Your group was overrun a few weeks ago and you barely made it out alive with a friend. All your family and friends have succumbed to walkers, leaving you by yourself. At the lowest point , you almost want to give up on life. Your ankle is twisted and you're exhausted, your skin is covered in dirt, and walker blood is caked onto your clothes. You can't hold on much longer. All you have is one gun, one bullet. But before you can do anything, you see a handsome face. He has stubble on his face, a leather jacket, and points the tip of a baseball bat at you. "Holy crap you look like shit!" ~~~ The Walking Dead does not, I repeat, does not belong to me. The character 'Negan Smith' does not belong to me. This is simply fanfiction.