My Little Pup

Chapter 2

"Well isn't this a cozy fucking place!" Negan exclaims as we enter the living room. His arm is still plastered onto my shoulder. Any attempt to shrug it off or slip away from him is met with a piercing glare and a tighter squeeze on my shoulder.

"Come sit next to me, doll. Hell, you can even sit on my lap if ya want."

Negan plops down on the sofa and brings me with him, his arm still strung around me. My cheeks instantly turn red in embarrassment at the thought of his proposition. I send a look towards my father, begging him to say something, anything to stop this. He continues to avoid eye contact with me. But I can tell that Negan's comments are taking a toll on him, each perverted jab towards me causes my father to fidget more in his seat. Negan is enjoying watching us all squirm.

The man who had accompanied Negan stands guard behind the couch where my father is seated. His arms are folded across his chest as he keeps a trained eye on my father for any sign of resistance.

Negan sees my discomfort of the man's intimidation aimed at my father.

"Shit... I almost fucking forgot." he says. "That's Dwight, one of my main lieutenants."

The man doesn't acknowledge that he has been introduced.

"Enough small talk; let's get down to business," Negan says, drawing our attention. "So, tell me Pete, how's life been treating you the past? What's it been? Fucking twenty-five odd years since we last crossed paths?"

"We-we've been fine…. Making ends meet…I work as a mechanic…. But we're fine," my father shakily answers. His voice never rising above a whisper.

"Yeah, you appear to be doing fuckin' hunky dory here in the countryside. You're living the life! A fucking house, hot ass daughter, job, and money. Yeah… fucking money." Negan's voice deepens in seriousness with the end of his statement. "Money is an interesting thing; it can bring you both joy and despair depending on which end of the deal that you're on. Hell, sometimes it can bring both."

Although I don't have the slightest idea what direction Negan is heading with these statements, my father knows exactly what he is hinting at. Each word from Negan's lips pertaining to 'money' brings my father more and more visible distress. Soon, he begins sweating and is restless in his seat.

"Money is –"

"Quit beating around the bush. What are you trying to say? Why the hell are you here?" I interrupt and give Negan a look of annoyance.

The wolfish grin that was previously on Negan's face is now replaced with a stone-cold stare that shakes me to the core. What was I thinking? Negan obviously means business and I just made the mistake of crossing him.

"Didn't your father teach you that it's fucking rude to interrupt someone when they are talking?" He scolds in a low, menacing tone. His fingernails painfully dig into my shoulder, further showing his disapproval of my outburst. "You seem to not realize the reason behind this whole shit show. I'm guessing your daddy hasn't revealed to you his past, because he hasn't always been Mr. Cookie Cutter Dad of the Year."

I attempt to turn away from his verbal thrashing. Negan only grabs my chin and forces me to face him. "Well listen up princess, because it's fucking story time."

"A long, long time before you came around, your ol' papa was a serious druggie. He used to only snort that country bumpkin shit that y'all have around here. He would get fucking high as a kite on that trash."