The Ranger

Chapter Eight: With My Hands

Timeskip 2 Weeks

I sat there unmoving; the only sound was a slight grunt as Dwight brought the knife across my right shoulder and down my bicep. My body was covered in a mix of old, dried blood and fresh red blood from all the various cuts. Over the last two weeks, Dwight had cut up my chest, back, and arms. Thankfully, they kept me fed and watered so I didn't die.

"You know," Dwight's voice broke the silence. "It's not fair; I gotta walk around looking like this. So why don't I give you something to specifically remember me by." he laughed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and lifting my head to look me in the eyes. He brought his knife up pla,ced the tip just under my right eye on the cheekbone, and slowly dragged it down my cheek and across my jaw.

The feeling of my flesh parting and the warm sensation of blood was all too familiar at this point; I stared into the man's eyes with a burning hatred. Gathering my feet under me, I stood kneeling on the floor, and Dwight quickly let go, backing up.

"I promised Negan I would kill him with his bat. You, I'm going to kill with my hands." I told him, and he shivered slightly and quickly left the room.

Timeskip 2 Months

After that, the visits from Dwight became less frequent from every day to a couple of times a week. He had swapped a couple of weeks back from knives to blunt instruments, leaving deep tissue bruising and a couple of fractured ribs; the cuts that he hit would break open again, setting the healing process back.

Unbeknownst to Dwight and his men, I had been slowly working the chain out of the wall where a spike had been hammered into it with the chain connected to it. All it needed was a solid tug, and it would come free. All I had to do was bid my time and wait for the right moment.

Timeskip 1 Month

Today was the day Dwight hadn't come. Instead, it was one of his lackeys. Dwight had never sent one of them to beat me, and he never came alone; someone always had a gun to my head. They could barely bring me my food without pissing themselves. After the man entered and shut the door, he walked towards me; not paying attention, he stepped right where the corpse had previously laid.

Mentally smirking to myself, I asked, "Where's Dwight?"

The man nervously looked at me before steeling himself, "He had over matters to attend to." He said, pulling his knife out. "He sent me to break-."

He was cut off as, just like previously, I lashed my leg out, connecting with his knee with a satisfying snap. He cried out and dropped to the floor; I followed him down, bringing my forehead to his nose with another crunch.

As the man rolled around in pain, I tugged the chain on my right with full strength, and it finally came free; I repeated the action with my left. After being free, I grabbed the man by the collar, stopping his rolling.

"What's going on? Where's Dwight?" I asked the man, but he continued to hold his face and groan in pain. I rolled my eyes. I guess I'll have to ask a different one.

I pulled the chains to me, wrapping them around my forearms until I held the footlong spikes in each hand. I'd have to find the keys to the padlocks before I could get them off.

I stood looking down at the man. As my shadow fell across his face, he looked up at me in fear. "Please," he begged.

"Pick your side better next time," I said coldly before I slammed the spike through his eye, and he slumped down dead. Grabbing his knife, I went to the door. As I grabbed the handle, gunshots rang through the air.

As the sounds of fighting started, I threw the door open and found a poorly lit hallway to my left and right, with a door in front of me. Stepping out into the hall, I looked both ways.