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Lucy sat alone on the floor of an empty hallway, trying to psych herself up for what she had to do. She cried silently into her hands, her body shaking.
"You okay over there?" Someone called down to her, his voice echoing off the walls. She sniffled quickly, jumping to her feet. She wiped her eyes, peering down to see who it was.
"Yeah—yeah. I'm fine. I'm good. It's Dwight, right?" Lucy asked. The man nodded, taking another step into the corridor.
"I'm sorry about Sherry—she was your wife, right?" Lucy asked curiously.
"How'd you know that?" Dwight asked defensively.
"Your eyes said it all when he was talking about her. You have to kill her?" Lucy asked. He looked at her with a blank expression, his eyes glazed over.
"What'd it feel like?" She asked, her voice quivering.
"Like I was ripping my heart out of my chest—one little chunk at a time," Dwight spat, his breathing shaky. Lucy dropped her head back into her hands, listening as his footsteps clicked away.
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Lucy stood outside the door to Negan's bedroom, her hands trembling. She lifted her shaking hand, knocking weakly on the door.
"Come in," Negan called gruffly from inside. She took a deep breath, opening the door slowly. The second he saw her, his face softened.
"Hey," he sighed.
"You okay?" Negan asked gently.
"I had to see it for myself," Lucy shrugged.
"Had to see if I was the monster they all told you I'd be?" Negan teased. Lucy shook her head quietly.
"Had to see if you were still in there," Lucy replied shortly.
"What's the verdict?" Negan asked, leaning forward in his chair.
"Jury's still out on that one," Lucy sighed honestly. He chuckled, licking his lips as he lapped up every word she spoke.
"What're the chances I can convince you to sleep with me tonight," Negan asked, taking a swig of his beer.
