My Little Pup

Chapter 9

Sleep evades me once again, my mind is still processing Negan's news. I toss and turn as much as the chain would allow in an effort to quiet my mind, but to no avail.

I get to leave this hell hole.… Sure, I'll have to come back eventually under Negan's original 'terms' as the insurance policy, but I need to get out of here. I need to figure out a plan to help my dad scrape together the funds for Negan's payments. It would take him years to pay Negan using my dad's sporadic income as a mechanic. We could always sell the truck… or my guitar… anything to bring in extra cash.

All I have to do is stay on my best behavior until tomorrow and pray that dad doesn't try to do anything stupid during the exchange. His current state-of-mind could be all over the place; I mean, he helplessly watched a sadistic monster kidnap his daughter and threaten her safety on numerous occasions.

Jesus, please don't let my father push Negan's patience tomorrow… It wouldn't end well for either of us.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crash!

"Shit!"

I bolt upright out of bed. Startled awake by the sudden noise, I instinctively reach under the pillow for my pocket knife. That is until I spot Negan by the dresser, the contents of the first aid kit scattered around his feet.

"Not what I had planned for your wake-up call, but at least your ass is up," Negan says, a satisfied grin on his face. "Since this shit is already out, might as well take a look at those pretty little wrists of yours."

He grabs a few of the adhesive bandages off the floor, placing them on the side-table near the armed chair and proceeds towards me.

Knowing the routine, I kick off my blankets and stand to my feet, giving Negan better access to unhook the chain. Clip – the familiar sound of the chain releasing, allowing me a slight level of freedom in this captive situation.

Negan makes quick work of my dressings, considering that he has had plenty of practice. A few of the lacerations required more attention than others due to being deeper in the skin. All I could do was grit my teeth through the stinging pain as he gently applied antiseptic to the wounds.

Finally finished, Negan allows me to quickly dress and freshen up in the bathroom while he puts away the first aid kit. I don't linger an added second, cautious of his time constraint.

He's nowhere to be seen as I exit the bathroom. A rustling of glasses from the kitchen confirms his whereabouts, must be getting himself a drink….

By the time he returns, shot of whisky in hand, I'm sitting on my bed already dressed and bag packed. He shakes his head and doesn't say a word as he grabs fresh clothes and continues into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

It's only 8:30 AM. Negan mentioned while cleaning my wrists that we're supposed to meet my father at noon. The anticipation of today's meet has me unable to sit still. I mindlessly fiddle with the adhesive on my wrist, anything to keep me occupied as I impatiently wait for Negan to finish getting ready.

A loud gurgle emits from my stomach, reminding me that it has been near empty for the past few days. Negan should be out soon, maybe he'll spare a few scraps of food for me.