Ali walks out of the bathroom, eyes alert. She clutches the fluffy robe she found on the hook of the door, making sure her chest is covered. The robe cuts off at her ankles, making her look tiny in the cocoon. It's extremely large and it obviously belongs to Negan. Just to make sure, she lowers her chin, sniffing the fabric. Aftershave.
"Look at you," a voice murmurs, breaking her train of thought.
Negan rises from his place on the armchair, tossing a stack of papers onto the table. He walks over to the coffee table, gesturing. Ali notices that a steaming plate of spaghetti has appeared. Her stomach churns at the sight.
"Um," she starts, making Negan raise his eyebrows in interest, "I don't have any clothes."
As an answer, he glides over to his bed, slamming his hand down on a neat pile of clothes, "You can get dressed later. I hope they got your fucking size right, doll. Why don't you sit down and tuck in?"
He points to the plate.
She doesn't need to be told twice.
The food is hot in her mouth and once she swallows, it warms her up from the inside out. It's been so long since she had a hot meal. Too long.
She closes her eyes in pleasure, savouring every bite.
Negan sits on the opposite side of the table, intertwining his fingers and leaning forward. He traces his bottom lip with his tongue, a smirk starting to appear.
"You never did tell me what Ali is short for."
She looks up at him, putting the back of her hand against her mouth. She remembers that she didn't answer. And she remembers why. It was the way her father hissed out the last part of her name.
Ali swallows her bite and forces herself to talk, "Alice."
"Alice," he repeats, trailing a gaze down to her chest. She flinches and tightens the robe, suddenly feeling sick.
"It's just Ali."
"Right," he leans back, nodding, "Ali is fucking dandy."
The spaghetti is almost finished, but she can't seem to bring herself to eat, feeling the way her food is rising back up. She leans forward gently, closing her eyes.
He isn't here anymore. He can't hurt me.
"Are you finished, darlin'?"
Ali glances up at Negan, who has curiosity written all over his face. She nods quickly, leaning back.
"Yes, thank you."
"You're fucking welcome, sugar."
Awkwardly, she casts her gaze away from him, not realizing it has landed on the pile of clothes on the bed. Negan chuckles, grabbing her plate and resting it on his lap before starting to finish the leftovers.
"Go ahead," he approves, "There's a matching underwear set for you to try on too. Give you a little glimpse."
Ali's mouth dries up, "A glimpse of what?"
Negan smiles widely, swallowing the last of his food, "Just get dressed, darlin'."
Gingerly, she gets up from her seat, keeping her arms around the robe to make sure it won't fall or get ripped away. Ali picks up the pile of clothes, looking through the layers. She sees the underwear. It's baby blue. And see through. Her eyebrows knit together.
"What're you thinking, honey?"
She looks over her shoulder at him, almost confidently, but not quite.
"I don't wear these kind of things," her voice is quiet. It takes Negan aback though.
"Oh?" he looks surprised, but pleased, "Then you are fucking welcome to walk around without underwear," he gets up, hands sliding into his pockets, "I'd prefer that."
Before anything else can be said or done, she rushes over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her to get dressed. Ali hangs the robe back up carefully, turning around to slide on the slutty underwear. She feels angry because she is going through with this. She feels as though Negan thinks she is stupid.
There's obviously something not quite right with him. Maybe he does this to all women. But she needs underwear. And even if it's from a porno, she'll wear it regardless.
The bra is the same colour, and just as see through. She tugs on a tank top which seems to fit her, and then a shirt which seems to be a bit loose. The socks are the right size. The jeans must be fastened with a belt.
She walks out, her hair still a little damp from the shower. Negan's face falls, as if he was expecting her to walk out in nothing but the underwear he gave her.
"Everything fit okay?" he asks, walking right up to her face.
Ali nods, unprepared to get changed again if he sends her more clothes. She pulls the waist band of her jeans up slightly, causing her bra strap to slide off her shoulder.
Negan catches it quickly and slides it back up, humming in approval. Ali flinches, knowing it's too late to back away or push at his chest. She shuts her eyes tightly, waiting for it to be over. But Negan takes his time tracing a pattern up and down her shoulder under her shirt.
Her heart rate picks up and she knows that he is talking (flirting) but she cannot hear a thing due to the ringing in her ears.
He could be a rapist. A kind rapist.
At the last second, her hand strikes up to swat him away. Face, chest, shoulders, she doesn't care. She continues hitting him until he is no longer in front of her.
"Don't touch me!"
"Jesus motherfucking fuck. Shit!" she looks up to see him holding a hand to his jawline. When he pulls it away, there are three deep scratch marks leaking blood.
Ali's heart stops. This is it. She just granted herself an execution.
Negan glares down at her, taking deep breaths to stop himself from swearing even more. He growls lowly and finally sighs when he sees how her eyes glazed over.
"You are a feisty one," the corner of his mouth twitches up.
She wants to apologize, but what for? It was self-defence.
"I-… I-"
"Save it, doll," he sighs again, wiping at the blood, "Shouldn't have touched you."
Wait… he isn't mad? Maybe he thinks she is unstable… which she kind of is.
Ali ducks her head, wishing for nothing more than to disappear.
"Take a fucking seat. We need to talk."
She follows his orders silently, curling her legs underneath her body. Negan walks up to a small mirror that is sitting on a shelf near his bed. He leans in, scanning his face. Ali bites her lip as she watches, expecting him to lash out.
"Don't think this will go unpunished," he warns.
She takes a deep breath, looking down at the hands on her lap.
Negan seats himself opposite Ali, wiping at his jaw from time to time. He glares at her for the longest period, and she sinks further into the couch.
After what feels like hours, he finally speaks, "Why should I provide you sanctuary?"
She feels like it's a rhetorical question, so she stays silent. Across from her, Negan pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I mean, you are obviously hot as hell. And generally, that would be enough for me to give you food and shelter… in exchange for a little sugar of course," her heart rate picks up, "But I feel like you are not comfortable with that."
She meets his eyes, rubbing her shoulder where his warm touch was a couple of minutes ago.
"So tell me… what do you have to offer?"
At this point, she feels like she has no reasonable answer. And for some reason, she feels relieved. Is it better to take her chances out on the road? What even is this place? Does she have to be a sex slave in exchange for safety?
"Can you fight?" his tongue slips out again as he smirks, "And by fight, I don't mean scratch the holy hell out of people."
Ali nods subtly, "Yes."
"I feel like you have a lot of fucking anger," he grins, "Y'know, beneath all that 'timid girl' bullshit."
She nods again, feeling slightly awkward. Negan smiles, showing his teeth.
"Okay, darlin'," he rubs his chin for a moment, leaning back on the couch, "I'm a stand-up guy. So, I'm giving you a room. Clearly, you need a break. And you're not sleeping here. I'm scared for my well-being."
She watches as he stands up, taking a walkie-talkie out of the holster on his waist.
"Simon," he beams, leaning back and forth on his feet, "Get your ass up here. We have a guest that requires your attention."
Simon. Another man. It would make Ali feel more comfortable if a woman showed up.
She watches as Negan smirks down at her, waving his walkie-talkie around until it makes a harsh sound, "Roger that," a voice comes from the other line.
Ali stands up, tugging her shirt down hesitantly, "Who is Simon?"
Negan looks at her, surprised that she spoke. Fascinated that it was so quiet, "Simon is my right-hand man. You gotta fucking have one of those around, you know?"
A playful knock on the door erupts within seconds. That was fast.
The door opens and there stands who Ali assumes is Simon. Tall, amused, and wearing a moustache. His smile only widens when he greets Negan. And then his eyes widen as they settle on his scratches.
"What the hell happened to you?" he points to his own cheek.
"Let me introduce you to Ali," Negan says, stepping closer to the girl. In her peripheral vision, she sees his arm rise to wrap around her shoulders but he decided against it. Smart.
"Nice to meet you, Ali," Simon purrs out her name, grinning. Then he raises an eyebrow at Negan's scratches and starts putting the puzzle pieces together in his head. Ali almost sees it.
"Take her up to her room," Negan orders, pointing upwards, "The spare one near Richard's."
Another man. Ali scratches the back of her head.
"And don't fucking touch her," he adds, reaching over to pat his shoulder, "Trust me."
She would be offended if she didn't agree.
"Here we are," Simon stops abruptly, causing Ali to tumble into his back. He turns around to raise his eyebrows and she smiles nervously.
"Sorry."
The man takes out a silver key and unlocks the door, pushing it open, "Take it," he extends his arm. Ali peeks behind his shoulder at the room before grabbing the key off him, "You need anything else before I go?"
Before she can open her mouth, two women catch her eye from the end of the corridor. Ali feels a wave of relief flood over her at the sight of anything other than male. But it vanishes when she realises what they are wearing.
High heels? Slutty dresses? In an apocalypse?
Suddenly, she grabs Simon's arm, making him lean in as if to hear her better, "Who are they?"
He follows her gaze, "Those women? Negan's wives," his smirk widens, "I take it you haven't met them yet."
Ali gulps and takes her hand back, slumping against the doorframe to keep her balance, "Wives?"
"Yeah," he says simply, as if that kind of shit is normal. But then again, what is normal in a world like this?
She does not belong here. She does not belong here.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Simon crouches down. That's when she realizes that in her regularly occurring panic attacks, she has slid down the wall and ended up on the floor.
Her hand touches her forehead and she feels sweat coming on. Her heart has developed a pace of its own. The ringing has started. And if she is making any sounds, they are incoherent and animalistic.
"Are you going to rape me?"
Tears cloud her vision and she roughly makes out Simon scanning all over her face, "No, sweetheart, no. Deep breaths, come on."
She gasps when her sense of touch returns and she feels a warm hand on her cheek, collecting her hot tears. She wants to push him away but he is not like Negan. He is nicer. Maybe it's because he doesn't swear much.
"Deep breaths," he repeats, reaching around his back to pick up his walkie-talkie.
Ali gasps for air, trying to get her breathing under control, "I want to go."
"Okay, sweetheart, just calm down," his confused and concerned face turns away to speak into the radio. She hears the name 'Negan'. And that's about all she can understand.
"I want to leave!" she rephrases, more desperate by the second.
Simon runs a hand down half of his face, clearly uncomfortable and untrained.
"I want to leave," she gasps, wiping at her face.
"Calm down, darling," he sighs, "Nobody wants to hurt you here."
Ali nods, as if trying to convince herself.
"How about you go into your room and get some rest?"
Ali nods again, closing her eyes to focus on her breathing, "Did you call Negan?"
"Yes," Simon answers, breathing slowly and motioning for her to do the same, "He's on his way-"
"No!" Ali sobs, trying to stand up, "No, don't make him come here."
She does not want to see him. The man is clearly insane. And there is something about him that does not make her feel like he will do much to help the situation. He has no idea what she went through. And he can't keep his hands to himself.
"Okay," Simon speaks, but it sounds more like a question, "Just go inside. Get some rest."
Once she is fully on her feet, he walks behind her, holding his arms out as if she could collapse and break into pieces at any second.
"I'm okay," she says, sniffing. The room is a blur because honestly she could not care less about anything at this point. She wants to be alone. Before Simon can walk in after her, she slams the door in his face and locks it.
"Wait, darling," he grumbles from the other side.
Ali stills and puts her forehead against the door, "I'm okay."
"Did you just lock the door?"
She watches as the door handle rattles, "I'm okay."