Her Savior // negan/twd

.7. - Part 2

"She never asked me once of the wrong I did. // When my time comes around, // Lay me gently in the cold dark earth. // No grave can hold my body down, // I'll crawl home to her." - Hozier 'Work Song'

Negan sat there on his sofa, torturing the poor child named Carl for what felt like hours. Hell, for all I know it could have been just that. Negan got mad for me not watching, however, he lightened up once I looked at Carl without his eye bandage. It was an endless pit of red skin torn apart by a bullet that one angered kid shot out of a gun. Carl was lucky, I'll give him that. 

The old man started off by wanting to get to know Carl better. Carl sat there, scared half to death. Trust me, you could smell it from ten miles away. If he hadn't pissed his pants yet, he was going to, I had a feeling. "You're smart," Negan complimented. "In fact, I'm going to tell you just how smart you are!" I turned my head so I could watch them. "Just in case you forget, forgot, or you don't already know."

Quit this. Leave him alone. He's just a boy.

I tried screaming at Negan, mentally. I hoped that somehow he would stop, but he didn't. Everything in my body told me to get up and fight Negan, or to kill him. But I knew I couldn't, it'd be a wasted chance. I would be a wasted life. 

For a brief moment, Negan and I's eyes locked. I noticed for the first time that he had green eyes that could be passed for hazel. From afar I thought he had dark eyes, but knowing he didn't gave him more of a light. It put my soul slightly at ease as I watched his demeanor change from stern, to caring, back to stern. The expression was but a flicker of a flame. Blink, and you'll have missed it.

This Negan character could care. And I had just been a witness to it.

"See," he said, turning back to Carl. "I'd expect a kid your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing." That's what Ron did. And Enid, when you first saw her. "Except, crying about missing the prom." Negan held up his hands, which were together, his pointer fingers straight out at Carl. "But you, you go on a mission. Find me. Kill two of my men, you're smart enough to know that I'm not going to let this slide."

I sat up quickly, drawing attention to myself. "Negan, don't you dare lay a finger on him."

He didn't turn his head, his eyes were glued to Carl's face. "How about you shut the fuck up? And if you don't, I'll have this kid do it for me." I glared at Negan, his threats slowly meaning nothing to me. Threats were never something new for me, they just pilled up to the back of my invisible wagon.

Negan's lips curved upwards, showing his teeth when he smiled. "Heh," he chuckled. "I can't do it." I was waiting for him to shove Carl over to me, but he didn't. "It's like talking to a damn birthday present." That's when Negan told Carl to take off his bandage. Once he did, my heart ached. It was so nasty, well-kept, but nasty. 

Carl hesitated, causing Negan to become enraged. "Do you really wanna piss me off," he snarled. 

"Carl, do it." He glared over at me briefly before finally taking off his father's hat, and then the bandage. I instantly regretted siding with Negan, but I couldn't let this poor boy, whom I've watched grow up into a man, get killed. 

But maybe death would have been nicer than Negan's rude comments. I stood up after he asked for the second time if he could touch it, earning a warning glare from Negan. I shot one right back, not caring if he were to kill me. "Damn," he whispered, realizing he overstepped. I kept my eyes on him, wishing I had my bow and arrow so I could aim them right at Negan's head. "Holy Hell, kid." I crossed my arms, wanting to step in between Carl and Negan, showing the poor boy that I still cared for him. "It's hard to remember that you're still a kid, and I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything." I shook my head, eyeing Carl who was shuddering, refusing to look over at Negan.