11. Sorry

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I screwed up, man. I really screwed up.

I'm surrounded by walkers. I have no idea where I am. Alden's shot and we're at the mercy of a bunch of strangers. I'm worried that we won't be able to make it out of this one together. If I survive alone, I don't think it'll be for long.

3 hours earlier

I step into the dark room with the famous cell holding Negan.

It's been two weeks and I can walk without limping. It still hurts, but I won't admit it out loud.

The shadowy figure shifts in his seat on the cot. He stands and my heart begins to race just from once again being in the presence of Negan.

"Heard you were asking for me," I flatly greet.

His raspy voice answers, his face still covered in shadow, "Didn't think you'd come."

"I wasn't," I shrug, "But I just had to know why you wanted to see me."

I didn't think I had it in me to sass Negan. But now that he's imprisoned, I can pretty much do whatever I want.

Negan sighs before answering my inquiry, "I wanted to say sorry."

I practically choke on my spit. I heave a dry and humorless laugh, "Seriously?"

What had to happen to make Negan of all people say sorry?

"I'm serious," he pauses. "I wasn't there to stop him from doing that to you."

I cringe at the memory of it. I've been getting better dealing with my trauma with the help of Alden. The past two weeks I've just been unpacking it all on him.

I shake my head in dismissal and sass, "Really? I thought you would have cheered him on."

"No," Negan greatly scoffs with disbelief. "I would never allow rape."

I roll my eyes, "What a moral code you have."

"If I knew, I would have killed him before he could reach your cell." Negan takes a step closer to the bars, the light now illuminating his sincere and solemn face.

He looks at me like I deserve his pity.

I don't say anything in response and he continues: "He bragged about it. He and his asshole friends were laughing and shit. They made a bet he couldn't do the same to the other girl prisoner."

The air begins to feel frigid at the mention of Sasha. I've spent sleepless nights convincing myself he didn't touch her. I pretended he was satisfied and didn't do it.

I weakly mutter, not expecting it to be out loud, "No."

"I killed him. He didn't touch her," Negan reassures.

Negan reassuring me? Negan taking pity on me? Who brainwashed this bastard?

I watch his eyes. They seem broken, almost as if they were reflect my own broken mess. His eyes give away the pity he feels for me. It's almost as if he's acting. He could be lying.

But why would he lie? What could he possibly gain by telling me he killed my offender?

I'd rather not find reason to disprove him. I need to hear someone else say Sasha didn't suffer from what I did. I need to feel the satisfaction of knowing that man is dead.

"He's dead?" I clarify, trying to keep my face flat.

Negan nods, "As a door nail."

My lips twitch into a smile and I resist it. Eventually, I just let my lips crack a satisfied grin.

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