One last erratic groan, one last breath and you know it's all done. You're finally in the clear after hours and hours of fighting off the dead in this small, lost in the middle of nowhere, church.
"The hell're you looking at?" you ask angrily at the huge statue standing tall in the small place before sighing deeply and sitting on one of the many wooden benches in the church.
This is just an another part of your "routine". You're used to this, all of it, the blood covering your hands, clothes soaking in it, your trustworthy bow on your back, its string hugging your body and your bloody butterfly knife in your hand, knuckles white around the body of the weapon.
You're a lone survivor, you've been with a few groups before but it never worked out, you'd either get scared of losing the people you were with and leave or you'd actually stick around and just watch it happen anyway. Hell, you always wonder how you've made it this far, how did you succeed where all your friends failed and payed one hell of a price for it?
"Alright [y/n], get it together, get what you need and get the heck out of here before more of 'em show up, again." you whisper to yourself, trying to get a little motivation out of you.
You slowly get up letting out a loud groan of pain, you never take some time out just to see, let alone take care of, just how much damages have been done to your body and you sure as shit are paying the price for it.
"Alright, shoot, okay, first thing first... Search the bodies."
You hate doing this, you hate looting bodies but you know it's necessary.
You've seen a lot of bad things, really bad things, but, still, your humanity is still right here and it seems like it's not going anywhere anytime soon which makes you feel at ease but also angers you at times. Now, don't get twisted, you're human, you're vulnerable, naive and ridiculously shy but you are far from being weak.
A good fifteen minutes later, you're all done and you're pretty happy with the things that you're putting in your denim backpack; a bunch of candy bars, two lighters and you even found a book in one of the dead survivors' backpack along with a Gameboy.
"Shoot... That's so cool, dude!" you say, looking at the huge grey box in your tiny hand, with a huge, sincere, smile on your face, giggling like a child at your new found.
it's gonna distract you [y/n], just put it back.
Your smile fades and you quickly pull yourself together before throwing the Gameboy in your backpack, ignoring the voice in your head, and closing it before getting back up to start looking around the place, hell, you didn't almost die to get out of this place empty handed.
"Nope, not happening." you mutter to yourself but you quickly get frustrated while looking around when you realize that the only useful things you'll find today are going to be the ones you've found on the dead. You sigh and grab the bible sitting next to you on a big table, shove it in your backpack and leave the place, not bothering to close the door behind you, frustrated and irritated.
"This is such bullshit." you mumble angrily in the air.
You then start to hear noises around you as you get closer to the woods surrounding the area and you know better than to stick around but you freeze into place when you hear different sets of footsteps going around.
no way these are walkers, [y/n], move!
Your body and mind are on full alert and you quickly climb on a nearby tree going as high as your weakening body will allow you to go before, out of breath, you come to a stop and straddle a thick branch, putting your backpack between your parted legs, holding it close to you, your breathing erratic and short.
"Fuck, fuck, fuckidy fuck." you shakily whisper into your bag as you hear whistles going around in the woods, the noises way too close to comfort for you.
Even though you're seriously high up on the tree and clearly out of sight, you can't help but shake and pant like the scared child you used to be, you feel a knot forming in your stomach and your throat getting tight, keeping you from breathing properly, making your panic grow stronger and sending your body and brain into overdrive.
"What d'you find?" you hear a loud, kind of "in your face", man say, clearly annoyed.
"Someone came through, dunno when but sure as shit did, there's a bunch of rotters down in this shit church, a few fresh bloody foot prints but no signs of anyone so far." says an another man clearly annoyed as well.
"Fucking shit, c'mon then, get your useless asses back in the damn trucks! It's gettin' dark."
You catch a glimpse of the scene and it scares you even more than you already were when you realize that there's at least thirteen men right below you, right below the tree you tried to find safety on, and a single tear of panic escapes you.
But, at least, you can put a face, even if you can't see every single details you see enough, on the scruffy, kinda angry sounding, voice echoing carelessly through the woods. He's a white man, probably in his fourties, pretty damn tall and with a mustache that kinda makes him look creepy rather than manly.
ugh, he looks like one of those creeps...
You see him look around as all the men around him obediently get back to their trucks which you imagine have been left on the small dirt road at the entrance of the forest since you can't see any.
"Fucking hell, what the hell am I supposed to tell Negan? Hey boss, someone's out there but we couldn't locate the lil shit?"
Negan? who the hell is Negan? and who's he calling a "lil shit"? rude??
The man finally leaves and you wait until you can't hear the trucks on the road anymore before you finally allow yourself to relax a little bit.
You dry your tears with the back of your shaking hands and carefully climb off the tall tree, letting out a small shaky sigh, holding on tightly to the tree to support yourself since your legs are shaking like leaves in high wind and, after a few seconds, you finally start to walk back towards the small road, carefully sticking your head out of the woods to check if the coast is clear.
When you feel it's safe enough, you slowly come out just to go and kneel on the road to touch the thick tracks the tires left in the dirt. You can't really put your fingers on why but you have a really bad feeling about these men, they didn't seem too friendly to you.
You saw that they were armed head to toe and they clearly had other people waiting on them, like this "Negan" the creepy mustache dude mentioned, he called him "boss" which kinda, just slightly, brings you to assume that he might, maybe, just maybe, be the leader of this group of men, just maybe.
boss? pff, rings any bells [y/n]? i mean, déjà-vu right? first this psycho getting hot for people calling him "governor" now this Negan dude is the "boss"? yeah right and my ass is chicken, choke on it asshole.
You smile slightly at your own thoughts before shaking your head and getting back up.
"Alrighty, guess it's time to go."
Where? Also a part of your daily routine, finding your "where" every single night. It's tough living out there in the open twenty-four-seven but you just make do, you always do, always have.
You decide to head back in the small church, careful not to step on any corps lying around before locking yourself up in a small room at the very back of the place. Once inside, you push the heavy wooden desk sitting in the middle of the room against the door and, completely out of breath, you let yourself fall on the very small bed in the left corner of the room.
"What a crappy day, dude." you softly let out before closing your eyes, secretly wishing for some sleep tonight, at least a full hour.
2:15 AM //
"lil shit, stop right now or I swear to fucking god I'll cut your damn throat wide open, shut up! I already told you that's the way it is, stop fucking fighting me, just take it like the useless piece of shit are! Stop fighting it!"
Your eyes snap open, tears threatening to fall out of them like water out of a broken sink, you bite your lips and bury your head in the flat pillow on the bed, your body shaking violently as you let out loud sobs and tears stream down your face to be sucked into the pillow beneath your head, soaking your face with the salty liquid, your lungs opening and closing violently, your heart beating out of your chest and it feels like the room is closing in on you. You start to panic and everything goes black for a few minutes and, brutally, everything comes back to its previous state but it's too late.
You feel a sharp pain in your left forearm and new waves of sobs roll right through you.
"No. No, no, no, no, please, no." you panic as your sobbing gets out of control.
Your forearm is covered in blood, your blood, the whole room smells of it, messy deep cuts covering the skin there, your right hand shaking and your fingers weakly holding into a sharp razor blade which is slightly covered in fresh and dry blood. Thankfully, the blood on it is only yours, not walker's and anyone else's.
it's okay, you know it happens. it's okay.
You hate to admit it but, now, you feel calm, you feel peaceful. Your previous nightmare has been put in a dark corner of your mind with all the others. You let out a shaky breath looking down at your arm and grab your untouched wrist firmly before reaching for your backpack to get some gauze and antiseptic out of it to try and patch yourself up as best as you can giving the circumstances.
Once your done with the bandage, you let your body push back on the mattress until your back hits the hard, rough, wall the bed is pushed up against, since it's lacking an headboard, and let your eyes close just for them to be forced open by loud banging sounds against the door of the small office you found refuge in.
Your instincts take over and, before you know it, you're grabbing your backpack and get a tight grip on your bow, getting in arrow ready to use and you get ready to fight yet again. You take a step back, waiting for the door to give out and for the desk holding it to be pushed away by the dead, bracing yourself.
You can hear them groaning and scratching the door but before you can raise your bow, the plank of wood you took a step back on gives out on one side, swallowing your foot in a tight and sharp hole.
"What the hell?!" you cry out in pain as your right calve sinks into the hole in the wooden floor, your foot touching the dirt ground below the church which is covered by grass and dust, your skin getting little sharp cuts in the process.
great, just great...
The office's door starts to shake more and more so you decide to just "do with what you're given". You grab the broken, or already taken out of place on purpose, fucked if you know, piece of wood and tear it of off the floor expanding the hole to allow you to now slip out of the room easily.
okay.. so, you're under a big ass church, nothing scary right? just casually crawling underneath a fucking church, that's cool, not creepy at all, not a chance this thing is gonna collapse on our ass right? just, casually crawling underneath a fucking building... that's cool.
You shake as your claustrophobia gives you a hard time to grab the wooden plank you tore off to put it back as best as you can in it's place; making sure nothing will end up crawling after you in the tight space, before turning on your tummy to find yourself face to face with the dirty ground.
"Okay, I take it back, this isn't just a crappy day, it's an award winning crappy day." you mumble bitterly as you crawl between the church's floor and the dirty ground laying beneath it and, when you finally see the end of it, it's only to be greeted by muffled groans and gun shots.
You freeze under the church as you see walkers falling right in front of you on the ground, dead and limp, looking right at you, you feel tears filling your [y/e/c] eyes once again today and a pair of brown-ish combat boots make their way towards you.
You want to move away but you're completely stuck there, you can't bring yourself to move, your breath is caught in your throat and, slowly, the person in the pair of boots kneels and brings himself to the ground looking at you with an amused smile on his face, you know you've seen him before but you can recall when.
"Well, what do we have here?" that fucking voice..., "It's quite a situation you're in, uh, darling?" he laughs lowly and you're still right where you stopped a few seconds ago, your body shaking and your eyes watering.
"I-I don't have anything, just let me be, pl-please?"
okay, this was not supposed to come out as a question...
"Yeeah, nah, sorry pretty thing but I just can't do that. Now, how 'bout you come out here so I don't have to drag you to me, uh? How 'bout it? C'mon, be a dear, for me, yeah?" He's amused by the whole thing and it pisses you off and upsets you beyond belief.
Does he really think you're just gonna do whatever he wants? Hell no. Well, at least that's what you thought for a solid minute before his giant hand wrapped itself around your wounded forearm, making you cry out in pain and making blood pour out of your fresh, now re-opened, wounds just to drag you out of your small hiding spot, which you immediately find way more inviting now that you've been forced out of it. You're pushed up on to your feet only to end up facing the tall mustached dude that you've spotted in the woods hours ago.
"Well, I'll be damned! If you aren't the prettiest shit there is out there! Damn, darlin', look at you!"
His words kinda make you sick and you feel like throwing up on his feet but you force yourself to lift your head just to see a whole bunch of dudes standing right behind him, all smiling like idiots, armed head to toe and you're slightly blinded by the lights coming from cars parked all over the place.
You take a few steps back, at least you try to, but electricity shoots through your right leg as it gives out making you fall at the man's feet, the opened wound on your calve starting to throb and making you cry out yet again.
"Shit. That looks like it hurts like a bitch, don't it, sweetheart?"
"Stop giving me stupid pet names you fucking creep, you wanna kill me? Be my guest, fucking try me."
"Wow! She talks! And what a fucking mouth you got on you, darling." he insists on the last word and that does it, you find the strength to bring yourself up just enough to punch him in the face, fucking up your knuckles in the process.
"HEY!" a dude yells from the back coming towards you, making you jump and you try, you really do, to put some distance in between the two of you while you eye the man you just punched.
He's just on the floor, the blow made him lose his balance, holding his now opened jawline. You take a good look at the other man still coming closer and closer to you, he's blonde and..
Shit, what the hell happened to his face? It looks seriously burned on one side and it fascinates and grosses you out at the same time, so much so that you actually stop walking away from him and let him come to you and, once he's close enough, he immediately invades your personal space.
"C'mere you lil' shit." he pulls you close to him, your body touching his, making you twitch which seems to amuse him before putting his mouth really close to your ear whispering to you, "Do not make me hurt you, please, it'll be okay, just do as you're fucking told, princess."
ugh! what's with these dudes and pet names! it's creepy as shit.
And, maybe it's because of the fact that he's so damn close to you and it makes you uncomfortable as fuck and you're willing do to whatever it takes for him to step back, but, when he harshly grabs your forearm, you let him drag you closer to his group only to end up being forced down on your knees.
okay, this is fucking creepy, what the hell?
The man you just punched comes back into view, crouching in front of you, smiling, blood slowly dripping from his fresh wound and, you gotta admit that you kinda feel proud of yourself when you eye the bloody mess that is his jaw.
"Oh, you're gonna get in some serious shit now, darling." he says snapping you out of your contemplation with a mean smile on his face. He gets back up and stroll towards the rusty and bloody RV standing in the middle of the place knocking harshly on the door, "Let's meet the man" He says with the same smile on his face as the door swings open and a tall figure slowly appears.
The said "man" finally comes into view and your breath gets caught in your throat as he slowly walks towards you.
He's tall, lean but clearly muscular, he's wearing a leather jacket, dark denim jeans and a red scarf is hugging his neck, his dark hair are slicked back and he swings, oh so casually, a barbed-wire covered baseball bat around before settling it on his broad shoulder.
Your body is shaking again, you're scared shitless, you're surrounded by a bunch of creepy dudes and it feels like their dad just came by to say hello and it sucks.
"Holy fuckidy fuck! You guys! Look at that fuckin' angel face. Damn, now this I really fucking like! Now that's," he points at you with the head of his bat, making you shift uncomfortably, "the kind of girl you just don't find anymore, you sorry fucks! Fucking look at her, good fucking goddamn!" he kneels in front of you looking straight into your eyes, his bat making contact with your chin and you know it's bleeding as you can feel the wire biting into your skin, tears escaping your eyes yet again and your body shaking from fatigue and terror.
"Aw, don't cry, baby doll." he looks at you with a smirk on the corner of his mouth, "Simon, how about you tell me why the fuck your jaw is wide open? I got a feeling that lil' angel might have something to do with it." his smirk slowly fades as he waits for an answer still looking at you, clearly waiting for you to look back at him, which you don't, your eyes are firmly pinned on the ground.
"Well, this pretty lil' creature here seems to be a bit of a trouble maker, boss." you almost scoff at that, "She was underneath the damn church, looking like a scared, lost, lil' puppy and she got a lil' grumpy on me when I got her out of her hole." this time, you do scoff and clench your jaw as he compares you to a damn puppy, hearing the smile in his voice pissing you off beyond belief.
You hear the man in front you laugh lowly and that's a dangerous laughter if ever you've heard one, "Shit! I like my girls with some fight in them darlin', but-" he harshly grabs your face with a glove covered hand making wince in pain at his unnecessarily tight grip, "I can't let you punch the shit out of one of my men and let it go unpunished, you understand that, right, baby doll?"
"I- I don't- He-" you curse yourself for not being able to form a damn sentence in front of these men knowing fully well that they're getting off on you being afraid and vulnerable in front of them.
"Now kitten, no need to be nervous even though I do understand why you would be. I mean, shit, that's a lot o'people around you and you have absolutely no where to fucking run to, but! No one is going to hurt ya as long as you're good, now, are you gonna be a good girl for me or not?"
"Yes what, sweet pie?"
"Nice! Now that's progress! That's the kind of shit that makes my dick twitch in my pants, y'know?"
You feel like you're about the throw up, you feel so embarrassed and you hate this man with every fiber of your being already.
"Okay, now! Time for a little talk doll, first of all, do you have a small clue as to who I am?"
Yes, of course you do, you've put two and two together the moment he stepped into view, he's the man that Simon dude referred as his "boss".
"You're Negan, aren't you?"
"Girl, I'm getting more and more into you with each passing seconds." he smiles and gets back on his feet before pacing around in long strolls in front of you, "I, indeed, am Negan, darlin', and, from now on; everything you own is mine-" he pauses and points at you with the end of his bat which is covered in dried blood "And so are you baby doll"
It's cold out, you're shaking, your head is spinning and you feel like you're about to pass out.
Your body aches and begs for some care as the tears filling your eyes once again threaten to roll down your face. You feel lost, alone, and scared and you don't even have time to process what's happening to you as your brain shuts down to cool you off, everything goes to black and you feel yourself slipping away to fall on the cold hard ground beneath you, not being able to keep yourself up anymore.
God knows you've tried.