Chapter 53
"Have they left yet?" Sasha asked as she tiptoed nervously through fallen leaves. She already knew the answer but didn't want to look. It was a disappointment every time.
"No, and I don't think they're going to leave any time soon," Jesus sighed and he pushed off the tree he leant against and turned to her. "We should head back to the Kingdom before it gets too dark."
Not able to hold herself back any longer, Sasha halted and finally peered through the trees at her distant town. The fires had died down significantly, but a larger one still burned bright by the gate, projecting towering shadows that danced along the darkening, dead neighborhood. A few of the Saviors' trucks were still there while Negan had already gone hours ago. He was keeping tabs on them, making sure there was no retaliation after destroying everything they had and killing more of their people. It was the exact thing they should have expected him to do but wished he hadn't. There was no way to get in now without risking their lives.
"I'm sorry, Sasha," Jesus apologized for the second time that evening and this time she didn't shrug his allaying hand from her shoulder.
She nodded at him, tears forming in her dark eyes as she faced away from her home and followed him out of the woods.
The trek to the Kingdom was long and dangerous, made even more so by the dying sun in the sky. As it passed through steepled trees and the pink sky faded to orange and into hues of deep blue, they used the dusk as cover from the dead, darting past skeletal forms that stank of rotten flesh and moaned lost words.
The world was so quiet in this state. So dark and forgotten that Sasha found herself able to drift away into a different night similar to this one from when she was younger. When everything felt new and she her soul wasn't jaded gold; back to when she was still alive inside and so were all of the people around her.
"Sash! It's time…TO GO!" Tyreese yelled up to his little sister and rattled the plastic jack-o-lantern bucket at his side impatiently.
"Coming!" Sasha sang as she leaned over the banister, a wide, red-lipped grin on her tiny face.
Tyreese heaved out a large breath as his sister waltzed down the stairs in a regal manner, her cheaply made gown swaying around her little, slippered feet.
"I'm gonna tell mom you're being a pain," Tyreese warned, but Sasha ignored him as she waved a chaste hand at an imaginary crowd.
"Silence while the Queen is descending."
Tyreese folded his arms and tapped his foot while his younger sibling played out her fantasy. When she finally reached the bottom step, she held up the hem of her dress and leapt down with a loud thump by his feet, a giggle bubbling from her lips.
"You don't have very good manners for a queen," Tyreese observed.
"Then you must not know very many queens because I'm the very definition of one, and my manners are exceptional." She smiled up at him, a mismatched row of baby teeth with those that were beginning to grow back in. Her expression quickly changed from one of pomposity to disgust as she took him in. "And you are a…beastly heathen! A man risen from the dead, you ghoul! You are not fit to take the Queen trick-or-treating!"
Sasha turned her nose up at him with a "hmp" and Tyreese held out his arms to look down at his costume, confused and a bit hurt.
"I'm Frankenstein," he stated simply, and Sasha peeked at him from the corner of her eyes.
"You were supposed to be Prince Charming." She folded her arms stubbornly.
"Well," the big brother began, "I can still be Prince Charming. We'll just tell people that… I'm Prince Charming from a hundred years ago and this is what I look like today."
Sasha dropped her arms and dangled them at her sides as her eyes rolled up in her head.
"Then I will be his ghostly queen sister!"
Tyreese started to crack up when his sister raised her hands to form claws and chased him around the house, wailing at him as if she were a banshee. He was out of breath by the time their mother yelled for them to leave, and they both took in tittering gasps as their playtime came to a halt. He took his sister's hand, holding her smaller one safe inside of his and walked her to their waiting mother.
"I'm gonna dress up as a Ghost Buster next year," he remarked, and the laughter between them magnified, animating their simple hearts.
The dark hid Sasha's reminiscent smile, and she wiped away a solitary tear as she remembered her fallen brother. Too many people she'd loved were lost to a brutal death, gone from this world and all the terror in it. Truly, she felt they were the lucky ones in a way, but that didn't lessen the sorrow that their absence weighted on her conscience.
"We're almost there." Jesus' voice broke her away from the memories, and she stuck by his side as they came up to the overpass where King Ezekiel's men kept watch.
"Who goes there?" A single voice whispered harshly in the blankness.
"It is I! Jesus, risen from the dead."
The air was still as Sasha looked at her companion, wondering if he had been reading her thoughts this entire time. The hooves of a horse clopped as it approached them, and an unfamiliar face was revealed by the bright reflection of the moon.
"Uuuh, what?" The man asked before he recognized the bearded man in front of him. "Oh! If it isn't our Lord cometh again, or as some know him, Paul Monroe."
"I prefer being recognized as a divine being," Jesus smirked. "May we pass through, Sir Daniel?"
"Posotutely," Daniel replied and Jesus snorted.
"Learn some new words?"
"I'm working on it." Daniel winked and gestured for them to follow him. "After thine noble steed! And watch your step. It has gotten rather dark."
"Posolutely?" Sasha asked as they walked after the large mammal, its tail swishing in the cool air.
Jesus shrugged and whispered, "He's cute, okay?"
And despite how horrible this day had turned out to be, how empty she felt inside, Sasha smiled.
At the gates, they were hastily let through where Daniel gave a lingering farewell to Jesus. Pink as a rose, Jesus led Sasha to King Ezekiel's quarters where his guards alerted him to their presence. They were escorted to an auditorium where the King greeted his guests. It seemed as though he had been there a while, surrounded by his men and Maggie. They all looked haggard, tired from the exertions and tribulations of the day as they slumped in their spots and bags swelled under their eyes.
"Have you brought us good news, Jesus? Fair Sasha?" The King asked. "Are our friends still of this world?"
"We have not, your majesty." Jesus' recent verve had vanished. "Negan has stationed several men in Alexandria. They were still there when we left, and I fear they shall remain there for some time. We were unable to check in on the Alexandrians."
"Gods be damned," King Ezekiel cursed, crushing his hand into a fist, and Maggie looked down at her feet, disappointed and sick. "This will not do. There must be a way to get in there."
"Aside from shimming up a tree and breaking a leg getting over those walls, there isn't much of one," Maggie said.
"Then as much as it pains me, we must surrender the knowledge of our ill-fated friends and instead find a way that serves to rescue them from their woes." The despondent king outstretched a hand to his ever loyal pet, Shiva, and she growled lightly from his side and ducked her large, furry head to his offered caress.
"But how?" Sasha mused hopelessly. "They've taken everything. Destroyed everything. What chance do we have at getting back at them?"
"There has to be a way. Surely you guys have thought of something in the past few hours?" Jesus stroked his beard as he gazed a questioning look at the men and women around him.
Their sheepish eyes and downturned faces told him more than words could, and for the first time since the idea of a revolution began he felt the pang of defeat piercing him in the chest.
"I need to get some sleep," Maggie interrupted the tense quiet and rubbed her eyes.
"Indeed, it would be best for us all if we retired for the evening. Perhaps slumber will free our minds and deliver us refreshed for an extended discussion on this matter," King Ezekiel suggested.
With reluctant agreement, the people of the Kingdom and their refugees filed out of the auditorium. The night was already growing old, but any amount of rest at this point was better than none, and if they were going to sit down and come up with infallible tactics to vanquish the most powerful man they had come across yet, they needed to get some sleep.
It felt like Maggie's head had just hit the pillow when she was startled awake again by strong hands shaking her shoulders. She bolted up, the knife at her waist sliding from its sheath silently as the fuzz cleared from her mind. Her room was still dark and the only source of light was a dim one that leaked in from the hallway that barely illuminated Jesus squatting in front of her. He sat back on his heels as the edge of her knife shined dangerously in front of his nose.
"We have a visitor. Meet me outside."
His words were short, strained, and he stood up abruptly to glide out into the hallway. Maggie let go of the breath that she had been holding and sheathed her knife, swinging her tired, sore feet to the floor and getting dressed. She wondered who could be here, and as she realized how calm Jesus was, she thought it might be someone from Alexandria.
She hurried down the corridor and ran her fingers through her tangled locks. Once outside, she spotted Sasha with Jesus and strode up to join them.
"It'll be a long walk, but we have to meet them outside of the gates. King Ezekiel and his soldiers are waiting for us there," Jesus informed her.
"Who's here?" She asked, looking at Sasha for a hint but the other woman shrugged.
"Dwight." Jesus answered.
Maggie felt shocked, not ready to meet any of Negan's Saviors after what had happened the day before. She wasn't sure if this was a trick or a way for Negan to identify King Ezekiel as a traitor, too, but the three of them started off into the night, passing through the gates and walking along the dark and lonely road at a brisk pace. Maggie thought hard to remember if she had ever met this man named Dwight, but she couldn't place a face with the name. As soon as they came upon the tiny parking lot and joined the crowd of the Kingdom men and women, she stopped in her tracks as she saw a man she did not intend to see. She suddenly remembered him from that night; the night her husband was savagely taken from her and she'd been left broken since. The left side of his face was scarred and his stringy blond hair hung in his face which was sparked with interest as he gazed at her.
"Tell us why you are here, Dwight. We do not enjoy the intruding company of Saviors, especially when it disrupts our slumber," King Ezekiel's baritone voice rang through the crisp air.
"My apologies, King Ezekiel," Dwight said, "but it was highly important that we speak with you as soon as possible."
"I remember you," Maggie cut in, her voice just above a whisper and all eyes darted to her. "You were there that night."
"I remember you, too," Dwight responded, his face solemn. "I'm sorry about your husband…but I'm glad you made it out okay."
Maggie took in a deep breath and wallowed in any words she could have said. She knew this man wasn't the one who murdered Glenn, but he had been there, had partaken in it, and he had helped kidnap her friends. Had she caught on to this being the man Rick was talking about, she might not have been so willing to accept his help. Now she felt a strong spear of distrust jolt through her.
When no other words were spoken and the southern belle didn't steer misgiving eyes from him, Dwight cleared his throat.
"I'm not here you hurt you," he told Maggie and then addressed the king in front of him. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. You see, my men and I have traveled all day to a place where there are a lot of people, a lot of soldiers, and within their compound lies a basement full of heavy artillery." Dwight briefly shifted his gaze to Maggie again and a black woman beside her that he knew to be a part of Rick's group. He looked back at the king. "Seeing as you already have some Alexandrians in your care, I'm going to safely surmise that you are aware of what has happened to them and their plans for a future without Negan… Can I also assume that you are a part of that plan, too?"
"You can assume what you wish," King Ezekiel replied. "I will not confirm nor deny a thing."
"So be it." Dwight nodded but his face was friendly, genuine. "I told Rick that I would do what I could so that he could believe I wanted to help. As it goes, Negan has his men holed up in Alexandria keeping an eye on them so I'm unable to deliver what I've got."
"Is everyone okay?" Sasha blurted out.
Dwight looked at the ground, unable to meet her eyes. "Most, but not everyone."
"What have you got?" Jesus redirected the conversation.
"Guns and ammo from the community I just came from; Somerset. The leader there is willing to aide us, and he gave me weapons as a show of faith." Dwight's soft smile was self-assured but his eyes were dull. "And now I'm passing them off to you to show you mine. Will you accept?"
King Ezekiel stepped forward and Shiva stalked into the moonlight by his side. The Saviors visibly cowered. "Show us these weapons, Dwight, and then we will discuss what to do with them."
My hands trembled as I brushed back my hair and examined the sutures on my face. They were healing well enough, and I tried my best of avoid them as I applied a few finishing touches before visiting Negan in his room. He had come by the lounge earlier to request my company for the night, and of course, I had to agree. I was nervous that he was going to expect me to have more than dinner with him as I wasn't quite in that state of mind yet, but I was hopeful he would be considerate with me like he had been that first night.
As solicitude preoccupied me, I swept a finger under the mending wound on my cheek and picked at one end. A slender, ruby trail rolled down my skin, and I resisted the sudden urge to dig my finger inside of it and rip out the seams. The desire was extreme, but doing that would be self-destructive and I wasn't that far gone yet. Instead, I lowered my shaking hand to the sink and took in deep breaths.
Calming, I resigned myself to the possibilities of tonight and held in the apprehension, thinking of the leftover bottles of wine in the tiny kitchen. If things went really bad, I could use Amber's method of escape and drink myself into oblivion. It wasn't ideal, but it might help smother the shame. I grabbed a tissue to blot away the blood and then headed to the door, feeling like nothing more than a cheap hooker on her way to meet a client.
The yellow lights buzzed overhead as I walked through the hallway, flashing the last images I had of Daryl in my mind. I was left in the dark on his condition which only exacerbated my worry, and with each day that passed by, my curiosity transformed into true concern. Sherry told me not to ask Negan about him, stating that it would make things worse, but she promised to find out information for me. I had a small suspicion that she already knew something and wouldn't tell me, but I didn't press the issue, and the dread enhanced inside of me, keeping me awake every night.
I came up to Negan's door, the dark wood stained and polished. This part of the factory must've been for the corporate executives and not the blue collared workers once upon a time; everything on this floor was nicely decorated and expensively made. It was no wonder Negan had taken the entire floor for himself, he was that selfish, but I wondered if the empty space could be used for more.
Neutralizing my features, I raised a timid hand and knocked softly with a strong longing that he wouldn't answer. If not, I could slink back to my room unnoticed with the story of saying I had tried, but as the thought entered my mind the door swung open.
"Everly." Negan smiled, his voice velvety as he eyed me.
"Negan." I felt robotic, monotone, as he stepped back to let me in.
He was casually dressed with a dark t-shirt and jeans on sans boots and jacket. It was odd seeing him this way, like I was visiting an acquaintance for the first time at his home, and I felt more off guard than before. I brushed past him, observing the room quietly as he shut the door and came up to my side. Nothing in his room surprised me, from the black leather couches at my right to the four-poster canopy bed that sat to my left. It was modern and sleek; stylish without trying too hard, and it fit Negan perfectly.
"You wanna sit with me?" He asked and held out a hand to the couches by a large, opaque window.
I gave him a nervous glance and edged my way forward, taking the offered seat. He sat on the opposite sofa and leaned on his elbows to stare at me. His scrutinizing eyes roved over my length and I shifted uncomfortably, pressing my knees together and pulling down the short dress I wore. He smirked and sat back, throwing one arm on the back of the couch.
"You look very nice tonight," he complimented.
"Thank you," I muttered and cleared my throat.
I looked down at the food on the coffee table and noticed how grossly garnished it was. A memory of waking up in the cell to a tepid bowl of beef stew threw me back into the past. I had felt guilty for enjoying it when there were plenty of people here who barely had enough points to afford a decent meal. It had been the first one I'd had in a long time and I'd consumed it greedily. But as I gazed at the feast before me now, I felt disgusted.
"Are you hungry?"
"A little," I answered despite that being farthest from the truth.
"We don't have to eat right now." Negan was observant, his sight steady on me. "We can talk instead."
I nodded, relieved that I wouldn't have to force myself to eat among other things tonight.
"What about?" I asked.
Negan shrugged. "Whatever you want… Tell me about your dad. Your real dad."
I cleared my throat again and shifted some more. I didn't know what he wanted me to say.
"Well, what do you want to know? I feel like I covered it all."
Negan's smile grew and I furrowed my brow at him.
"You don't like remembering him?"
"I like remembering him just fine. I'm just not sure what else you would want to know," I answered honestly.
"What is the most vivid memory you have of him?" Negan offered.
"Of him dying."
Negan hesitated at this and then finally looked away.
"Not necessarily of his actual death, mind you," I kept going as I noticed him tense, "but all that led up to it. I remember him before the cancer and all the energy he had. He would take me and Mason wherever we wanted. We always had the most fun with him."
Although faded, I smiled at the memories. Recalling one perfect day he took us on a hike where we learned about different species of birds in our area. The woods had been so calm and serene, the singsong of the various birds a lullaby. But now they were filled with monsters; both dead and alive.
"Then one day he got sick." I paused and frowned, deep in thought. "And he stayed that way. It was like he had a perpetual cold or flu. Some days were worse than others. I never fully understood the gravity of the situation until his clothes hung off of him and his hair started to fall out, and he stopped taking us places because he could barely walk three steps without needing to sit down."
Negan got up from his spot and walked over to me, sinking into the cushion by my side. He pushed the hair off my shoulders and hung his arm on the couch at my back.
"Maybe that wasn't the best topic to start with," he admitted abashedly, and I was slightly shocked.
"No?" I asked, a bit sarcastic. "I thought talking about death was idle chitchat when it came to you. Was that how it was with your wife before she died of cancer, too?"
The small grin on his face remained and his staid eyes bored into mine as he took his time answering me.
"You've got me fucking pegged, don't you, sweetheart?"
"Not quite, but I feel as if I'm getting close." I smiled back, feeling more confident as the minutes ticked by. "What would you say, Negan? Did I hit a sore spot?"
Ignoring my words, his hand came up to grip my chin and pushed my head to the side to study my stitched cheek. "What happened here?"
"Oh, nothing." I covered it with my palm, and Negan retracted his hand, a smile back on his face.
"You're not hurting yourself, are you, Everly?"
"No." I glared at him. "I accidentally scratched it. They're becoming increasingly itchy as they heal."
"I'm sure." He nodded and bit his bottom lip. "You want some champagne?"
Ugh, I rolled my eyes, annoyed that he had flipped the tables on me, and yes. I very much wanted some fucking champagne.
"Please," I answered politely.
He leaned forward to pour us each a glass, filling them halfway, and I grabbed one off of the table before he had the chance to hand it to me, chugging it in one gulp.
"Hit me." I coughed and held out the glass flute.
Negan chuckled and obliged, pouring it half way again.
"To the top." I lowered my brows at him and he flicked his up as he tipped the bottle to fill my glass.
"You're not going to get shit faced on me are you?" He asked and sat back with his own drink in hand, his arm at my back once more.
"If that's what it takes to get through this night, then yes." I raised my glass to him and swallowed another gulp.
Negan sighed. "Listen, I'm sorry I brought up your dear, old dad, okay? You got a good jab in, too, so don't take it personally. I was just trying to start a conversation with you."
"Fine." I didn't want to argue.
"I got you something." Negan set down his glass and reached inside of his pocket.
I eyed his motions warily and nearly choked on my drink when he pulled out a large diamond ring. He beamed as he watched my reaction.
"I know you're probably the type that would prefer something reserved and small, but I couldn't help myself when I saw this one."
He took my left hand and slid the sparkling ring on my finger. It felt heavy and odd, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't captivating. And he was right. It was way too much, but I couldn't refuse it, and the cool metal scorched my skin. Pretending was starting to feel too real.
"Now I can properly call you my wife," he whispered in my ear and took the glass from my hand.
"Negan," I began, but his mouth was on mine in an instant and I felt panic hit me with a force.
I pushed against his chest. "Don't. Please."
"I know." His lips moved against mine. "I just want to taste you."
His hands curled around my waist as he pulled me into him. My palms were flat on his chest, keeping him at somewhat of a distance but it didn't do much. He kissed me again, this time tenderly. I allowed him, automatically mimicking his flow, and he parted my lips, his tongue seeking mine.
It was okay at first. I was able to go along with the movements just like last time, but as the kiss deepened, he became slightly more aggressive and his hands were bold. I started to panic again, speculating if this was going to go farther than I wanted it to, but he pulled away before I could react. He took his hands off of me to sit back on the couch and run a hand through his hair, gazing out of the window.
"Have dinner with me and then you can get some rest. Seems like you need it." He requested as I adjusted myself, and he looked at me. "But I want to see you again tomorrow night. Will that be okay?"
"Yes," I muttered.
"Good." He let out a long breath and bent over the coffee table, picking up a plate. "When we're done here, send in Frankie."
"Okay." And I closed my eyes, wondering if tomorrow night he wouldn't take no for an answer.
The hours had all bled together in the cold, damp blindness. There was no reprieve, no belligerent music or torment from his captors; only harsh, heedless silence that left him open to wandering thoughts, and he was suffocating with the misery. He thought of Everly every second and sorrow pierced his chest so deeply that there were times he felt he couldn't breathe. Her face haunted his mind, the image of her a perfect apparition that sometimes he thought she might be there in the dark with him, whispering his name, but every time he opened his eyes he saw nothing and the air was always empty.
She belonged to him.
The recurring awareness caused agony to crash over him and pull him under. Like being captured by the riptide and drug out to sea where he was lost and forgotten, a speck of flesh in a void too vast to escape. He couldn't help but carry the blame for the hole he was in, for Everly giving herself away to keep someone they loved alive. He should have done more, acted before she had, or volunteered his own head for Lucille. He could have done anything but instead he chose to stay contritely quiet to avoid the taking of anyone else's life which was something he hadn't done for Glenn. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to do the right thing it was always wrong. And he wasn't sure what hurt worse: his loss of Everly or that she was losing herself.
This reflection was a war inside his head, and his throbbing temples were bombs that left him deaf and shell-shocked. He stiff hands buried themselves in his hair, his palms digging into his eyes to press out the pain, but all he could think of was her with someone else, and he felt like he was going to be sick.
He heard several sets of footsteps before they stopped at his door, and when the click of the lock vibrated through the barren room, he slid up the wall with aching, sore muscles. He trained on the door, observing the shadows of two legs behind it and wondered what he would be met with, knowing it would be nothing good. Tediously, the doorknob rattled and the door creaked open as dim light was a blinding sun in his eyes.
"You as snug as a bug in a rug in here, Daryl, or do I need to tuck you in with the heel of my shoe?"
Daryl squinted at the silhouette in the doorway, his hand a defender from the piercing light as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He didn't have to look the man in the face to know who it was. The deep, cavalier tone dripped with disdain and there was only one man here who spoke with such authority.
Daryl didn't answer, letting his hand drop back down to his side. He figured silence held more opportunity for him in his current position rather than taking the risk of opening his mouth.
"Just thought I'd drop by," Negan shrugged, "check on how my Daryl was doin'. I know my guys did a number on ya, and I'll admit, you look worse for fucking wear, but seeing as you're all brawn and no brains, I didn't think it'd hurt much. Guess I was wrong."
The arrogant bastard sighed with a smile and moved a couple of paces into the room. He scrutinized the beaten man in front of him and chuckled, finding the obstinacy that underlined the heartache amusing.
"Goddamn, if you aren't a hard one to crack," Negan marveled, almost in awe. "I like that about you, Daryl. I fucking admire that… But let me ask you something. Do you want to spend the rest of your days on this earth moping and pining in this disgusting fucking cell, or do you actually want to do some good for the world? For yourself?"
Negan took a moment to let him consider, and he spoke again when the silence remained.
"I'm not here to give you a pep talk. I could honestly give a fuck what you decide to do, but I want to know if you're ready to be a fucking man and deal with the shit that happens in your life like a damn adult, or if you want to continue being a pussy who cries in the dark." Negan shook his head disappointedly. "You have so much potential, but you are holding yourself back over what? Everly?"
Daryl's eyes flared at her name and he twitched involuntarily, but he held back, daring himself not to make a move; to stay in control. A soft chuckle resounded in the room as Negan watched his reaction.
"I get it, man, but I hardly think it's worth putting yourself through this over someone who doesn't want you anymore."
The insult stung. It was a low blow that hit Daryl square in the guts even though he knew it wasn't true. Everly hadn't left him because she wanted to; she left him because it was the only choice she thought she had.
"That ain't fuckin' true," Daryl finally rasped.
"I don't mean that in a disparaging way. Don't mistake me." Negan held a hand to his chest, his eyes apologetic. "It's just the truth of the fucking matter, and right now, it would be best if you got your shit together and moved the fuck on with your life. Staying in this cell, locked inside here day in and day out thinking about a girl you used to fuck is no way to live. That shit will drive you insane. And if you're gonna be one of my men, Daryl, I need you with your head on your shoulders."
The wink Negan gave was teasing; a seal to the double meaning hidden behind his last remark.
"I wouldn't be in here if you hadn't of locked me in," Daryl responded, and as the seconds passed, he felt the anger building up an undeniable energy within him.
"You wouldn't be in here if you hadn't made me lock you in, but that's exactly what I had to do. If you want to point fingers, point them at your-goddamn-self. I don't make decisions for you. I just pay you the consequences." The mirth in Negan's eyes had died but a small smile still stretched his lips. "I mean, consider Dwight. I took a lot away from the asshole but he still works for me. He has my back… He's one of my most trusted men, as far as that goes, but he took it, got on his fucking knees, and paid dearly for all of the shit he pulled like a fucking man… Now, I'm not saying that you're busting your balls on the way back down the totem pole because you didn't get that fucking high to begin with, but I will not allow you to continue to make an ass out of yourself because you don't know how to use self-control. It's just not going to work for me."
"Let Everly go and I'll work for you. I'll do whatever you want, say your fuckin' name and track down all the defects that abandon this shithole so you can burn half their faces off or bash their brains in. I don't fuckin' care." Daryl held back a snarl. "I'll do all of it, just let her go."
Negan laughed. It was a loud guffaw that overfilled the room and pierced Daryl's ears.
"Oh, man. You really think that is gonna work on me?" Negan tilted his head and squinted. "No fucking way, José! I've worked my ass off to condition the two of you for months. I'm certainly not going to just let one of y'all loose to pad the feelings of the other, especially not my new wife. Are you goddamn kidding me?"
"If you fuckin' touch her-"
"Hold on, Daryl. You're getting a bit too ahead of yourself there."
Negan held up a finger. He backed quickly out of the room and spoke lowly with one of his men. When he came back in he was holding a familiar looking camcorder and Daryl's nerves automatically shuffled him a few feet closer to the edge.
"I'm going to make an educated guess and say that you were just about to threaten my life yet again. Am I right?"
Daryl chose silence for a second time and pressed his lips together. He didn't have to speak the truth because they both knew what it was.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's right." Negan nodded and flipped open the camera view screen. He turned it on and pointed the lens at the hardened man before him. "Does this look familiar to you? You ever been recorded before, Daryl?"
At the lack of an answer, Negan flicked impatient eyes up to him and frowned.
"I asked you a fucking ques-"
"No," Daryl spat.
"Okay." A toying smirk crossed the demented leader's features. "I'll pretend to believe you. Well, since you haven't noticed, this baby came from your old stomping grounds. My men came across it the very first time I ever set foot in that place, and I'll be honest, I was hoping for a nasty peep show but all I got was Mountain Man Rick crying about his bullshit feelings. Talk about a boner killer."
Apprehension trickled into fury, and it was merging from a simmer to a boil the longer Daryl listened to Negan speak. He was feeling it eat away at his veins and the edges of his vision were beginning to turn red.
"What kinda shit were you into back in the day, Daryl?" Negan asked. "I'd say by looking at you that it must've been some wild hillbilly porn. Possibly along the lines of a Deliverance remake, but with pigs in place of men. I'd even go as far to say bestiality wasn't totally taboo where you came from, but I digress…" Negan shook the camera at him. "I've got something special on here that I'd like you to watch."
"No," Daryl refused.
"Oh, buddy. Yes, you fucking are, and I would really fucking appreciate it if you'd stop saying that damn word to me. I know your vocabulary is limited, but Jesus Christ! You know more words than that!"
A dark glare cut into Daryl, but he remained rigidly in place against the opposite wall. He wasn't going to watch anything. The implications of what it could be were too real and sickening. As Negan flipped the screen in his direction, Daryl looked away and found a place in the gloom to concentrate on, blocking out everything but that one spot.
"Don't make me get my men in here to hold you down," Negan warned. He pressed play and held it in Daryl's face. "Watch."
Daryl flinched at the first sounds that filtered through the speakers. They bounced off the walls and heightened with each reverberation. He could hear it; a wet sucking sound that was overlapped by deep, lustful moaning, and he knew what was on the screen. He could see it in his mind clearly as his brows knit together in concentration, the shadows giving way to the image that was playing in his head. He wanted to be strong, stay centered on the concrete wall beside him, but a sick curiosity - a desperate need to know who was on that screen - overcame him, and his eyes swept to their corners and dilated.
She was on her knees in front of a black leather couch, her form entirely nude. He only saw the back over her but her red hair was held up by a tanned hand as her head bobbed up and down on his lap; on Negan's. As the video played, Daryl felt every shred of sanity within him disintegrate and his hand rose to crush the debaucher's throat when the woman on the screen was suddenly lifted to her feet. She was roughly laid back on the cushions as Negan climbed on top of her, and she turned her head toward the camera, her eyes closed and mouth agape as he began to fuck her. It wasn't Everly.
Daryl's heart was a rabid animal in a cage, beating itself against his sternum in a frenzied searched for escape. He sucked in a sobbing breath, relief such an immediate current throughout his limbs that he almost sunk to the floor in its intensity. Negan simpered brutishly and kept the camera up to Daryl's face until it ended, enjoying his visage of alleviation combined with revulsion.
"Aw, shucks, Daryl. You didn't think that was someone else did you?" Negan closed the screen and turned off the camera. "That hot piece of ass was one of my wives as I'm sure you've guessed. Not the one you were thinking of, but another. In any case, after our last visit to the big A, I just couldn't help but remember how disappointed I was when I first hit that play button and all I saw was Rick's fucking man bush. So, I've decided that I'm going to make some real use out of it and start a collection. I've had three nights with it so far, so three wives are left... Can you guess who I'm saving for last?"
The snap inside his head was physical. He felt the eruption as it engulfed his system and override his senses, filling him to the brim with fermented rage. Daryl shoved off the wall and slammed his shoulders into Negan's chest, sending them backwards through the cell door. They landed in the hallway, the camera clattering out of Negan's grasp, and Daryl clutched his leather jacket in one hand while the other slammed down on his face.
His fist was an anvil, a soaring stone caught in a violent storm. Daryl got a few punches in before Negan caught his wrist and punched him back. He swayed with the hit and the Saviors crowded around him, yanking him off of their leader whose face was painted with blood.
"Holy shit fuck, you fucking fuck!" Negan roared as he stood up and wiped some of the blood from his mouth. He reared his foot back for a brutal kick to Daryl's ribs, continuing to lay into him violently. Daryl's sore and bruised body writhed with the abuse, but he took it all and welcomed the blackness that began to cover his eyes.
"No, no. I want him awake!" Negan's voice buzzed around his head, but it was muffled, fuzzy. "Take his ass to the basement. We're gonna go see Dr. Carson."
The Saviors who held Daryl lifted him up, and he found his footing as he slowly drifted out of the open mouth of unconsciousness. The headache he already had was magnified and he saw the lights above him pulse with his heartbeat. He squeezed his eyes shut as Negan came before him, trying to escape the reality beyond his personal darkness but couldn't.
"I'm going to show you exactly what you just signed yourself up for." Negan sneered, blood staining his teeth. "You just made your last goddamn mistake."
Bum, bum, buuuum! It'skindofacliffhangeeer!
Well, I lost my beta (super busy schedule) so the rest of this story may be pocketed with fuck-ups. I don't have too many left, but I'll try to catch as many mistakes as I can, so bear with me, people! If something seems totally off, though, don't hesitate to let know. The next few chapters will hopefully answer any questions you guys might have.
Also, I've had several requests for a Neverly hook up as well as comments stating that would be the biggest mistake ever. Honestly, I could write it either way, but I'm no longer just writing this story for me; I want to make you guys happy too! So, I think I've come up with a solution? I'm not sure if it will be this upcoming chapter or the next, but I am going to write my story the way I've originally planned it. At the end of one of those chapters, I will include a Neverly scene that you guys can choose to read as a part of the story or not. I'll write it in a way that you can finish the chapter feeling as if nothing happened between them or you can read the add-on where something did happen. I feel as though this will satisfy both sides... I hope. Keep in mind that the Neverly scene will not necessarily be part of the story. I want to make that very clear, and I'm sure it'll become more transparent once you read the discussed chapter. That is where I'll leave it up to you guys to choose if it happens or not (kinda like a TellTale game). Does any of that make any sense or is that totally crazy? :/
Thanks BlueMoon and all of my guest reviewers! We should be finding out what's going on in Alexandria in the next chapter.
Edit: New plan! New plan! Scratch all that shit I said above because I've got a new plan! I'll give more details in my notes for Ch. 54. Also, Happy Halloween! :)