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chapter three: rachel in wonderland.
THE WORLD WAS distant, a muted film she watched quietly.
Dwight, ever the gentleman, lead Rachel to the rusted gurney on the infirmary and, like she was made by their design, she complied in peace.
The door opened stealthily, the doctor walked in smiling shyly but she didn't even spare him a glance. Not when she could see Negan's silhouette towering over the man.
Rachel stared down his nonchalant self leaning against the frame of the door. Lies radiated from him, fooling all but her.
His jacket clung to his body like dread did to his chest, a dread he hid underneath coats of jokes and grins.
Minutes felt like an endless interlude of a play she partakes in with strings tied to her wrists, forcing her through a gruesome ballad of agony.
She didn't know if he was the one pulling the strings or the one sitting at the back, clapping ferociously.
Rachel then, felt the swarming of the few virtuous things that composed her; they revolted as the weight of her actions split her spine, pouring out everything ugly for everyone to see.
Negan had made her like this, he had sharpened her teeth, then forced her to bite her own skin.
Who's more guilty? He, who had turn her into dirt and mud, or her, who had watched and let him?
White-knuckled, she lowered her head, swallowing her need of guilting him. She's to blame this time.
Rachel felt naked under their judging glass, every flaw fell under their scrutiny and inside the depths of her, a brewing rage clawed its way up her throat. A thousand words, lined up like soldiers with shining swords, crumbled into a single scream that cut swiftly through the air.
Negan jumped at the histrionic sound, then clasped his hands around both of her arms like a magnet, forcing her body and hoping it would settle her down.
The doctor ushered to fix her, yet his benevolent gloved hands sent jolts of panic through her restless self.
The disobedience came like a wave that left the men reeling, shattering the established sense of peace. The nakedness had turned into a scene of lions feasting on their prey.
She meant to flee this scene.
Rachel's leg moved on instinct, her knee met the left side of the face of her healer. He stumbled back, his eyes watered at the blunt force of the blow and his hands flew to hold his nose, cradling the trickles of blood she drew.
