He can't stop thinking about the girl.

He's sat with her in silence on three separate occasions, and nothing has sparked her interest in his presence. At least, nothing that he's been able to notice. Being alone with him doesn't upset her - she doesn't look more or less afraid when he steps into the room - but she does make eye contact. He doesn't think she's done that with any of the other men, so she must know by now that he's not like them.

Dwight doesn't like that his thoughts are being crowded by this new damsel in distress. It's getting in the way of his focus. He can't pretend that everything is fine when he remembers how untrue that is for her. He promised Honey that they would keep their heads down. Float under the radar and not draw attention to themselves. In order to put their colossal fuck up behind them, they have to move forward and forget. This is their life now. This is their world, no matter how ugly it may seem.

But he can't stop thinking about the girl.

The men that found her have chosen to keep their prize a secret, knowing that Negan's awareness would cost them their daily pleasures. Dwight could end it. He could go to Negan right now and spill the beans. It would mean serious punishment for those involved, but what would happen to the girl? Negan would more than likely keep her for himself, but would that be any better than the hell she's living now? Would it not be better to narrow her devils down to one? Dwight can't be sure, but it seems a waste not to try.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Honey is furious. Dwight knew she would be, but it didn't feel right to not at least run the idea past her first. She's come to collect his dirty clothes from that week and is stuffing them into a basket to take to the wash room. She's been spending a lot of time there, knowing it's a simple job and easy to blend in. He knows it's smart, and he enjoys the way she smells after she's spent a long day amongst the suds. She smells fresh, with the tiniest hint of lemon.

The way she's forcing his shirts and pants into the basket makes her anger that much more obvious, so he tries to reason with her. "I know it's none of our business - "

"That's right," she cuts him off. "It's not. We shouldn't be getting involved."

"But this is different," he begs. "What you and the others have to do is nothing compared to what that poor girl has to suffer through every day."

Honey turns on the spot and burrows her eyes into him. They're dark and out for blood. "As if you know," she says. She drops the basket purposefully, and one of Dwight's shirts falls out onto the floor. "I've suffered plenty. And everyone gets their fair share."

"Sherry, I know. I'm sorry."

He reaches for her, but she recoils. "Don't call me that."

He didn't mean to, but it slipped. It's been so long, and sometimes he forgets.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "Honey, I'm sorry."

She absentmindedly fumbles with the ring on her left finger. It's the one he gave her for Valentine's Day three years ago. That was before. He's not sure how much time has passed since, but she still wears it every day. He's pretty sure she never takes it off.

"Are you doing this for her, or for your conscience?" she asks.

Dwight shrugs honestly. "I don't know. It just feels like the right thing to do."

Honey places a hand gently to his face and smiles. "Then do it. Just be careful."

She quickly retracts her hand because that small touch is all they can share. They've learned how close they can get to the line Negan has drawn without crossing it, and it's become easier as time passes to accept it. Dwight misses her. He misses being able to hold his wife in his arms. He misses being able to make love to her and laugh with her, and he even misses being there when she cries. But he's thankful for the fragmented encounters they do share, despite how scarce they've become, because no matter what it's something.

Sometimes, on days like today, it's everything.

Negan wasn't angry. Surprisingly, he was very calm.

It was like watching a shark casually swim by a bloody corpse without a second thought. It wasn't natural, and it placed Dwight on pins and needles waiting for the second he'd suddenly turn on everyone and explode.

Negan goes to retrieve the girl without a word. The men that had been keeping her a secret cling to the walls as their leader passes, shrinking into themselves with fear and extreme regret. But Negan says nothing. He takes the girl by the hand and escorts her down the hall without so much as a glance to anyone. Except for Dwight.

Dwight is waiting at the end of the corridor, as he'd been instructed to do, and when Negan approaches, he hands off the girl.

"Take her to my room," he says. "I'll be up in a moment."

Dwight does as he's told. He doesn't look back over his shoulder to witness what he expects will happen next, but the girl does, and the look on her face is enough confirmation that he's right.

Negan summons Dwight to the mess hall.

It's late, and dinner ended several hours ago, so the room is vacant save for Negan's right-hand man, Simon. Dwight approaches the man carefully, making sure to appear confident and unafraid of the choice he's made. Simon gives him a smug grin, as if he sees right through the display. They both know that no matter how brave Dwight's actions may have been, he'll be punished just the same as the others - if not more. Dwight prepared for this, and knowing the girl will be under Negan's protection makes it a bit easier to swallow.

"Sit down, Dwight," a voice instructs. It's Negan, and he's come in through the door just behind them, so Dwight is startled. But he recovers quickly, pulling out a chair from one of the circular tables and lowering himself into the seat.

"I know you must think highly of yourself because of what you did today," Negan begins, taking tantalizingly intimidating steps toward him. "But I need you to understand why you aren't coming out of this squeaky clean."

He places a hand on Dwight's shoulder then drops to a crouch and smiles up at him with sugar-coated disdain. Dwight holds his posture and swallows.

"Those mother fuckers were greedy, and they were naive. You, on the other hand, were just stupid." Negan inhales a leveling breath, then continues. "I know you understand how things work around here - probably better than most of the other shitheads - so that's why I'm choosing to be understanding about this. You saw that my men were betraying my orders under my own roof, so you turned them in. And I'm glad you did. But, Dwight… you made a mistake by not coming to me first."

Dwight opens his mouth to speak, but Negan holds up a hand to silence him.

"I saw the carving you gave that girl," Negan said. "You've known she was there for a while, but you kept that to yourself. You lied, just like the others." He drops his head dramatically. "Now, whether or not you had your share of her is a totally different story, and we're not gonna worry about that. I'd rather move past this, so I can know that you've properly learned your lesson. I let the attempted runaway go as a misdemeanor - you weren't fully acclimated yet, and you got skittish. I get it. So, technically this is your first strike." Negan lifts his eyes and focuses them directly on Dwight's. "And I don't give many."

Dwight nods. "Yes sir."

"Good man." Negan pats him confidently on the arm and gets to his feet. "Simon, let's get this over with, shall we? I've got a new guest to attend to."

Dwight shifts his eyes to Simon who now has a hot iron clutched in one hand. He didn't notice it before, but it must have been heating up while Negan was talking, giving the household object enough time to turn into a weapon. Dwight fidgets in his chair. His fingers clutch the seat beneath him and hold on for dear life. There's no way to prepare for this kind of torture, even though he's seen it done before. He watched another man named Mark get burned for sleeping with one of Negan's girls. Her name was Amber, and a few days later she was found at the bottom of the stairs, head cracked open and eyes staring boldly at the ceiling.

Negan doesn't like to share his wives. And his wives know better.

As the hot metal scorches the skin on Dwight's cheek, he bites his bottom lip to hold back the scream he desperately wants to release. He thinks of Honey and of the girl. He reminds himself that as long as he's receiving the punishment, they'll be safe. At least for the time being.

He bites down until he draws blood, then after inhaling the smell of his own flesh melting, he eventually blacks out.