Freedom -Negan-

Chapter 35

Negan stood in the doorway with Lucille over his shoulder. His black hair was slicked back and his leather jacket was unzipped, showing the white t-shirt he always wore underneath.

"Matty-boy not doing it for you anymore, Pistol?" Negan's smirk snuck across his face and I forced myself to keep eye contact and not roll my eyes.

"I figured I would have to talk to you, but I wasn't expecting the personal visit." I wasn't trying to be baited and he could tell. The smirk on his face grew with my attempt to avoid his question about Matt.

He took a step forward to enter the room, but I used my left arm to block the doorway. His head slowly turned down towards me and his eyes met mine. My heart quickened and I tried so hard to match the stare, but eventually dropped my eyes to the floor. I felt him gently move my arm away with his bat before his stepped into my room. My personal space. I closed the door behind him and shuffled so that I was facing him. I watched him look around the small space and whistle.

"Just because the world ended doesn't mean you can't spruce up the damn place!" He looked back and raised his eyebrows at me.

"How many times do I have to tell you that this isn't permanent. As soon as I-"

"Pay off your debts. Yeah, I've heard that shit before, Pistol. Listen-" He sat on the edge of my bed. "I heard about Waylan."

I felt the twinge of fear in my chest. The fear of being tattled on. Then anger. Peter told me he wouldn't say anything, but who's word really means anything these days? I unintentionally closed my eyes and waited to hear the words. Waited to be dragged back to the dark closet.

"And I wanted to say good job."

I opened my eyes and the fists I had unknowingly clenched at my sides released. Relief replaced the fear in my chest and I let out a small laugh.

"Good job? Wow. I didn't know that you said that to people." I crossed my arms over my chest and felt the tremble in my hands. Pathetic Jesse.

"Pete told me you and your boyfriend were the ones who found the big stash. Which is why I'm letting your little incident with Davey slide for right now." At the mention of Davey, I glanced down towards my backpack on the ground. Negan's bat was resting against it.

"I let him search my bag. I wasn't mouthing off to him. He was just being a prick to show that he could."

Negan sighed. "Rules, Pistol. Rules are why this place works. You disrespect my men you're disrespecting me. And I can't have you disrespecting me." His hands moved with his words

"But you said-"

"I'll let it slide for right now." His eyes went to the floor and stopped at my backpack. "What was the big shitting deal about it, anyways." He bent down and grabbed my backpack and I jumped from my spot near the door to grab the strap. His grip tightened and he started to laugh.

"It's not any of your fucking business." I saw my own hand shaking at the tightness of the grip and cursed myself for being so fragile.

"On the contrary." His non-gloved hand came up and he put his fingers around my wrist gently. I almost gasped as his fingers wrapped around my skin. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I was sure he could feel my pulse through my skin.

He traced his thumb over the soft skin of my wrist, as he had done once before. My eyes shot to his and I found a strange reassurance in them, instead of the amusement I had come to expect. He never said a word and I could never know why I let my grasp of the backpack go and let it fall into his lap. His hand lingered for a moment before he let go and started searching the bag. All I could do was stand and watch him, not moving a muscle. It was as though I was watching myself watch him. My mind was telling me to do so many things. I had Peter's knife, I could hurt him - even kill him - and run, but I couldn't.