Chapter 67

The town was hushed, almost sedated, in the aftermath of its recovery. Men and women alike worked to subdue reforming bodies and remove them from the streets and front lawns, but a few were kept functioning to moan and beseech their executioners from the pit outside Alexandria's walls. The birds joined in the disharmonious melody, adding a chirping rhythm that sung of the approaching dawn, and as reaching sunlight illumined the edges of the atmosphere with glowing fingertips, they sang louder.

"Why are birds so damn noisy this early in the morning?" Carl commented with a grunt as he hooked his forearms under the armpits of a dead Savior. "Shut up, birds!"

"I think you're only encouraging them." I smiled as I stepped between the Saviors legs, lifting them up from the knee. We lumbered to the dismantled gate. "Maybe you should go get some sleep after we dump this one."

"Like I could sleep if I wanted to," he replied, but I saw how his eye drooped at the mention of getting any sort of rest.

I hoisted the dead woman's legs up, catching them in a tighter grip and wincing from the soreness in my muscles. "Wouldn't hurt to try. Just cover your head with a pillow or turn on some soft music. They'll stop eventually, but you should be asleep before then."

Carl sighed out a "sure" and I hoped he would take my advice. The better half of us had been up all night with a few Alexandrians able to find sleep. King Ezekiel and his troops had left an hour earlier along with the Somerset soldiers. He'd gone with the promise to prowl the streets looking for residual enemies before returning home, but we wouldn't know if he had found luck or misfortune in that endeavor until we met with him again later in the day. I was looking forward to that. I didn't feel comfortable with splitting up; of us Alexandrians being here alone with only the Hilltop people to call company. We were armed now, and Negan's Sanctuary was sure to be riddled with the dead and partly blown in from Dwight's attack by this point, but I couldn't discredit his resiliency. Our two groups alone didn't compare to his; he still outnumbered us by a long shot, and with Eugene as his hostage, he also had leverage.

"One, two, three," Carl counted and we tossed the limp, heavy body in the pit on the ternary digit.

I took in a deep breath, trying to catch it while Carl pushed the hair back from his forehead. Tedious movement to the left caught my eye and I glimpsed Rick watching us as he walked over.

"Sorry I can't be of any help." His hands hung at his sides, but they twitched as he spoke and I saw pain in his eyes.

"It's fine, dad. You should be resting," Carl said.

"I've had enough rest." There was a clear edge to Rick's voice. One that suggested he was holding himself back from lashing out. He smiled thinly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Daryl just finished buryin' our dead. He was lookin' for you, Everly."

I smiled back and took Carl by the shoulders. "Maybe you should head in like I suggested. You've done more than plenty, and we've basically cleaned this place up. You're good."

"I can do more," Carl insisted. "I'm not even tired."

I hugged him. "It's not up for debate. Go."

"Man, you're back for a few hours and you're already bossing me around," he said as I let him go, but he grinned and sighed heavily. "Okay, if you insist."

Carl bypassed the moat, slowing down as he reached his father. Rick put an arm around him, kissing his hair. "Good night, son. I'll see you later in the day."

"Night," the teenager responded and slumped away.

I made sure he was out of earshot before I looked at Rick, putting my hands in my back pockets to get comfortable.

"He's just worried about you."

"He shouldn't be. I'm fine." Rick nodded. I examined the dark bags under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. He didn't look fine. "I'm more worried about him and all this…shit that's going on. I don't want him in the middle of it."

"None of us do, but he's a fighter and he's strong. Like his daddy."

Rick chuckled. "Yeah, headstrong's more like it. I'm surprised you got him to go in."

I shrugged. "Not giving him a choice was key. Plus, he was too tired to argue back much."

We stood in a short moment of silence before I decided to take the initiative. If no one else was going to try to convince Rick he needed to see a doctor, I had to. He couldn't go on like this. He might be on his feet and alert, but he was not in a state to be running anything, let alone a full-blown war.

"You need help, Rick." I shook my head sympathetically. "You say you're fine, but you don't look good. And if you don't want to rest, the least you can do is see the doctor at Hilltop, for your sake and your childrens'. You can't take care of them if you're not well."

"I know," Rick replied abruptly, his voice at a higher volume. He looked around sheepishly and spoke again in a normal tone. "I know all that. Don't you think I've known that since day one? It's all I ever think about, and I'm tryin' to hold shit together here. I'm tryin' to be a leader…but I can't do that if I'm not here."

"What about when you're dead?" I challenged. "Can you do it then?"

He scoffed and stepped out of the way of two Hilltoppers discarding a dead body. "I ain't dyin'."

"But you're not getting well. Not as quickly as you could be if you were resting more." I released a short breath and shrugged. "I want what's best for us all. You getting better is part of that; especially since we're fighting to win. We need you when he strikes back because it's going to happen no matter what anyone thinks. I know him better than that. He is not going to just let this all go unpunished."

Rick didn't respond right away. We listened to people talking quietly, dragging corpses on the asphalt, but the loudest noise of all was the perpetual groaning from the dead; an agonizing dirge that grated the heart as much as it did the ears.

"I can't feel it." He whispered, and I strained to make out what he'd said. His bandaged right hand went up. "What can a doctor do with somethin' that doesn't work anymore? That has no feeling? It's pointless. Might as well cut the damn thing of and be done with it."

"Don't talk like that. You just need time to heal," I placated.

"Time won't do shit, and I'm not feelin' sorry for myself. I'm bein' realistic. If I go to that doctor, I'm going to ask him to cut it off."

"Rick-"

"No." He waved the dressed extremity in the air, silencing me. "It's how I want it done. I ain't worryin' over a dead, useless hand. I'll go see Dr. Carson at the Hilltop…and I'll ask him to take it off, but not until this war it over. Not until I see this done."

I kept my mouth closed, not wanting to press the issue further. I nodded demurely and looked away, his affliction too intense. Rick wasn't a man that was swayed easily and it seemed he'd already made up his mind; it was his body, after all. I admired his strong spirit, but it didn't make me worry any less. I could perhaps get Daryl involved and he might push Rick further to get something done now versus later, but sometimes it was best to leave things be.

"No infection?" I asked.

"Naw." Rick deflated when I didn't argue anymore. "I'm keepin' 'em clean, takin' some old antibiotics."

"Keep it that way." I began to walk off, but stopped when I got to his side and looked up at him. "You have no argument when it's over."

"Yeah." He blinked. "Figured I wouldn't."

"Then make yourself useful and rest up. Maggie and them will be back soon and we all will have plenty to talk about then."

"You too, Everly. I ain't the only one beaten down."

His smile was fleeting yet soft. I rubbed his shoulder, a parting gesture of no ill will for our miniscule disagreement. We cared about one another. All of us here did, but sometimes our emotions got the better of us, and when you had a strong sense of knowing what was best, heads tended to butt.

"Okay… I'll find Daryl and get some sleep."

I left, casting one glance over my shoulder at Rick who stood in the middle of the road, facing out. He was watching the road, no doubt anticipating Dwight's return with the rest of our group. I could sense a fear there as well. A fear that maybe Dwight, Michonne, Maggie, and everyone else wouldn't be the ones who showed up, but it would be those dark angels instead, leading a pack of hungry and vicious dead. Could they turn the tide against us? I hoped not, prayed for it to never be so, but I didn't kid myself into believing that it couldn't happen. Hope for the best, but plan and expect for the worst.

Wandering further into town, I found Daryl hosing his hands and arms off by the side of one of the houses. I stepped up on the sidewalk, folding my arms as I watched him. He was engrossed with the water, scrubbing his arms as if they'd never be clean again. I found the sight endearing at first, but I started to turn concerned the more diligently he rubbed his arms.

"You know we have showers, right?" I said and he jerked his head up with a start.

He observed the hose in his hand before letting it drop to the ground and turning the valve, the once surging water slowing to a trickle and then releasing the last drops. He wiped the excess moisture off his arms as he walked to me.

"Didn't want to look for one," he replied and kissed me.

"Are you alright?" I leaned back to look in his eyes. They looked distant, scared.

"Fine. Tired."

A silent breath escaped me, trying to expel the anxiety and guilt in my chest, but it didn't help. I was the reason he was feeling this way; part of it, anyway. If I hadn't have hesitated, if I was a stronger person, more ruthless, there would be less for him to worry about when it came to me in this fight.

"I'm sorry."

Daryl looked back at me silently, his face blank and isolated but his eyes expressing everything he wasn't saying.

"I fucked up." I shrugged apologetically. "I didn't want to…hesitate or second-guess myself. I didn't want to put you in that situation. I just…froze when the gun went off. I…" A frustrated sigh left me and I looked away. "I'm not the best at fighting. I got lucky when I was out there on my own. I was good at hiding, being small. Here I'm a giant. Everyone sees me and it scares the shit out of me. What I did to protect myself doesn't work anymore and it's taking me a while to adjust, but I'll try harder."

I met his eyes and grabbed his hand, hoping he'd have faith in me; that he wasn't too upset.

"I will do what I have to to make sure nothing like that happens again. I swear. Please forgive me."

We stared at one another, seconds ticking by as the birds' morning song circled around us like a halo. Daryl kept mute, and one might think that maybe he'd fallen asleep on his feet had he not been looking at me so intently. He practically had me pinned to the spot; his gaze was so deep and unmoving.

"I forgive ya," he whispered in a gravelly, quiet voice. "And I believe you when ya say it won't happen again…because I ain't gonna let it… You're stayin' here from now on. The only time you'll leave this place is if they force us out or it's done, but not before."

"Daryl," I began.

"No, Everly!" His voice was sharp, its edge so keen I felt it cut through me. "I thought I could do this. That you'd be okay if you were with me, but I almost watched you die. It's my fault." His face broke then and his eyes began to well. "I've dug enough fuckin' graves, buried plenty of fuckin' bodies… Yours ain't gonna be the next."

His hand broke from mine and he turned deeper into the town, stomping off toward the house that he once shared with others before we'd been taken.

"I'm gonna shower," he called over his shoulder and abruptly left it at that.

I let him go. I understood what he was feeling and I felt tremendous shame for causing him such pain. I thought I'd let myself down, but I'd wound up doing much more and I wasn't sure how to fix it. I didn't want to stay behind to sit here and worry if he'd be the one to show back up or that I'd open my door to a monster instead. I also didn't want to form a bigger rift between Daryl and me by arguing against staying; I'd already disappointed him and he was clearly upset with me.

The toe of my boot kicked a rock, sending it bouncing down the concrete. I followed it, kicking it all the way to the house that I had once called home a long time ago. A house whose residents had been dying off one by one and now stood nearly empty. I wondered if Daryl and I would have our own home here one day; if this would be the one. Then I remembered that he'd left me on the sidewalk and I imagined a future where I'd be spending many nights alone. I imagined him doing the same, yet in both fantasies we were alone because of me.

Whether you're dead or just stupid, you'll end up losing him, a nasty voice in my head said, but it was only nasty because it was a hard truth to accept. Was I losing him? Surely he didn't love me any less for what happened, but maybe my recklessness was forcing him to consider losing me. And that possibility might be enough to ruin what we had.

So, how could I compromise? How could I stay in the action while not being a part of it? There were a lot of men and women who would be fighting by Daryl, but they weren't enough for me. I wanted to be there with him. He wasn't the only one in jeopardy of losing someone. I was too. I decided sleep might be the better option for now. A short time apart and rest would be enough of a breather for the two of us, and when we woke we could talk more; come up with a solution we both liked. All I knew was that he wasn't leaving me and I would do whatever it took to never hurt him again.

Jesus pulled the SUV up to Alexandria's gate and did a 180, turning the vehicle around so that it faced out should there be a need to leave quickly. Dwight did the same, parking on the opposite side of the road. The vehicles gave the town a bit of shelter as its gate was still open, but it wasn't much to rely on. The dead Saviors' trucks hadn't moved and Jesus had the thought to park them parallel to the gateway if it wouldn't close. It would have to do, but he wasn't too worried about any surprise visitors.

They piled around, a tangle of exhausted limbs and bruised souls. Their night had been a success to say the least, but Sasha's fate was heavy on their hearts and a pit was forming in their stomachs, much like the one that surrounded the front of their town with dead and moaning bodies. A broken plan didn't sit well, especially when it was one of war. The fact remained that any slight chance Negan got to slip through their fingers would be their loss and possibly lead to their deaths.

Dwight scrutinized the Alexandrians, gauging their tense faces. Tonight had meant a lot to them, and while they'd accomplished more than what could've happened, it still wasn't enough.

"You guys are back," Eric announced. He looked just as tired as they felt.

"We are," Michonne replied, not giving any information. "Where's Rick?"

Eric pointed over his shoulder. "He just started back inside. Is everything okay? How did it go?"

The group of them looked at one another and Michonne let out a sigh through her nose.

"I'll go find Rick." She left and Eric remained perplexed, worry starting to show through the fatigue.

"Everything is fine for now," Maggie said. "But something unexpected happened and now we've got to come up with a new plan."

She gave Dwight a sideways glare which he took gracefully. He looked away and inhaled deeply, biting his tongue so as to not start an argument. He felt for Sasha, he did, but she had made the choice to kamikaze into the Sanctuary. It was clearly what she had wanted and yet the Alexandrians demanded to suspend everything on the small chance that she might be alive. He didn't feel her life was worth losing all of theirs, but what choice did he have now? Patience was the hand he was dealing, or at least that was the bluff he was putting on. He'd give them a chance, but if they postponed too long, Dwight was moving in on his own. He just hoped the Kingdom and the rest of Hilltop would have his back; Somerset alone wouldn't be enough to fight with him.

"Could you gather everyone in the church?" Maggie asked Eric.

"Uh, yeah." He nodded. "Everyone who's still here or awake."

"We don't need everyone," Jesus started past into the town. "Just those of us who are on a need-to-know basis. We'll fill everyone else in later."

"Looks like Ezekiel and his crew left?" Dwight walked beside Eric and Maggie past the bent gate.

"Yeah, he took off after a while so as not to keep the others waiting. They went Savior hunting, or that's what he said he was doing. I'm sure he's back home now."

"Did he say when he'd be back?" Maggie questioned.

"Some time today if we don't go to him first."

"That may be what we do," she said as she started walking faster, creating distance between them. "I'll meet you guys in the church."

Eric slowed as he watched her go, confused. "Is…everything okay?"

Dwight looked around, matching Eric's ginger pace. The town was a mess, but much cleaner compared to what it was hours before. His men were inspecting the place, looking at familiar faces that were now pale and blue. Dwight had chosen to avoid that. He knew what dead bodies looked like, he didn't need to stare them in the face; especially ones he used to know.

"Yes and no. We got the horde to the Sanctuary just fine. I'm sure they're all knee deep in shit right now." He revealed to Eric, trying his hardest not to think of Sherry but failing miserably.

"And?" Eric pressed. "That's good. I know we've been up half the night, but I didn't expect everyone to be so solemn when they got back."

"Sasha didn't make it, and Eugene's still prisoner there if he's isn't dead by now, too."

"Oh," Eric replied and remained quiet the rest of the walk to the church.

When they got to the doors, Dwight allowed Eric ahead of him. He wanted to stay in the back, listen in on discussion first before he spoke up. He found a spot behind the last pew where he leaned against the wall, his right arm resting on the rifle strapped around his shoulder. He glanced back at the doorway, morning sunlight now breaking out through the trees, and saw his men walking in.

"Randy and Wade are on their way back." Trevor came up beside him, leaning against the wall as the rest of the guys filed in after him. "They said the Sanctuary is basically fucked. They've barricade themselves inside."

Dwight didn't show it, but his heart was pounding in his chest as anxious relief filled him. Not only because the walkers were doing their job – he knew that would be a given after Sasha's stunt – but that Sherry and the others were safe inside the Sanctuary, for now. The next hassle would be getting them out unharmed before or during their next attack.

"He also said that they've started letting some of the walkers inside."

Dwight looked over at Trevor sharply.

"They're letting the walkers inside?"

Trevor looked at him from the sides of his eyes and nodded with a told-you-so look on his face.

"It isn't going to take Negan long to bounce back. We should've hit them when we had the chance."

He wracked his brain for a possible explanation as to why they would be bringing the walkers indoors instead of keeping them out. What would be the point in that? They could be killing them off in small numbers and piling the bodies somewhere but there were so many of them. Whatever it was they were doing, it wasn't anything good, and Dwight should've known it wouldn't have taken Negan long to figure something out.

"Fuck."

Eugene watched nervously as a few men moved the barricades from a back door. The back of the Sanctuary wasn't as crowded as the front, so they had an easier time persuading in a couple of the dead and shutting the doors back on the rest. It couldn't be used for long as the commotion would draw more of them to that spot; however, there were plenty of entrances in this place to choose from. Eugene wasn't taking the chance of making it any easier for the hundreds left out there to have a shot at getting inside.

The Saviors covered the door with the barricades again, the unlucky souls who were not chosen scratching the door, begging to let in.

"Please," they seemed to say through their groans, "let us in."

The group of men waited, holding on to the struggling, growling bodies as they fought against their meal. They just wanted a taste, a quick bite or lick, and as Eugene stood there, silent and oblivious, the closer they got to one.

"We're waiting for you, dipshit," one man said, pushing the body in his hands further away as it snapped its teeth at him, and Eugene felt his face flush.

"Oh, right." He looked around, not quite sure where he should even lead them. "Uh…this way."

He figured back in the common area would be best. Everyone had gone to the upper floors, so the space was clear and large enough to experiment in. Those who weren't currently helping Eugene or patrolling the lower floors for break-ins were off finding metal and melting it. Negan had them fire up several of the furnaces in the Sanctuary and so far he had plenty to begin with.

"Uh, put them there." Eugene pointed to the middle of the large room, and the Saviors followed begrudgingly.

"If I get bit, I'm going after your fat ass first," one Savior muttered to him as he passed, the walker snarling in Eugene's face as it was whisked by.

He ignored the comment, not particularly feeling threatened by it because a walker will go for anything that moves, but he did feel uncomfortable telling people what to do. He hadn't expected to take on this role and he wasn't filling it quite well. He wasn't a natural leader by heart and considering he was basically a lamb in the lion's den, he felt totally out of his element.

Eugene sucked it up though, using his critical mind to get started with the process of testing his hypothesis. He wasn't sure how well the walkers' heads would hold up against the molten alloy, and sure enough the first one they poured it on had its head seared straight through. It crumpled to the floor, dead for good in an instant.

"What now, genius?" A young, good looking guy asked. His name was Theodore.

"I would say let the metal cool a bit before we pour it again." Eugene thought. "Also, that corpse was at least thirty days past its expiration date, so make sure the next ones you fetch are less decomposed, fresher."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Whatever you fucking say."

After a moment of letting the dissolved mixture sit, they sheeted the second walkers head. Its rotten flesh scorched and the odor was sickeningly pungent, but it didn't die like the first one. The metal began to cool quickly, encasing its head in a perfect orb as the walker continued to snarl and reach for whatever it could find. The metal had blinded it and covered its ears. The only senses the dead man had left were touch, taste, and smell.

"The strap," Eugene directed.

A woman, Arat, stepped forward with a disgusted look. She slipped the band around the walkers head as it was held back, careful not to burn her fingers. Attached to the band was a rod which dangled a small piece of bloody meat at the end. Once it was let go, Arat dodged swiping claws as the walker raged, but it stopped, sensing something different. It jerked its head this way and that, feeling the weight of the bobbing meat attached to its head. It threw its arms out, searching but unable to find what was quite literally right in front of its face. The animated corpse stumbled around, going in circles as it grabbed at the air. A few of the Saviors jumped back giggling as it got too close and at one point the whole room was enveloped in stifled laughter when the walker ran straight into a wall and fell on its back, its tongue waggling in the air for the food it sensed was there.

Eugene didn't join in the amusement. He was too engrossed with what he could do next. This design wasn't working at all. The walker had absolutely no direction and Negan would see that instantly. He was going to have to come up with something else, something more substantial. The tricky part was finding a way to make it look good to Negan while exposing a weakness in the contrivance for his friends.

He looked around the room, contemplating multiple solutions when his eyes landed on a pile of rusty chains. His brows hooded his eyes as his studied them, picturing in his head how to use them. Then the brilliance hit him. If he did this just the right way, surely Rick and the others would know how to turn the tables back on them.

"Remove the strap and subdue the body," Eugene interrupted the conservatively jeering crowd. "I've got a better idea."

Fat Joey unlocked the cell door, stepping aside as it swung inward revealing the crumpled woman inside. She lay like a rag doll, her body contorted in a way that would leave it aching once she moved - if she moved at all.

"She alive?" Negan asked Fat Joey.

"Well, seems to be," he answered. He wanted to say that it would be obvious if she wasn't, but Fat Joey never said things like that out loud; certainly never to his leader. Negan watched him patiently, and it took him a moment to understand that he wanted him to physical check the woman. "Oh! Sorry, sir."

Fat Joey rushed inside the cramped room and bent down to one knee with a grunt. He pushed the woman's shoulder back gently, looking at her pale and swollen face as a painful moan escaped her. He jerked back, unsure if it was a live, human noise or an I'm-dead-and-about-to-eat-you one. Licking his lips, he edged forward and placed two shaking fingers on her neck to feel a small, slow pulse. The Savior was relived and with a few more grunts of his own, he awkwardly got back to his feet and exited the room.

"She's still alive."

Negan gave him a grin, patting his shoulder. He stepped into the room and stopped by Sasha's side. He gazed down at her, examining all the blood and cuts that covered her body. She was starting to come to, her face scrunching up in pain as she began to tenderly roll from side to side. As consciousness began to flood her system, tears leaked from her eyes; a silent sign that she had really done a number on herself, and Negan could hardly find the compassion to feel sorry for her. At one point in the past he might have. Not today.

He started whistling as he bent down to a squat, raising his volume as Sasha kept her eyes shut. Eventually, she opened one watery, red eye, blinking at the pain from the light. She focused on the shapes in front of her, not entirely knowing where she was at until she saw a familiar face and the memories flooded her. Bob. Her brother. The van. Abraham. Hundreds of walkers. Lucille. Negan...

Her eye closed as she wept; her entire body a center for misery. She focused on every ache and pain and came to the conclusion that her left arm and leg were broken. Possibly a few ribs with a concussion to boot. How she was still alive, holed up in a cell inside the Sanctuary, she didn't know, but she was none too pleased about it.

"You know, I would call you a badass for what you did, but seeing as it was my front yard your fucking van led a creep fest into, I'm not fucking impressed." Negan began tapping the ground with Lucille by Sasha's head. "Not to mention, you made a nice fucking dent when you ran your van into the side of my home. That was some crazy shit, but I gotta say that you suck at killing yourself. Was that what you were trying to do?"

Lucille hit the ground again and again, the sound invading Sasha's pounding skull like a hammer.

"Or was that not part of the plan? You see, I'm confused. Does Rick typically send his people on suicide missions? He cares that fucking little?" Negan grinned as Sasha moaned incoherently. "I couldn't tell if that was a yes or not."

"It was me," the words struggled out of her mouth, but they were clear.

"You?" Lucille halted her rapping as Negan thought that through. "So, you wanted to drive head first into my home, bring a fuck ton of dead shits crawling after you with that god awful music playing on full fucking blast?" He chuckled and shook his head. "You woke up the whole goddamn neighborhood with that shit, and now a whole ass load of biters are stumbling around my lawn, knocking at my damn door. I don't like people at my fucking door; certainly not the dead ones."

Sasha coughed, the action tensing her body as intense pain coursed through her. She stifled a scream, trying to relax as her breathing became labored. She didn't feel right and she felt that she quite possibly might be dying.

"I know you're in a lot of pain," Negan sighed and rubbed his eyes. His lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to him. "Quite frankly, I'm glad you are. You fucked me over; you and your dumb fuck town full of whiney, pussy bitches. But that what you wanted, right? You assholes started this shit by killing my men. YOU picked a fight with me, and now you're trying to take my goddamn home. It isn't going to work!"

Negan voice pierced Sasha's ears, a ringing sound temporarily causing the right one to go deaf. She mumbled in exhaustion and agony as the ringing subsided, but he was still there, holding up Lucille to admire her glinting wires. He sighed once more.

"I want to know what's going to happen next," he said lowly, not looking at her. "I want to know what Rick has planned and who he has planned it with."

He looked down at her then, Lucille slipping down in his cradling palm. She stared back at him a moment, wondering why the walkers hadn't eaten the whole factory by now, but then she laughed. It was painful, yet she couldn't help it. Negan frowned as Sasha sputtered and gasped from both pain and amusement, his temper flaring.

"You think," she muttered over a thick tongue, "that I would tell you anything?" She laughed more, whooping as she cried in both discomfort and amusement. "Fuck you! I don't have that much longer. You were right when you said I suck at killing myself, but I'll get there eventually. It's just taking me longer than I anticipated."

"Answer me," Negan demanded, furious.

"You don't scare me anymore," Sasha replied, the laughter gone. "I ain't answering shit. The last and only thing I will say to you is that you'll get what ya asked for. It's gonna come at you hard and my only regret is that I won't be able to see your ugly fucking face when it hits you. I wish I could watch you die, but I'm gonna beat you to it." Her heart rate spiked as her fury boosted the last of her energy. She lifted her head up as she spoke, her words soaked in vitriol. "I'll be waitin' for you on the other side, though. Me, Abraham, and Glenn, and everyone else you've murdered, you piece of shit! We'll all be waiting for you!"

Negan was silent, his jaw working back and forth as he gazed down at the dying woman. She collapsed on the concrete floor, having expended all of her energy. He thought about ending her right then and there with Lucille, but that would be a mercy. Instead, he stood and left her in the dank cell to die alone and painfully.

"Lock her in there," he told Fat Joey.

The Savior looked down at the woman before following his leader's orders. Slowly, he closed the door and locked it. As soon as the key left the bolt, Negan snatched it right out of his hand.

"Mark the door so we know she's in there. It won't be too long until the bitch dies."

Negan stomped away as Fat Joey thought about what to do. He stared at the barren door briefly before turning to go down the corridor to a room with office supplies. In a desk drawer, he found a black sharpie and headed back. Again, he stared at the lightly colored door for a while, feeling guilty. He didn't want to leave the woman locked inside to die, but he no longer had the key. Plus, he didn't want to die himself for disobeying. This was the only choice he had.

With the cap off of the marker, he scribbled on the door quickly, wanting to be as far away from it as possible. When he was done he left and didn't look back, but he was sure the marked words would be visible in his dreams, haunting him every time he closed his eyes. Forever in his mind they would whisper, "Dead inside."

Edited by Nightperidot.

I'm super sorry it took me so long to post this. I can't believe I waited so long and I'll try not to let it happen again. The ending is too near for me to drag it out, but perhaps I'm avoiding it, lol. Anyway, I hope you all have been well and thanks for being patient. Maybe the wait was worth it...? :/