A/N: Sorry it took so long. Hubby was home and taking up all my mental space and invading my writing time. Thanks for all the support for the last chapter that was among my most brutal. I really do like challenging my characters, and I'm glad most of you get me. There is more Daryl pain in this chapter, although this is more of the mental kind.
*Trigger warning* for graphic description of the death of a minor.

The Walking Deth - Part IV/
Here and Home - Chapter VI
Indecent Proposal

My hand still ached something fierce, it felt tight and fat and useless, and worst of all I could still feel my missing fingers. I could feel the weight of them still on my hand, I could feel the air moving around them, I could feel the twisted nylon fibres as I tugged on a bow string, or the soft forgiving feel of them pinched against a cigarette filter, or warm and wet inside Beth. But when I went to rub them together, or scratch the hair on my chin, or brush them over Beth's shoulder, they weren't there.

Loss tugged at my guts as I deliberated over the fact that I was not entirely whole. The emotional pain of that hurt more than the physical pain when I brushed my sutured skin against a surface, or when using my ring finger to pull a trigger tore at the still healing flesh, or when making a fist pushed cartilage and bone against forming scar tissue . However, I would push through the pain gladly, when I could touch Beth's soft skin, knead my good fingers into her back, and tug her warmth against my chest.

My nights and days had been restless, spent scheming at ways to get us out of here, together and in one piece. My plans were always thrown out when logic took over emotion. We were trapped here, for as long as Negan wanted to play with us. Negan was too hard to get close enough to kill; he had too many body guards following him around. And even if we got past him, we had to get past the gates and past the sea of walkers that surrounded the fence. Even though I had been practicing with the Stryker, I was still pretty useless as a fighter. Out there without a vehicle and without weapons, Beth and I would be walker chow. Although sometimes I thought that might be preferable to the prison we were being held in.

Feeling hopeless and helpless, I turned to Beth for support and a cuddle or a kiss or something. Anything.

She was lying beside me on the worn and musty smelling mattress, curled into a ball, her sweaty unwashed hair fanning out across the yellowing fabric, her shoulder exposed by the loose collar of her tee. Her eyes were closed but her breathing, quick and steady, told me she was awake.

I pulled my left arm up, propping myself on my elbow and then ran my injured hand over her neck and upwards brushing her hair away, the softness of her skin making my hand feel instantly better. I crooked my neck and moved my lips to behind her ear, nipping at the sensitive spot that always made her buck and sigh and shudder.

"Don't!" She snapped, turning her head sharply away and knocking my nose with her jaw.

I pulled my head back an inch and rubbed my bandaged hand against my throbbing nose, "What the hell, Beth?"

Huffing, she shifted her weight around and rolled over, pushing her ass against me, as she tugged the blankets up over her shoulder.

Usually when she pressed her ass into me like that it meant she wanted me to give her something, but this morning seemed more like the last three mornings, where it was like she didn't even want me touching her.

"I'm tired." She grunted into the blanket that half covered her face.

"Japanese Crossword." I grunted in reply, throwing my head back down on the mattress and staring up at the pattern of grey mould on the ceiling.

She sat up and glared down at me angrily, clutching the blankets to her chest as if she had something she didn't want me to see under her shirt, something I hadn't seen dozens of times before.

"It's not that confusing Daryl." She spat angrily. "I've had to work double shifts to cover you remember?"

I hated it when she was all snarky at me like this. She had been this way off and on for the past three days, and I was sure I hadn't done anything to deserve it. Except maybe have my fingers cut off.

"Pfft." I lifted my mutilated hand and forced it onto her face. "Sure it ain't this?"

The tension in her face dropped and she sighed and frowned, and dropping her blanket, took my hand gently between hers and took it to her lips, kissing against the bandage that crossed the back of my hand.

"No. I really am tired."

I forced a smile, and tried to believe her. Four days ago she had been crazy horny, jumping all over me every moment she got, even having sex hours after I had my fingers removed, but now I considered myself lucky if I even got a hug.

Still feeling kind of hurt, but pushing past the self-sorrow, I leant forward and kissed her quickly on her jaw. "You can rest today. I'm goin' out."

My hand was never going to be the same, but I had been practicing with my Stryker and with my Busse, and I was confident I could go out there and not put myself or anyone else at risk. I had shown Wally what I could do last night and he had convinced Negan to let me go out on runs.

Beth pouted, and dropped her eyes in a way that almost looked like she was guilty. "Probably for the best."

I sat up, and put my good hand to her jaw and turned it upwards so I could kiss her on the lips. I let it linger for a moment, enjoying a second of intimacy that was hard to come by lately.

"Tomorrow, we'll go out together." I brushed my thumb across her still moist bottom lip. "Maybe get a chance to slip away."

Beth frowned and muttered almost inaudibly. "Yeah. Maybe."

I rolled off the mattress, stood and stretched my arms up to the ceiling, and then checked my hand, slipping a finger under the bandage to examine the red and tender flesh around the stitches that crossed over the place where my fingers used to be.

"Few more days and I can take the bandage off." I commented, looking down on Beth. She was staring out towards the half covered window.

"You a'right?"

"Mmm Hmm." She mumbled, her eyes not moving.

I stepped into my jeans and pulled them up, working the buckle with my thumb and ring-finger, something that felt awkward, but I was getting used to. I found my rank smelling shirt and vest and slipped them on. We hadn't had showers or a proper wash for four days, only being given enough water to drink. It was something I was used to, but Beth hated having oily skin and hair. I knelt on the floor beside her and brushed her slick blonde strands away from her forehead and kissed her on her clammy skin.

"Maybe spend the day in bed. Recover." I suggested.

"Think I will." She smiled up at me weakly. "Stay out of Negan's way today, okay?"

She didn't need to tell me that. The next time I saw him, I was sure I would be putting my Busse in his back, and I didn't think that was a good move for either of us.

I finished getting ready, pulling my boots on, sheathing my Busse and cocking my Stryker, ready for a bolt. It felt good to have my old buddy back, even though I knew I would miss the efficiency of the Airborne. I was eager to get out and fire at a moving target to see how much my damaged hand affected my accuracy.

I swung my Stryker over my shoulder and untied the blanket that secured the door closed with my thumb and ring finger.

"Love you, girl." I called to Beth as I backed out the door.

She turned her head and gave me a half smile over her bare shoulder. "Love you too." Her smile intensified, reaching her eyes as she examined me with the crossbow slung over my shoulder. "Go get 'em Dixon."

I was put on the East run that morning, and left with a group to check out a strip of shops and malls in nearby Maryland. Wally and I had taken to a long single level open mall that had been styled as if it belonged in Europe, with all terracotta tiles and stucco walls.

It was a welcome relief to be paired with Wally. I didn't trust a single other person here, and I didn't trust myself to not do something that would get me in trouble. Wally was always good company, and was always able to get a laugh or at least a tired groan out of me. But there was something off about him that morning. He was calling me Daryl rather than Wyatt, he was avoiding my eyes, and he hadn't told me one terrible joke.

"What's up with you? No jokes?" I nudged his hulking body that was learning over the shopping cart we were filling with supplies.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Didn't think you would be in the mood." He flicked his fingers towards my hand.

I shrugged. "Lost worse things than fingers. Gotta move on, right?"

"Yeah." He muttered, his eyes turning back to his boots. "I'm...ah…tryin' to save the good stuff. Got a late shift tonight. Tough crowd"

A shifting sound coming from a newsstand made us turn to see a walker, with his jacket caught on a magazine turning wire rack. Its dead eyes rested on us, its hands outstretched, pulling on the stand in an effort to get closer to us.

Wally pulled out his knife and stepped forward, but I put my hand out to stop him.

"Let me try somethin'."

I popped the snap on my sheathe and pulled out my Busse, and flicked it in my right hand so I was pinching the blade between my thumb, ring and pinkie finger. I took it up to my ear and with a flick of my wrist, flung it forward.

It spun through the air and hit the walker in the eye, but it didn't embed, and tumbled down the walker's chest and clanged to the floor.

"Shit." I muttered.

I was going to have to put more force into my throws to make up for the missing grip and balance my lost fingers had provided.

I took my Stryker off my shoulder, aimed, and pulled the trigger. It went straight through the middle of the walkers decaying forehead.

"'Least I can still do that." I turned to Wally looking for approval, shouldering over to the walker slumped on the ground.

Wally was still frowning, looking at the rusty coloured polished stone floor.

I walked over to the body of the walker to collect my Busse and bolt. "Man, what's wrong with you? I lost two fingers, you ain't got no joke for that?"

Wally looked up at me and eyed over me cautiously. "Those scars I saw on your back, they're old right?"

I kept my eyes on my Busse as I re-sheathed it. "Yep."

"You know, I switched my son once, when he was a kid. Can't rightly remember what for, but I remember feeling like the biggest ass whoever roamed the planet for doing it." He sighed long and loud. "Never even told him I was sorry."

Trying to take my mind off what he was telling me, I turned my head to look in the newsstand wondering if I should grab Beth some more magazines to read so she could put down that tattered ancient tome she had been carrying around. I eyed over the half empty racks and the mess of glossy pages on the floor trying to avoid eye contact, but I could feel Wally's gaze burning a hole in the back of my head.

Wally cleared his throat, "I didn't want to tell you while you were recovering."

That didn't sound good. Feeling the tension grow in my muscles, I dropped my Stryker and flexed them to cock it and then replaced the bolt. "What's that?"

"'The kid" He muttered. "I couldn't stay with her like I promised. She's been goin' off on runs with Negan." He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, letting his shoulders sag forward. "Alone."

The Stryker twitched in my grip, as a jolt of anxiety ran through me.

I pressed my hands into the fore-grip and trigger-guard firmly, trying to control the rage ripping through my body. "Is she fuckin' 'im?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

I instinctively clenched my jaw, biting on my lip. I could taste blood in my mouth, but I continued to bite down anyway, while I gripped my hands around my Stryker so hard that my fingers were aching and my arms were trembling.

Of course she was fucking him. That's why we were getting food and water. That's why Helen was coming to check on me every day and giving me pain killers and antibiotics. That's why Beth had gone from riding me like a juiced up jockey, to not even wanting me to breathe on her.

I turned my eyes slowly and deliberately towards Wally's, feeling them draw into an intense squint. "You need to give me your gate card."

Wally made a muffled grunting sound. "I can't. There are only three cards that open the gate. He'll know it was me who gave it to you. I would lose more than a couple of fingers." He flicked a hand towards me.

"You can come with us."

He shook his head again. "I can't. He would chase us down. One radio call, and the crew from the outposts would be all over us, that's if we even manage to get off the hotel grounds. And besides, I know this place. Out there." He sighed. "Everything's unknown."

"I gotta kill 'im then." I grunted as I paced back and forth across the empty hall.

Wally shook his head. "No-one can get close enough. There's always someone followin' him, he's got Lucille and he's a big fucker. A good fighter. And who's gonna lead this place if he's gone?"

"You." I said shortly. "You got a good head. People listen to you. You got heart."

Wally scoffed and twitched his lips into an uncomfortable looking smirk. "There are people stronger than me and crazier than Negan who would be lining up to kill me and take that place."

Knowing I wouldn't get help from the one person who I trusted made rage pulse through me. I dropped my Stryker to the ground, swung out my right hand and picked up the magazine rack and tossed it through the air. "Fucking, Fuck this shit!" I recoiled my throbbing hand back into my body, as the pain set in. "He's fucked her. He's fuckin' her. He's fuckin' with her head, and fuckin' with her..."

Not satisfied with the magazine stand's position on the floor, I stormed over to it, grabbed it up with two hands and smashed it into the ground until it was just clumps of twisted wire and crumpled paper.

Wally ran towards me pushing the cart, as if he thought he could protect himself with it. "I know it hurts. But I don't think love is meant to last in this world…"

He only angered me further. I could have killed him just for speaking to me. Luckily for him, some targets for my aggression were pouring out of a pharmacy, moaning and groaning and dragging their decaying shoes across the floor.

"Fuck you!" I called, as I scooped my Stryker of the floor and shot one in the head.

I dropped the stirrup to the ground and reloaded the bow, ignoring the pain in my hand.

"Fuck you!" I called again, shooting another one through its gaping mouth.

I continued the pattern until my bolts were empty and then took out my Busse and slammed it into the heads of the remaining walkers, sweating and swearing and spitting and wishing each one of them was Negan so I could kill him over and over again.

When they were finally all down, I tried to steady my heaving, soaking-wet body, by resting my hand and head on to the nearby display window, and I stared down to the satin covered floor inside.

The satin was littered with velvet boxes and cuffs, watches, loose pearls and single earrings that must have fallen when it was raided, back in the early days of the turn, when people thought valuables mattered.

I took a step back and looked up to the large overhead sign written in gold script. Thomson's Pawn Shop. I took a sharp turn and went straight for the entry with Wally chasing behind me.

"Where're you goin'." He called after me. "There aren't any guns left in there."

Kicking aside a wooden display that had toppled over the entry I grunted, "Ain't lookin' for no gun."

I kicked my way through the clutter of fishing rods, motorcycle helmets and ski boots until I had got to the display window. I went to my knees and sifted through the mess before me.

Wally approached cautiously behind me, "What're you lookin' for?"

I held up what I had found.

"A ring." I muttered as I turned the small gold band around, observing the way the light caught the diamond. "I'm gonna marry Beth."

I didn't know how I was going to ask her. I didn't even know how I was going to look her in the eye, when all I could think about was Negan's dick in her.

It wouldn't be the ideal way to propose to a girl. It wouldn't even be romantic. It wouldn't even be done out of love. Not that I didn't love the girl, despite what she had done, I knew she had done it for us. For me. I only wanted to marry her in the hope it would be enough to make Negan keep his filthy hands off her, until I figured out a way to cut them off at the wrist.

We had gone back to the hotel to change shifts, and I hoped I would have enough time to run upstairs and propose to her, and get Negan's fake minister to throw some words together so I would at least know she was safe before I went out again. But of course that would have been all too easy.

As soon as I had stepped out the truck, Negan was grabbing me and dragging me back out on another trade run, forcing me to sit up front with him in the truck's cab.

All I could do was think of how bad it could be if I tried to kill him, here in the truck. Worst thing, if I failed, he would go back and do something awful to Beth. If I succeeded, and then got killed by his men, then they would probably all do awful things to her. If I managed to kill them all, which was unlikely, then I would have to get through the men back at the hotel, and then we would be on the run with men from the outposts tracking us down.

Negan, finished crooning to his song on the car stereo, turned it down, and looked to me with that stupid ugly grin on his face.

I wanted to knock out those smiling teeth. I wanted to blacken those eyes that had seen Beth's naked body. I wanted to fatten that lip that had touched her mouth. I wanted to cut out the tongue that had tasted her. I wanted to rip the dick off that had been inside her. But all I could do was sit patiently and scheme.

"Good to see you're ready to keep on keepin' on."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." I grunted.

Like kill the man who fucks his girl.

He squinted an eye and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You didn't think that was personal, did you, That nonsense with your fingers?"

I shrugged and turned my murderous eyes to look out the window towards the green fields. It looked like we were going out to another farm.

"I like you Daryl. Fuck, you're the first person to stand up to me in months!" He chuckled to himself. "It was kind of invigorating. You got heart, and you got fucking passion. I like that in my men. But you gotta follow orders." He tapped his finger on my bandage, sending searing pain through my hand, but I bit my lip and ignored it. "This is just a constant reminder."

I muttered something to myself. I wasn't even sure what it was. I hate you. Or I'm going to kill you. Or I'm going to shove a spoon up your ass and then scoop out your eyeballs with it.

We turned down a familiar looking dirt road, and approached a familiar looking white ranch house, surrounded by a familiar looking wire fence.

"What're we doing back here?" I asked as I eyed over the familiar terrified looking teens who opened the gate for us.

"I've got some loose ends to…tie up."

I shuddered, knowing he was planning to put on some kind of rope show again. Maybe this time I would be the one with the rope around my neck. I brushed my hand over my Busse. If I was going down anyway, I would be sure to take Negan with me.

We parked the truck and then got out and, followed by Negan's men, walked over to Kenneth who was standing warily on his porch, his aging hand clutching to the weather worn timber post by the steps.

"We gave you all our males, Negan. We don't have any more to give." Kenneth called down to us as we approached.

"Relax." Negan waved a hand as if he were brushing something away. "I'm not here for Bacon."

He nudged me in my back and I stepped forward.

"Daryl has something to say."

I looked to Negan dumbfounded. "What?"

"Get your son out here, Kenneth. Daryl wants to talk to him."

Kenneth hesitated and Negan took a threatening step toward him, swinging Lucille an inch from his nose. "I said fucking now."

As if the kid had been listening from inside, he stepped through the screeching screen door and let it slam behind him. He rubbed his elbows nervously and then tenderly touched his throat that was still purple where the rope had been tied before.

Negan smiled at the kid and took to a knee before him. "Do you remember this man?" He said thumbing to me over his shoulder.

The kid's eyes flicked up to me nervously and then he nodded.

"Did he save you?" Negan asked the kid

The kid hesitated for a moment, chewed the corner of his lip and then nodded.

"Is he your hero?"

The kid shrugged and then nodded.

Negan turned to me. "What have you got to say to the kid, Daryl?"

"I don't fuckin' know." I said with a shrug.

"You think you should apologise?"

I hesitated. "…For what?"

"For killing him."

And with that Troy leapt out from behind me and grabbed the kid by his arm. He tried to struggle but was no match for Troy's meaty tree trunk arms. He squealed for his mother and she came racing out, and joined in with his squealing when she saw what was happening.

"Please Negan." Kenneth begged, falling to his knees. "Don't hurt my boy, Please."

"I'm not hurting him, Daryl is." Negan smiled at me.

Last time I intervened I lost some fingers, and that was supposed to be a soft punishment. All I could do was watch as, with his free hand, Troy tossed the rope over the crossbeam just as before, and looped the noose around the kids head.

"Please." Kenneth pleaded again.

Troy tugged back on the rope lifting the kid high of the ground this time, his legs going stiff, toes pointed down as they searched for ground.

"No!" Kenneth wailed, taking a furious step towards Negan. Negan swung Lucille and smashed the man in the head, sending him flying into the timber cladding of the house. He slid to the ground, smearing blood across the white paint. His slack white face stared up at me from the puddle of blood pooling around him.

"Self-defence." Negan said with a shrug as he pointed to the body.

The mother's wails turned into sobs, and more people came out from tents and trailers to watch the show.

Negan turned to me, bloody Lucille resting on his shoulder. "What do you think, Daryl, will it be quicker or longer than last time?" He pointed towards the blue faced kid. "Do you think his little carotids were toughened or weakened by his last ordeal?"

I couldn't look at his face; I dropped my eyes to his boots, swaying to and fro and kicking weakly every now and then.

"Someone get a watch out and time it for me." Negan called to the crowd behind me.

I clenched my fists and chewed on my lip. Wanting to do something, Needing to do something, but knowing I couldn't. I was sure Negan would give me the ultimate punishment if I messed up again. And I knew that ultimate punishment would involve Beth.

"Is he still your hero?" Negan called to the kid, who spluttered in reply.

I watched as his tiny limbs writhed and rippled before me. Counting how many flickers and shudders there were every few seconds. The number counted dwindled every round. Then after what seemed like forever, piss soaked through the boy's pants, dripped down his exposed shins, and disappeared into his boots.

"Is he your hero now?" Negan called again as the spluttering slowed, turned to tiny gasping sighs and then finally stopped.

I looked back to the kids face, swollen and purple, with a fat tongue poking out between his colourless lips.

Laughing, Troy let go of his end of the rope and the body fell to the timbers of the porch like a sack of potatoes. The mother threw herself on top and began weeping into her son's lifeless body.

It was a choice between the kid and Beth. I may have made the wrong one, but I was sure I was going to hell no matter what I did.

"How long was that?" Negan called over his shoulder.

"Two minutes sixteen seconds." A voice, void of emotion, called from among Negan's underlings.

"Hmm." Negan tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin. "Guess it was a lot fucking longer than thirty seconds."

He unexpectedly began howling with laughter, throwing his head back in the air, and letting his whole body tremble. "You know what's fucking hilarious?" He wiped tears from his eyes. "…if you didn't intervene last time, they probably could have got the truck packed up with my bacon before the kid died. Fuck I wouldn't even be here now, punishing you for making me look like a cock. So really this is all your fucking fault." He began howling with laughter again.

I looked down to the boy's mother who was kneeling red faced and silent before me, staring at me like I should have done something.

I should have.

"Thought you didn't kill kids." I muttered, turning to Negan.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Kids. You said you didn't kill 'em."

Negan slipped the blood covered bat off his shoulder and pushed at the kids limp foot with the end of it.

"Firstly I didn't kill him. You did. Secondly, a teenager isn't a kid. They'll spend seven fucking years of their life trying to prove that to you." His eye flinched as if he had just thought of something and he smirked at me. "Or are you tryin' to tell me you've been sticking your dick in to a kid this whole time?"

I clenched my jaw and looked down to my boots.

There are no kids in this shit-hole world no more.

I felt utterly crushed. I wanted Beth to take me in her arms and tell me everything was okay. I wanted to be back at the school with Mix and Austin and the rest of the kids. I wanted to be back at the prison with my family. I even wanted to be back at home with my dad. I wanted out of this hell hole, and I wanted out tonight.

Of all the shit I had witnessed over the past couple of years ─Sophia as a walker, My brother, Hershel losing his head, what had happen to Beth, losing the kids in the bus─ Watching a kid die because of my dumb mistake was right up there among the worst. I couldn't get the image of his swollen face out of my mind.

I probably would have taken poison from the devil himself, if it would help burn that picture away.

So when Negan offered to get me a drink that night back at the hotel I welcomed it, hoping it would help me think straight, and come up with a workable plan of escape.

The lounge was filled with drunks and naked girls, and was rowdier than the last time I had been here. I guessed it was because everyone was getting off the evening shift, and it was only two hours away from the witching hour.

The room was dimly lit, only by candles that covered the bar and the glass display cabinets, but judging by the sounds I could hear, I was sure people were fucking in the shadows.

Keeping my eyes down I slipped onto the stool beside Negan, who was already running his hands all over the same girl as before, Audrina, pushing his fingers into her over-touched flesh. I tried not to look at him or what he was doing. I just wanted to get my drink, and go and find Beth.

"How were the runs today?" Negan asked the bartender as he filled two glasses with whiskey. Why he was asking the bar tender about runs, I had no idea.

"Good." The balding middle aged man replied with a slow nod.

"You get everything I asked for?"

"Yes." The bartender replied with certainty.

"Get all the supplies from the clinic?"

The bartender nodded. "Mmm Hmm."

"Great!" Negan pushed the glass towards me. "Drink up, Daryl."

I gripped the glass in my damaged hand and tossed it back into my mouth, swallowing it all in one gulp, and welcoming the warmth it immediately brought to me.

"You did good today, Daryl." Negan said as he sipped on his whiskey. "Real good."

I shrugged my shoulders and eyed the barkeeper asking for more. The kid's face was still on my mind.

"You did so good. I'm going to reward you."

"You gonna let us go?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"No." He smiled and shook his head. "I'm gonna get Honey to suck your dick."

My eyes left the glass and went to Negan's face. Stern and serious.

"No Thankyou." I said firmly

Negan turned to Audrina. "Suck his dick, Honey."

Audrina obediently dropped to her knees before me and started tugging at my belt.

I slapped her hand away weakly, both my hands suddenly feeling swollen and tight.

"Fffuck off."

Negan chuckled. "You don't need to worry about being faithful. You're not married. And neither is Beth."

"Fffuck y…you." I didn't need that second drink. This one was hitting me fast. I was already slurring my words.

"She's been singing to me every day since you lost your fingers." He whistled with amusement. "Love it when she hits those high notes."

My hand slipped from my belt and went to the leather of my sheath, ready to grab my Busse. Emotion was taking over logic here. I hated him so much I had to kill him. Now. Even if it meant me dying. I would rather be dead than live this kind of torment, and I would just have to take the chance and hope that Beth would be safe once Negan was gone.

My numb fingers slipped against the small circular snap, I couldn't get a grip on it. It was like my hands were suddenly too weak to even pop it open. My hand fell from my sheath and brushed against my pocket, pressing against the ring under the fabric. I shouldn't have bothered trying to drill out my memories with booze. I should have gone straight upstairs and got Beth to marry me.

"Let her suck your dick, Daryl." Negan continued, nodding down to Audrina who was looking up at me with her sad hollow eyes and swollen lips pursed, a hint of blood spatter could be seen at the crease of her mouth. Would this be Beth's fate?

"…No." I had to force the word out; my mouth felt like it was full off loose teeth.

"Would you rather I cut it off?"

I slowly covered my dick with my ball-of-fluff hands. Something wasn't right. A drink never hit me this hard before.

Negan's laugh echoed through my ears. "Relax Daryl, I'm just kidding." He stroked his hand across Audrina's golden brown hair, and she looked up at him obediently like she was his pet. "If I cut if off, Honey would have nothing to fuck, would you Honey?"

I tried to lift my head enough to look into his dark and scheming eyes, trying to figure out if he was being literal.

"You see Beth just needs a little push…"He nudged me with his foot and I toppled off the stool falling on top of the kneeling Audrina. "And she'll have no fucks to give for you…All fucks will be reserved for me. "

"Ff-f-f" I spluttered, as I tried to lift my head off Audrina's shoulder. I wasn't drunk. I had been given something. Opiate. Benzos. Tranqs. Whiteys. Goop. Kit Ket. Something that meant I couldn't move my legs, couldn't speak…couldn't fight.

"Honey's gonna take you and fuck you now." Negan's voice bubbled through the air.

The last thing I remembered was Negan's howling laughter, bouncing through my inflated, throbbing head, and the sticky, grimy floor approaching my face.

A/N: I know, I know, another cliffhanger! and I really wanted to do a double update, but chapter 7 is pretty full on so it's taking more time than expected. Hope to have it up in the next couple of days.