Outcast (A TWD Fanfiction)

Chapter 9: Boon

"First impression is not the last reflection of a true friend, so if you are head over heels for someone who just bought you a cake, you'd better think twice before devouring your misery." Michael Bassey Johnson

(PAST)

Three more water deliveries later.

Ellen swapped her meals for sleep, so that her waking hours wouldn't be spent daydreaming about food. Unfortunately, her dreams weren't any better.

She was awoken by the creak of the cell door. She blinked in the dim light, weakly lifting her head to see who her visitor was.

Disappointed, she put it back down.

"Point fuckin taken. You win, okay?" Negan said.

Ellen just closed her eyes and tried her best to ignore him.

"Don't be fucking rude. I'm talking to you." He came closer and frowned at her when she didn't acknowledge him. "Hey! Look at me."

Ellen opened her eyes and looked at him, tired. She felt too tired to fight or argue or even join in on the banter with the man.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry. I don't usually choke out the women I like on the first date. Well, that's unless they ask me to... Um, nevermind..." he started, getting side-tracked.

"It's just, the dead wife thing. I hate to admit it, but you really struck a fucking chord, and that shit hit me square in the dick. I've never told anybody that. It's just a little off-putting and I guess I got freaked out."

Ellen closed her eyes. She didn't care about his sob stories. As if on queue, her stomach growled angrily.

"If you could have anything to eat, what would it be?" Negan asked.

Ellen opened one eye, perking up.

He paused a second before adding, "And don't say steak and lobster. I mean something within reason."

"Corn bread," she replied instantly, mouth watering. "No wait, chocolate cake!" Ellen said, her voice hoarse.

Negan smiled ear to ear at her immediate change in tone, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth. "Comin right up."

"Y'know, you're a lot prettier when you smile," Ellen said quietly as he got up and headed to the door.

Negan chuckled quietly as the cell door opened and closed, once again leaving Ellen in the dark.

---

Later that night, Ellen ran her fingers through her tousled tresses and looked at her face in the bathroom mirror, wiping away the steam that had fogged up the glass.

She looked rough.

Honestly, she felt rough.

It was a struggle to get dressed, and the motivation to move was at a bare minimum.

One of the female guards had provided Ellen with a grey, long sleeve shirt and a pair of clean jeans. A small grin tugged at the corners of her mouth when she noticed the rips in her jeans, questioning previous fashion statements and their functionality in the old world.

Her stomach growled and Ellen answered the call, heading out.

"You ready?" the woman asked her.

Ellen nodded.

The two wordlessly made their way down the hall, took a few turns and stairwells, before the girl broke up the silence. "I'm Laura, by the way. Simon told me to watch out for you. You don't seem that tough, though."