Chapter 4
It wasn't until midday two days later that I heard the rattle of keys against the door and the click of the lock opening. I scrambled to a squat, my knees against my chest and my hair covering my shoulders, shivering.
Dwight stepped inside with a small sandwich in his hand. He held it out to me. I didn't move, my eyes watching him through my hair. He gave a laugh of exasperation and rolled his eyes.
"Eat," he commanded and shook the sandwich at me.
I didn't move other than to tighten my grip around my legs. I looked at the sandwich and felt my stomach grumble and ache. I wanted it badly, but I also didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
"If you eat, you can shower," he tried to bargain. That sounded nice, and I liked a bargain more than a command.
I slowly reached a shaky hand out and took the sandwich from him. Dwight stood there as I shoved the cheese sandwich in my mouth, choking it down. It was the best, and driest, cheese sandwich I had ever had.
"Water?" He asked as he held out a small pixie cup.
I grabbed it from his hand and downed it in one gulp, savoring the wetness on my throat. I threw the crushed cup at his feet and wrapped my arms around my knees again, falling back into the dark corner. Dwight sighed a laugh and rolled his eyes again.
"Where's Daryl?" I demanded hoarsely.
He looked at me for a moment before answering, "I'll be back later for your shower." And he stepped back out, closing the door. I heard the key engage the lock.
I pushed my head against the wall, my eyes focusing on the stained ceiling. I thought about Daryl and how he was faring in his room; if he was as cold and miserable as me. We could have done things so much more differently, made wiser decisions. We could be home right now. Abraham and Glenn could still be breathing. They could be alive.
The stinging tears made me close my eyes first, but the sudden dizziness kept them closed after. My head swam and I ran a hand over my forehead and through my hair. Just hungry, I thought. A small cheese sandwich wasn't exactly proper sustenance after almost three days of no food with little water and sleep. I wasn't going to last long if they kept me locked in here, but that might be their plan; to weaken me. And it might just work.
Abruptly, I heard someone at the door again and the lock unlatched. Dwight opened the door and threw something at me.
"Put these on," he said and shut the door.
I looked at what had landed at my feet and grasped the soft material. It was a dirty cotton sweatshirt and pants, an orange X painted on the front. I hesitantly put them on and stood by the door.
"Are you ready yet?" Dwight called.
"Yes," I said nervously. I still felt dizzy, but also numb. Thinking about where I was and what had happened seemed not so significant anymore. I just wanted a hot shower to wash the blood and grime away.
Dwight swung the door open and looked at me. I took a step forward. When he did nothing but stare, I made my way past him and out into the hallway, my legs weak and heavy. He grabbed my arm roughly and started to walk me through the concurrent corridors until we reached a set of doors with a sign beside them that read "Locker Rooms". He guided me into the nearest one.
Inside was like any typical locker room; lockers and benches to one side, two separate rooms for toilets and showers to the other. It didn't look like it was used hardly at all, but I could only assume everything still worked. Large, cloudy windows brightened the room at the far south and east sides. Dwight let me go and sat down on a bench nearest to the showers.
"Here are the rules," he said. "You can use the bathroom and shower. You have twenty minutes. You try anything with me and I will lock you in that room until you're nothing but dust and bones. Am I clear?"
I nodded my head.
"Good," he gave me a stern but careful look that I couldn't read. It almost seemed like he felt bad for me. "Go ahead."
He turned to the side and started to fiddle with something in his hands. I looked behind me at the toilets and shower. I decided the toilets were a good first start and headed there, relieving myself after having to use only a small bucket for the past two days. I looked around the room to search for a potential way out, a window, something, but there was no outlet other than the way I had come in. Back in the main locker room, Dwight still occupied the same spot and he didn't look up from his task.
"I-," I began, but my throat felt dry and my tongue thick. The dizziness hadn't left me and my limbs felt heavy. Dwight looked up as I tried again. "I need soap…a towel."
"I've got it all right here," he said holding up his hand to show a bar of soap. He grabbed a bag beside him that I hadn't notice before and pulled out other assorted toiletries. I took them from his outstretched hands.
"Thanks," I said and started to the showers when he got up and began to follow me. I spun around. "What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I can't leave you unsupervised," he said. "The toilets were one thing seeing as it's nothing but porcelain and tile in there. There are windows in the shower room. I can't leave you alone with temptation, can I?"
Damn, I thought. But maybe… I didn't get to finish the thought before Dwight shoved my shoulder.
"It's fifteen minutes now. You don't have a lot of time."
I gave him a sideways glare before clumsily making my way into the shower room, arms full and him following close behind. I glanced at the gritty, opaque windows and tried to determine how high we were, but I couldn't see through them. It would be so easy to push one open to look and climb outside… Instead, I found a stall and placed all the items in my arms inside, trying to not fall over as I bent down. I placed a hand against the shower wall to steady myself and rubbed my forehead with the other.
"What's the hold up?" I heard an inflection of amusement in Dwight's voice.
"I'm just really dizzy. I don't think that pitiful sandwich you gave me was enough after starving me for days," I snapped back at him and gingerly stood up, using the shower wall for support.
"No, probably not," he sniffed.
I looked back at him over my shoulder with a disgusted look. He remained stoic, his hands clasped in front of him. He shifted his eyes to the shower head and nodded towards it, urging me to get on with it. I rolled my eyes and faced back toward the shower, turning the water on. I put my hand under the running stream and felt icy cold water. I adjusted the handle, trying to find warmer water but it yielded none. My temper flared and I gritted my teeth to avoid from screaming out. I could feel Dwight's eyes on my back, and I caught myself before letting out a rush of unsavory words.
"Could you at least turn around?!" I snapped, turning around to glare at him. He smiled and shrugged, turning a bit to his right to face the windows, his scarred face still visible but his eyes staring straight ahead.
"Best I can do for you," he replied monotonously.
I gave out a sigh of indignation before ripping the sweatshirt over my head and throwing it to the floor. I stepped out of the cotton pants and into the freezing cold water. Gasping from the icy chill that rippled over me, I wet my hair and body, grabbing the soap and quickly lathering a small, dingy rag to scrub my body. I poured shampoo onto my numb and shaking hands and washed my scalp, rinsing the suds out as quickly as I could. I let the icy cold water fill my mouth, gulping down mouthfuls. At least there's this, I thought as I quenched my thirst, unable to stop. Despite the biting water, I felt myself relax, my temper at bay for the moment.
"Time's up," Dwight called.
I turned the water off and grabbed the small towel I had been provided, quickly drying myself and hoping Dwight was still daydreaming out of the window. I wrapped it around myself and turned around to see him in the same spot, eyes still straight ahead. I sighed inwardly.
"I'm done," I said softly.
Dwight turned his eyes to me and let his gaze drop to the towel.
"You're not dressed," he stated matter-of-factly.
"No," I looked at him like he was dense. "What am I supposed to get dressed with?"
He gave me a pointed look and raised his eyebrows. I stared at him for a second more before I got it.
"You're going to make me put those nasty clothes back on after I just washed off?"
"It's all you get, for now," he smiled flatly. I shook my head and threw my hands up.
"Fine," I grabbed the dirty, stained clothes off of the floor and put them on, using the towel to cover myself as I did so. "There."
"After me," he started to walk back to the main locker room. "You can leave all that shit in there. You might get to come back if you behave yourself. Here."
He handed me a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste over his shoulder. I took it from him and he pointed to a set of sinks. I quickly brushed my teeth, relishing the minty, clean feeling. I laid the toothbrush on the sink afterward and Dwight snapped his fingers at me to follow him into the hallway. He took hold of my arm and guided me back in the direction of my cell. I felt my feet start to dig into the floor. I didn't want to go back in, not after having a taste of a little bit of freedom. I could feel my heart pounding in my mouth. Dwight yanked me forward and glared at me from the side, his eyes telling me that it was not a good idea to resist. I silently complied, steeling myself for another night of torturous solitude.
As we rounded a corner, Dwight suddenly pulled me to a stopped and dropped into a kneeling position, dragging me down next to him. I hit the concrete floor on my already bruised and sore knees.
"Ah!" I called out as the pain throbbed through them. I looked over at him to see his head bowed and I furrowed my eyebrows. The fuck? I thought when I heard heavy, rubber footsteps stop in front of me. I looked back ahead to see two jean clad legs and Lucille dangling in the air beside them.
As if in slow motion, I let my eyes travel upwards, over a black leather jacket and up to the face of Negan who smirked down at me, his eyes bright and sinister. He cocked his head to the side as I stared at him and I felt like a deer in headlights. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't, too afraid to move. I held his gaze and he chuckled once, licking his lip. He squinted his eyes and shifted his weight to one foot, turning his body to the side. He slowly stepped past me, his eyes never faltering from mine.
I heard the rubber soles of his boots recede as he walked away and I started to breathe again. Dwight stood up, tugging me up with him, and continued down the hall. He stopped in front of my cell and opened the door, shoving me inside.
I turned as he started to close the door, but he stopped abruptly, stepping quickly inside and getting into my face. I glared right back at him.
" Don't ever," he emphasized, "do that again."
I faltered at the intensity in his eyes and nodded once in consent.
"If you know what's good for you or anyone you care about," he whispered, "you get on your knees and lower your fucking head the next time you see him. I promise you, next time he won't be as forgiving."
I swallowed the lump that was lodged in my throat, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I nodded again and looked down, taking a step back to let my back touch the wall. Dwight gave me one last knowing look, before turning to the door and slamming it behind him, the lock clicking into place.