constant peril → d. dixon

t w e n t y - t w o

Maisie returned to the ironically named Sanctuary heavy-hearted. She wished she was returning to Jonathan's home, where she was free to be Maisie, opposed to the caged-bird version of herself that Negan was desperately trying to hold under his thumb.

The night watch had already begun by the time she reached the compound. She nodded a brief thanks to the Savior who allowed her inside after parking the Harley and climbed the six flights of stairs to her room.

She undressed and changed quickly, placing the knife and sheath Deanna had allowed her to swap out for the ornate pearl-handled one on the nightstand, and crawled into bed. She fell asleep quickly, before she was once again haunted by nightmares.

〄

Maisie's eyes flew open when her chest began to tighten; she tried to take a breath, but the man's large hands constricted around her airway as he straddled her in her bed, placing his full weight on her chest.

"You killed my brother!" he hissed, squeezing tighter.

Maisie's bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets as she clawed and grappled desperately at his hands, to no avail. When her head started to swim, Maisie started to accept the fact that she was gonna die. She was just sorry she was dying in a place she loathed.

No.

She brought her hand up, driving the heel into his nose until she was granted the satisfactory sound of crunching bone. The man recoiled and toppled off her bed, dragging her to the floor with him. It didn't take long for him to gain the upper hand again, the heavy trickle of blood from his broken nose dripping steadily onto her face.

Using all the oxygen she had left in her screaming lungs, she uttered a strangled cry and waited; the door flew open less than a minute later. Saviors, lead by Negan, trooped in and pried him off of her.

"Are you alright, Maisie?" Negan asked, kneeling down in front of her as she laid on the floor, gulping down the warm air that filtered in through the open window by her bed. There was a note of genuine concern in his deep voice, a first for Negan.

"She killed him! She killed him!" The man repeated, as he was dragged out by his wrists and forearms.

"I'm okay," Maisie panted.

Negan watched the reddish color slowly drain from her cheeks, eyes trailing over the blood on her skin, before he straightened up and offered her his hand. She took it and pulled herself up.

"If you want, you can sleep with—"

"No. I mean, I'm fine. Thank you, but you can leave now. All of you," Maisie added, casting a glance at the four muscled Saviors that stood in her room.

Negan left, annoyed at her dismissal. As the last Savior exited, closing the door behind him, Maisie ran to the bathroom to wash the blood from her face. Her skin clean and slightly reddened from her aggressive scrubbing, Maisie raised her eyes and held her own gaze in the mirror.

She had murdered that man's brother to aid someone she cared about; it hadn't occurred to her at the time that he might have family that would miss him. That man was just trying to avenge his murdered brother and she should've let him kill her.

A shiver ran through her, dancing down her spine. She killed that guard without any feeling or remorse — in cold blood.

But was it really murder if they were all gonna die sooner or later, whether it be from biters or from each other?

〄

Maisie was awake long before the short alarm sounded, she just hadn't gotten out of bed yet. At the sound of the alarm, she groaned loudly. Saviors meeting. Springing out of bed, Maisie changed quickly, donning her usual black jeans and a T-shirt of the same color. Glancing in the mirror, she frowned at the marks along her throat and collar bones, grabbing her leather jacket and holding it for a moment before throwing it down on her unmade bed.