A/N: Hello dear readers, thank you for checking in again! This one is a bit longer, I hope you'll enjoy. Special thanks to ShunnieIsFine for leaving a review, and to those who alerted this story. I appreciate it!


As Negan's hand presses firmly on my back, I have no choice but to step into the RV. I turn around to him, leaving my left arm to hang limply from my body. I have no choice because I cannot move my shoulder at all. It's still hurting like hell with every movement I make, and I am bleeding all over his RV's interior. I'm scared of what will happen if he notices. Negan still stands in the doorway of the RV.

"Sit yourself down, honey," he tells me, his voice deep and gravelly. "It's a rough drive to where we're going."

Then he closes the RV door, and the otherwise meaningless sound seems to echo through me.

The sound of my freedom disappearing.

I nod, walking toward the couch and sitting myself down. He notices the trail of blood I leave behind, but he just furrows his brows and lets out a deep "hmm". Then he sits down in the front seat, laying Lucille carefully in his lap. The Savior with the mustache gets in the front seat, the one that has hunted us all day, talking about our "last day on Earth". The engine rumbles, and we start our drive toward what I can only imagine would be the Saviors base.

The RV's windows are shut, so I can't even see what's happening to them. 'Please, be okay,' I wish. 'Please don't beat yourselves up over this.'

I look at Negan. He seems to be fiddling with Lucille, adjusting her barbed wire.

The vicious pain I'm experiencing combined with the way he's playing with that disgusting bat like one would play with a pen during class makes me furious.

'Goddamn bastard,' I think. 'It's his fault. No one else's.'

My thoughts are interrupted by the RV hitting a bump in the road. We're driving through a wooded area after all. A blinding pain immediately flows through my shoulder. Blinding, quite literally, because my vision blurs.

I vaguely see Negan looking around at me, and exclaiming, "Oh, shit."

He hastily walks toward me, but I am already losing consciousness. My eyes are slowly shutting and I feel myself going limp, but he grabs my face and slightly slaps it in an effort to keep me awake, yelling, "Hey!". The last thing I hear him say is, "Step on it! She's not dying on me! Fuck!"

Then everything goes dark.


I wake up to a bright white light. I blink furiously to restore my vision.

I feel hazy and I can't think straight. I seem to be laying on a cot with a small pillow under my head and a thin, white blanket draped over me. I try to sit up and look at my surroundings.

The room is rectangular, and everything is grey. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. There are no windows, only fluorescent lighting. It's not familiar to me at all.

"A-are you awake?" A male voice asks me. I jump, not having realized I had company. I look to my left, where the voice came from. A man sits next to my cot. His hair is gray and unkempt, his face looks worn and tired. He anxiously looks me in the eye, while taking my wrist in his hand to take my pulse.

His grasping of my wrist draws my attention to my arm. It is freshly bandaged from the elbow up and it hangs in a sling.

I'm guessing he's a doctor, as he starts routinely examining my health. He must have patched me up as well.

After a while of him examining me, I ask, "How long have I been out?" My voice is hoarse and weak.

He looks at me with large, startled eyes. He answers, "About a day."

A day... So much could have happened in the mean time. I think of yesterday and I let out a long sigh. "Where are my friends?" I ask the man.

He looks at me confused. "I don't know. So I can't say." he says flatly.

'Negan must have instructed him not to tell me,' I think.

Silence falls between us for a moment.

Then I suddenly ask, "Would you tell me if you knew?"

Now it's his turn to let out a sigh.

"Negan owns us all here, child."

Then the door bursts open. "Well, old man, speak of the devil..." None other than Negan walks in, Lucille resting lazily on his shoulder. Had he been listening?

He looks me over and walks toward me. He inspects my bandaged arm and shoulder.

"Move it for me, doll?" He tells me. I attentively roll my shoulder around, surprised that I can without any pain.

He grabs my chin with one hand and directs my gaze toward his. Then he starts laughing.

"All doped up on pain meds," he chuckles. "Don't get used to it." He softly smacks my face for good measure.

He lets go of me and walks over toward the man again. "And you," he says, patting the man slowly on the back, "live to see another day." The man jumps with each pat. In that moment, I realize this is why the man had been so anxious.

Negan would have killed him if he hadn't been able to keep me alive.

"And getting your points too! It must be your lucky day," Negan laughs. The sound scares the doctor again. He must really enjoy scaring the living shit out of this poor man. "I'll give you double due to the importance of this task," Negan says, suddenly all business. The man lets out an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

Negan turns to me. "Okay honey, listen carefully 'cause this is how things work around here: you work for me." He gestures toward me and himself with the hand not holding Lucille. He continues, "If you don't manage to work for me, you're not getting your points. So you work, you eat," he smirks at me. "Not all too difficult right? Meds cost a little more. So if you need something bad, you gotta take on some tough runs, extra night shifts, I don't really give a fuck how you do it. Bottom line, you want something from me, you work for it."

I nod, because I don't know what else to do.

He regards my injured shoulder again.

"You're getting your points for the next three days, all on the house. No use wasting resources on you if you're gonna starve on me now," he hums, laughter in his eyes.

"Now isn't that damn kind of me?" he dramatically gestures his hand over his heart.

'Shit, he asked a question. Even if it's rhetoric, I don't want to know what happens if I don't answer,' I think. Quickly, I nod.

"Is she okay to walk, doc?" Negan asks the man. He looks terrified at being talked to, but he quickly answers, "Y-yes she should be. She was l-lucky, there were no fractures, so relocation and immobilization are enough for now. H-her fleshwounds will need f-frequent attention due to the s-stitches a-a-and-"

"Yeah, yeah, doc." Negan says, "I'll let her check in. Darling, I got a new room for you," he says proudly, crossing his arms over his chest, Lucille hanging in the air.

I wish he weren't so intimidating and charming, in a really, really screwed up way.

At the moment, I'm feeling more intimidated than charmed. I doubt that'll ever go away.

So I'll just comply.

I stand up from the bed, feeling a bit woozy from the pain medication but indeed alright to walk. We exit the sickbay and start walking through a maze of hallways. A silence falls between us but not a comfortable one at all. 'Could have something to do with the fact that I'm scared shitless of this man,' I think.

Suddenly, he speaks, making me jump a bit. "What's your name? You don't want me to make one up for you."

"Ellie."

"Hmm."

I noticed the hallways were lit, so they must have a generator up and running. There could have been worse places to end up in when kidnapped. However, there could not have been much worse men to end up with when kidnapped. Negan is so unpredictable, always rolling Lucille around on his shoulders, like a subtle reminder he can always end it then and there. I feel like I have to be on my toes the whole time, and it's exhausting.

We finally arrive at my designated room, and he opens it with a key he fishes out of the pocket of his leather jacket.

I step in, and immediately think, 'Dear Lord, I'll go crazy if I'm locked in here for the next 3 days.'

It is another square, grey room with a small window with bars in front of it and a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a yellowish light on the room. The window probably won't do much good for letting daylight in, but at least there's ventilation. Negan wouldn't want me to die from suffocation after spending bandages and pain meds on me, now would he?

A wooden single bed is standing in the corner, with a surprisingly new matrass with and a thick, faded blue, wool blanket lying on top of it. I must admit, it is probably a better bed than the cot in the sickbay.

"Well then, Ellie. Rest up. Three days of points, that's it. I'm not Mother Teresa or some shit." I hate that he said my name. He taints it.

He turns to exit the room.

"Are my friends okay?" I softly ask. I'm aware this is the first thing I've said to him on my own account, and I know he is too.

He slightly turns his head, and looks at me from the corner of his eye.

"If the sick one, the shot one and the ballsy Asian made it back, then they're okay."

My mind, still hazy from the pain meds, breaks it down as fast as it can.
The sick one must be Maggie.
The shot one must be Daryl.
The ballsy Asian could only be...

"Glenn!" I gasp in shock. "What did you do to him?!"

Still his back turned toward me, he says, "I didn't do anything. I was in the RV with your bleeding ass, remember?"

I suppress the urge to scream with anger.

"But, I'll entertain you. I signaled Dwight to punish your man Glenn for that serious insubordination of his. Making an example of the defiant one you know? Just so I don't have to endure that shit from the rest of your group." I see the smirk on the side of his face that is turned toward me. And it infuriates me.

But I must not do anything stupid now.

Going into an all-out rage against him could very well cost me my life.

And that, I know for certain, will not help Glenn.

I try to compose myself, try to breathe easy, try not to cry.

Then he turns around to me, an evil glint in his eye and that horrible smirk on his face, and says, "I know Dwight likes to go for the kneecaps."

And with that he slams the door shut and locks it, knowing full well that it would be the last straw.

I run toward the door and bang on it once, shouting, "You lied! You said the first one was free! You said you wouldn't hurt him for it!"

He doesn't shout back, instead I have to strain my ears to hear him say, "I said I wouldn't kill him for it."

Then I hear the thuds of his boots moving back down the hallway.

I stumble to my bed, lie down and finally break down. I cry my head off.

I got kidnapped. He'll have me working for him, with these people. For food. Food he probably stole from Hilltop or, in the time to come, Alexandria.

On top of Maggie being sick and Daryl being shot in the shoulder, Dwight might have shot Glenn in the knees. And who knows what else has happened.

I cry myself to sleep.