Days turned to weeks as I remained locked up in Negan's room. I wasn't craving the pills so much as I was getting anxious with nothing to do; I didn't have responsibilities, and there were only so many books I could read before the walls started to close in around me.
My demons were showing up less and less, though I still saw them occasionally—Adam, A.J., and Caleb mostly visited me in my dreams, but I hadn't seen Philip in a while. I was kind of grateful for that; the bullet wound in his face was a stark reminder of his horrific death. I didn't want to remember him that way, and having him haunt me hurt worse than all of the others.
The first day that I woke up without a raging headache, I cried tears of relief. I still felt a little nauseous, but I could tell I was making progress. I was actually sleeping through the night, and although the nightmares still happened, they were happening less and less. I wasn't arguing with Negan as much, though he didn't come back to his room until late into the evening. He was very busy, and many nights I wouldn't see him until he got into bed next to me.
We hadn't talked anymore about the mysterious Lucille, or about whatever was happening between the two of us. I couldn't help but wonder if he was visiting his wives on the nights he came in late. The idea of him being with other women bothered me, and I hated thinking about it. They were absolutely beautiful, and I felt that maybe he hadn't made a move with me because he had them and didn't need me. Still, I got butterflies when I heard the door unlock every night and he'd come to bed.
Amy visited me a few times to update me on what was going on. The baby was healthy and Dr. Carson estimated her to be at thirty-one weeks. Vivienne's garden was a huge success, and the Sanctuary was able to provide vegetables to everyone for the first time ever. Eric was walking on his own; the physical therapy was working well. The other Doveporters had all found ways to help out around the factory building, but Amy told me most of them were starting to get homesick. Amy and Eric wanted to return to the school, but not everyone wanted to go home. Vivienne was on the fence about returning to Doveport, and said she was really happy living at the Sanctuary.
I looked forward to when Amy would come to see me; she helped me pass the time and helped me to stay positive. The ultrasound picture was still sitting on the nightstand next to the bed and there for whenever I needed a reminder of why I had allowed myself to be locked up.
Usually Amy was in high spirits, but when she came into the room in the middle of an afternoon looking distraught, I immediately became concerned.
"Amy, what is it?" I got up from the love-seat where I had been doodling on one of Negan's notepads.
She looked over her shoulder, as if she expected someone to be there, and then turned back to me with a deep frown.
"I can't stay here," she said in a quiet voice.
"What happened?" I asked, gesturing for her to sit down. The uneasy expression on her face told me it was something bad. "Is everyone okay?"
"We're all fine, but…" She trailed off. Her eyes seemed glazed over as she stared at the wall across the room. "It was awful, Elle."
I waited for her to continue, not understanding what she was talking about. She glanced over at the door again and then took a deep breath.
"Negan said we all had to attend this meeting. There was a man, someone from the Sanctuary who had been caught stealing supplies. Negan gave a speech and said he broke the rules and had to be punished. And then…" She paused, swallowed hard, and then looked right at me. "Negan burned his face with an iron." Her eyes started to water and she brought a hand to her face. "His skin bubbled up and he screamed so loud… God, I don't think I'll ever be able to unhear that sound."
I stared at Amy in disbelief. Sometimes it was easy to forget what kind of man Negan was. He had been showing me a kinder side in the last weeks, and I had almost forgotten he was capable of doing horrible things. Hearing about this from Amy immediately made me picture Seth being shot right before my eyes.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, "I can't even imagine."
"He said he did it to show people how important the rules are, but he didn't have to do that. He could have talked to the guy." Amy continued to watch the door and I realized why: she was scared Negan was going to come in.
"He said we need to get jobs and start working for 'points'." She used air quotes around the word. "That we'll be required to attend all of those public punishments."
"Maybe it's time for you guys to go back to the school," I said, and she looked at me with frantic eyes and then nodded.
"Yeah, we're all on the same page now. Even Vivienne doesn't want to stay." She glanced down at her stomach as she spoke. "We can't live here, Elle. I'm not raising my baby in this place."
I couldn't blame her. Harsh punishments were one thing, but making everyone in the compound bare witness to them was another. But even as Amy told me about this horror show, I felt conflicted. I didn't agree with Negan's brutality—I never had, but I understood it. He had to keep everyone in line, and that meant dealing out punishments. Of course there were more humane ways, but we weren't living in a humane world anymore.
As if she sensed my inner conflict, Amy shifted uncomfortably and then sighed.
"After he saved us from Caleb, I really thought he was a good guy. But he's not, Elle. He's not." She sounded like she was trying to convince me.
"He's not all bad." I responded a little too quickly. knew I wasn't capable of the things that he was, but I understood it. Negan and I had discussed it before, months back when I had first come to the Sanctuary and I had thought he had killed Philip. Negan eliminated his problems, and burning that man's face guaranteed to send a strong message to everyone.
Amy's face turned sour. "You're only saying that because there's been something going on between you and him."
"There's nothing going on." I scoffed and crossed my arms defensively.
"I saw you kiss him!" she exclaimed. "You can lie to yourself, but we both know it's true. Maybe you wouldn't be so goo-goo eyed if you'd have watched him burn some poor guy's face off."
"I'm not goo-goo eyed, Amy." I rolled my eyes at her. She didn't understand. She didn't see that side of him I had come to know—that kind side he tried to cover up. Negan had a reason for doing everything, and although I was coming to his defense, I wasn't ready to admit my feelings out loud. Especially not to Amy, who was disgusted and terrified by him. It was exactly why I hadn't told her that the kiss she had witnessed hadn't been the only one Negan and I shared.
Amy was just about to speak when the door unlocked and Negan stepped into the room. His baseball bat was draped over his shoulder, and he seemed pretty pleased with himself. His eyes went to the both of us, and Amy's entire body went stiff.
"Hey, Momma Bear!" He greeted her with his signature cocky smile, and Amy stood up abruptly. I remained on the couch as she made her way over to the door.
"I'll talk to you later, Elle," she mumbled, walking past Negan quickly. He watched silently as she left, and then raised an eyebrow at me.
"What's up her ass?" he asked.
I pushed my hair back and let out a sigh. "You made them watch one of your punishments. They're really shook up about it."
Negan turned and looked back at the door where Amy had left and chuckled darkly.
"She'll get over it. The little fucker stole a ton of supplies. He was gonna rob us and run. You bet your ass he's not gonna try that shit again." Negan brought an arm up to rub at his shoulder. I picked up the pad of paper, but I didn't write anything. I also didn't know what to say. Negan was so nonchalant about the whole thing, and I sensed an argument was coming.
When I didn't respond, he huffed.
"What? So they all fucking hate me now?"
"I thought you said we were your guests." I tried to keep my voice indifferent and didn't look up from the notepad. When we had originally come to the Sanctuary, Negan had made it clear we didn't have to work and would be protected. Now he was singing a completely different tune.
"Your people have been living here for weeks, eating our food and using our shit. It's about time they learned how things work around here."
So he was trying to convert the Doveporters into members of the Sanctuary. Showcasing a punishment wasn't just to keep his people in line, it was also done as an attempt to acclimate us to his ways. Unfortunately for him, it had backfired, and they no longer wanted to stay.
"They want to go home," I replied, looking up at him.
"We're back on this shit again? Fuck, you are like a broken record. It's Doveport this, and Doveport that. Why can't you just accept your people are safer here than at that damn school?" Surprisingly enough, his tone wasn't as sharp as I would have expected. There was a softness about it—as if he was trying to convince me instead of just drill in his argument. I knew he wasn't going to like what I said, but I couldn't just tell him what he wanted to hear.
"It's our home, Negan," I answered, trying to explain it to him. "We don't want to work for points and watch you hurt people."
His expression changed and he narrowed his eyes at me.
"They've all had it pretty fucking easy…" I could hear it in his voice—he was trying so hard not to blow up at me about this. He was struggling to keep his composure.
"They don't like how you do things," I said simply.
Negan shook his head in disgust and placed the head of the bat onto the floor.
"I have bent over backwards for your people. I saved their lives, kept them safe and well fed, and I even locked up their drug addicted leader to sober her up. Now they wanna stick their middle fingers in my face and leave?" His voice raised with each word.
"We are very grateful for what you've done Negan, but we don't belong here. We need to go back to the school."
"You're not going anywhere," he said quickly, and pointed his finger at me.
"Okay, let the others go. You tried to get them to stay, and they don't want to anymore. You can't force them to live here!" I was becoming more and more upset with him.
"You really want to go back there? Did you already forget what happened with Caleb? That fucking bastard almost killed all of you. You still look like you had an unfortunate incident with a deli-slicer." He gestured to my body and I glanced down at the scars on my skin and the large bandage that was still on my neck.
"If you go back to the school, it's just a matter of time before you fuck up again."
I wanted to scream at him for saying such things. My automatic reaction was to argue and tell him he was being a huge asshole. Of course I hadn't forgotten about Caleb; the marks on my body were a permanent reminder of what happened. John and Minnie were dead because I had let him in, and I would never forgive myself for it.
Instead of telling Negan about my constant guilt trips, I decided to play the one wild card I'd been sitting on for the last few days.
"Who's Lucille?" I asked suddenly.
His face scrunched up as I said the name. The question seemed to take him off guard, but he snapped back almost instantly.
"I'd be happy to introduce her to you," he said, pointing the wooden weapon at me. I ignored the barbed wire that was inches from my face and looked up at him.
"Not the bat. The person. It's named after someone. A woman. You thought I was her the other night."
Negan's scowl never left, but his eyes danced across my face as if he was trying to read me—like he was trying to determine where the hell I was going with this.
"You put your arms around me the other night and you called me Lucille. Who is she, Negan?"
He didn't respond. He just stood above me, staring down in anger and confusion. His face remained stoic, but his eyes gave everything away—I knew right then that I'd hit a nerve.
After a few long drawn out moments, Negan moved the bat away from my face and turned his back to me. When it was evident he wasn't going to answer me, I spoke again.
"Let them go back to the school. I'll stay here as long as you want me to, but only if they can go home." I hoped that changing the subject back to our former argument would snap him out of whatever trance he was in. And I meant what I said—I knew I still couldn't trust myself. Sure I wasn't craving the pain medication as often, but I still wanted it nonetheless.
"Fine," he grumbled, walking over to the door. I hadn't expected this reaction; he was completely shutting down on me. Mentioning the woman's name really seemed to bother him, and I regretted bringing it up.
"Negan, I'm sorry." I stood up and went to go to him, but he left the room before I could reach him.
I let out a deep sigh.
Whoever Lucille was, bringing her up had been a mistake, and yet I couldn't help but be curious about her.
Who could possibly cause such a human response from a man everyone else saw as a monster?
I spent the rest of the day feeling guilty about bringing up Lucille to Negan. Mentioning the woman's name had seemed to cut into him worse than anything else I'd ever said, and I hadn't meant to hurt him. I was left alone in his room until nighttime, and long after I had crawled into bed, Negan still hadn't joined me. I turned on my side and tried to fall asleep, but the stress was eating away at me. For the first time in days, my mind went straight to the pills.
As I laid awake in the dark room, eventually I heard the sound of the door unlocking and someone entering. I didn't have to see him to know it was Negan. He moved quietly, and I could hear the sound of him undressing from the other side of the room. I could imagine him doing what he did every single night—he slipped off his boots and then removed his belts, jacket, shirt, and pants, and draped them onto a chair.
I felt the mattress dip as he sat onto it and then shifted his body so he was laying down. He let out a long sigh, and then pulled the blanket over himself. He sounded exhausted, and I wondered if he had been with his wives. It seemed to be even later into the night than when he usually came to bed.
After some time, Negan's breathing became even, telling me he was asleep. I carefully turned to look at him and my eyes went wide. It wasn't Negan, but instead I was laying next to Adam. His head was bashed in, and bits of his brain and flesh were soaking into the pillow. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ignore what I had just seen.
It was just a hallucination.
I was tired.
Negan was laying next to me, not Adam.
When I opened my eyes again, I was relieved to see Negan resting on the pillow. His features were soft and relaxed as his chest raised up and down with each breath. I smiled as I looked at his sleeping figure; he looked peaceful. I was grateful I was seeing him instead of Adam's mangled face. I watched him for a long time and had started to fall asleep myself when a quiet voice drew my attention from across the room.
"Ellie?"
I slowly sat up to see where the voice had come from.
Sitting on the love-seat and staring right at me was Philip. His face was illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large windows. I waited for him to start screaming, or for the gunshot wound to appear in his forehead, but it didn't.
I swung my feet over the side of the bed, moving carefully as to not wake Negan, and slowly approached Philip. He looked up at me with a thin smile, but his eyes were filled with sadness.
"Phil?" I whispered, studying his face. He nodded a bit, and then the smile faded and his expression turned serious.
"I'm so sorry, Ellie. I'm sorry about what happened." He watched as I sat down in the chair across from the small couch and frowned at him. I didn't understand what he was referring to, and I knew deep down that this was just my mind messing with me. But there was something different about him this time—something that was almost…comforting.
"You're too hard on yourself. You feel guilty, but it's not your fault." He was so concerned as he studied my face, and it was that caring nature of his that made tears start to well up in my eyes. I shook my head and looked out the window at the moon.
"It is," I said in a low voice. I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but all of it was my fault. I had killed A.J., and in turn, Adam had killed Philip. I had killed Adam, and then Caleb came to Doveport and I let him inside. Every single bad thing to happen to all of us was because of my mistakes.
Philip reached across and took my hand into his and I looked up in surprise. I could feel him.
He felt real.
"You can't control other people, Ellie. You can only choose your own actions, and your actions have been good."
I wiped at my face as the tears continued to fall and I forced a broken smile.
"I don't feel good." I bit my quivering lip and glanced down at the scars on my body. "I miss the pills. I hate that I've let myself get like this… That I put everyone in danger. Doveport doesn't need me anymore."
"You know that's not true. You've been a great leader. Amy, Eric, Vienne, and the others… they're counting on you to get better." He smiled sympathetically at me.
"Ellie, I'm proud of you. You've been through so much and you've stayed so strong. Don't give up on yourself, okay? Cause I'm not giving up on you."
I studied his face and the way the light shined off his bald head. It was like he was actually sitting with me and consoling me like he used to. I couldn't stop the stream of tears as I remembered this wasn't real.
Philip was gone, but in this single moment in time, he wasn't.
"I miss you," I whispered. My voice cracked, and Philip squeezed my hand. He started to speak when a voice from behind me made me jump.
"Who are you talking to?" Negan asked groggily, and I whipped around to see he was sitting up partially on the pillows and rubbing his eyes. I could barely make out his tired features in the darkness.
I spun back to look at Philip, but he was gone.
I smiled at the empty space in front of me and then looked down at my hand that Philip had been holding only seconds before.
"A ghost," I answered Negan, standing up and heading back to the bed. I knew he would think I was out of my mind, but I didn't care. Maybe it had been Philip's ghost, or maybe it was my own mind trying to show myself forgiveness. Either way, getting a visit from my late friend made me feel better than I had in weeks.
Without looking at Negan, I got back into bed and rested my head on the pillow. I turned so my back faced him and I closed my eyes. He had already seen me panic about these hallucinations, and at least this one didn't result in broken lamps or me nails digging into his arms. I could feel sleep start to pull me in when Negan spoke.
"I see them too sometimes."
My eyelids flew open in surprise, and I slowly moved so I could see him. He was still sitting up against the pillows and staring off into space.
"I see Lucille. I used to see her all the time, but not so much these days…" He trailed off and brought a hand to wipe at his beard. My heart started to pound at the mention of her name. I wanted to ask him who she was so bad, but I stayed quiet and hoped he would explain.
The silence that followed made me think he wasn't going to continue. I watched him as best as I could in the dark room as he stared off into nothingness, and then finally I had my answer.
"She was my wife."
The confession hit me like a tidal wave and I felt my jaw drop slightly. His wife. The way he said it told me everything. When he talked about his current wives, there was no emotion, but at the mention of Lucille, I could see a world of hurt hiding inside of him. The same way it hurt me to think about my family and friends—people whose fates I didn't even know. Lucille and him must have been married before the walkers.
"You'd have loved her. She was a real firecracker. Had such a fucking attitude on her, but the biggest heart. I'd have bent over backwards to give her anything she wanted." He smiled as he remembered her, but his voice sounded bleak. I could see that it was hard for him to talk about.
"You're probably thinking a walker got her. But no… she died of cancer. Right as the entire world went to shit. Sometimes I'm glad she's not alive to see this clusterfuck mess. To see what I've turned into…"
My heart sank at what he was saying. I had always thought he enjoyed inflicting pain, but now I could see that wasn't the case. He did all of this to survive, but that didn't mean he liked any of it—that he liked who he was.
"Negan, I'm sorry," I whispered, sitting up.
"I miss her so fucking much." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I named the bat after her to try and keep her memory alive. I didn't want her to think I'd forget her…" He didn't open his eyes, and I could hear his voice break. It was the most he had ever told me, and I couldn't think of a response.
What could I possibly say to make this hurt less?
Instead of words, I reached across carefully and cupped the side of his face. His body went rigid as I touched his cheek and started to caress him. His stubble tickled my palm, and I glided my thumb back and forth across his skin.
He opened his eyes and turned to look at me. It was like I was seeing him for the first time—seeing who he really was. Not the cocky persona he had created to hide behind, but the man from before—Lucille's loving husband, and a man that wasn't brutal, but broken.
Inching closer to him, I pulled his face towards mine and pressed my lips to his. Negan didn't respond right away, but after a few seconds he relaxed into the kiss. Reaching over to me, he mirrored the way I was cupping his face, and his large hand touched my cheek very gently. His lips continued to meld with mine. It was simple and soft, but felt powerful in the moment.
When we broke away, he leaned towards me and pressed his forehead against mine and gazed into my eyes. The hurt from talking about Lucille was still present, but so was something else. That unspoken connection—that shared intensity that was building between us like nothing I had ever known before.
It was something we hadn't talked about—something Amy had tried to bring up and I had denied—something we were both feeling, but neither one of us was willing to admit.
It killed me to see that hurt in his eyes, and I wanted to make it go away. I wanted to help him. I wondered if he could see the same pain in me the way I could with him—if he wanted to reach out and touch me the same way I wanted to touch him. It was taking every ounce of willpower not to dissolve into his arms right then and there.
I wanted us both to let down these walls we'd built up and just let go.
But I couldn't.
I had to get better and return to Doveport. Philip was right. They needed me. I couldn't let my feelings for Negan get in the way of that.
I pulled away from him so my forehead was no longer touching his, and my hand left his face, but his remained.
"I brought them home," he said in a gravelly voice. I blinked at his words, and then I realized what he was referring to. He was talking about my friends. He brought Amy and the others back to Doveport. I hadn't expected him to do it, but I could tell by the way he was gazing into my eyes that he wasn't lying.
"Thank you," I whispered as he caressed my cheek. I nuzzled into his touch and smiled gratefully at him.
"Let's go to sleep," he said softly and his hand slowly dropped from my face and grazed down to touch the bandage on my neck. He smiled a bit at me, and then turned over on his side so his back was facing me again. I studied him for a few moments, and then I laid down.
Negan's breathing never started up again, and I knew he wasn't sleeping. We both laid in the dark room together in silence, and my mind raced. I wanted so badly to reach out to him—to rub his back or pull him back for another kiss.
I wondered if he wanted that too.
Or perhaps this connection—just like my hallucinations—was all in my head.