"Because I needed to put them out of their misery," you respond.
His intense, bright, blue eyes. His sleek, long, brown hair. His smile that's hard to hate. You just can't get enough.
When it started, you were independent, only Flare was there to ac...
"They're on to us," you tell Flare. "Oh really? I haven't seemed to notice," she rolls her eyes. "Just shut up," you snap. "We can't return back-" Flare puts a finger on her lips signalling silence. You obey her request and keep quiet. She slowly walks towards the motorcycle. There was a man. Red liquid was spattered everywhere. The man was coughing up blood. He didn't take any notice of you or Flare. You start to snicker. The man immediately looks towards you. Flare smiles. "Who else is with you?" you ask. "No one," the man responds. Flare looks around, trying to catch the sound of any human life. "He's telling the truth," you state. "There are no other fresh motorcycle marks, no other bikes. Plus, there's no way two people could fit on this one seat. No, not at all." "Great. Perfect. Amazing," Flare pulls out the hand cuffs from the man's pocket. "Oh! I gift for me? How convenient. Thanks." "You can't. Those aren't mine. They belong to Negan," the man gets up on his feet, but begins to cough up a vibrant substance again. "I never asked for your permission," Flare stares at him intensely. He surrenders, clearly intimidated and turns around. "That's right; now place your hands behind your back." The man follows his orders and Flare cuffs him. She grabs him by the collar and drags him to the car. She then shoves him in to the back seat of the car. You shake your head. Instead, you wanted him to sit in the front. "Flare, have him up front," you instruct. "Okay, but why?" Flare grabs on to his shirt and pushes him in to shotgun. "Just you watch," you say and grab your belt as you slide in to the back seat. You sit directly behind him. With a strong grip on the belt, you hold it against his neck. "Rule number one. We ask you questions, you answer them." "Your name?" Flare asks first. She begins to drive. "Negan," he replies instantly. "Bullshit. Cut out the crap. We want your name. The same name that was given to you at birth," you flip and tighten the belt against his neck to remind him it's still there. "Ryan," the man says. "Okay. Ryan. Good. So you do have a name. Why were you on the road?" you question. "Negan sent me to..." Ryan stops. He stares outside the window. "Why'd you stop?" Flare snaps. "Listen, you shouldn't have trusted Negan. He's a real pain in the ass. If I were you, I would've just given him the money and walked away. Now that you haven't, he'll be targeting you," Ryan explains. "Yeah, but I don't give a shit," you say. "He's dead." "No, he ain't," Ryan says. "That was just one of the leaders. A Negan impersonator. There are plenty of them Negan trains. He forms them in to another version of himself. The only thing that he can't change are their appearances. The real Negan has ice cold eyes and looks that'll send chills down your spine." "Great! Just great! There's more of 'em! Exactly what I needed!" you slowly begin to go mental. "We're all Negan," Ryan says. "Wait a second. Why were you out on the roads?" Flare asks. "Continue from before. What did Negan send you out to do?" you were suddenly curious, interested in what he had to say. "Negan sent me out as a distraction," Ryan sighs. "Distraction from what?" you glance a Flare to make sure she's listening. "I don't know. He said something about..." Ryan attempts to remember. "Something about..." you repeat, urging him to continue. "That's right! Something about a mall!" Ryan exclaims. "Our mall?" you stop and take the time to process this. The saviors are after the mall...your home. "I doubt he's there yet though," Ryan says. Carl. He's in that mall. It's Carl you're worried about. You don't give a damn about anyone else. The saviors and Negan are tough to beat, even with a plan. Carl. His intense eyes, his sleek long brown hair, that smile that's hard to hate. You're already missing him. It's Carl. You love him. "Carl," you whisper. "I'm coming; I'll be there before them. Don't you worry." I'm coming.
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