Chapter 108- Sing Me A Song: My Only Sunshine

-Carl-

I'm not the only one that wants to find Negan.

I manage to sneak onto one of the last Savior trucks to leave while two of them argue over who has to drive back.

After about an hour on the road, crouched behind a crate labelled 'rugs' and a basket of strawberries, I hear a racket by the plastic flaps covering the truck's open rear door. I poke my head out. Jesus is standing with his back to me, pouring a bottle of scotch onto the road.

"Hey," I say softly, aware that only a wall divides us from the two Saviors up front.

He turns to face me, not at all surprised. In fact, he smirks, looking more confused than anything.

The drive is too long and uncomfortably bumpy.

Jesus and I don't say much to each other. I tell him that I'm here to kill Negan. He tells me that Sasha asked him to find out where Negan lives so she can kill him.

Jesus catches me staring at a box of guns in the corner for too long and asks me something.

"You're not planning on coming back from this, are you?"

I raise my eye to meet his. I shake my head slowly.

"Because Negan killed your friends?"

I feel a pang of guilt in my gut — because, no, Enid was right. I don't think it's for them. Jesus seems to read that out of me like I'm a predictable book sitting on an all too avoidable library shelf.

"You think killing him will make you feel better?"

"Yes," I say. "But... that's not why I'm doing it."

Jesus nods, not prying on the subject. I'm thankful for that.

The truck suddenly grinds to a halt. We dive behind some boxes at the back and hide. I hear doors open and close. A moment later, the two Saviors from the cab are back here with us, rooting around in boxes near the door.

We can't be at their base yet, surely.

One of them mentions a herd on the road.

And then we're waiting. It's uncomfortable behind the boxes, but we don't dare move. When it gets dark outside, one of the two complains about needing to piss, and the other follows him out to get some air. Neither comes back. It starts to rain. We assume they decided to sleep in the front. The next time we hear from them, the morning has arrived, the rain has stopped, and they're complaining about the horde still being on the road ahead.

The Saviors sit on the doorstep with their backs to us, eating their breakfast. I almost swallow my tongue when one of them nearly spots me while grabbing a cucumber from by my head to snack on.

They talk about someone called fat Joey, something about a 'herdway' and guerilla warfare. And when the horde finally thins out, they get back in the truck and start us moving again.

Jesus cuts a hole in the bottom of the box holding all those bottles of scotch. I ask him why, but he just chuckles to himself.

The road gets much rougher at some point.

I ask him something I've been dreading asking.

"Did our people make it to the Hilltop?"

He looks at me, his eyes getting all squinty as he smiles.

"Maggie. Sasha. Mikey," he recites.

I make a little gasping sound.

He goes on to tell me that the baby is okay. Says the three of them have a home at Hilltop for as long as they need it.

Then out of nowhere, I tell him that my boyfriend is dead. I don't know why I tell him. Maybe the conversation got too happy for my last ride.

"I'm sorry." Jesus offers an empathetic smile. Then he asks, "Were you together long? Is that why you're not planning on coming back?"

I shake my head, not finding the question fair. "We never got to be together. Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"We spent a long time hiding it. Then we sort of broke up. Then he left. I never told my dad how I felt about him. He knew, but..." I trail, staring at the box of guns again.

"Why does that mean you weren't together?"

I sigh. "I just mean that we never got to do it the normal way. I never brought him home and got to introduce him to my dad... I mean, my dad already knew him... but I never got to introduce him as the person he was to me."

"How did he die?" Jesus asks then.

"I don't know," I say, clearing my throat, keeping my eye dry by keeping it on the box. "He left."

Jesus gives me a look, and I roll my eye at him.

"I can't think about that," I say. "Gone and dead have to be the same now."

I can't hear that now. I can't consider it. I need to know that he's gone. That's how I get this done.

Jesus picks up a bottle of washing liquid, squirting it out the back of the truck and onto the road. I can see that we've come into some kind of town, buildings appearing on either side of the road instead of trees now.

"What are you..?"

"Making a trail," he tells me. "So we can go back."

"I told you that I'm not going back."

"You can change your mind," he tells me. "I think we're close. We should bail out, follow the rest of the way, see what we can see. Then you can decide."

"I can't," I tell him.

"You can."

"No... I mean..." I pause. "What if I mess up the jump."

"It isn't usually the fall that gets us. It's trying to fight it," he says, dropping the washing liquid when it runs out. "Run with it or roll with it. The truck's going slow enough, so we'll be in the blind spot. We can race behind one of the abandoned cars out there."

"If— if I screw up and we get caught," I stutter.

"It'll be fine! We gotta go now."

"Okay," I nod. "Show me first."

He hangs out the back of the truck, dropping to the road and rolling before he stops, a cloud of dust kicking up around him. He races behind a dumpster.

I hold my hand up and wave goodbye to him. He looks angry, but the truck's taken me too far to tell now.

A few minutes go by. So do disgusting man-made effigies. Walkers are secured against fences and lamposts, their torsos cut into, and their limbs detached only to be stitched back on in various places. I know we must be getting close, recognising the handy work from the roadblocks the Saviors used on us.

I pick up a rifle, load a magazine, and switch off the safety. Getting back behind the crates, I sit and wait, gun up and pointed at the sliding door.

The truck's breaks squeak. I can hear people outside.

"Okay, boys..." Negan's voice speaks outside. "Let's get this haul unloaded and inside. I want to get back in there and unload a little myself."

"Negan, need to talk to you about redirect," one of the Saviors says.

"What about the redirect?"

"It got screwed up. We're on it now... but it's a mess out there."

"And whose job was that?" Negan growls.

For a second, I think I can see him through the flaps. I aim my gun, but a Savior climbs in. I duck back down out of sight.

"Aw, damn," he complains, stepping on a tomato that Jesus was eating. "I thought they packed this up tight."

"No worries," another laughs. "Plenty more where this came from, right?"

The Savior grabs the box of scotch, cussing and yelling when all the bottles tumble out the slit that Jesus cut, smashing on the floor and flooding the truck with the foul smell.

He sees me.

"What the hell?"

I open fire, and his chest tears apart, blood splattering across the truck wall. I step over his twitching corpse as two more Saviors scramble out of the truck to escape. I can see walkers chained to a fence. A small guardhouse, too.

The sun hits my eye, blinding me for a second. It's a factory, grey and looming over me as Saviors swarm the courtyard we've parked in. I swing my gun and try to look threatening, screaming at them all.

"Stay back!" I yell. "Drop your weapons."

I'm surprised when they do as I say. I don't let that show.

"I only want Negan," I tell them, switching who I point my gun at every few seconds. "No one else has to die!"

I hear that fucking whistle. Negan saunter into my field of view, keeping behind his men, weaving in-between them and grinning.

"God fucking damn, you are adorable," he laughs, stopping behind one of his men, putting a hand on the back of the guy's neck, keeping him between us. "I gotta ask you a question... and be honest. Did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? You totally did, right?"

I tighten my grip, glaring down at him. Sweat races down my face.

"Kid..." Negan shines his fangs. "I ain't gonna lie... you scare the shit outa me."

A Savior sprints at me. I unload bullets into his face, grimacing as it explodes. Dwight leaps at me from my blind side, tackling me to the floor, pinning me down with a knee across my waist and his hands on my chest. He grabs the gun, standing over me and pointing it in my face.

"Kid..." he warns me as I struggle.

"Dwighty-boy," Negan barks. "Back off."

Dwight does, taking my knife from my belt.

Negan towers over me with that same grin. Stretching out a gloved hand. "Is that any way to treat our new guest? C'mon, kid. I will show you around."

Disarmed, all I can do is glare at him, refusing to give him the fear he wants.

Negan finds it funny. "You know, you do the same fuckin' stink-eye as your dad, except it's only half as good 'cause... well, you know, you're missing an eye."

I look away, realising how screwed I am with each Savior that points their gun my way.

"Really?" Negan tilts his head. "You're really not gonna take my hand? 'Cause you're lucky you still even have a hand. Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it." Negan points at the fence.

I see him. He's wearing the same rags he did at the pick-up in Alexandria. He's holding a metal pipe and dodging walkers chained to the fence like some sick game.

"How's the fence life suiting ya, Daryl?" Negan asks, leaning back and twisting on the spot to watch him. "Hot enough for you? Yeah... it'd be tough with one arm."

Negan holds out his hand again. I see the threat, and I know he means it. I take the man's hand, letting him haul me to my feet.

Negan snorts. "Smart kid. Now come with me."

I pick up my hat, slapping out the dust against my knee.

"Dwighty-boy." Negan points at him. "Why don't you grab dear old Daryl, take him to the kitchen, do a little grub prep."

Dwight nods.

"New plan, boys," Negan roars at the Saviors still surrounding us. "Let's burn the dead, unload the truck later. Damn, I am not gonna have time to screw any of my wives today!" Then he casts a grin toward Dwight. "I mean, maybe one."

Dwight stares back, emotionless before he drags Daryl inside the factory these people must call home. All the other Saviors start to disperse.

"C'mon," Negan bumps his elbow with mine, starting his way up to some yellow-railed steps that lead inside.

"What are you going to do to me?" I ask, my voice breaking a little.

Negan stops, swivels on his feet, and frowns down at me. "Number one," he says very low, his forehead filling with lines, "do not shatter my image of you. You're a badass. You're not scared of shit. Don't you goddamn dare be scared of me. It's a disappointment." He lets his face lighten up a little. "Number two... do you really want me to ruin the surprise?"

I don't answer him.

"Fuck you, kid," he grins. "Seriously. Fuck you."

Then he takes me by my shoulder and leads me inside.

The factory is enormous and smells like dust and bleeding metal. Grated steps lead down to a ground floor filled with faces, people ducking out of tents and pulling away from trade stalls to take a knee when Negan steps up and leans against the yellow railings, looking down at them with a grin so wide I think his face might split.

"Check this out," he whispers to me.

I watch as a few stragglers rush to kneel with the rest.

"The Saviors have gone out into the world and fought the dead and come back with some really good stuff," Negan broadcasts to the crowd bowed before him, his voice deep and gravely. "Some of that stuff can be yours if you work hard and play by the rules." He shoots me a wink. "Today, everybody gets fresh vegetables at dinner. No points needed!"

Everyone starts applauding, and Negan spins his back to them, leaning against the railings and smiling at me.

"You see that? Respect," he chuckles. "Cool, huh?" He leans in close and whispers in my ear. "They still on their knees?"

I make a small and involuntary nod, but Negan doesn't notice, pushing off the handrails with his hips and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"As you were!"

I'm led down hallway after hallway. Every single one of them is infested with grey peeling paint and the smell of rusted steel. Doors run up and down each side of every hallway, some closed with signs warning of what horrible thing will happen if you disturb the person inside. Other doors are left open, showing small rooms with beds built atop wooden pallets and small stoves barely big enough to fit a kettle.

But as we go higher, we eventually reach a floor of the building where all those grim features disappear. Replaced by dark-painted walls and pristine oak doors.

Negan takes us into a huge room. There's a bar in the far corner by giant windows looking out onto the courtyard I arrived in. Several women sit around the room in short black lace dresses, their faces made up and their hair styled neatly.

I remember what Negan said about wives.

"Ladies," Negan greets the room, taking off his red scarf and tossing it to one of the women sitting on a sofa. "Don't mind the kid."

One of the girls goes to sit at the bar. All the others look like they're trying not to be noticed. One of them, a blonde girl, is crying quietly over something I don't think has to do with Negan walking in since her eyes are already red and puffy.

Negan notices me looking.

"I know," he whispers in my ear again. "Every woman where you're from dresses like they do the books at an auto shop." He nods to his wives. "You're gonna want to look at their titties."

I stare at the floor, face hot.

"It's cool," Negan insists. "I won't mind. They won't mind. Knock yourself out."

I keep my eye down.

Negan shrugs, laughing at me a little. He looks at a brunette lady who is comforting the crying blonde.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, dear wife?" Negan asks.

I glance up to see the brunette grimacing at him like none of the others seem to dare do.

Negan slaps my back. "Make yourself comfortable, kid."

The two head to the bar, Negan pouring her a drink from of a crystal bottle.

I stay still, making awkward eye contact with a red-headed woman. She looks unamused with me.

I catch Negan asking about someone named Amber, who I realise must be the crying girl, because he glances at her.

"What we talk about when you're not here is none of your business," the brunette hisses at him.

The two go on, and I only catch a few words about the rules and someone skipping out on their job to spend time with Amber.

"I ever hit one of you?" I hear Negan ask the brunette, his gloved fingers caressing her chin as he sips on a beer.

"No. But I know you. There's worse."

Negan whispers something before laughing at her. He strolls over to me, taking my wrist and putting his beer in my hand. Then he goes to sit in front of Amber. She keeps her head low. Her long blonde hair reminds me of Beth.

"Amber, baby," he coos, sucking on his teeth. "You know I don't want anyone here that doesn't want to be here, right?"

She nods, her whole body shaking.

Negan grins. "So if you want to leave and go back to Mark... you can." His smile slips into a sneer. "But what can't you do?"

"Cheat on you."

"That is exactly right!" he hisses through his teeth, inches from her face. "You. Can't. Mother-fucking... cheat on me."

She finally looks up at him.

"There are plenty of other gals that would love to take your place, and there are a few job openings I can think of. You want to go back to Mark and your mom? Hell, I'll put you all on the same fucking job."

Her eyes go wide like she knows what he's talking about now. "No," she gasps. "I'll stay. I'm— I'm sorry..."

He takes her chin like he did with the brunette. "You know what that means, right?"

She sniffles, silent tears streaming down her face.

Negan hardens his expression. "You. Know. What. That. Means. Right?"

"Yes— yes. I love you, N— Negan."

"Oh, of course you do, darlin'," he arches his eyebrows. "I don't know why you're crying. It's all gonna work out aces for you."

I want to throw the bottle at his head. I think about how Davey spoke to Enid the same way in Alexandria. How that Claimer pushed my face into the dirt. I want to fight back. Negan tells these women they have a choice like he's different from the Claimers. He pretends he gives them a choice. But they're in the dirt, just like I was.

"Sherry, will you get Carson for me?" Negan calls back to the brunette by the bar as he walks over to me.

"Yeah."

He catches her wrist as she passes by us.

"See that?" he grins. "I wasn't hard on her, even though I am... very hard in general."

"You're an asshole," Sherry says.

"I know," he says, leaning his hips into her. "But the messed up thing is, you like me anyway. You know the truth, just like me."

He kisses her, making Dwight and Daryl wait until he's done when they walk into the room.

Dwight stares at them, his hand on the back of Daryl's neck.

Daryl stares at me. Holding a tray of olives and cheeses. He gives me that glare, asking me in his eyes what the hell I'm doing here.

I go back to watching the floor.

Negan and Sherry part from making out. Sherry and Dwight briefly glance at each other. Negan seems to find the exchange funny, then he lets go of Sherry and steps up to Daryl, spiking an olive with one of the cocktail sticks on the tray and plucking it off between his teeth.

"Carl," Negan says as he chews, pointing the stick at me, "will you grab this tray for me?"

I put the beer down and do as I'm told.

"Why do you got him here?" Daryl growls.

"Whoa!" Negan springs back on his heels. "What we talk about when you're not here..." he glances back to Sherry and grins wide, "... is none of your business. Do not make me put this fuckin' toothpick through the only eye he has."

Daryl dips his head to avoid eye contact with Negan, looking just as broken as he did back at Alexandria.

"You go with Dwight. He'll get you a mop," Negan tells Daryl. "Dwighty boy... fire up the furnace. I'll be down in a few." Dwight nods, and Negan stares at the burnt side of his face. "Time for a little Déjà vu."

Negan pops the toothpick in Dwight's breast pocket, grinning at the pair before heading for the door. "Come on, kid. Time I show you my badass room."

Negan's room surprises me. It's painted a dark grey to match the theme of this place, but it has a sharp style that seems unique. Animal heads are mounted on every wall, with dark wooden cabinets below holding decorative vases and adorned lamps. An ebony leather sofa faces two colourful armchairs with a glass coffee table between them. Three windows behind the seating area are shaded by draping black curtains and obscured by house plants. The bed is giant, with silk sheets and at least six pillows, all contained between four wooden posts.

Negan closes the door and beams at me. I know why. I remember Rhys told me about how powerful Vikings would take multiple wives. They'd tear them from everywhere they went and keep them as their own. Negan wants me to be impressed with what he's shown me.

"Are all those women actually your—"

"Wives?" Negan nods, satisfaction on his face when I ask. "Yeah. Always wanted to screw a whole bunch of different women. I mean... why settle for just one? Why not make life better? Speaking of..." He points to one of the armchairs. "Sit."

I do, putting the tray down on the coffee table.

"Why are you so interested in my wives now that they're not in the room?" Negan grins at me, sitting on the sofa across the table.

I roll my eye, try not to let him get under my skin.

"I mean... c'mon. Frankie was giving you that look! I know when she does that to me I get all tingly inside."

The problem is, Negan's been under my skin. He's been living there for weeks. I feel disgusting. Like he's always there.

"You saw that look and you just stiffened up like a damn statue. I mean... Frankie has that effect on me, but in a different way."

"Fuck you." I grit my teeth. I don't feel very scary sitting across the table from the wolf.

"I'm just busting your balls, kid," Negan chuckles, holding his hands up in earnest. "Come on, I mean really, it's got to be a girl, right? Some girl back at that fancy suburb of yours?"

I stay silent, staring at the olives.

"Maybe that one Davey messed with?"

"Not her."

Negan claps in excitement. "That means there is someone else!"

I stare at him.

"You killed two of my men, Carl," Negan hums, his fuse dwindling. "Throw me a ball here, kid."

"Rhys," I say quietly.

Negan's eyebrows hit the ceiling, the corners of his mouth curling up until he's a Cheshire cat. "No way! You're telling me that you're a friend of Dorothy?"

"What?"

"A friend of Dorothy? Gay... you know..."

I can feel myself getting warm. I want to jump out the window and take my chances with the walkers.

"Wait..." Negan looks like his brain is working harder than it ever has. "Please tell me it wasn't that pussy at career day. The one slobberin' and whinging like I was gonna kill all of y'all. I almost bashed his little brains in just for how annoyin' he was."

"It's not him," I growl.

"Well, now I gotta take your ass home! I wanna meet this Rhys."

"You can't," I tell him.

"I think you'll find I can do whatever the hell I—"

"He's dead."

Negan goes quiet. The carpet under my feet sucks me up and drowns me in bootprints in dust bunnies. It's not the first time I've said it out loud. But I think it's the first time I've admitted it. The first time that I've really believed it.

"Shit, kid." Negan swallows. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He almost sounds sincere.

"Don't worry... we got plenty of kids your age here. You can pick anyone you want, as long as he says yes."

And Negan's back.

I ignore him.

"You know," he says, leaning forward, the leather of his jacket and sofa groaning. "I want to get to know you a little better, Carl."

"Why?" I grimace.

"Work it out," he tells me. "You're smart. In fact, I'm gonna tell you just how smart you are, in case you don't already know. See, I'd expect a kid your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except cryin' about missing the prom. But you! You go on a mission. You find me. You kill two of my men. And you're smart enough to know that I'm not gonna let this shit slide."

I force myself to keep eye contact now, daring him on the outside to try and scare me. Terrified about what he might do on the inside.

He laughs at me.

"Ah, I can't— I can't do it!" he smirks. "It's like talking to a birthday present. You gotta take that crap off your face. I wanna see what Grandma got me!"

"No."

"TWO MEN!"

He's suddenly booming, a storm of knives and bats wrapped in wire flying from him as he switches from animated to brutal. Fires in his sockets that could burn right through me and into the seat.

It takes everything I have not to move. I turn to steel in the chair, not letting anything react.

"Two, men. Punishment," he says again, the fire dimming to an ember, hot coals cooling to black grit. A grit that stays in the back of his throat as he speaks. "Do you really want to piss me off?"

I slowly reach up and take off my hat. I unwrap my face.

Negan is clapping and giggling at me.

"Almost there!"

He grins from ear to ear.

"Almost there."

I stay silent as the bandage falls to the table.

"Get that hair out of your face," he tells me. "Let me see."

I pull my fringe away with my hand.

"Christ!" Negan barks, staring at it. "That is disgusting! No wonder you cover that up. I'm hoping to god above that you lost your boyfriend before that shit happened! Have you seen it?"

I'm trying to stay stone and steel, but I feel myself crumble and melt.

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror? That is gross as shit. I can see your damn socket. I wanna touch it. Oh, come on, can I touch it?"

I start to cry.

Negan stops.

"Damn. Holy hell, kid. Look... I just— it's easy to forget that you're... just a kid. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. I— I was just screwing around."

"Just forget it," I sniff, leaning into my knees.

There's a knock at the door.

"Come in."

A big guy opens the door. He looks nervous, his shoulders hunched as he carries a baseball bat into the room. I spot dad's colt python tucked into his belt.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but, uh... you left Lucille out by the truck."

"Seriously? I never do that. I guess a kid firing a machine gun is a little bit of a distraction."

The guy's breathing heavily and nodding in agreement.

"All jokes aside..." Negan looks at me, "you look rad as hell. I wouldn't cover that shit up. It may not be a hit with ladies— and hell, I guess you don't need it to be —but I swear to you, no one is gonna fuck with you looking like that. No, sir."

My teeth grate as I sit here and take everything he says.

"Fat Joseph!" Negan looks up to the guy still standing in the doorway with Lucille. "Did you carry her all the way up here for me?"

"Yes, sir."

Negan beckons him forwards with two fingers, taking Lucille out of his hands. He twirls the bat around, running his fingers along its surface.

"Were you gentle?" Negan asks. "Were you kind?"

Joseph stutters.

Negan frowns. "Did you treat her like a lady?"

"Erm, yes. Yes, sir."

"Did you pet her little pussy like a lady?"

Joseph winces.

Negan laughs at him. "I'm screwin' around, man. A baseball bat doesn't have a pussy!"

Joseph starts laughing, too.

"Get the hell out," Negan barks. Joseph does, not missing a beat.

I watch him go, my eyes on the gun.

"You see?" Negan gets my attention. "That's what I'm talking about. Men breaking each other's balls. This is the shit your dad's supposed to be teaching you."

I don't get it. Negan notices, pointing Lucille at me. I flinch.

"What do you like to do for fun?" he asks me. "You like music?"

I think about how I liked Rhys' music. He used to sing. Before we got to Alexandria — before we lost Tyreese and a little bit of his light burnt out forever, he used to sing.

The smallest of smiles twitches at the corner of my mouth.

"I want you to sing me a song," Negan tells me.

"What?"

"Yeah. You mowed down two of my men with a fucking machine gun. I want something in return for that." Those coals and ashes are back in his voice. "Sing me a song."

"I can't think of any," I tell him. It's true. Rhys has sung me so many songs, but I never heard the lyrics. I heard him. I heard that way his voice used to crack or waver when he got nervous someone else might hear it. He would show me himself through borrowed words and lifted notes.

"Bullshit!" Negan yells. "What'd your mom used to sing you? What'd your dad play in the car?" Negan gets up and puts Lucille so close to my face that I can smell the death and wood polish she reeks of. "Start singing."

"Okay. Okay."

I'm so terrified and broken that I do.

"You are my sunshine..."

I pick the song that Mom used to sing to me.

"Go on." Negan nods, stepping into an open space in the room.

"My only sunshine,"

I choose the song that Rhys taught me how to play the same night I decided that I liked him.

"You make me happy when skies are grey."

Negan starts to swing his bat at the air, with the power he used to crack open Glenn and Abraham.

I flinch again, blinking away tears.

"Do not let me distract you, young man," Negan tells me, leaning back on his dirty boots before swinging again.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. So please don't take my sunshine away."

And like that, it's all gone dark. Negan forces his way from under my skin. Seeping into my memories, poisoning those moments with his inky coals and heavy grits.

I'm trembling, and tears are streaming down one side of my face.

"That's pretty good," Negan tells me, sitting back down and holding out the bat. "Lucille loves being sung to. It's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. Weird, huh?"

I nod this time. Giving Negan what he wants, finally. Some validation that he's in charge.

"Did your mother sing that to you?" he asks. "Where is she now?"

I shake my head and sniff.

"Damn," Negan murmurs, looking away. "Dead, huh? Did you see it happen?"

"I shot her..." I tell him, sniffling. I tell him because what else can I do? What choice do I have? "before it could..."

Negan grins down at me. "Damn, no wonder you're a little serial killer in the making. I'm guessing you did the same thing to that late boyfriend of yours... Ryan, or Robert, or whatever his name was."

I stare up at him, eye wide and wet.

He leans in, still grinning. "That was an example of breaking balls, by the way."

I don't answer back.

Negan gets up. "Come on, kid, get up. It should be ready."

"What should be ready?" I ask.

"The iron."

We head back through the factory until the walls are rotted and cold again. People take to their knees as we pass them.

We come out onto a catwalk high above that first giant room. It's freezing in here, the windows frosted and cracked. The rain from last night drips off the window sills. People are crowded around a roaring furnace on the ground floor. But I don't think it's to stay warm because there's a man tied to a chair in front of the flames. I see Daryl mopping the floors. Dwight's by the fire with heavy-duty gloves on his hands. Something is glowing in the fire.

Negan clanks Lucille off the railings as we walk down the catwalk. Everyone gets to their knees, looking up at us. Even Daryl sinks to the floor.

Negan passes me the bat. "Hold that for me."

I do.

He stares down at the hundreds of Saviors.

"You know the deal," he calls out, his voice bouncing through the factory. "What's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch. I don't wanna do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules at let it slide. But I can't!"

I see Negan's wives in the front row. Amber looks horrified as she stares at the man tied to the chair.

"Why?" Negan continues, making his way down a flight of spiralled steps. I follow.

"The rules keep us alive," everyone says in unison.

"That. Is. Right." Negan stops halfway down the steps to shoot me a smirk.

I'm staring at the fire, realising that the guy on the chair must be Mark. He must be the man that Amber cheated on Negan with.

I think I know now how Dwight got his burnt face.

The way he and Sherry looked at each other.

The way Negan tormented them.

"We survive," Negan tells them all. "We provide security to others. We bring civilisation back to this world. We are the Saviors. But we can't do that without rules. Rules are what make it all work. I know it's not easy, but there's always work. There is always a cost. Here, if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner!"

He chuckles to himself.

"Then it is the iron for you."

Negan makes me follow him down to the centre of the crowd. He pulls on a glove. Dwight pulls the glow from the flames, an iron burning florescent red. Negan takes it.

Amber screams. So does Mark. The iron kisses his cheek, and the smell of burning flesh fills my nose as his face sizzles and smokes. Sherry holds Amber back as Mark passes out. Negan pulls the iron away slowly, boiled skin clinging to it like melted cheese before snapping away from his face. His cheek bubbles and makes squelching sounds against the cool air. His pants go dark.

"Ah, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Negan stomps his foot and laughs, waving the iron around. "Jesus... he pissed himself."

Negan hands the iron back to Dwight, who takes it on a long steel pole, keeping as much distance from it as possible.

"Clean that up," I hear Negan whisper in Daryl's ear.

Daryl looks at me, not trying to get anything across before he starts to mop up the puddle around Mark's feet.

"Doc, I'm all done, do your thing." The doctor checks on Mark as Negan gestures to him and speaks to the crowd that hasn't made a sound besides Amber's screams. "Well, the pussy passed out. But it's settled— we're square. Everything is cool. Let Mark's face be a daily reminder to him and to everyone else that the rules matter. I hope that we all learned something today because I don't ever want to have to do that shit again."

Then he's standing right beside me, whispering in my ear through grinning teeth.

"Some crazy shit, huh? You probably think I'm a lunatic. Come on, let's go figure out what to do with you."

Back in Negan's room, he makes me sit in the same seat as before while he writes something in a heavy-looking black binder.

"Can I wrap up my face now?" I ask.

"No, you absolutely cannot!"

"Why the hell not?" I yell.

"Look at this badass," he chuckles over the binder, then gives me a face like he's considering it. "Convince me."

"What?"

"Convince me, Carl. Convince me that I should let you hide that badass eye of yours."

I can feel my heart thundering against my ribcage. I don't know if it's fear or rage anymore.

"What do you want me to say?" I shake my head.

He thinks.

"Tell me how Rhys died," he finally asks, remembering his name this time.

"Fuck you."

Negan laughs, then he goes back to his writing.

I sigh. "I pushed him away," I mumble.

"Like... of a cliff?" Negan asks. "I asked how he died."

"I don't know."

Negan shakes his head, not satisfied.

"Can I put it back on now?"

"No, you can't. You can't because I'm not done with you. And I like looking at your disgusting, rad-ass, badass eye... so it's staying out."

I glare at him.

"What? You got something to say?"

"Why haven't you killed me? Or my dad? Or Daryl?"

"Daryl is gonna make a good soldier for me. You see, he thinks he's holding it together... but you saw. Your dad? He's already getting me great stuff. You, on the other hand... well, we shall see. It's more productive to break you. More fun, too."

I keep my stare cold.

"You think that's stupid?" Negan purrs.

"I'm thinking we're different."

Negan drops the binder on the sofa beside him, sitting up and leaning in. "You're a smart kid. What do you think I should do? You know I can't let you go. So, do I kill you? Iron your face? Chop off your arm? Tell me... what do you think?"

I think too many things to focus on one. Glenn and Abraham. Why I'm here. Then I'm standing over him, Negan looking up at me for once.

"I think you should jump out that window to save me the trouble of killing you."

Negan's face is falling for a second. Then it's rising higher than before. He's laughing.

"Oh!" He claps. "Now, there is the kid that impressed the hell out of me."

"I think you're not saying what you're gonna do to me because you're not going to do anything. If you knew us... if you knew anything, you would kill us. But you can't."

Negan looks breathless, a disgusting stench of pride coming off his grin.

"Maybe you're right," he tells me. "Maybe I can't."

Then he's up.

"Let's find you a room, kid."

"What?"

"I ain't gonna kill ya," Negan chuckles. "At least not right now. That wouldn't be fun. You can stay here until I figure out what to do with you. Might take me a day, hell, maybe two. But I will figure it out."

A/N

Super long one here. Didn't want to drag this arc out any longer than it needed. Get excited for the next chapter!

Next Time: Chapter 109- The Way I Start to Feel Something.