Survivor - TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 45 - The Cell

"And from this moment on

I'll be crying"

Crying

By Roy Orbison

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Nelly

The whole car ride, I cry. I'm surprised I haven't run out of tears yet, but every time my sobs slow, the image of Glenn and Abraham flashes in my mind again. The remains of their bodies bring horror that crashes down on me, forcing me to relive it, over and over.

The guilt chews at me, relentless, an ache that tightens in my chest and twists in my gut until I can barely breathe. My entire body feels heavy, shriveling under the weight of everything I couldn't stop, everything I let happen. I don't understand how my own brother could be so cruel, so merciless, and I hate myself for not stopping it sooner. How could I let this happen?

The trunk opens suddenly, sunlight flooding in and blinding me. The harsh brightness is a shocking contrast to the suffocating dark, and I flinch, raising my hand to shield my eyes. My body feels stiff, weak from crying and cramped from being confined in the trunk for so long.

Two pairs of rough hands grab me by the arms, lifting me out of the trunk, my feet stumbling onto the ground. The moment I hit the concrete, my legs wobble, struggling to adjust to the blinding sun and the weight of everything.

I breathe heavily, realizing that I'm standing in front of a large factory, its gray exterior looming like a fortress. A high fence surrounds it, and I can see men in khaki jumpsuits dodging the walkers snarling against the chain-link. The walkers' teeth gnash and their hands stretch toward the men. My heart drops at the sight—walkers trapped just like Lee and Nedra were, their bodies used as tools for Negan's sick games. I feel bile rise in my throat.

"Something went wrong with the transportation of your old friends," Negan's voice cuts through the air behind me. The men holding me turn me around to face him. He's standing there, grinning like none of this matters, like it's all some sick joke. My skin crawls at the sight of him. "What were their names again?" He asks his tone taunting. He knows their names. "Ah, it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

Negan's eyes flicker to a blonde woman standing nearby, her arms crossed and a tattoo peeking from her neck. "Laura, take her to where she'll be staying. Make sure she gets cleaned up and eats something."

Laura nods, her expression unreadable, as she glances at me. The men tighten their grip on my arms, pushing me to follow her as she walks ahead. I can't stop my eyes from darting around the courtyard, frantically searching for Daryl. I see the van he was shoved into earlier, its doors wide open—empty.

Inside, the factory is cold and sterile. The gray walls stretch endlessly, lit by harsh, blinding lights that only make the place feel more soulless. We pass through a maze of corridors, turning corner after corner, the monotony disorienting. I try to memorize the path, but it's no use. I'm lost. We climb a set of stairs, and I wonder if I'll ever find my way out of this place alive.

We finally stop in front of a door. Laura pulls out a set of keys, unlocking it before swinging it open. She glances at me with a look that's almost impatient. "Go on. Get inside."

I hesitate, my body rigid with fear and disgust. The men behind me try to push me forward, but I plant my feet, shaking my head. Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to give in to whatever this is. I won't make it easy for them.