Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"that was some good work yesterday. although rick's...wow, but boy did you handle that. now, that was some mighty fine shit," negan says.
"who's that kid... uh, verona?"
"oh, you don't recognize him?" he asks, turning around and smiles at me.
"should i?"
"well, he's the last living person of my outpost," he says. "thanks to you."
"shit," i lay my head back and rub my eyes.
"the balls on that kid," he scoffs. "a badass. i think i'm gonna make him one of my men. i could use a little serial killer."
"hmm."
"a guy like that needs a girl like you."
"oh, please do not do this," i groan. "i have someone."
"the cowboy?"
"carl!"
"right," he waves me off.
"you took more than what you needed today," i sigh.
"they have to get used to serving me," he shrugs.
"right," i scoff and place my face in my hands. "oh, i can't do this."
"look—"
"those are my people," i look up at him. "you have me walking around place, ready to give it over to me when you're done and i don't want it. i'm not gonna want it even more after their blood is on it."
negan turns up the music a little bit and takes his jacket off, tossing it on the bed. "come on," he says and extends his hand.
"what?"
"sometimes i forget you're just a kid," he says. "come here. you said your parents used to do this, right?"
"right," i sigh, standing up and watch him.
"you're not just gonna stand there are you?" he asks. "now i might be a bit rusty but i'll try to be as good as your parents."
i nod and take his hand. "i don't have to stand on your feet, do i?" i chuckle.
"i guess you've outgrown that part," he smiles and starts taking small steps from side to side. i begin following him. "hey, you're not too bad."
"yeah," i smile.
i rest my head against his diaphragm and listen to him breathe, closing my eyes. i am a kid again. the music lifts me up and takes my all the way home, dropping me in my living in a time before all of this.
— f l a s h b a c k —
i'm on the couch watching some cartoon i don't remember the name of while my mother cooks in the kitchen and my father works on a car that's been sitting in our garage for months now. "i sure do believe it's time to be eating with my wonderful family," my father's voice pulls me from the t.v. to the kitchen, where he's coming in from the garage door. "it smells so good."
