Freedom -Negan-

Chapter 20

My eyes opened at the sound of loud knocking on the door. The room, being windowless, was dark and it was hard to distinguish between day and night. Maybe that's what was messing with my sleep. I had slept, but vivid dreams kept my mind from resting, again. I blew a sigh from my lips and sat up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. My feet rested on the comforter I must've kicked off in the middle of the night. I raised my hand to rub the sleep from my eyes and felt the cool metal of my pocketknife on my cheek. I had held onto this thing all night. Impressive. I stood and carefully made my way to the lamp in the corner. The light stung my eyes when I pulled the string.

Another knock on the door. Annoyance tightened my chest. I slid the knife onto the dresser and unlocked the deadbolt. I cracked the door just enough to see Peter standing with his hands in his pockets, blonde hair looking disheveled, and smile plastered on his face. I wanted to be angry, but I didn't want him to get the impression that I was a complete bitch. He was just doing his job.

"Morning Jess. Thought I would grab you for some breakfast." My stomach grumbled, letting me know I should take up the offer.

"You guys have a McDonald's here?" I joked. "I've been craving a hashbrown for 3 years." Peter nervously laughed and shook his head. "Just give me a second to put pants on." His face blushed and he nodded his head. I rolled my eyes and closed the door. I opened the top drawer of my dresser and looked at the two pieces of clothing.

It was almost like the hoodie glared at me. I had asked about washing it, but I liked seeing the blood and grime splattered on it. It reminded me of all of us coming together to fight for our freedom. It was a reminded that I was strong. I lifted the green cargo pants out and pressed my lips together. Images ran through my head when I held them, but I forced them away. They were just pants and I loved these pants. I slid them over my legs, going commando as I normally would. I slid my bare feet into my boots and grabbed my jean jacket from the top of the desk. I tried to put it on in one swift motion and was reminded how sore my upper body was from being strung up. A hiss came from my lips, and I shrugged the jacket on without raising my arms, earning a bearable pain from my shoulders. I felt more like myself in my own clothes, besides the oversized white t-shirt. I would have to find something more suited to me.

I grabbed my knife off the dresser and slipped it into my left boot. I normally kept it in the right, but with my hand being the way it was, it would be hard to slip it in to grab the knife. I didn't bother picking up the blanket or the joggers from last night. No one was seeing it. I did grab the key to the room from the joggers on the floor before leaving, figuring it wasn't a smart idea to leave the door unlocked since I actually had stuff now. Lastly, I grabbed the antibiotics off the dresser – figuring I could take them with my breakfast – and shoved them in my cargo pants. I pulled the string light and went out the door, locking it behind me. I turned to face Peter. He was staring at me with a sad smile on his face. I gestured with my hands for him to lead the way.

"I like the jacket." Peter said as he walked besides me. I muttered a thanks and rubbed my fingertips along the sleeve of the jacket. I felt better with my arms covered up, but people still stared at me as we walked past. Peter kept looking over at me, but never said anything about it. I tried to ignore the people stealing glances at me as we made our way through the halls, making sure to pay attention to the twists and turns.

I recognized the stairs as we climbed down and, for once, felt comfortable in where we were going and how to get back. Peter opened the door to the cafeteria and let me walk through first, gentleman as always. Less people were gathered in the large room today. Must be early for most people. I had no concept of time ever since entering The Sanctuary. The warm light of an almost risen sun streaming through the large windows let me figure it was pretty early. Peter said his good mornings to people as we walked past, and I ignored the looks they gave me. I walked over to the line but was disappointed when I didn't see Angel working at the front. I glanced to the left and saw the older woman with silver hair. Betsy? No, Betty was her name.