My Little Pup

Chapter 11

After the conversation with my dad, I made an effort to keep my head down and mouth shut for the next few days. My timid voice was only heard to mutter a satisfactory 'yes sir' or 'no sir' to whatever Negan asked of me, which wasn't much.

He oddly hasn't berated me or threatened me after witnessing my emotional breakdown. Hell, he has barely uttered a sentence longer than four or five words. You would think that a restrained Negan would be a pleasant change, but it only made me more uneasy. I had never witnessed Negan being anything besides his talkative, brash self, so the sudden muteness raised a few eyebrows.

He spent most of his time downstairs with his crew, trusting either Simon or Dwight to keep a watchful eye on me during the day. With nothing to do to keep me occupied, the days painfully dragged on with the same routine.

Negan would wake up and begin his morning routine at the crack of dawn. It wouldn't be long before a rough shake would wake me so that he could change my few bandages. The wounds have healed enough to where I'm more than capable of changing them myself, but he insists on doing them. I knew at the time not to argue.

After they were complete, I was allowed a trip to the bathroom before being re-attached to the chain. Once Negan left for the day, Simon or Dwight would check on me periodically and bring me food. Still weak from the lingering affects of the medications, all I could do was sleep and rest until I regained my strength. Negan wouldn't return until late in the evening. Exhausted from a full day on the main floor, he would quickly shower, eat, and pass out for the night. The cycle repeated the next day.

It took two days of rest and refueling to regain enough strength to be able to get up and walk under my own power.

Once I regained my strength, I would absentmindedly pace the spacious apartment for hours – the freedom to do so a reward from Negan for good behavior. I still had to wear the collar, but it sure beat sitting on my ass for the entire day. Simon and Dwight typically wouldn't pay me any mind, spending most of their time doing paperwork or making 'business' calls. It's not like they had to worry about me trying to escape my fortified prison.

I hated the constant downtime that I had at my disposal. Being restricted to one particular place with my only socialization being with Negan, Simon, and Dwight equates to myself slowly losing my mind. With nothing to keep me engaged, my train of thought continuously rolled down the tracks of my mind. I repeatedly kept replaying the events of the past few weeks, scouring every detail to see if any of this could have been avoided.

What if dad had fought back more…? What if I had controlled my temper the first night…? What if I had found an opportunity to use my pocket knife and ended Negan when I had the chance…?

I'm practically driving myself insane! Its no use in pondering the 'what ifs' because it was always going to end this way. One thing that I've learned in a short amount of time is that Negan always wins. No matter what we did, or didn't do, Negan was always going to get what he wanted, whether that resulted in the current situation or something far worse.

It only took two days of being on my feet, practically traversing every square foot of the apartment while my mind fought an inner battle, for me to break down and go to Negan.

"Is there anything that I can do during the day, to pass the time while you're gone?" I finally mustered the courage to ask when he was changing my bandages one morning.

It takes him a moment to realize that I had spoken. "What?" He momentarily stops winding the adhesive around my wrist and raises his questioning eyes to meet mine.