Outcast (A TWD Fanfiction)

Chapter 8: Solitary

"A hungry stomach cannot hear." Jean de La Fontaine

(PAST)

When Ellen woke up, she found herself in a dimly lit cell. A cot. A bucket in the corner. She looked around, rubbing a welt on her head from where she must have been knocked out.

She groaned, and took in her surroundings, dread setting in when she remembered the recent events that led her here. It had all been real.

"Holy shit, look who finally decided to wake up," a rugged voice declared.

The cell door opened and in walked a jovial man. "If it isn't the little fucking warrior princess."

Negan paced the room, scraping Lucille against the wall menacingly.

Ellen looked up at him, her eyes watching his movements. The silence was tense. She had almost expected him to continue talking, filling the cell with his thunderous voice.

"You must be wondering what I'm going to do to you," he finally said, standing still as he looked down at her, breaking the silence.

Ellen calmly returned his gaze. "That would suggest I'm afraid."

She leaned back against the wall, feigning disinterest. "I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, though."

Negan glowered at her. "You just killed two of my men. You should be very, very fucking afraid."

"Socrates didn't fear what he didn't know. Including death."

Negan's head tilted ever so slightly to the side, a grin creeping onto his face. The change in his expressions was like night and day. "So what, you're a fucking philosopher now?"

The man crouched down till he was eye level with her, dark eyes piercing in the gloom. "Sweetheart, in case you were confused, this isn't ancient fucking Greece... What would your buddy Socrates say if I were to bash your brains in with Lucille here?"

Ellen met his glittering eyes. "No offense, but we live in a world where the dead have risen up to eat the living. You don't really... do it for me," she said with a shrug.

Negan just chuckled at her brashness. Ellen watched him as he licked his lip.

Ellen just raised an eyebrow at the man's response. "I'm as serious as you are about double d's."

"You're not a god, you're just a man. I'm sorry that you have to live every day putting on some sort of façade so your men think you're top dog around here... And for what it's worth, I'm really sorry about your wife."

Negan's eyes narrowed at the last bit, and his laughter and smile died abruptly.

"Socrates didn't know Death the way I do. He's a good friend of mine."

He stalked towards her and crouched down in front of her, before sharply gripping her throat in his fist. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Ellen choked. "I said--"

Negan tightened his grip, and Ellen could feel the life being squeezed out of her. "Tell your buddy Death I said hi," he growled.

She gripped his arms in gloved hands with a soft groan, making steady eye contact until darkness engulfed the edges of her vision. She reluctantly forced herself to release her hold on Negan's arm, accepting and succumbing to it.

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Ellen woke up at some point, hunger gnawing at her belly and her head and neck throbbing from pain.