The Girl That Named the Bat.

The Boots That Crushed Bone.

The blinding light felt like it had burnt our eyes, our vision ahase. The frantic sound of shoes scuffling, guns clicking, stifled laughter, and some form of vehicle pulling up sent chills down my spine. I could feel someone next to me, but without being sure whom I decided to keep my hands to myself until I felt a hand, grab my wrist shakily. I held the hand as my vision slowly came blinking back.

Through flashes of light I could see guns pointed at us, loads of them, I could see Darryl's crossbow out of the corner of my eye, Sasha, Rosita and Abraham all aiming their guns back, and Maggie clinging onto my arm. Continuously blinking until my vision came back, I noticed dad and Michonne protectively standing next to Maggie alongside Glenn. The group of people in front of us contained at least fifteen (15) to twenty (20) men and women, each one with a gun and knife tucked into their holster or waistband. Their eyes looming down on us, the menicincing stares dominating our small group.

"On your knees." A greasy blonde man, with an abhorrent scar on his face, spat at us, pushing us one by one down onto our knees using his gun.

"Be careful! She's sick!" I yelled when he forcefully pushed the frail Maggie to her knees. She whispered 'its okay, Carl, do as they say' to me, and I submitted. I glared at the group in disdain, ensuring I caught eyes with each one. My eyes landed on a girl, no older than I am, who didn't seem to fit in as well as the rest. She was well dressed in a comparison to the rest of this group. Her boots were clean, her leather jacket void of any scuffs or tears. Unlike the others, she used a red bandana to cover the lower portion of her face - which none of the others still had on by now, and she was staring right back at me.

And only me.

I locked eyes with her for a while, her glare seeming less threatening than those surrounding her, her eyes glinting with curiosity. A sudden noise from my dad interrupted the uncomfortable silence,
"Who are you?" He spoke loud and clear, ensuring that what he said was more of a deman rather than a question. Everyone glared back at him with a smug grin.

"I am Negan." The greasy blonde spoke up. After him, each person repeated the same sentence, apart from the girl I was looking at earlier.

"Well, you can't all be Negan." Rick spat sarcastically, beginning to stand up before he was forcefully shoved onto the ground once again, dust, dirt, and twigs being flung from the ground as his weight came crashing down

Dad slowly pushed himself back onto his knees and dusted himself off before Michonne began to help. We all turned to one another to ensure the other person's safety, Glenn and Maggie clinging to one another like a baby to its mother. He brushed her brown locks behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her forehead, 'everything will be okay, I promise,' he whispered lovingly.
The hushed whispers from loved ones to loved ones almost felt comforting until a sharp whistle rang out. The whistle continued in an almost, melodic way, and soon, the whole group was joining in.

The old RV that I had heard earlier was sat behind the group, silent, almost as if it was taunting us with the promise of more members being inside. A soft rattle was heard as the girl I mentioned earlier climbed to the top and slipped inside through the roof hatch. It was silent again, for only a few moments before the foul-looking door that was covered in dust and algae was swung open to reveal a tall, dark-haired man.

The man was wearing a leather jacket and black jeans, once again much cleaner than the rest, his black hair with silver streaks was slicked back and freshly shaven on the sides and he had a sinister grin plastered on his face.
A large, barbed wire covered bat was resting on his shoulder, and he just stood and watched us.