Surviving All Out War (BOOK FIVE IN THE SURVIVING THE WALKING DEAD SERIES)

All's Lost in Love and War (SMUT ALERT)

~MICHAELA'S POV~

    Thunder quietly rumbled overhead, hiding behind the dark clouds camouflaged with the night sky, only visible when lighting illuminates them. I quietly shut the gate , turned around, surveyed the area, and sighed, Alexandria looked horrible. A few houses still stood, virtually untouched, while others were reduced to rubble, some still slightly smoldering from the recent conflagration. Walkers quietly roamed the streets, some fresh, some charred from the fires, and some that have been dead for God knows how long.

     The thunder continued. The smell was horrible. Gunpowder, smoke, burnt wood, hot metal, and the horrid stench radiating from the walkers. Burnt bacon, sewage, blood, and rotting flesh. I let out another sigh and unsheathed my knife at my side and slowly made my way down the streets and in between the houses, taking down every walker in site, instantly coating my clothes with their stagnant, toxic sludge-like blood. Once the last walker fell, an eerie silence fell over my once-called-home community. The thunder continued.

     I made my way over to the. Exeter you're and knelt down in front of Carl's grave, gently brushing my bloodied fingers over his cross. "I tried, Carl." I whimpered. "I tried to ask Negan for peace and he refused, Rick's gonna kill 'em. I dunno what to do, Carl. I'm so lost... and Daryl, he of all people that I thought would stand by my side no matter what, refuses to accept peace, just like everyone else has. I've accepted the past, what Negan did to Abraham and Glenn and Martinez, I've grieved and moved on, but Daryl can't, he won't, not until Negan's dead."

     The hunger continued. "I don't want Negan to die... I don't want anyone to die. Is it wrong for me to want this? I mean, the Saviors have done so much, killed so many people, then again, so have we. The Saviors were once people I called family and so are the people back at Hilltop, those who we've lost along the way, too. Ya told me that it was up to me on how to end the war, I've chosen peace, decided that no one else has to die, but that means that Negan and Daryl are gonna be at odds because of me even more than they already are. I know I'm eventually gonna lose one of 'em... and I can't bear the thought of that. I can't do this, Carl. I can't live like this. I can't choose between 'em because I love 'em both. How do I make the decision? Who do I choose? How do I know if I'm makin' the right choice?" I fell silent.

     How do I choose? I can't deny that when I saw Negan for the first time since he cheated on me, it brought back some old feelings. Even though he cheated on me, I still felt my heart flutter when he looked at me, the way he called me baby. And today, when he kissed me, it ignited a small flame that was hiding deep inside me, I wanted more. The way his tongue felt between my legs, I needed more, I craved it. I almost let him finish, I could've, it felt so fucking good, but then I thought of Daryl.

     I had to stop for him. Daryl was devastated when he found out about Merle and I, but what if he found out about what happened between Negan and I, how I felt about it, how I felt about Negan. No, not if, when. Daryl deserved to know, he had to know the truth, it just wasn't fair to him. I wanted to cry, I hated myself for being so fucking torn between those two, but I couldn't help it, the heart knows what it wants, but unfortunately the heart doesn't know it can't have it's cake and eat it, too.

     The thunder continued. "Can we really have peace, Carl? Can we really start over? I wish there was a universal redo button. I never would've fell for Negan. This would've been so much easier if I didn't develop feelin's for 'em." I slowly lifted my stump and looked at the fresh bandages. It doesn't hurt as bad since Negan cleaned it, but it still hurts like a bitch.

     I could feel it, my missing hand. I was balled up into a fist with frustration. I wondered how Merle, Hershel, and Martinez handled the pain, the phantom limbs. Deep down, I already knew. Painkillers. Lots and lots of painkillers. Well, at least that'd be Merle's way. Hershel probably felt with his with nature's medicine, and Martinez most likely felt with it by drinking the pain away. I couldn't drink the pain away, I couldn't pop pills, and I don't know where to look for homeopathic remedies for something like this. I wish Hershel was here, he'd know what to do, he'd know what to say to help the storm inside my head and in my heart.