Chapter 56

After my conversation with Sherry, I took her suggestion and went to my room to rest. Most of my day passed peacefully, and I was able to sleep more soundly knowing that today could potentially be the last time I would ever fall unconscious in this place. I was anxious for tonight; mostly to get out of here, but there was also a large part of me that was expecting something to go wrong and in a big way. The past few months had been nothing but cruel to me with little reprieve in between, so it wasn't an unrealistic assumption. Yet I pushed the pessimism aside, as well as the covers, and got out of bed.

I checked the time, noting it was after seven. Sherry mentioned that Dwight's crew would be leaving at ten o'clock and that I was to meet them at the garages. I wasn't entirely sure where they were located, but she assured me I would be escorted. By whom, I didn't know, and she was unsure as well. That didn't sit easy with me, but what other choice did I have? This was our chance and it was now or never. If we were caught, then I'd do whatever it took to protect Daryl. Whatever happened to me didn't matter and hopefully nothing would.

Nothing had.

I shook my head and went into the bathroom to freshen up. I needed to stay busy until the clock ran down for me to sneak out, but I decided not to get dressed yet in case Negan dropped by. It would be suspicious if I were in a pair of blue jeans and all bundled up for chilly weather, so I remained in a t-shirt and pajama shorts; something I much preferred over the short dress I had adorned earlier.

I finished washing my face and brushing my teeth, making sure I did each task as deliberately as possible to waste time. I combed my hair and thought about how I would wear it tonight. Maybe in a braid to keep it out of the way in case we needed to move quickly. That seemed wise, and I set out a hair tie to remind me when it came time to get ready. But that was all I had left to do except wait, so I resigned myself to nervous pacing and cleaning. Perhaps a tidy room would soften the blow when Negan realized I'd left.

Or maybe I'd destroy it as a giant fuck you.

With a silent smirk, I unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, considering the act and imagining what I would do when I finally saw Daryl. Hug him? Kiss him? Tell him how sorry I was we had ended up this way? Forgiveness might be a token I needed to earn from him, but it wouldn't be cruel or demanding. He would let me collect it effortlessly because he knew I hadn't sacrificed myself to hurt him.

And he loved me.

As confidence lifted my shoulders, movement from the left side of the room caught my eye, and I jumped back, a startled hand coming up to clutch my chest as I focused on Negan sitting at my kitchen table. His smirk grew as mine disappeared, and I took in a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart, aplomb dust in the wind.

"How'd you get in here?" I asked, yet I already had a good guess.

Negan sat back, his grin growing with enjoyment.

"I do own this fucking place." He cocked his head and kicked out a chair next to him. "Sit with me."

Nervously, and trying not to show it, I walked to the table and sank down on the chair adjacent to him. I got as comfortable as I could under the circumstances, trying to look tired but easygoing, yet I wasn't sure how great of a job I was doing. I was never good at pretending though I tried, and one glance at Negan proved that he saw right through me.

"Sherry told me you weren't feeling well today, but you seem fine to me." Negan's right hand drummed on the wood table. "You seemed perfectly fine last night, too."

I swallowed against the suddenly tightness in my throat. "Funny, because I didn't fucking feel fine."

"You sure about that?" His fingers went still as he squinted at me, his smile disbelieving.

"Very." I fought back a sneer.

Negan threw his hands up and raised his eyebrows in apology. "Well, fuck me. I clearly fucking missed that subtle as shit signal from you then."

"Really?" I sat forward. "What exactly was subtle about it? Was it when I told you to stop or how I pushed you off of me?"

"And I did. I understand you were feeling nervous at first. I told you I wasn't angry about that."

"I wouldn't care if you were," I spat and folded my arms as my left knee bobbed up and down. "Why are you in my room now, Negan? Why did you let yourself in here when you told me, promised me, that you'd give me time? Space?"

"Because I wanted to check on you, and when you didn't answer the door, I got nervous," Negan admitted, and I looked away as a small sliver of guilt hit me.

"Don't try to manipulate me."

Negan sighed. "I'm fucking not. I'm being honest with you like I always fucking am."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I'm fine. Can you leave now?"

I flinched as his hand shot out to grab the edge of my chair and yanked it toward him. The legs scraped sharply against the floor, and I held on at the sudden movement, pushing myself against the clothed back as Negan peered over me, his eyes boring into mine.

"I'm being very kind to you. Don't be inconsiderate by telling me to fucking leave." The corners of his mouth were turned down, and I bit back the smartass remark that I hadn't told him to do anything. I'd asked him. "We have a date tonight and it isn't over until I'm fucking ready for it to be. We haven't even had a drink yet."

"I'm not thirsty," was my reply, and Negan was not pleased.

"What fucking is it that you expect to do here?" His brows creased in frustration and I mirrored him. "You aren't my wife just for the goddamn title. You are my wife because you are married to me, but so far, this shit doesn't come close to what I would deem a marriage. I'd call it you using me to buy your fucking friends some time with little payoff on my end."

"Leave them the fuck out of it, you ass-" my words ended with a gasp as he grabbed my thighs and pulled them apart, dragging me to the edge of my seat. He held me halfway in his lap, my legs dangling over his, and I gripped his shoulders, the leather of his favorite jacket unyielding against my squeezing fingers as I pushed, but he was stronger than me.

"I've been nothing but patient with you, and not just this week, but since I fucking met you. You are the most provoking damn woman I've ever met, but god…dammit." His eyes closed as his fingertips dug into my skin. "I want you."

"Negan," my voice shook as his hands started up my thighs and edged under my shorts, "Just give me one more night. Please."

"You to keep changing your mind, but I don't want to wait anymore." His refusal ghosted over my lips.

"Give me tonight. I promise…"

He kissed my jaw, my neck, and my skin tingled where his beard scratched my skin. He nipped the flesh under my ear and the warmth from his breath covered me with goose bumps, and I shut my eyes, trying to lock myself away from his touch.

"One more," he growled and his thumb flicked over my center, causing me to jerk from the unexpected sensation. "And tomorrow, I'm gonna start right here."

He caught my bottom lip between his teeth and sucked. I tried to bite back, but he seemed to read my movements before they happened and gripped the side of my neck, forcing his thumb under my jaw. Impulsively, my mouth opened from the pressure and he filled it with his tongue, not allowing me the chance to take in a breath. I strained against him, shoving his chest, and he relented, abruptly standing before me. The action was so sudden that his chair toppled backward and I nearly fell out of mine, but my neck was still prisoner in his hand, and I grasped his wrist as my head was angled upward.

"You're hurting me," I coughed and tugged at his arm, but he remained unmoving as he stared down at me.

"That's the point, isn't it? To hurt." He released the pressure some and I took in a fluttering breath. "Everybody will hurt you, Everly. Me, your friends, Daryl… They already fucking have, but they'll never admit it. They'll pussyfoot around the truth to spare your goddamn feelings, but not me. I'll tell you to your fucking face that you need to feel pain, and you should expect it from everyone because that is all they're good for… Hurting you."

Negan yanked me to my feet and I swayed against him, bracing myself on his chest. He was going fucking mad, and I was beginning to feel scared. I felt almost as helpless as I did when I was captured in the woods and tears pierced my eyes, blurring the blank, hard features of his face. I didn't understand why the feeling of deception hit me, but it did.

"It's exactly what I tell myself every day, and it's saved my fucking life more times than I can count on two goddamn hands. No one is a saint. They don't want to help you, and they don't want to see you happy. They want to see you suffer."

"And that's what you want from me." My lips trembled in anger and fear. "You like it just like those fucking rapists in the woods. You weren't saving me out of protection. You were doing it because they were going to take me and you couldn't stand that, could you? Losing someone you weren't done torturing yet. Someone you think belongs to you."

Negan smiled then, his lips spreading so wide that I thought his bottom one would split open again, and I contemplated digging my thumb into his black eye.

"You tell yourself whatever the fuck you think it is you know about me. Convince yourself that I'm the fucking devil in disguise. Shit, that might be precisely fucking right, but don't fucking kid yourself, baby. I'm not the only one." Negan hands roamed over me in a tender way, like he was trying to soothe me while intimidating me with his words. "The difference is my intent. I want what's best for you while those other fucks do it to get off."

"You're a fucking joke," I flared. He was a raging sociopath that reveled in the pain of others; he couldn't hide that truth from me. It was how he survived.

"Use your brain, Everly. Would I be where I'm at right now if I didn't give a shit? I built this place from the fucking ground up. I gave people a home and a sense of goddamn purpose when the world had none left to give. I used the evil people showed me and turned it back on them to put them in their fucking place, and I grabbed that control with one fucking hand... I know I'm no shining star of morality, but it hardly counts to bat a fucking eye when what drives survival in this world is fear and death."

I looked away from him, not wanting to continue this conversation and wishing he would leave. The purpose of his actions and beliefs had no meaning to me. I didn't want to understand why he chose to be who he was; it was too confusing, and I couldn't relate to it. I didn't want to experience it anymore, but he grabbed my face in his hands and forced my eyes to meet his.

"It hurts, Everly." And his eyes widened slightly, like he hadn't meant to let those words go.

The silence was deafening, and I could hear my heartbeat under his restraining palms as I studied him, trying to ascertain what he meant and how much honesty lied in his claim. What hurt? And was it his pain?

"What…?" I whispered, but my half-asked question was dismissed as he quickly changed the topic and his hands fell from me.

"I nearly killed Daryl yesterday."

My chest caved in on itself as the breath flew out of me in a desperate, "Oh."

"And he would be dying right now had it not been for Dwight's fuck up, but I've made arrangements to fix that issue, and I was merciful enough to allow Daryl to help with that."

It clicked then. The bruises and cuts on Negan's face, his late night visit and how persistent he'd been with me, and why Sherry had resisted telling me anything she knew of Daryl's whereabouts. I had been falling asleep every night praying that he was safe, hanging upside down in my nightmares, and each morning I woke too afraid to find out for myself. Now, I regretted it.

"What did you do to him?" I demanded in a whisper.

"Unfortunately, not enough," Negan answered, and I clutched his jacket wildly. He put his hands over mine to pull them away, but I held on tightly. "Your pal Dr. Avery and his colleague, Dr. Carson, are good doctors, but their aspirations sure are fucked to hell. Typically their patients are voluntary even though the trials always lead to a drawn out death, but I don't think the docs ever share that part."

"What?" I demanded, not understanding what the hell he was talking about and how it pertained to Daryl.

Negan smiled and roughly pried my hands from him. He strolled to the counter where he rummaged for some glasses and a bottle of alcohol.

"Daryl almost became one of the rare, non-consenting kind. However," he lifted a finger in the air, "my forgiveness knows no fucking bounds. You see, the Sanctuary doctors have been working damn hard toward a cure for the infected, and while the nobility of such an act stands strong, their methods are on par with the fucking Nazis. I will say that they've made some strides in their goals, so that's a plus, but it's a weak one. Not that Dr. Carson gives much of a shit anymore."

It was then I remembered back to my first month here when Negan had caught Daryl and me trying to escape. As punishment, he'd chained Daryl outside with a bunch of loose walkers, and it had been up to me to find the key to unlock and save him. After, I'd been allowed to visit the infirmary where Dr. Avery had taken care of me. He was so kind and gentle every time I saw him that I believed what he truly wanted was to help. I thought back to him speaking of exploring for a cure and finding benevolence in that, but it had been so vague. I couldn't have fathomed what that had meant until now, and suddenly the locket with the name inscribed Amanda held so much more meaning to me.

"She was here maybe all of three months and she hardly ever spoke to anyone. There was one person here, though, that she did speak to quite often… Dr. Avery."

Suzanne's voice echoed in my head, and my legs felt weak as I slid back down into my chair, thinking of all the atrocities that Daryl might have gone through - or might be going through right now. Was he even still alive? How many people had been subjected to this? Was this whole plan of escape a giant game for Negan and now he'd caught me red-handed once more? Would I be Dr. Avery's next victim…? My eyes drifted begrudgingly upward to the monster in my kitchen as he poured two glasses full of rum and looked toward the fridge inquisitively.

"Got any juice?" He asked and his cheeks dimpled.

I took in a deep, unsteady breath and whispered, "Answer me."

Negan furrowed his brows as he swallowed a sip of his drink and came back to the table, plopping a full glass in front of me and righting his chair. "Answer what?"

I closed my eyes and waited until I felt like I could speak without my voice wavering.

"What did you do to him?"

"I thought I already fucking answered that," Negan smiled as he sat and drank. "Nothing. I did want to strap his sorry ass to a fucking bed and let some dead shit rip chunks out of him, but plans changed before it got that far. Considering how much of a man he's been trying to prove himself to be, he sure did turn into a fucking pussy when he thought he was going to die. He even asked for the iron instead."

"So, he's okay? He's not dead?" I managed to ask through the fear.

Negan was silent as I stared down at the floor, blinking fresh tears out of my eyes while trying not to lose myself in misery.

"He's fine." His voice was hard, and I heard the clamor of his glass as he set it down.

He stood up and came to me, hovering by my side. When he reached out a hand to brush my hair behind my neck, I moved away, blocking him, and he leaned down in response. His fingers lifted my hair as he pushed his mouth to my ear.

"He doesn't have to stay that way, Everly, if you won't cooperate with me. Remember that... Be ready for me tomorrow," he hissed and let me go.

I waited until the door slammed behind him to let out the scream I'd been holding in and flipped the kitchen table over, panting in pure anguish. I was beginning to second guess running away now. The risks were too great, and I didn't want Negan to have a definite reason to follow through on his threat if he caught us. Daryl wasn't going to die because of me. The safest bet for him would be my compliance, but I was torn between what I desperately wanted and what seemed right. And in my indecision, I sank to my knees and cried.

"Over there," Negan instructed Sherry as he unzipped his jacket and threw it on his bed.

She followed him into the bedroom and shut the door, doing as he asked as he pulled his shirt over his head. She waited as he stared at her, sensing his time with Everly hadn't gone so well. She had tried to stop him, offered to spend the whole night with him doing whatever he pleased, but he'd been adamant about seeing her. Sherry even tried roping Tanya into her plans, but that hadn't helped, and Negan left the lounge without another word when he realized Everly was in her room.

Sherry had waited nervously for him for nearly an hour, annoyed and concerned as the other wives whispered amongst themselves. It really hadn't been that long, but in her mind it had seemed like forever when time was already precious. She was about to leave the lounge to find Dwight when Negan burst through the doors once more and commanded her to follow him. She had obeyed instantly.

"Undress."

Negan's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she complied, removing each garment with care and peering up at him through her lashes when it seemed right. When at last she was naked before him, he kicked off his boots and stalked toward her, intent a lustful spark in his eyes.

"Bend over," he demanded, and Sherry did, placing her hands on the back of the couch.

The skin on her back prickled as she felt Negan come up behind her, and at first, nothing happened. He stood over her, not saying a word as the silence turned to ice between them. But soon she felt the heel of his hand between her shoulder blades pushing her down and her hands slipped to brace herself on the cushions below as he kicked her legs apart.

"You always had a nice fucking ass," Negan complimented as he ran his hands down her back and to the aforementioned part of her body, cupping and kneading her skin roughly. "Am I still allowed to do whatever I want?"

"Yes," she answered in a small voice, but she was starting to become unsure.

"That's right. You don't go back on promises, do you, Sherry?"

She wasn't sure what that meant, but didn't question it. "Never."

Negan hit her hard, and she bit her lip with a gasp as the pain in her buttock spread to her belly. The shock was almost as physical as the pain.

"That's why you're my favorite," he whispered in her ear and struck her backside again.

"Negan," she cried, tears forming in her eyes. She didn't like what was happening.

"Shh, I'm sorry, baby," Negan cooed and rubbed his hands over her reddened skin, admiring his handprints. "I wanted to try something new with you, and not to beat around the bush, but you did say I could do whatever I wanted."

"I know." Sherry shook, and noticed her fingernails were digging into the leather cushions below her. She loosened her grip before she ripped a hole in them. "This is just too much for me. You have to be gentler."

"You gave me permission. Did you not?"

"Yes, but-" Sherry started, and Negan placed a hand over her mouth, effectively shutting her up.

"But don't turn yourself into a fucking liar, honey. I'm tired of hearing the word no."

Nodding, Sherry relinquished the idea of finding Negan's compassion. It wasn't always so hard to get through to him, but he was in a rare form tonight; discontent and afflicted. She wanted to ask what had transpired with Everly, but knew better than to bring that up. So she kept her mouth shut as he slapped her ass again and again, trying not to see this as a form of punishment. He'd been rough with her before of course, as by definition Negan was an ardent and rough lover, but he had never laid his hands on her in this way. He had never hurt her out of anger or even seemingly in pleasure at his causing her pain, which was exactly what this felt like now. She wondered what exactly Everly had done to get him to this state.

Her skin felt swollen and raw by the time he stopped, and Negan panted apologetic praises as he leaned over her, the fabric of his jeans scratching against her sensitive skin. She barely had time to wipe the wetness from her cheeks as he pushed her hips against the back of the couch, opening her wider to him as he examined his work. He kissed her tender flesh gently, a subtle reward for giving him what he needed.

"We're gonna do something different tonight. It might take some getting used to. Are ya up for it?" Negan caressed her skin and the ache was beginning to die down a little.

She nodded her head like a child, afraid to speak in fear he'd be upset at the emotion in her voice. He stepped away from her briefly, and Sherry heard him unbuckle his belt and slide it from the loops of his jeans.

"Don't be nervous. I'll be extra gentle this time," he promised, but she sensed the deceit hidden beneath his words.

Negan strode into the garage, his eyes searching the large space for one person in particular. He spotted him among the crowd, carrying supplies and loading them into a truck with obvious pain in his movements. He smiled as he watched him struggle, fully prepared to poke an already indignant, bad-tempered bear in its sore hide. Negan glanced back at the four Saviors he brought along with him and then started forward, zeroing in on the person he wanted to make as miserable as possible until he no longer had the pleasure of doing so. This man's time was running out, and Negan wanted to make sure it ended in just the perfect way.

"Daryl," Negan sang and the mentioned man stopped what he was doing instantly, crushing the bag he held in his hand. "How's it coming along? You seem raring to fucking go, limping around like a damn dutiful altar boy after Sunday service. I bet you're excited for some wide open spaces, am I right?"

Negan smiled as Daryl glowered, holding himself back by the tiniest of threads. He was practically aching at wanting to throw his shoulder into the grinning bastard's stomach, but jeopardizing his near escape would be stupid. Plus, Everly was supposed to show up at any minute and Negan couldn't be here when she did. Daryl glanced around briefly, noting that everyone was uncomfortably aware of their domineering leader, and he locked eyes with Dwight. The lieutenant left his spot to approach them, but Negan held up a halting hand, and Dwight stopped short, obedient, but remained where he was at and watched.

"You know, I never heard a thank you after I spared your pathetic fucking life from becoming an experimental buffet. It seems I just can't let you go, my friend, despite the fact that you don't seem to appreciate it one fucking bit." Negan held a hand to his chest and cocked back his head with a lazy smirk, but his features quickly became expectant. "Sooo, where's the gratitude you owe me?"

Daryl shifted on his feet, getting comfortable with his silence as he stared Negan down. He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn't bring himself to say the right words to save his ass. He was looking oppression right in its cruel, ugly face and sticking a silent middle finger under its nose. Daryl was hoping this wouldn't be the last time he'd see Negan. He wanted to witness the terror and humiliation on his face firsthand as everything he had was ripped out of his greedy fucking paws. But if someone got to Negan before he did, this moment would have to be good enough.

"Aw, Daryl, don't fucking be that way. You still feelin' a bit tender about our last conversation?"

"Probably not as much as your fuckin' face," Daryl shot back and tossed the duffle bag to the side.

Negan chuckled, scratching his cheek in an attempt to restrain his shaking hand. It was pulsing with the need to turn into a fist and plow right into the side of Daryl's jaw, but that would ruin what he already had planned. He needed to maintain control, subdue the sting to his ego, and jab one more blade into Daryl's already shredded heart.

"Listen, I'm sorry." Negan donned a façade of imitated sincerity. "I have no hard feelings about you fucking me up. I deserved it for what I did. That was a scummy fucking thing for me to do. So, as a show of good faith, I've brought you a gift."

Negan held a hand up in the air and one of his Saviors placed an object in his hand. Daryl remained passive at first, but when he saw the camcorder appear over Negan shoulder and into his open palm, he began to feel lightheaded. This couldn't be what he thought it was.

"Think of it as a parting gift." Negan turned the camera over as if to examine it. "I sure did have a lot of fun with it, and in such a short damn time…but I think now you'll get better use out of it than me."

At the sight of Daryl's face, Dwight edged forward, wary of the peculiar situation unfolding in front of him. He wanted to interfere but didn't know how. He eyed his men and saw they all had stopped working to watch, their interest piqued. Shawn was coming up behind Daryl, his footing indicative of making a grab for him lest he lost it and charged forward. Dwight, thinking it was a good idea, moved closer to Daryl too.

"I didn't quite get everything that I wanted on it, but I got what counts," Negan said cheekily. "And if you never make it back, well, at least you've got a way to remember Everly. The exceptional bare parts of her, at least."

Negan held the camera out; the final move to win his game, and it was a sucker punch right to Daryl's gut, leaving him immobile and disbelieving. He stared at the camcorder in Negan's hand, not really seeing it as he convinced himself that it couldn't be real. There was nothing on that tape. Nothing.

"Come on now, Daryl. Don't be rude. Accept…your gift."

The camera was an ordinary thing. Not intimidating or dangerous in any way, but Daryl felt the alarm bells ringing in his head at full volume. He didn't want it. What he did want was blood, and he wanted Negan's; every ounce of it.

"Be cool, man," Shawn whispered at his shoulder. "Take it, and just be cool."

Dwight had already worked up a sweat loading up the trucks, but he was perspiring profusely now. Any minute, he could see Daryl doing something extremely stupid and irreversible. Negan wouldn't forgive a second attack as gracefully as he did the first. He had been extraordinarily restrained with Daryl compared to what he'd done to others, and those unfortunate souls had done far less.

A charming smile spread across Negan's face as he shared a tense moment with his favorite adversary. The unusual quiet around them would have been awkward had he not felt so much triumph in this moment. He had hit Daryl right where it would hurt him the most and cause him the worst misery his final few hours. Whether he actually watched the tape or not was entirely irrelevant as Negan suspected that Daryl more than likely wouldn't. It was the possibility, the uncertainty but unwillingness to know for sure what was on the tape that made him the loser. It had the beaten down man unraveling from the seams, tearing him inside out, and Negan was completely enthralled with the power it gave him.

He took a couple of steps forward, leaning close so only Daryl could hear.

"You can choose to take it or not. It makes no damn difference to me, but don't let the gnawing uncertainty eat you alive. We both know what's on this tape… You'll just have to play it to really know for sure." Negan shoved the camera into Daryl's stomach, grabbing one of his limp hands to curl around it with a cinching squeeze. "So, take it and get a good damn look. Don't be a fucking pussy."

Negan let go and moved back. Daryl loosely held the camera against him in a trance, feeling incoherent and betrayed. He glanced up at the sound of Negan's acerbic laugh; fury a rogue freight train in his wounded heart. A hard grip on his shoulder kept him back as he made to move forward, and he clutched the camera, grimacing in pain like it was a silver cross burning in his hand.

Satisfied, Negan commanded everyone back to work before swinging his eyes to settle on his lieutenant. "D, is everything ready to go?"

"Just about," Dwight said with a swallow. "Just a few loose ends to tie up and we'll be on our way."

Negan inclined his head and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Great. I got a few men here for you. Figured with the fucking disaster you left, some extra hands couldn't hurt."

Dwight eyed the four Saviors at Negan's back and silently cursed the dipshit. It was clear that he didn't fully trust his second-hand man, and that pissed Dwight off to no end. Not that Negan was wrong. He couldn't trust him in the least, and that made him extremely smart as well as intuitive, but it was a hiccup in their plans. They would have to risk time and energy to dispose of the encroaching quartet before they caught onto their fellow Savior's duplicity.

"They'll follow behind you in their own truck, so make sure you pack a few more supplies for them. Shouldn't take you much longer." Negan patted the slighter man on the back. "And before I forget, make sure you bring me back a souvenir. Maybe a hand or an eyeball. I'll let you choose."

Negan winked as Dwight acceded through a tightened jawed and watched his leader turn away to address the men behind him. He glanced at Daryl who stared in unadulterated rage at the back of Negan's head, the camera starting to crunch under the gravity of his clenching hold. When the scum dressed in leather finally left the room, shards of plastic and glass littered the air in an explosion. Everyone watched Daryl as he stomped with every ounce of energy he had on what was left of Negan's gift.

Edited by Nightperidot.

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving, and for those who don't celebrate it, I hope you had a good weekend too! I'm back at school, yaaaay... But only three more weeks until Christmas break! HELL YEAH!