NOT DEAD YET // the Walking Dead ( Carl x Reader)

40 Nightmares Real

Light shines into my eyes, I look up at a figure. Slowly it comes it to focus and I can make out Carl.

    "Carl." I cough out weakly. His face shot down to me, relieved washed over his eye. I hoped everything was just a horrible nightmare but it all came flooding back when I tried to move and pain shot through my skull.
I bring my hand up to my head and feel something warm and kind of sticky, the strong smell of iron enters my nose at I look at my shaking hand that was covered in my own blood.

"(Y/n), I'm sorry but you're gonna need to get back up." Carl told me, I nodded and he gently helped me back up as the pain in my head continued.

Rick was thrown out of the RV by Negan. Negan grabbed Rick and dragged him closer to us.

    "Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick— do you even know what that little trip was about? Speak when you're spoken to." Negan said.

    "Okay. Okay." Rick spoke.

   "That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me the same damn way... like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So... do I give you another chance?" Negan asked Rick.

     "Yeah." Rick finally answered. "Yes. Yes."

    "Okay." Negan gave him a pat on the back. "All right. And here it is— the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads. Good. Now... level with their noses, so if you have to fire..." Negan imitates an explosion with his hand from his nose. "It'll be a real mess. Kid..." He smiled at Carl and motioned with his finger for him to come. "Right here. Kid... now. Or the girl gets another." I look at Carl scarred as he stands up and walks over. "You a southpaw?"

     "Am I a what?" Carl asked.

    "You a lefty?" Negan asked him.

     "No." Carl answered.

     "Good." Negan smiled as he tightened a belt around Carls left arm. "That hurt?"

      "No." Carl told him.

      "Should. It's supposed to. All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings." Negan tossed Carls hat off his head. My heart beat faster as I watched Carl get down, laying on the ground. "Simon... you got a pen?" Negan asked the Savior that spoke to us before.

    "Yeah." Simon answered taking out a pen and tossing it over to Negan.

     "Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm." I watched Negan roll up Carls sleeve drawing a black line on his arm with the pen. "There you go. Gives you a little leverage."

    "Please. Please. Please don't." Rick begged.

    "Me?" Negan chuckled. "I ain't doing shit. Ahh. Rick, I want you to take your ax... cut your Son's left arm off, right on that line. Now, I know— I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die... and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."

    "You— you don't have to do this. We understand. We understand." Michonne pleaded.

    "You understand. Yeah. I'm not sure that Rick does. I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice— nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees— give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine. Probably." Negan smiled. "Rick... this needs to happen now— chop, chop— or I will crush the little fella's skull myself."

"No, please don't." I cry as I watch Carl.

"It can— it can— it can be me. It can be me." Rick pleaded. "W-w— y-you can do it to me. I c— I can go with— with you."

"No. This is the only way. Rick... pick up the ax. Not making a decision is a big decision. You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing. Oh, my god. Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. 3!" Negan shouted.

"Please. Please." Rick cried. "It can be me. Please!"

"2!" Negan yelled.

"Please, don't do—" Negan slapped Rick across the face as he sobbed.

"This is it." Negan told him.

"Aaah!" Rick cried.

"1." Negan spoke.

Rick grabbed the ax in between sobs.

"Dad... just do it." Carl told him. "Just do it."

Rick shook as he sobbed, breathing heavily as he raised the ax in the air.

"Rick... you answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?" Negan asked and Rick nodded. "Speak when you're spoken to!" Negan yelled. "You answer to me. You provide for me."

"Provide for you." Rick repeated.

"You belong to me, right?!" Negan yelled.

"Right." Rick breathed.

"Right. That... is the look I wanted to see." Negan picked up the ax as he stood up. "We did it... all of us, together... even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake... that you get it now... that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you... that is over now. Ah. Dwight... load him up." Negan pointed at Daryl.

"No." I breath as I watch them throw Daryl into the back of a truck and shutting it.

"He's got guts— not a little bitch like someone I know. I like him. He's mine now. But you still want to try something? 'Not today, not tomorrow'. 'Not today, not tomorrow'? I will cut pieces off of... hell's his name?"

"Daryl." Simon answered.

"Wow. That actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep— or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me. Ahh! Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits! I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then... ta- ta."