I find myself on my knees in what is possibly the worst situation I've been in since Terminus three years ago.
They've lined us all up.
Carl is to my left, Daryl to my right, and the others continue on passed him. Our weapons have been taken from us and are lying beyond our reach, under the safe watch of the crowd of Saviors, all of whom seem immensely pleased with their catch. The cold night air rushes by, sending cold chills down my spine, which are only made worse by the predicament we find ourselves in. Negan, their mobster-esque leader, stands closer to us; his barbwire-wrapped bat slung casually over his shoulder as he observes his captives, our group, in an amused fashion. He is enjoying every second of this. The fear and uncertainty he has generated is fueling him like gasoline and galvanizing his pompous attitude. Up until now, our group has remained silent, fearfully obeying Negan's orders in order to avoid necessary casualties, even though, regardless of what we do, I don't see this ending well for any of us. Nevertheless, our silence is about to break. And no one other than Sasha is going to do it.
"What do you want with us?" she snaps, voice retaining its usual defiance even despite our situation.
Negan regards her with an amused glance.
"I already told you." he replies. "I need to send your boss a message. Can't have him thinking he can fuck with the infrastructure I've crafted here."
I notice Sasha's eyes narrow.
That answer clearly wasn't the one she was looking for. Negan also catches onto this and glances up, stroking his chin as if pretending to be deep in thought as to what to follow up with.
"See, there are rules around these parts." Negan elaborates. "Rules that nobody breaks. Now, I realize, you're new to this little network, so since Jesus and his Hilltop didn't teach 'em to ya, I'm going to fill you lot in, like the nice fucking gentleman that I am. Are you ready? Here they are, so listen really fucking closely. The rules are this; you give us your shit or I will fucking kill you all."
I wince.
This man is different from anything I've encountered since the beginning of all of this.
Not only does he enjoy striking fear into the hearts of those he terrorizes, he is gleefully murderous, and that makes him a very, very, very dangerous man. Back in Terminus, Gareth had kept us prisoner by locking us up, giving us time to regroup and reconsider our strategy. Furthermore, even though he too was a raving psychopath, Gareth didn't seem like the type to enjoy killing. To he and his people, the atrocities they committed were in the name of their fallen, as well as some sorely misplaced faith that cannibalism made them stronger. Negan and his Saviors are no such people. They enjoy what they do and try to do as much of it as possible. This time, I know it in the pit of my stomach, there will be no time to regroup and re-plan. Negan seems like the type to break his enemies, while giving them the impression that he's toying with them. There is no mercy in that.
"Now, before we get on to the main event, I've got a little message I want you folks to take back to your leader, Rick." Negan continues. "You lot work for me now. You fuckin' got that? Don't like it? Too fucking bad. See, before now, I'd never noticed your little gated community in that rotted out district of ol' Alexandria, but now that I know you folks are there, you're gonna have to start paying me rent. That rent, is half of whatever shit you've got. If you don't got enough, then find a way to get some more, or I'll fucking kill you. What's more, them fences you lot have built around your place? Real pretty, I might add. They're mine now. You see me or any of these handsome bastards standing behind me, you let us in, or we'll knock 'em the fuck down. Got that?"
No one speaks.
This is the worst situation possible.
If they take over the safe zone, then our last refuge will be gone, and we'll either be forced to serve Negan or take our chances back on the road. Mentally, I can't stop cursing. We'd finally found a place. Finally built a life for each other. And now, this man and his thugs are about to take it from us. Anger and grief swells in my chest, radiating out as a heat that pulses through every vein with every pump of my heart. I can feel the heat even behind my eyes and I'm forced to blink back tears of rage. There's gotta be something we can do to stop this guy. He simply can't be allowed to just do as he pleases with our homes!
"Now then," Negan snaps me back out of my thoughts. "I don't want to kill any of you, but I have to let your friend Rick know I'm absolutely fuckin' serious. I really mean that. I don't want to kill a single fuckin' one of you. I'd rather you work for me, after all, live people don't grow on fucking trees anymore. But, if I don't make myself absolutely goddamn clear to this Rick guy, well he may just get the balls to fight back and then I'd really have to kill somebody."
Now my blood really turns cold in the veins.
Negan casually lifts the bat he's been resting on his shoulder, brandishing it at his side. A murderous grin curls across his lips.
"This ol' girl," he says, indicating to his bat. "Is Lucile. My favorite bat. See how I've wrapped her in barbed wire? This is how I hand down my judgement. See it with your eyes, then you shall feel it on your skin. Or at least, one of you fuckers will. Now its only a matter of decidin' which one to do the deed to."
My breath catches.
This is really happening.
This is really, actually happening right now.
He's going to kill one of us. I can see it in his eyes. On his face. His mind is made up. All around me, I see that very realization dawning on everyone else who is on their knees, lined up alongside me. Carl has gone ghostly pale and is reduced to staring at the floor blankly. He's so horrified that he can't even manage the tears he should be shedding. Seeing Carl in so much fear causes the hair on my arms to stand at attention. I want to protect him. I want to prevent him from being Negan's choice, even if that means I die in the process. But I can't move. Fear that Negan will choose Carl if he sees the tremendous fear on my face is oozing through my veins. But the one thing I fear most is that Negan will discover Carl is Rick's son. His plan is to send Rick a message, and there is no greater message than killing Rick's very firstborn child. The terror that comes from that possibility dominates my mind and soul, laboring my breath and causing my palms to sweat. On the other side of me, Daryl is completely stone faced. Even in situations like these, the redneck does not reveal his true emotions to everyone.
He's just that disciplined.
The others aren't in much better shape.
Glenn is stone faced, much like Daryl, but, like Carl, is also glaring at the concrete beneath him as if trying to will away the people in front of him by ignoring their presence. Michonne's skin is glistening with sweat, but her expression is unique among our group. She is quite visibly angry. Angry and frustrated. Michonne is my best friend, after Carl of course, so I know her well enough to understand what she's feeling. Helpless. And helpless is not an emotion that Michonne takes well. She's probably looking for a way out even now, no matter how hopeless things seem. Both Tyreese and Sasha, on the other hand, are wearing expressions of defeat. Tyreese more so than the ever defiant Sasha. All around, no one looks hopeful. Gritting my teeth, I return my focus to Carl. I want to keep it there. To see nothing but him. As long as I can see him, I'll know he's still breathing. That he's still there. I can't lose him. Not now. Not after all we've been through. Even as these thoughts are whirling through my head, Negan begins to survey the group for his choice;
He starts with Carl, repeating his action from earlier and gently pressing the tip of his barbed bat against Carl's chin, enabling him to lift it up so that my husband is staring him dead in the eye. Carl's look is ferocious and defiant, but strong. I can't help but admire his bravery.
"Holy fuck!" Negan laughs cruelly. "This fucker has got some spirit in those eyes of his. Someone as young as you, I'd figure you'd be bawling your little fuckin' eyes out by now."
Without realizing it, I tense up as Negan enjoys goading Carl.
Once again, Negan notices this.
"And what's your story, asshole?" he directs at me. "Everytime I touch this kid, you act like you have somethin' to say. You don't look alike, at all. You two fuckin' or somethin'?"
I grit my teeth tighter.
I don't even dignify him with an answer.
Negan turns even that into greater amusement, however.
"Oh my fucking fuck, you are, aren't you?!" Negan shouts with sadistic glee. "Well ain't that just the cutest fucking shit! Not really, that's fuckin' gross, but it'd break my itty bitty heart to break up the gay couple. Can't be gettin' called a homophobe. That wouldn't do well for my rep, you know?"
Next is Daryl.
"Boy, you's some tough shit, aren't you?" Negan berates him. "I've seen the way these people look to you. You're they're fuckin' hero, aren't you? Been through some tough shit and you probably saved their asses so many times. I can't go turnin' you into a martyr. You'll suffer enough watchin' your pals bleed, asshole."
I see Daryl visibly become enraged at that.
Negan isn't too far off, though. Daryl is somewhat of a hero back in Alexandria. Its no question that he's well loved by the group that made it out of the prison, and he earned my respect that night on the roadside, when he assisted us in freeing Carl and stopping Joe's group. To the people of the safe zone, however, he is the leader of the supply run team. The people that have been keeping them fed and taken care of over the years. To kill him would do the opposite of breaking the spirits of the the safe zone. It'd only rally them behind Rick to fight back against the Saviors and, from the way he talks, I highly doubt that's the result Negan wants.
Glenn is after Daryl.
"Lookie here!" Negan shrills gleefully. "We got ourselves an Asian, boys! Not gonna look at me, asshole? Fuckin' prick! I ought to beat the shit out of you as a warm up!"
To his credit, Glenn doesn't flinch; keeping his gaze down at the ground where its been since the beginning.
Finally, Negan stands before Sasha, Tyreese, and Michonne.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the mobster shakes his head as he looks them over. "Well, I just can't kill you three either! Same reason as the two faggots from a moment ago. Can't be seen as no racist. Just a bad fuckin' image to have! Sadly, though, I'm gonna have to break my own rules. Someone in this group's gotta die. But how to choose?! Its much too hard!"
My stomach twists in knots.
In reality, Negan's probably already chosen his victim.
He's just toying with us. Trying to make us anxious before his choice is announced.
Its working.
"Heh," Negan chuckles. "Hehehe... Hehehehehehehe! I have an idea!"
Negan directs Lucile at Carl.
My entire body goes rigid.
"Eeny, meanie, miny, moe..."
Lucile then points to me.
"...catch a tiger by his toe..."
Then to Daryl.
"...if he hollers, let him go."
On to Michonne.
"My mom told me..."
Then to Sasha.
"...to pick the very best one and you..."
Tyreese.
"...are it!"
Negan grins sadistically.
"Alrighty, boys!" he barks. "Bring 'em up!"
Panic.
That's the only word to describe the sensation flooding through me as several Saviors step forward and seize Tyreese by both of his arms and drag him to his feet. All at once, the entire group suddenly realizes that this is actually happening. It dawns on them that Tyreese is in very real mortal danger. And just like I am, panic strikes them. It hits Sasha the hardest. This is the first and only time I have ever seen Sasha break down. Tears stream from the usually defiant woman's eyes as she is forced to watch her brother be put back down on his knees in front of Negan. Michonne's furious expression turns completely murderous. Despite every last one of us desperately wanting to assist Tyreese, none of us can move. It is quite possibly the worst torture I've ever been put through in my young life.
"Please..." Sasha suddenly pleads, a groan of pain and terror escaping her voice. "Don't do this."
"Let 'im go!" Daryl demands. "You don't wanna do this!"
Negan's entire demeanor shifts, his gaze turning from sadistically gleeful, to plain murderous.
"Stay the fuck put, redneck." the Savior leader snarls. "Unless you want us to add the younger ones to the list."
Negan then temporarily turns his attention to his men.
"Any one of them moves a fucking inch forward, take the sheriff kid over there and cut his dick off, then feed it to his buddy. I'm sure he'll get a fuckin' thrill out of that anyways." he demands cruelly. "They can breathe, they can blink, and God knows they'll all cry, but that is all."
I take in this scene unwillingly.
Dozens of Saviors around Tyreese and Negan, watching on as if what is unfolding before their eyes is some sort of cruel sporting event. The rest of us are forced to watch this; our friend; being ritualistically murdered in front of us. I can't even begin to described the horrified grief and sorrow rising up from the very pits of my being. It shakes my body and rules over it, weighing it down like an anvil, ensuring that, even if I did want to move, such things would be completely impossible. That's when it happens. Just as Negan is beginning to raise Lucile above his head for the killing blow, Tyreese, a man I've never known to show any signs of weakness, begs of his life.
"Please..." the gasp escapes from his mouth. "You don't have to do this. Don't nobody have to get hurt here."
My eyes widen.
Negan doesn't hesitate.
The first blow to Tyreese's skull lands with a sickening crunch, spewing blood, skull fragments, and brain matter into the air. To my utter surprise and horror, Tyreese manages to remain conscious, staggering back to his knees. For a brief instant, I catch a glimpse of the terrifying damage Lucile has unleashed onto the poor man's skull. What I see is enough to force me to cover my mouth with both hands, suppressing a shrill of pain and anguish. The front portion of Tyreese's skull is caved in, blood and brain matter gushing out of the injury, even as one of his eyeballs bulges in its socket. I can tell that, while he's fighting it, he's already on death's door. There is no recovering from a blow like that. Suddenly, Tyreese begins to stutter, as if desperately trying to say something. This only seems to further amuse Negan and his demonic cohorts, who begin to laugh wildly at the damage they've created. Despite their noise, I manage to listen and hear what Tyreese is trying to say.
One word
One name.
"Sasha."
In his final moments, Tyreese, ever the protective older brother, can only think of his younger sister.
My heart breaks in that moment.
Next to me, Carl, who has done his best to remain strong through all of this, turns his head and begins to shutter as tears pour down his cheek. I feel the familiar hot sting on my own eyes. Its hard to even process just what we're witnessing, but Negan is not done tormenting the clearly dying man at his feet. The Devil raises his bat, Lucile, yet again and swings. This time, the wooden object, wrapped in metal spikes, slams into Tyreese's jaw, taking the lower portion of it completely off in a gory eruption of blood, teeth, and bone. That's all I can take. Unconsciously, regardless of the consequences, I reach out for Carl next to me. Unbeknownst to me, he has had a similar reaction, and he grabs the sleeves covering my shoulders even as I do the same to him. Tyreese falls forward and Negan brings his bat down a third time on the side of Tyreese's head. At the same time, I'm pulling Carl into me, knocking his hat off in the process, and quickly burrying his head in my chest; shielding him from having to watch anymore of this satanic travesty. My arms encircle him protectively even as he bursts into tears against my chest, sobbing so violently that his entire body begins to tremble. Carl isn't the only one crying either. Sasha is a basket case, and that is putting it mildly.
I can only watch on in horror.
"You bunch of fuckin' pussies." Negan spits. "I'm not done with 'im yet."
That, as it turns out, is also an understatement. Negan swings Lucile down on Tyreese again, and again, and again, and again. When he finally relents from exhaustion, Tyreese's head is nothing more than a mass of broken bones, flesh, and brain in a blood heap at the Savior leader's feet. Just like that, one of the people I've known for three years, ever since he and Carol returned baby Judith to the Grimes men, and one of the men I'd come to respect, is dead. Gone. Murdered brutally at the hands of a madman. Negan's bat is tangled with the gore still clinging to its barbed points as he withdraws it from Tyreese's broken and bloodied corpse. Somewhere inside of me, the anguish my heart is reeling with is suddenly, violently, replaces by heat. Searing, marvelous, murderous heat. Anger is creeping through my ever pore, every single nerve ending, and every last vein and artery. My expression must've changed, because Negan notices me, and regards me with a cold glare. In my arms, finally noticing the commotion having died down, Carl stirs and peaks out.
"Is this the end?" he almost whimpers; making my heart clench.
"Yeah..." Negan hisses. "Of your world."
I grit my teeth in fury.
This man has to die.
Maybe not here, maybe not today, but he will die.
I'll be sure of it.
"You're all nothing but a bunch of fuckin' useless pussies." Negan snarls. "What's the use of crying like a bunch of sniveling fuckin' shits in a world that's already over? Its time for you folks to try somethin' new. Whatever you fuckers thought you had going for you is over now. The world is over and just beggin' to be remade. I am the Savior who shall be the agent of that glorious fuckin' change! I just hope, for your sakes, tonight has been a solid fucking lesson about that. From now on, you tell that Rick he answers to me! You all belong to me as well! If he disagrees with that, hand him that sorry fuck's corpse to remind him what happens to those who don't follow my rules."
Negan and the rest of his Saviors slowly begin to clear out of the area, leaving my dumbfounded, horrified, and emotionally broken group to mourn over Tyreese's mutilated corpse in the streets. Its over. I can't believe its over. So many feelings, despair, horror, rage, and grief among them, are pulsating through my heart as I watch the monsters leave us. Before completely disappearing from sight, Negan stops dead in his tracks, tossing a glance over his shoulder at us and flashes us a sadistic grin;
"Oh, and welcome to a new world, you sorry shits." he adds. "My new world."
And then...
...he's gone.
####
"Are you boys okay?"
I hear Michonne's words.
I hear her speak them and I know that she is referring to our physical well-being. Even so, I can't respond. I can't respond because I am most certainly not okay. Physically, I am unharmed, but my heart and soul have been eternally wounded. My entire psyche has shifted at the events I have only just witnessed. I've barely moved an inch since it all ended, still clutching Carl tightly to me as the two of us process the loss of our longtime friend, Tyreese. Daryl and Glenn have already, albeit slowly, begun the process of wrapping Tyreese's mutilated corpse in a blanket from the the backseat of Glenn's vehicle. Even though his head has long since been wrapped, I can't take my eyes off of him. Not even an hour ago, Tyreese was alive and well, as well as bound and determined to locate supplies the safe zone would need to fight off the Saviors.
Now he is gone.
Just like that.
"Tanner?" Michonne's voice brings me back down to reality. "Carl?"
Slowly, my eyes drift towards her.
Michonne is clearly, greatly disheveled. Her ebony skin glistens with sweat, her dreadlocks frayed and wild. Her warrior's eyes droop with fatigue and exhaustion. Even her usually strong demeanor is collapsing under the weight of the night's events.
"I don't know." I reply vaguely.
I then glance down at Carl to gauge his reaction for the first time. Its only then that I notice that I've been unconsciously stroking his long, coarse hair. I was in such a daze after the attack that I hadn't noticed the action, but now I could see my fingers gently running through his brunette hair. Carl's gaze is fixated directly in front of him, where mine once were, on Tyreese's body, which is now nearly fully wrapped. His once vibrant cobalt eyes have dimmed with distress and are glazed over, hinting that he is completely lost within his own thoughts. I can hardly blame him. Enhancing his sickly appearance is his normally pale skin, which has gone even more pale, giving him an almost ghostly appearance. Seeing him in this highly disheveled state makes me instinctively hold him closer and stroke his hair more gently; anything I can do to offer what little comfort I can. Michonne regards him, then returns her gaze to me, offering me a slight, subtle nod; her way of encouraging me to continue comforting Carl even as she raises herself back up to her full height and goes to offer her assistance to Glenn and Daryl.
As she walks away from us, Carl stirs in my arms.
"Its happening again." he mumbles.
"What is?" I manage.
Carl shifts in my embrace and turns himself around in order to allow him to look me straight in the eye.
"People are dying." he replies chillingly. "This always happens. It always finds us. Whether its walkers or people, someone we care about always dies."
I narrow my eyes.
Carl seems to be suffering from some form of PTSD. I know what he's referring to. Tyreese's death has jolted a dormant vault of horrifying memories Carl has carefully kept locked away deep within him, sending them bubbling to the surface once again. Memories of his Atlanta camp, of Hershel's farm, of his mother, and of the prison. Carl and I have both seen deaths since the beginning of the apocalypse. You can't be around people anymore without seeing it. The deaths he has witnessed, however, have been traumatic enough to have deeply, emotionally wounded him. I first understood that pain when Nat died, the first person to take me in, and then later betray me. A horrifying, gut wrenching feeling, that eats away at both your emotions and your mental stability. Now I'm going through it again, only this time, Carl and I are experiencing it together.
"Do you think we could have done something?" Carl suddenly questions of me.
"For Tyreese?"
"Yeah."
I inhale deeply and then release a large sigh, "No, Carl, I don't think we could." I reply honestly, still softly stroking his hair for comfort. "We were outmanned, outgunned, and completely surrounded. If we tried anything, more people would've died."
Carl huffs disappointed.
I don't imagine he thought we could've done anything either, rather he only asked the question to assure himself that Tyreese didn't die in vain. I return my attention to our surroundings and scan the others' activity. Sasha is even worse than the rest of us, having shut completely down, and retreated to her vehicle. In the meantime, Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne have successfully moved Tyreese's body into the trunk of their own vehicle and Glenn is currently on route, approaching the two of us, whom are still sitting where we'd knelt earlier in the night, when Negan had been present.
"We're going back now." he informs me.
I merely regard him with a glance and listen.
"All the noise those thugs made will draw walkers." Glenn continues. "Besides, we don't know where those guys went. They could be heading back to the safe zone for another attack. If that's the case, we need to be there."
Glenn is proof that everyone deals with death in different manners.
Though clearly in anguish and grief stricken, Glenn fuels that rage and pain into taking charge of the situation; the signs of a budding leader in a manner that would make Rick proud of him. At the same time, I know the Savior's escape and walkers aren't the only reason behind Glenn's haste. He is worried about Maggie, the same way I'd worry about Carl if the situations were reversed.
"Alright." I agree, nodding.
He returns my nod and then is off, marching back towards where the others are.
"Come on, Carl." I nudge him softly. "I'll drive."
Reluctantly, and after some time, Carl finally relents and makes it to his feet. I follow shortly behind him and the two of us make it back to our van. Once again, Michonne opts to ride along with us, though this time is nowhere near as jovial as when we had left Alexandria. The return trip home is marred with silence. A dense, somber cloud of sorrow and grief hangs over our convoy. Combined with exhaustion, driving becomes quite the task, and eventually, I'm reduced to simply following Daryl, who is several meters ahead, leading the way back to home. As we drive, I occasionally glance over to check on Carl. Despite the fact that he could use this opportunity to sleep, he doesn't. His head is leaned against the passenger window, hat in his lap, as he stares blankly out of the front window at the darkness of the night enveloping us. He's not the only one. Michonne isn't sleeping either, but I'm more concerned with Carl. Its been quite some time since I've seen him this way, and it worries me.
"Don't disappear on me." I finally blurt out, shattering the silence.
Startled, Carl looks up and then turns to regard me. Even Michonne perks up somewhat at this. I briefly glance at him, letting him see the seriousness and the concern in my eyes before returning my stare to the road.
"I know it hurts." I go on, focusing on my driving. "Believe me, I feel it too, but... Just... don't vanish."
When he finally returns my stare, I can see just how heavily this is all weighing on him. Carl, nineteen years old, and still retaining the youthful appearance of his teenage years, looks as though he's aged decades. His eyes droop with exhaustion, bloodshot from all of the stress and grief his mind is being wracked with. As much as my heart aches for Sasha, and most of all Tyreese, it aches more for Carl. If there is one thing that hurts me the most, its seeing Carl in a turmoil that I can't help him through. Oh sure, I can make things easier for him and support him, which I will, but, as in all grief, it is up to each individual person to deal with it their own way. Like Michonne, Carl was responsible for saving Tyreese, having saved them in the boiler room shortly after his group moved into the prison. Of course, as I'm told, Rick didn't welcome this and sent Tyreese and Sasha packing, but after the incident with Woodbury, they were welcomed back to the prison. Additionally, Tyreese had been the one to save Judith in the aftermath of the Governor's attack on the prison and was responsible for reuniting her with Rick and Carl. Carl respected Tyreese like he respects very few these days.
This loss meant something to him.
"I won't..." Carl eventually mutters softly.
I want to offer him my hand. To squeeze his firmly to let him know I'm here for him. Were I not driving, I'd do just that. As if reading my mind, and, like the best friend that she is, Michonne wordlessly pats my shoulder, garnering my attention, though not providing a significant enough distraction to impair my driving.
"Let me drive." she commands.
"You sure?" I inquire.
"Yeah." she nods. "Honk, so the others know, then switch with me."
I do as I'm told and the convoy comes to a halt.
No one says anything as I switch places with Michonne, letting her take my place in the driver's seat. As she takes my place, she reaches over and gives Carl a light shove in the shoulder.
"You too." she orders him. "In back. Get some rest."
Carl glances oddly at her, but doesn't protest, promptly exiting the vehicle and then reentering in the backseat alongside me. Once we're both secured, Michonne signals to the others and the convoy begins to move again. Finally relieved of the duty of driving home, the exhaustion from the days events hits me all at once. My body aches. My mind reels. The temptation to succumb to the sweet abyss of slumber is damn near irresistible, but a sudden touch on my shoulder prevents me from welcoming its dark embrace. I turn to see Carl attempting to lean into me and quickly lift my arm, wrapping it around him while simultaneously pulling him closer to me, allowing him to rest his head against my upper chest where I then rested my cheek against the top of his head. In the rear view mirror, I see Michonne smile softly. That had been her intention all along. I need to thank her when I get enough strength to do so. Returning my attention to Carl, who is steadily growing sleepier in my embrace, I nuzzle the top of his head and plant a series of soft peck-and-release kisses there to comfort him.
"I'm right here." I coo to him.
"Me too." he replies sweetly to me.
I'm nearly certain that is the last I'll hear from him before sleep takes us both, but I'm once again wrong.
"That guy," he starts. "Negan. He'll be sorry for what he did."
My mind flashes back to Negan. Just the memory of his smug mug brings the rolling tides of anger back to my stomach. I feel my stomach muscles clench and my cheeks flare with heat. Even though I was wary about joining the fight against these guys back at Hilltop, my resolve is forever solidified. We have to kill the Saviors. Every last one of them. They're not just a threat to Hilltop or Alexandria. They're a threat to every living human in this area. The walkers already threaten us with extinction. Now some of our own do too. Not anymore. I know Rick Grimes. What Negan committed tonight was an act of war. I don't know when and I don't know how, but Negan will die. That much I know for sure.
"Yeah," I reply to him as sleep begins to take me. "He's gonna pay."
A/N: Soooo... I imagine that was a pretty heavy hitter, eh? There were never any main character deaths in the prequel, other than villains, of course, so Tyreese is indeed the first. Like I said before, in keeping with the theme of the show, no one is safe. Now that I've backed that up, that should keep you guys on your toes. ^.^ That being said, I hope this chapter was enjoyable in its own ways. Death itself is never an enjoyable aspect, but I'm more referring to the storytelling and the aftermath. This chapter was done a little bit earlier than I expected, but that is always a good thing for me! Next one should come later this week.
I got two reviews for the previous chapter, so I'll go ahead and respond to those:
Kayden Pause: Its funny how often those two emotions coincide, isn't it? xD ahahaha Glad you're enjoying.
I am who I am 987: I appreciate the compliment! :) Truly! I hope you continue to enjoy!
Thank you both!
To all of you who may read this and are hesitant to post your thoughts or comments, please feel free, whether its through traditional reviews or PMs. I do so enjoy hearing from each and every one of you guys!
See you all with the next one!
Later!