drill.

Once naked, I stepped under the water and let out a content sigh. My tense muscles immediately relaxed and I turned to allow the water to run down my hair and back. It felt like heaven. I knew the euphoric feeling would be fleeting and soon I'd be back to a constant state of dizziness and nausea.

I had already applied and rinsed out the shampoo and was about to grab the conditioner when I became curious about Negan's bottles. Opening his shampoo, I sniffed the liquid soap. It smelled like him—like his hair. I smiled to myself and set the bottle down, closing it.

It smelled nice. Negan smelled nice.

I finished in the shower and turned off the water. Grabbing the towel, I dried off and then wrapped it around me. I was just about to pick up my old clothes when a knock came at the door.

"Are you decent?" Naomi asked, opening the door partially.

I glanced down at myself, but then shrugged.

"I suppose," I said with a half-laugh.

Naomi came in and was holding something in her hands that she set down on the counter next to me.

"I totally forgot, sorry. It's new clothes. We washed some of your old ones."

"Thanks." I stared down at my jeans and a familiar white tank top.

"I'll take care of the dirty ones. You just put these on and then you've gotta go back to the room." She gave me an empathetic look and I nodded at her. I may have felt like a prisoner before, but I couldn't complain about the treatment. Naomi was going above and beyond to be kind to me.

Once I was dressed, I faced myself in the mirror. I still looked like an exhausted, recovering drug addict, but at least I felt clean.

I followed Naomi back to Negan's room with the towel wrapped around my hair. I walked ahead of her and then spun around once inside his bedroom. She looked uneasy, and before I could thank her, she spoke.

"Umm… Elle?" she asked, as if unsure.

I tilted my head and waited for her to continue.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened… with A.J. I shouldn't have left you alone the first time you came here. I knew he was an asshole, but I had no idea he was going to do something like that. I totally understand if you hate me for it."

"I don't hate you," I said quickly and she nodded, but continued to frown.

"And maybe if I had shot Caleb, he wouldn't have cut your throat. Hell, if I hadn't fucked up and left you with A.J. maybe you would have stayed here with us and you'd be okay."

"It's not your fault, Naomi." I took a few steps towards her and placed my hand on her arm reassuringly. "I'm alive. That's what matters. I'm gonna be okay."

She didn't seem so sure. She glanced over me, at my bandages and smiled thinly.

"I know you will, but I'm still really sorry."

I squeezed her arm and she reached out to pat mine. She backed up and took the door into her hands, and before shutting it, stopped.

"If you need anything, just holler. I'm right outside."

I nodded at her and watched as she pulled the door closed and then the lock clicked.

I wondered if she was right about what she had said—about me being okay if I had stayed at the Sanctuary the first time. Negan had wanted that. If A.J. hadn't tried to hurt me, I wasn't sure if I would have stayed. I was always so focused on getting back to Doveport, but Doveport was where Caleb happened.

If I had stayed at the Sanctuary, would Caleb have still happened?

What if it had been Amy instead of me? Or Vivienne?

I shuddered at the thought, and tried not to think about it.

There was no point in thinking about the what-ifs.

I looked around the big room and sighed.

I needed to find something to do. I certainly wouldn't be going anywhere for a long time.

The first couple days were brutal. I tried to sleep through it as much as I could, but most of the time I felt like my brain was on fire and my stomach was trying to do somersaults. I couldn't sit still, and all I could think about were the pills. I could picture them in my mind every time I closed my eyes, and I became obsessed. I'd often ask Negan if he'd just let me have a single dose, but he'd shut that idea down immediately.

I became increasingly irritated with him, but it really didn't seem to bother him at first. We laid next to one another at night, and I rarely slept. I listened to the sound of his breathing and glared up at the ceiling, bitter that I couldn't sleep and he could.

When I wasn't in too much pain, I tried to read. Negan left me books on the little coffee table in his room, and I did my best to try and escape into them every day. If I wasn't reading, I explored Negan's room, and went through his stuff. Unfortunately, every drawer was locked and all I had to study were mounted animal heads and the rest of his gaudy decorations.

Negan continued to do business as usual. He came and went freely from the room, but I mostly saw him in the evenings. As the days passed, he spent more and more time working from his love-seat. We barely said a word to one another; I was always in a sour mood with my withdrawal and he seemed preoccupied with other matters.

One day, I was laying on top of the comforter trying to ignore the aches in my joints when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Negan called, setting down his notebook on the table in front of him. I watched as one of his men entered the room and sat down in a chair. I didn't know the guy's name, but I had seen him a few times in the last few days. Negan and him were working on trying to get another settlement to submit, and I was getting sick of hearing about it. I wanted peace and quiet; I tried to ignore them, but Negan was loud and animated as usual. It drove me insane that he wouldn't have these conversations elsewhere and let me recover in peace.

"I'm not sure they'll listen to me, sir," the Savior said in a nervous voice.

"Fuckin' hell man, can your dick get any smaller?" Negan leaned back on the love-seat and narrowed his eyes at the man. He went to speak again, but I cut him off from across the room.

"Probably bigger than yours," I deadpanned.

Both of their heads turned towards me and Negan's scowl was now aimed at me.

"You sure you aren't supposed to be in the goddamn inner circle? Because you sure as shit seem to think it's okay to tell me how to run the fuckin' show around here." He sounded amused, but I could tell my interruption had gotten under his skin.

"Pfff, please. My balls would have to be a lot smaller to be in your inner circle." I laid my head back on the pillow so I was no longer looking at him.

"Says the girl who looks like a fuckin' Freddy Kruger victim." Negan fired back and I could hear the bite in his tone. "And not one of the good characters either. Like the one that dies within the first five fucking minutes of the movie because they're that stupid."

He was trying to hurt me by bringing up my scars, but it just pissed me off even more.

"At least I don't carry around a baseball bat covered in barbed wire and expect people to take me seriously. Overcompensating for something, Negan?"

I could have sworn I heard him growl.

"Shut the fuck up and pipe out," he snarled.

"Stop having your meetings in your bedroom!" I sat up and glared at him.

"I can have my meetings wherever I damn well like!" He stood up and walked over to the bed pointing a finger at me. The Savior behind him almost seemed to shrink down in the chair, but I hardly noticed him. My head was throbbing and I wanted to push Negan more.

And I wasn't afraid of him like they were.

"I don't wanna hear about all the communities you've been terrorizing!" I yelled.

Negan didn't respond right away, but his jaw was clenched tight. After staring down at me with a hard expression, he turned to look at the Savior sitting behind him.

"You're dismissed," he muttered. The man stood and exited the room. Negan hadn't been locking the door when he was inside with me, unless it was nighttime. I assumed he was spending time in his room to allow Naomi to get some rest. I would have bet anything he was regretting that right about then.

When it was just the two of us, he took a few steps towards me and leaned over the bed.

"Your rehab is gonna involve getting your mouth taped shut real fucking soon if you don't learn to keep it closed."

I let out a sarcastic laugh and got out of the bed, rounding it to approach him.

I decided to turn the tables and got into his personal space for once. I leaned in close and tilted my head up to look at him. "Go ahead and tape my mouth shut! While you're at it, tape over my ears too! That way I don't have to hear the colossal amount of bullshit you've been spewing out your blow-hole."

I was poking the bear; I had been bored and cranky, but Negan's expression was so dark that I regretted that decision almost as soon as the words left my lips.

Just as he started to chew me out, I noticed something move behind him. My anger turned to fear, and my jaw dropped.

Caleb was covered in cuts that were dripping blood, and his skin was pale white. He slowly started to approach Negan and me, and I staggered backwards.

"Let's open some old wounds. Sound good, Elle?" He seemed so real—and the sight of him made me even more nauseous than I already was.

As he neared me, I reached over to Negan's nightstand and grabbed a lamp. In one fast motion, I threw it at Caleb, but it missed and shattered against the wall. In an instant, he was on top of me, wielding a knife. I screamed as he started to drag the blade across my chest, and I closed my eyes tight as pain erupted throughout my entire body.

I thrashed frantically, trying to get him off me. I started to sob and fought with all my might.

"HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE! HELP ME!" I was screaming at the top of my lungs and Caleb chuckled.

"They can't help you."

The next thing I knew, my arms were being pinned down on either side against the floor. I tried to pull away, but it was no use.

"HELP!" I shrieked, kicking my legs and moving my head side to side.

"ELLE!" A distraught voice made my eyelids snap open and I saw Negan was with me on the floor, holding me down. He seemed perturbed, and behind him Naomi was watching with a frightened look.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed, and I did as he said. My chest was rising and falling fast and I kept my eyes glued to him. After a few long seconds, my breathing calmed down. Negan looked startled—any other time I would have thought the sight was amusing, but his worried face made me feel even more scared than the ghosts I'd been seeing.

"I saw Caleb," I whispered.

"Caleb is dead, Elle."

I shook my head and closed my eyes.

"Not to me."

Suddenly our petty fight seemed pointless—both of us had been shaken up by my panicked reaction. His grip on my arms loosened and I sat up in a daze. A quick glance around the room proved Caleb was no longer there, and I watched as Naomi cleaned up the broken pieces of the lamp. She left the room and I closed my eyes as I felt more tears start to come.

"What's wrong with me?" I choked out with a sob.

Negan didn't answer me and instead stood. He reached out his hand to help me up, and I accepted it and allowed him to help me to my feet.

"It's late," he mumbled, looking apprehensive, as if he expected me to freak out again. "We should try and get some rest."

I wiped at my eyes and then nodded slowly. I didn't understand. Amy had said the hallucinations were happening because of the drugs, but I hadn't taken any in days. These demons were still haunting me, and I felt like I'd never be free of them. They were inescapable.

I laid down and pressed my face against the soft pillow. Negan undressed and climbed into bed without saying anything else. After a long while, his breathing became even, and he started to lightly snore. I concentrated on finding my own slumber and tried to ignore the sick feeling that was building up. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, but it didn't last long.

A short while later, I woke up in the dark room with sweat dripping down my face. I had never been so warm in my entire life. I felt like I was suffocating underneath the thick comforter. I carefully moved the blankets off my body and winced as I felt the severe headache had returned.

The withdrawal was going to be painful—I knew that. But as my breathing picked up and I glanced around the room in a panic, all I could think about was Caleb, A.J., Adam, Philip and the pills. I couldn't sleep. I felt anxious and so exhausted, but no matter how hard I tried or what position I laid in, I couldn't get comfortable.

I trembled as a cold chill ran through my body. This was going to be my reality for a long time. I softly whimpered as my head pulsed and tears fell down my face.

Negan shifted in the bed and I froze. I didn't want to wake him up, and I tried to silence the sniffles, but the quiet room made every little noise seem so much louder.

Suddenly I felt his arm wrap around my body and start to pull me towards him.

My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest and my eyes widened as he moved to close the distance between us. He pressed his face into my hair that was damp with sweat and rubbed my arm up and down. I laid there as stiff as possible; my back was pressed up against his body and I held my breath.

I didn't know whether to pull away or just accept it—this kind of response from Negan was unexpected, and he had said he wouldn't try anything.

Wasn't this trying something?

Suddenly, he pressed his lips against my temple with a gentle kiss, and then spoke in a soft voice.

"I'm here, Lucille."

Lucille?

I immediately pictured the bat he was always carrying with him. I had never questioned the name before and thought it was just a silly joke.

Maybe Lucille was a person?

Or maybe she was one of his wives?

Either way, it seemed that he thought I was her.

I didn't speak and listened to his light snoring start up again. He fell back asleep without ever fully waking up. I took a few deep breaths and tried to make myself relax. There was actually something comforting about being so close to him. I could smell the familiar shampoo and smiled a bit at the pleasant scent.

When I finally fell asleep, my mind was no longer on ghosts and pills.

Instead, as Negan held me in his arms, one question repeated over and over in my head:

Who the hell is Lucille?