CONQUEST • Negan

Quit It

Gunshots echoed down the grandiose hallways of the Remmington Resort hotel, our hurried footsteps thumping in rhythm to the scattered pops and bangs and occasionally scream, like a drum. I trudged close behind Negan, following him to the lower levels of the complex.

Arat had called in through the radio, only moments after Negan ordered the saviours to commence extermination, that her unit had discovered the women held as slaves by the Remmington's in a walk-in freezer down by kitchens. The fuckers had been keeping those poor women in a fucking fridge, and pulling them out to be used whenever they got bored or needed another kick of power and control. It was sickening, but I had to switch myself off to it. The world was sickening, and either you learned to walk in it, or it dragged you down and ate you alive. There was no space between. No good, no bad, just the living, the dead and the monsters wearing the skins of both.

Negan tried to convince me to head back to the truck with him, to let Simon handle the women but like hell was I agreeing to his request. Fuck that. From what brief interactions I had shared with Simon, the dude was a sociopath, only frightened of his boss, and gave just as much as a shit about those ladies as the Remmington's did. There wasn't a hope in hell I was leaving their fate in that maniacs hands, so I insisted, without sparing any threats to chop Negan's balls off and feed them to him if he refused me to see them, and with a wary glance, worry for my sanity flashing in his eyes, he conceded.

I was fine. I really was. My moment earlier was something rare, but nothing new, only triggered and aggravated by using the damn thing that killed two of my greatest friends to kill someone else. Negan had looked at me as if I were one thread away from unraveling completely, but it only proved that he hardly knew me.

Besides Daryl, I had been the one survivor of our main group from the prison days who had always kept my head on straight. It was a symptom of never truly having anything to lose. Sure, I had lost friends, but they weren't mine to lose. I grieved them, mourned them, even cried for them, but then I knew how and when it was time to hike up my big girl boots and moved onwards because that's just what you had to do. You either wiped your tears and forced yourself to take those steps forward alone, however difficult it was, or you submitted to the grief and got swept away with the tide.

I would never be swept away. Not again. Never again. Mom was the first and last time I ever gave in to the agony. She was the one soul who ever deserved my pain, the one death I will never truly move on from. And I didn't have any plans to either, the grief of her had only served to make me stronger, teaching me the important lessons in loss, forcing me to battle with self-destruction and walk out from the otherside, scarred and broken, but alive.

So that's why, when Negan glanced back at me briefly, giving me that same fucking concerned look as if the prick actually gave a fuck about me and what he probably thought was a fragile mind on the brink of shattering, I lashed out.

"Quit it."

"Never said nothin', Sweetie."

"You didn't need to, you never do. I told you I'm fine. So wrap it up with this act your putting on, pretending to actually give a shit. It ain't gonna win you any points with me or convince me to crawl into bed with you. Nothin' is, so just fucking quit it, Negan."

"Oh, so you're a damn mind reader now. Ya' never fail to baffle me, Dice, truly, you can do it all." He huffed sarcastically.

"What? You trying to tell me that that isn't what this is?" I pushed forward infront of him and stopped, staring him down. "Dragging me here so you can play the white knight act and show off how much of a saviour you really are by liberating these women? Pretend we're married, make a whole fucking dramatised show of defending my honour, killing a man just cos' he looked at me in a way that you didn't like. And now, just cos' I was reminded for even a small moment how fucked up it is that I have to kill people, that I'm now killing people for you, with that fucking bat, you wanna swoop in and coddle me, pretend you actually give a shit about how I feel and then, just when I'm weak enough, just when you've gave me all those honeyed words and warm looks, you want to drag me into your bed, into your disgusting fucking harem, and lay a claim on me? So you can what? Piss Rick off some more? Play some more mind games with Daryl?" I dragged a hand down my face, "I'm not that fucking dumb, Negan. You've chosen the wrong girl to toy with. So if you wanna keep me as your prisoner, fine. Done. For the good of my people, you have my obedience. But just fucking quit it with all the damn special treatment cos' I just ain't buying it. And frankly, its gotten real old."