LIVING DEAD , the walking dead.

i. the man from alexandria.

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living dead.
chapter one, the man from alexandria.
episode three, the cell.
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Eleanor Grimes pulled on her hair slightly, pulling it between her lips and chewing on it softly with her lips, eyes staring into the distance at nothing before a touch on her hand pulled her from her revery. She looked up to see Clarke, her surrogate brother and best friend now sitting next to her. She looked at him with a soft smile, and he responded with a large one of his own. "Did you hear? Negan took one of the Alexandrians prisoner." She cocked her head to the side, pulling her hair into her mouth with wide eyes as she listened to him.

"What are they doing to him?" She asked in a faint voice, looking back out at the yard full of prisoners and what she calls deadies. Clarke, who was a guard and knew exactly what Dwight was doing to him, hesitated. "Peach?"

"I have an idea, Pumpkin, but you wouldn't like it if I told you."

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Walking down the halls of the prison, Eleanor held a sandwich for Clarke in one hand and her long hair in the other. Suddenly, she heard a loud, muffled tune, most likely coming from one of the doors in the hallway, and a man with curly hair leaving from it, the tune cutting off momentarily before turning back on again. She looked on with wide eyes as a man with long, dark, greasy hair and the same sweats the rest of the prisoners wore, slowly made his way down the hall.

She dropped the sandwich, its contents falling in disarray on the floor. Then he saw her, and just as she began to run, he bolted forward, putting one arm around her neck and the other hand around her mouth. He took her hostage, and as tears began to fall from her eyes, memories she'd tried oh—so hard to forget rushing back to her, he pushed her forward, until they got to the corner of a wall, and saw a man going out of a door.

She could feel his touch underneath her skin, his breath against her neck. His hands wandered lower and lower—

The prisoner pushed her forward once he knew the man had left, ignoring the warm feeling of her tears on his large, grimy hand.

They got to another corner, and muffled sobs were now working their way from Eleanor's covered mouth.

"Stop struggling, pet." What was once a sweet nickname given to her by her father, was now used in the most vile way, and it made her sick to her stomach—

Then, a pull turned Eleanor and her captor around, to find a woman with a dress and tearful eyes looking at the man, seeming to ignore Eleanor, though the woman's eyes did grow as she saw her in his grasp. It was Sherry, one of Negans many wives.

"Go back while you can." Sherry warned in a whisper, "You know I did. Whatever he's done to you, there's more. There's always more." The woman began to shake her head, "You won't get away. And when you're back, it'll be worse."

The prisoner only stared at her, arms around Eleanor going slack for a moment before tightening them again, heading for the door that seemed to be his freedom. He looked through, to see motorcycles, and opened the door, throwing Eleanor to the side as he made a dash for the bikes. She sobbed as he got close to one, when the door she was thrown by opened, and Negan's men came out, including Clarke.

Clarke, instead of going towards the prisoner as he was supposed to, instead went straight to her when he saw her, crouching and pulling her into his arms.