forgotten roses (negan)

part 01 - lucy reid

I remember exactly how and when it happened; it was a Sunday night and I had just gotten to my rental house in Virginia for a business trip I was on. I was a veterinarian, a good one at that. Fog was just starting to creep about, I noticed as I peered out of the window. The news was playing softly on a television in the other room, and only when the warning signal sounded did I care to listen in.

I crept up and quickly walked over to the sofa in front of the television, turning the volume up and sitting down.

"There are several reports of the deceased being reanimated, but while we investigate these claims, we recommend our viewers to stay inside-" A walker lurked behind her and bit her neck and that was when I knew that hell was about to break loose.

I began to panic, calling up and saying goodbye to my relatives, just in case I would never see them again.

And I was correct to do so.

Life would never be the same after the outbreak. Stores were looted, people were killed and the government crumbled. With no one to control the masses, there was no one who could stop the madness from occurring.

From that day on, I knew I would have to kill or be killed - which is exactly what I did. I lost track at how many people I would have to kill, and I don't even want to begin to think of all the walkers I've killed. In just two years, I've found myself in a small cabin in the woods of Virginia, occasionally running into survivors.

Though I've never had a group, I've never been contempt living alone and fighting for myself. Standing in my bedroom, I stare at my reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall.

Blonde, nearly white hair cascades down my shoulders, falling just a few inches below my collar bones. My face is scratched, my knuckles are scabbed over and my knees are bruised. I have on a white dress, complete with a pair of heavy boots and over my shoulders hangs a backpack.

Quietly leaving my home, I take a sip from my canteen before placing it back in my bag. Re-positioning the heavy machine gun that hangs from a strap on my shoulders, a machete hangs from a belt on my waist in a sheath, and the baseball bat I carry seem to become heavier as I walk.

The baseball bat I carry isn't an ordinary one to play ball with; no, the bottom is covered in nails.

The crunching of the leaves as I walk is the only noise I am able to hear in the distance, overwhelming me with a sense of inexplicable loneliness. The soft wind tosses my hair around gently as I am able to find my usual path for supplies - the train tracks.

The train tracks were near a road, one I'd never seen any cars driving about on. I hold my arms out to my sides, balancing myself on the tracks as I walk carefully, one foot after another. The sound of nearby vehicles sent me rolling down the tracks and off into the road.

Cradling a deep cut in my side, I stand up just in time to be met by a large white freight truck, along with several other cars and trucks trailing behind it. I see two men hop out of the truck and the loud, even pacing of others following the two men's footsteps.

Before I know it, a tall man with black hair and stubble covering the rough edges of his face stands in front of me, holding a weapon similar to my own, except that the end was wrapped in barbed wire. His dark green eyes flickered over my entirety, a sly grin growing on his face as he examined me in full.

He is clothed in a fitting black leather jacket, which gleamed in the day light, as did the red scarf that hung from his neck. The boots on his feet are black as is the leather glove worn on his hand. The jeans he wears are gray and his grin appears to widen as he looks down at me.

"Hey, sunshine, we're not going to hurt you," he says, biting his bottom lip with glee, "well, as long as you follow our rules and do what I say."

I nod as he gets closer to me, so close that I can feel his hot breath on my neck.

"I'm going to ask you something a little odd, sweetheart, but do you mind giving me a kneel?"

As soon as he says those words, I am quick to drop to me knees. Men begin to circle around me and take away my possessions, one item at a time.

"Wow! Boys, we've got ourselves a fucking natural!"

I sigh quietly, not daring to break eye contact with the man.

"Oh, I almost forgot! The name's Negan, and we're the Saviors. And this," the places the bat underneath my chin, pointing it at my neck, "is Lucille, and she's fucking awesome!"

"Alright boys, load her shit in the back of my truck. Now, Blondie, do you have a camp?"

"I live by myself. If you really want to take my shit, take it, my house is over there," I point in the direction of my home, knowing I'll never be able to return back to it again.

"Oh, shit, alright!" Negan chuckles as a group of men armed with large guns head through the forest, to ransack my home.

"Now that we're practically alone, here is what I'm going to do. I'm going to take you back to my camp and provide you with everything you need."

I clear my throat, "and the catch?"

"Oh, Blondie, there's no catch, other than that you're going to be my wife. Say, what's your name?" he asks, helping me up.

"Lucy," I say, "Lucy Reid."

"I like you, Lucy. Perhaps we've ought to get going before your pretty little face gets eaten up by walkers."

He gloved hand forcefully takes my shoulder, and it stays that way until he helps me into the truck, handing me my bat as I get seated, adding "I thought you'd want this."

"Where are we headed?" I ask as Negan starts the car, "Assuming you have a camp."

"I guess you'll have to wait and see, baby doll. We'll be in there in ten fucking minutes anyways. Anything good in your camp that is now sitting in the back of this truck?"

"I guess you'll have to wait and see."

Negan lifts an eyebrow, looking pissed as he turns his head to look at me, "Don't pull any of that shit with me, dear wife. If you think you can get away with it, you're going to have to meet the iron, as hot as I think you are. I'm not afraid to bring it out. Got it?"

Anxiety pulses through me as he speaks, forming a painful knot in my stomach.

"Got it?"

"Yes, yes I get it. I apologize for my behavior."

"That's more like it, buttercup. Now look at this, we're here!"

Walkers mope throughout the entrance of Negan's camp, eerily creeping around with chains keeping them from tearing the Saviors to bits.

Men start to come forward and open the gates, which leads to a massive factory. My mouth opens slightly in shock, and in the corner of my eye I can see Negan smirk at me, "do you like what you see?"

"Absolutely."

"Fan-fucking-tastic!" As Negan stops the car, he adds, "that's not all folks!"

Negan is quick to hop out of the truck, ordering the men in the cars behind his to put his shit in his house. Taking my hand, his free hand holding his bat, Lucille, he informs me that we were heading to his home.

With a tight grip on my own bat, I walk quickly to keep up with Negan's pace. I glance over my shoulder, only to see the Saviors carrying items from my own home back to Negan's place.

"Well shit," Negan says, "looks like we're going to have to postpone for a later time, Lucy."