Survivor - TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 46 - Service

Nelly

I lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling, my hands interlocked over my stomach like I'm a corpse laid out for burial. It feels fitting—because that's what I am, at least inside. Dead. Hollow. A husk. I don't feel alive anymore. Not really. Not with the way things are now.

The door opens, and I barely bother to shift my gaze. It's not him this time, though. It's Laura and Arat. Laura strides right in, but Arat stays by the door, her arms crossed, glaring at me like she's doing me a favor by even standing there.

Arat's once-blonde buzz cut is now overgrown, dark roots creeping in and leaving only the tips clinging to that old blonde color. Her short hair barely touches her shoulders now, but it doesn't change a thing about her presence. She still looks the same—hard, cold, and cruel. The same bitch who enjoys making people uncomfortable, the kind of person who thrives on power and control

I sit up slowly, scowling, confused about why she's here.

Laura doesn't waste any time. She moves to my closet and pulls out a new shirt, then goes to the drawer and grabs a fresh pair of pants. With a casual toss, she throws them onto the bed and plants herself in front of me, hands on her hips, already fed up with my existence. "Shower. Get dressed," she says, like she's talking to a misbehaving child.

I narrow my eyes at Arat, her silent judgmental presence needling at me. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking like she's ready to drag me out of here if I resist.

Laura sighs, clearly unimpressed by my defiance. "Dude, don't make me shower you again," she warns, her voice flat, like the memory of having to wash me like a broken doll still lingers in her mind.

I roll my eyes, annoyed but too tired to argue. I stand up, snatch the clothes from the bed, and move into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The sound reverberates through the small space, but it doesn't make me feel better.

I shower quickly and  step out, my skin still prickling from the hot water, and change into the clothes Laura gave me. 

Laura didn't say anything about the scars when she bathed me the first time, but I wonder if she's doing this on purpose now. The short sleeves she gave me leave them on display, like a constant reminder of what's happened to me. 

I'm sure it's intentional, a little game they're playing to keep me in check. But neither Laura nor Arat says a word about it when I step back into the room. They just look at me, waiting.

Two more Saviors brush past them, their hands already reaching for me. They grip my arms, firm but not rough, and push me forward, guiding me out of the room like a prisoner. We walk through the compound, the cold air biting at my damp skin as we head outside.

When we reach the courtyard, I see it. The trucks. The men loading up, the sound of engines revving to life, the low murmur of voices carrying on the wind. My brow furrows in confusion, a knot forming in my stomach as I realize what's happening.

Negan steps in front of me, his bat slung casually over his shoulder like he's ready for a day out on the town. He smiles, that same smug grin that makes me want to claw at my skin. "Good morning," he greets me, like yesterday never happened. Like he hasn't wrecked everything I cared about.

I glare at him, but it doesn't faze him. "We're gonna be taking a field trip today," he says, and the dread that's been simmering in my gut finally rises to the surface. My eyes flicker to his, and in an instant, I know what he means.