Rori Rhee has survived this long, been through so many death. Yet she still had Carl, her parents, and the rest of the group. Except, she's slowly losing her family and herself. After Beth's death, it felt like she would never be happy again. Her Au...
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The first day had passed, and after some threatening, Negan put me in a large room with a bed, dresser, and all your basic stuff. However, he locked me in from the outside. My eyes flickered onto the door as I heard the door unlock. Negan stepped into the decently sized room. "Morning darling. Still not eating, huh? How much longer are you going to do this for? It's not good for your health."
"Like you care," I spat with a glare.
"But, see, I do care. I might have killed dear old daddy, but I do care about you," Negan said. His words made me sick. Like they were poison rolling off his tongue.
"Don't talk about my dad," I said. I refused to show him the satisfaction of my sadness but I was sad. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. Why me? Why did all of this have to happen to me?
"Oo, wow, sore spot. Noted. Tell me this, was your bed comfortable?" Negan asked me. If I weren't too busy hating him, I'd say he actually cared about me. Like I was his daughter or some shit.
"Sure," I answered. Truthfully, it was extremely comfortable but it was not home, and that I hated. I'd rather be at home in bed, curled up under the cover, and cuddling with Carl. Negan walked over to my dresser where the still full plate sat, and grabbed it.
"Loosen up a little, Princess Aurora. The fun's just beginning," Negan shot me his famous smirk. "I'll be back later." With that, he left the room, locking it shut.
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It wasn't long before Simon brought me dinner. It was simple mashed potatoes and soup. Tomato soup to be exact. "Took you long enough. I've been waiting forever."
"Oh, so now you want to eat. Negan will be happy about that," Simon said with a smirk. He came over, setting the plate down on the nightstand. "I brought lemonade, too."
"Negan's idea?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.
"Whipped it up not too long ago," Simon answered, turning to walk back to the door. I glanced over at the plate, I carefully grabbed the fork, pulling it into my sleeve.
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Days passed and for the first two days, I refused to eat. I didn't want to take anything from this man I didn't have to. By day three, I was starving and ate two meals. Breakfast and dinner. Then, by the fourth day- today- I didn't eat. A knock on my locked door broke my thought. It was Negan, surprisingly. He didn't usually bring me food. "Knock, knock. Ready to eat lunch yet?"
"I'm not eating anything," I said through gritted teeth. I refused to give in. To give him the satisfaction. I had already done it twice, and I wouldn't do it again for a few more days. He whistled, setting my plate down on the dresser.
