𝙇𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝘽𝙤𝙙𝙮 : ̗̀➛ 𝙙.𝙙

89

Del pressed her head against the cool glass, watching the trees fly by as the RV rolled down the road. She could feel her hands beginning to go numb from the ropes around her wrists. She didn't want to look at them, she didn't want to see his blood. It had began to dry, to crust up.

She had no fight in her. She had nothing left. Everyone she loved and care about always died. Always. She knew one day it would be Maggie and Michonne and Jake and Carl and Daryl and everyone and even her and even her daughter, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

"What's your name, Red?" Negan asked from across the table. She didn't move, didn't even blink. She wasn't scared of him. "Oh... I didn't realize... was that little asian boy your friend?"

She glared at him, pursing her lips. "He's Korean."

He laughed loudly, wiping his bat with a cloth, the blood stained it from a white to a pink. Oddly enough watching Negan clean Glenn and Abrahams blood off as if it was nothing was the one thing that made the anger start to burn her chest, as if they meant nothing, as if they were just another walker.

"Well he's not really much of anything now, is he, Red? And I would say you kind of hand a hand in that, wouldn't you agree?"

She exhaled, replying it all in her head. Had she not have said anything, had she shut and up and kept still, had she had not gone, Daryl wouldn't have hit Negan, and Glenn would still be alive, and Glenn deserved life more than she did.

She said nothing in return, she just let her head drop, staring down in her lap, looking down at her blood covered hands. They itched, all of her itched. She needed it off.

"Let me ask you again, what is your name?"

"Delilah," she mumbled. She was partly talking to Negan, part of her was still sitting next to Glenn, feeling more and more blood smack her with each blow he took. She couldn't get it out of her head.

"Now, Delilah, have you ever been married?"

She looked at him through her eyebrows. It was an odd question. Of everything they had just went through, of the hell he had put them through, that was his question? As if they were friends. She thought of Daryl. She would have married him had life never went to shit, although she didn't know if they would have ever tolerated each other if the world hadn't went to shit. She loved him a lot, even more now, and she thought of how he spent his last few nights in Alexandria sleeping alone, just how she had.

"Where are you taking Daryl?"

He grinned, leaning forward onto the table.

"That's none of your damn business, now is it? I don't think you're exactly in a position to question me, are you Delilah?"

She stared right at him, right into his eyes, she was trying to crack past them, to see a sliver of humanity, of remorse, but they were filled with a look of wildness and satisfaction.

"I assumed you two were together, what with the scene he made over you and all... Really, you could do better," he continued, "And you're not wearing a ring so I assume this wasn't a relationship prior to the fucking world ending, so I'll ask again, were you married?"

She pursed her lips. She hadn't thought of David in so long, it made her feel a bit guilty that it took someone dying for him to cross her mind.

"Almost, one time, but... He's dead."

"Before or after?"

"After... I... I killed him."

"Wow, that is some real savage shit, Delilah! Killing your own fiancée? Jesus, I mean, you did rip my mens throats out with your own teeth, but I like that about you, you're ruthless."