Rebel || Daryl Dixon

f o r t y t h r e e

Aero woke up to hands wrapped around her throat.

She opened her mouth to suck in a breath, but her throat had been closed. Her eyes flashed as she glared at the man. He straddled her on her own bed, tears streaming down his face. "You killed him, you bitch!" He sobbed the words, pressing his thumbs deeper and deeper.

Aero wrapped her hands around his wrists, pinching at all the pressure points, but he did not relent.

Instead, he picked up her head and shoved her roughly back down so her head hit the mattress. Her pillow fell and knocked over the lamp at her bedside.

"You killed my brother."

Aero was not strong. She was not built muscle wise. Her most deadly attributes happened to be her charming wit and accuracy with a sniper. What little she knew about physical fighting was information she'd solely read from books.

So as a last resort, she threw up her arms into his elbows, breaking the iron grip long enough to stun him. His weight on her shifted, just enough that she could roll and get him off of her. He toppled off of her and onto the floor, but unfortunately, he managed to drag her with him.

Not, however, before she could belt out a scream that would be heard from rooms and rooms away. She said no words-- the scream was simply enough.

He managed to pin her once more and silence her by choking once more, but it was too late. Men burst into the room, immediately seeing him straddling her on the floor. The bed was a mess, the pillows and blankets strewn everywhere.

She knew what the situation looked like and the man did, too.

They wrestled him off of her, leaving her gasping for air on the ground. She coughed and sputtered, savoring every coarse breath of oxygen as her limbs slowly regained their feeling.

"Aero, Aero, are you okay?" One of the men said, but she did not hear him.

She only heard the sound of running boots down the hall-- pissed off boots.

Aero knew who it was before he burst into the room.

He was already hot and pissed about losing Sherry and Daryl. He'd suspected many different individuals, but never the right one.

The man, whom she had no idea about, had just made himself the prime suspect. Negan shot the man a glare before he dropped beside Aero, lifting her head to help her sit up. He eyed the hand prints wrapped around her neck before he brushed the hair away from her sweaty face.

"What hurts?" He breathed, eyes focused solely on hers.

Unable to even form words, she simply shook her head. Her throat ached so bad that she didn't even want to open her mouth to do anything but breath.

SLOWLY DEEPLY GENTLY--

Negan paid nobody attention. His eyes were locked solely on her.

She knew what was coming next-- he would unleash his anger and the nameless man would be slaughtered. She expected a flurry of many emotions, but she did not expect a certain one:

remorse.

She'd killed that man's brother, and all he had done was try to avenge him. How he'd figured out she'd done it, she knew not.

Still, pain exploded within her chest like a bounty of shooting stars being released for the first time in a century.

She felt it-- every wailing ache, every creak upon her ribs. It was not the pain of the strangulation she was shaking from, but rather, the acceptance of why it had happened. She'd freed the angel... but at what cost?

SLOWLY--

It swallowed her-- consumed her until she was gone from the light.

DEEPLY--

Lights blurred, but Negan's frowning expression was completely clear. Anguish was painted onto his flawless face like a blossoming masterpiece.

GENTLY--

When she at last closed those wide eyes, she did not open them until the stabbing pain was but a dull throb. Her throat was tight, holding down the sobs that threatened to rip her open.

He had not killed her, but he'd unleashed something else within her; that something was possibly more deadly than anything anybody could have faced in death.

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