Notes: Yellowstone (2018) inspired.
Her silver eyes, whiter than the snows of the Himalayas, reflected a wild violence of madness and despair as high as the mountain peak of Kilimanjaro. Tears welled up in her tiled eyes, as if God had glazed the sea, molded the waves into two marbles, and carved them into Maggie's orbs. The man, Negan, who appeared to be a fugitive from the law and order, grabbed hold of her sun-dappled hair, pulling her along as she walked, boots hitting the gleaming floor with the force of metal, sending her crawling after him. The ground, dark green and damp, covered with moss, wetted all her black leather attire, and she felt icy goosebumps on her skin as she was being dragged along. He, looking at her, crouched on the floor, sighing, with an irritated expression on his face, curling his lips. Her left arm was draped over her leg and with his right he was massaging the green-brown lawn while he was still looking at her. She shed tears of pity and despair, looking at him. Her strands of frizzy hair a disheveled and she had reddish marks from the man's rough grip on her neck, nape and head. Her face was bruised and sore, bruises and blood oozed from her pearly eyes and thin lips. It was a miracle that she didn't pass out when she was knocked down. He roamed over her with his dark blue-green orbs, his gaze cold, fixed on her face. His greenish eyes reminded him of the wild, dense, impenetrable, dark and humid forests of a tropical forest. They were a mysterious shade of mossy green, not pleasant to look at. Like the forests of the tropics, she couldn't decipher it. To Maggie, this mad, savage, barbaric man was like a catacomb: ancient, hard, cold and dead. Maggie felt on the verge of death. The angel of death was prowling around her, as if he was preventing the woman's death, staying close to the scene in order to grab her sweet soul to the other side. Negan removed the dagger from her hip belt and stabbed her in the chest, close to her heart, making her moan in terror and pain in such a way that if he removed the dagger from her flesh, Maggie would pass out from the pain. A lot of pain. That pain is unforgettable. A pain that robs the soul of sanity and mutilates the hope and steals the human dignity of a injured, broken person. It is an internal death, a slow death, a death that precedes the flesh. Maggie closed her eyes. Carl, previously frozen in horror, said, "MAGGIE, NO!" He ran towards her, bringing his injured body towards them. Negan took a step back after stabbing her, moving away from the teenager. Judith, who was sitting on a rock, next to a tree, was crying, screaming and sobbing.Despite being a toddler, she sensed something had gone wrong in her surroundings . Negan laughed, cleaning his dagger with his fingertips as Carl yelled in agony, full ballistic: " WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU BASTARD! MAGGIE! MAGGIE!! Carl was holding her, squeezing her aunt's body, shaking her. Maggie's head fell backwards when he caught her body with his embrace. She was cold and hard as stone: "Maggie, oh my God. For God's sake, Maggie! Maggie! !" The screams between his sadness, despair and tears would not wake her from the kiss of death. He carried her , resting her head on his shoulder already crimson from the trails of blood that the bruised wound of her stab wound caused. He, whiter than a paper, fell into a shaky state, hurried home. The blonde six year old girl was right behind him, and both of them ran through the green and dark woods around their house, going home, in search of their father and mother. In search of a solution. In search of help and salvation. Negan decided to follow the Grimes, but rather slowly, flavoring the moment. This was just the beginning.