The Devil's Details

Have A Drink On Me

Negan had successfully lured Chris back to the Sanctuary leaving you without a community chef and your primary love interest. You didn't blame him for leaving after Negan's humiliating display. Even if he had stayed, the course of your relationship would be permanently altered . The big bad had seen to that.
You had followed him out to his truck after the disastrous dinner date, pushing and shoving him from behind as he walked towards the gate. You couldn't stop yourself at that point. He had stayed calm and basically ignored your outburst the entire time. He just kept telling you to cut it out and warned you repeatedly that he would be back soon. It wasn't until afterward you regretted it. You knew that when dealing with Negan, for every action there was a reaction. You also know he was just biding his time till he came for you.
In the meantime, you decided to throw yourself back into scavenging big time. It was the only thing you had now. Running the Haven was rewarding but you felt as if you were married to it. There was no solace in it. It wasn't as if it was tumultuous. It was actually quite peaceful. But you missed the excitement of discovering supplies. You also worried that by not killing walkers you would get rusty at it. If that happens, there was nothing more dangerous.
You only told Dante of your plan to blow out for a couple days. He could handle the Haven by himself for that small amount of time. He tried to convince you to bring a team but you refused. You wanted to go it alone to get your head together. You would be facing Negan soon enough.
He had insisted on packing your car up for you. He made sure you had enough food and ammunition to last for the entire trek, providing you didn't run into a herd. You were confident you would be fine, sticking to the backroads and away from the city and any large towns. Your main objective was to find medicine and as much alcohol as possible. You needed it.
The first place you came to was a strip mall up in the hills. It had been thoroughly looted for the most part. There were bodies in the parking lot, a few of them were undead. They had been easy to take care of. They were slow and basically rotted through. You make your way into a pub and enter cautiously, listening for anything but the sound of broken glass under your feet. It had been a long time since anyone had been here. It was completely ransacked. Broken chairs and dishes were strewn about. There was evidence of someone's dinner that had been abandoned most likely during the outbreak. The building smelled like rot and death.
You move to the back kitchen area and flies are swarming over the filthy sinks. The stench was so bad, you felt your stomach turn. Choking back a gag, you go in farther and discover a walk in refrigerator. You press your ear to the door and hear the unmistakable raspy gurgle of a walker. You ready your knife, step to the side and pull on the handle. It's locked from the inside. You are going to need firepower to get in there.
Going back out to the car, you grab a crowbar and a shotgun. The coast was still clear of the living and the dead and you head back inside.
The crowbar ended up being useless which meant you were going to have to blast the lock. This was definitely a more dangerous option as noise could bring unwanted attention but there is no other choice. You level the gun at the locking mechanism and fire. It blows a jagged hole in the door and it swings open as the walker lunges out. It turns its rotting face towards you and you plunge your knife through it's skull, effectively dropping it. You slam your boot down on its head to make sure it's good and dead before stepping over it and entering the cooler.
Your find was a jackpot. The food was totally worthless but there was a cache of beer and wine. There was also a couple of bottles of Irish whiskey which you hastily stuff into your backpack. Maybe Negan would go easy on you if you offered them to him.
You load up as much booze as you possibly could and begin heading back home.
The drive was long. It gave your mind plenty of time to plague you about Negan's return. A huge part of you wanted to never go back but you had people now. They counted on you. They trusted you and you were determined not to break that bond no matter what happens between you and Negan. You decide not to return immediately though. You need more time to yourself and start scouting for a safe place to hole up for the night.
You turn off the road and head up a long, hidden driveway that winds its' way up a steep mountain path. It brings you to a majestic old mansion and you get out to explore it. The front door is wide open, showing signs others have been here before you. It looks clear as you head inside.
The place was totally trashed. Anything that was glass or porcelain was smashed, including most of the windows. Spray paint covers the walls with cryptic messages. You discover a body on the couch with half its head blown off. No threat there.
Upstairs, you come across the master bedroom. A huge four poster bed takes center stage. The lock on the door works and you decide this is where you're staying.
That night, you draw the curtains and light the lanterns you brought with you. There were candles that you found and lit them as well. You sit at the dressing table and crack open a bottle of whiskey. It was going to prove your undoing.
Taking two long swigs, you grimace as the fiery liquid burns the back of your throat and warms your stomach. You stare at your reflection in the mirror and stick your tongue out at it. You are not happy about who you've become.
One more swig and you decide to check out the walk-in closet. It's filled with high end men and women's clothing. A ruby red cocktail dress catches your eye. Pulling it from the hanger, you hold it up to your body. The lady of the house had impeccable taste and you find yourself kicking your boots off. You take another long draw and strip the rest of the way down.
The whiskey is starting to take effect on you as you pull the velvety, crimson garment over your head and slink your body into it. It was not a perfect fit in the top, your breasts were pushed together and they're overflowing the neckline a bit but the rest of it was perfect. You do a dramatic curtsy to the mirror.
"Why I would love to dance with you sir." You say to your imaginary partner.
You twirl about the room, giggling to yourself as the skirt flows around your thighs. You do different poses and dance to imaginary music. You drop to the dressing table chair and swallow some more alcohol. Rifling through the drawers, you find a lipstick and a hair clip. You apply the red tint on your lips and pull your hair into a messy up do.
"Well aren't you the fanciest bitch in this cold, dead world." You tell your reflection disgustedly.
You're drunk now. The whiskey finally did its job, numbing your emotions and making your head swim.
"One more for the road." You say to the empty room and take the biggest slug yet.
You're dizzy as you stumble to the bedroom door and lock it up tight. Grabbing your gun, you lie down on the oversized bed and place it next to you. You fall asleep to the sound of the crickets.