Running From You I Negan x Maggie (ENGLISH VERSION)

Chapter 33: Gonna be the death of me

"And our love is a ghost that the others can't see
It's a danger
Every shade of us you fade down to keep
Them in the dark on who we are"

Maggie was leaning against a stack of dirty boxes, arms crossed—but that didn't protect her from shit. The constant buzz of people coming and going around her was just background noise to the storm in her own head. No one there could make enough noise to drown out what hurt inside her.

Her skin prickled. Her throat was dry. Her jaw locked tight.

Why the hell did that idiot have to play the hero?

She bit her lip hard, shifting her weight to the other leg like that might ease something. It didn't. It didn't help. It didn't go away.

The discomfort grew inside her like weeds on abandoned soil. Fucked up, stubborn, and impossible to pull out.

A few meters away, Maggie watched someone finish wrapping what was left of Lydia's arm. Just the sight made her stomach churn. But it wasn't just that. It was worse.

It was guilt.

Guilt lodged in her chest like a shard of glass. Since that fucked up night when Alexandria was invaded, Maggie hadn't had the chance to apologize. If there even was such a thing as a proper apology. The kind of pain Lydia was feeling didn't wash off with words.

Maggie's eyes were hard. Cold. But not out of coldness. It was restraint. The kind that comes before everything collapses.

Lydia didn't look back at her.

She was lost in something Maggie knew all too well: the emptiness of someone who's seen more death than they should have.

From the corner of her eye, Maggie noticed someone approaching. Silent. Footsteps calculated, like they knew they were stepping into delicate territory.

Rick.

The sheriff leaned beside her, shoulder to shoulder, copying her stance with familiarity.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Maggie hugged her own body tighter. Trying to contain what was spilling inside. The desperation was rising like dirty water in a flooded basement. And she didn't know how to swim anymore.

"He's coming back." Rick said, dryly. Like someone saying it just because they had to. Because it was the kind of thing you're supposed to say. Even if it hurts to say it.

"You don't know that." Her response came like a punch wrapped in contempt. "He's probably being devoured out there."

Rick sighed. Maggie didn't look. Because if she looked, maybe... maybe she'd fall apart.

"Negan's like a cockroach," he muttered, almost like recalling something old. "Survives even when you don't want him to."

Rick chuckled, low.

Maggie didn't.

Not a muscle.

She stayed there, frozen. Eyes drilling holes into the ground. What the fuck did he know about it? About what it meant to her?

Honestly, she was pretty fucking pissed that Rick agreed with the idea, letting Negan walk out into the middle of a horde. Because if it had been Daryl or Michonne, the sheriff wouldn't have hesitated to stop them. But she wasn't going to say it, of course not. Just one more thing Maggie had to swallow and feel burning in her guts.

Silence fell like dust over the place, thick and full of everything neither of them could say. Until Maggie took a step to the side.

Out of his reach.