CONQUEST • Negan

Road Trip

The truck ride had been dead silent, following close behind a caravan of vehicles driven by a large squadron of saviours, removed from the car radio and its blaring track of AC/DC that played to fill the quiet. There was an energy that stifled the air, a tension that made me feel every movement I made and each breath I took was like wading through jello.

I had tried to focus my attention out of the sidedoor window, but I felt Negans eyes shift onto me every now and then which made it way too distracting and difficult to pretend that I wasn't accompanied by him right now. Each time I felt his eyes on me, my mind reeled back to what was hanging between us, that kiss, the press of our lips that never should've happened. I had taken his word that it would never happen again, not unless I initiated it, which would only ever happen if I had completely lost my mind.

"Are ya gonna ask me?"

I narrowed my eyes as we passed a group of three dead snacking on a woman by the side of the road, her fingers still twitching, mouth gaping like a fish. "Ask you what?"

"Where we're going." He drummed his fingers against the wheel to the beat of 'Back In Black'. He looked at me again, his attention drilling into the back of my skull, pressing for me to return the eye contact.

"Eyes on the road, Dickhead." I muttered without turning to confirm if he was gazing at me, I didn't need to. Negan snickered softly and then I said, "I know that wherever we're going, I'm not gonna like it."

"Why'd ya' have to be so glum all the time, Dicey. I promised you some fun earlier, so thats what I'm gonna give ya'."

I closed my eyes, dropping my temple to rest against the window and releasing a deep sigh, I flatly said, "We don't hold the same definition of fun."

Negan hummed, "See, I think you'd like to believe that, Dice, but in reality, I know you're a little deviant, just like me. It's people like you and I that just thrive in a world like this so trust me, honey, you're gonna find this fun."

"You really don't know me well enough then cause pillaging from the desperate ain't fun for me, I haven't had fun in years. You wanna know why?" I side glanced at Negan with one half-open eye. He dipped his chin and I closed it again, wrapping my arms around myself. "Cause the last time I had any fun, I was so out of my face that I went missing for almost a month. That— that was my definition of fun. Now my brain chemistry is so fucked up and damaged that it can't produce the chemicals for fun unless I'm drugged up again. Is that what you're gonna give me? Cause if it is, you better let me out of this damn truck right now, Negan, or God help you."

He didn't respond. The song changed: 'Thunderstruck'.

I felt my consciousness slipping before Negan spoke again. "What did ya' find fun before all that, Marlow?"

I could tell that his question was genuine by the way he had spoken it quietly. I wracked my brain, unsure if I was even going to deem his query with an answer, but it still made me think, remembering times from my past that I hadn't thought of in years.

"My Mom was a singer." I began to speak, telling him the words from my mind as they came to me. "She sang in church, but— Dad said she was too good to keep her talent hidden. She sang to me the most though, and I would sing with her. That was fun for me. Instead of reading me to sleep, we would sing."

"Ya' any good?"

"Nah. It's why I stopped when she died. The world wanted to hear her, not me." It never did.

"What else?" He asked. What else did I find fun?

"I was pretty good at hockey. I liked writing essays for school—"