Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

The Great Escape

"He's not going to stop Boo-Boo. You have to get out of here before he kills you or someone else."

I didn't bother looking at T, my attention fixed on the Polaroid that haunted my dreams. I'd yet to see daylight since being thrown back in my cell, but Two-Face was nice enough to keep me updated on the comings and goings of the outside world.

He was downright giddy while explaining in graphic detail the attack on Hilltop. I could still hear his laughter as he detailed how they jerry-rigged a car, blocking all the windows and doors so Hilltop would be unable to stop the loud music drawing walkers through their open gates.

That wasn't even the worst news I'd heard in the last 24-hours. Less than 20-minutes ago when my dog-food was tossed on the floor Two-Face informed me Carl was here, at The Sanctuary. The chills that broke out on my skin listening to him explain how the young man I loved was currently with Negan had nothing to do with the frigid temperature in my cell. Thinking about Carl being here, at the mercy of a madman, made me want to claw my way out with my bare hands which was exactly why he told me. Negan's lead minion had been unable to gain my compliance so instead he took pleasure in my helplessness.

There was no way for me to know if he was telling the truth about any of it, and in reality, it made little difference. Perception was reality, and in my reality The Saviors had attacked Hilltop and Carl was somewhere in this hellhole. It didn't matter if it was a lie. Every story, every threat, every second that ticked by in this pit of darkness threatened to weaken my resolve.

"The devils in the details," T sighed, "You know it's all true. After what happened the other night he's lashing out, at you and your people.  He's going to hurt you any way he can."

It didn't take long for my "guests" to reappear once I was locked up. My mind needed an escape even if my body couldn't find one. Unfortunately, my mind's idea of escape leaned more towards insanity which was disconcerting. Throughout my life many people had told me I was crazy, insane, and more than a tad mentally unstable. Well, I had news for them, I was all those things and a hell of a lot more it seemed. I always was an overachiever.

"Will you please put that down?" T reached for the photo, and even though he wasn't here, wasn't real, and therefore couldn't take it from me, I leaned away. "It's not your fault Boo-Boo."

"That's not true and you know it," I sniffled, setting the picture careful on the ground next to me.

"No, I don't, and neither do you."

I squeezed my eyes closed. "Oh my god, you're more annoying now than you were when you were alive."

"Well, I'm a figment of your imagination so that's on you."

I groaned, leaning my head against the wall. I'd expected retribution for my stunt at dinner, but I thought it would come in the form of manual labor and beatings. The Saviors were nice enough to make sure I received the beatings, but the manual labor never materialized. My best guess was Negan knew being trapped in here was far worse than being forced to work as walker bait. He may be an asshole, but he was an intuitive asshole.

"I thought you had a thing about small spaces?" T asked, gazing around the cell with a grimace.

My head lolled to the side, eyes opening slightly. "As you can see I've worked that out."

He snorted, humming a song I couldn't quite place. It sounded like one my grandmother used to sing. The ghosts were getting mixed up in my head. T was humming a song my grandmother sang when I was a little girl, one he couldn't possibly know. Man, the amount of therapy I was going to need when this was over was staggering.