Break Me |✧Negan 🍯

Why Won't You Die

You rushed him like a crazed bull, Lucille held high with all the intent in the world to bring her down on his head. You didn't care if he got his knife in, you would die for a good cause, if this is the way you would go, you would accept it for your friends.

No...For my family.

You were to die gloriously. Word would get back to Alexandria about how you single-handedly saved them from subjugation by killed the tyrant. Like David and Goliath.

Except that didn't happen. Negan expertly grabbed Lucille midswing, his hands clutching just under her wire while delivering a sharp and very painful kick to your gut, knocking the wind out of you and sending you flying back into the table, vases shattering and food trays littering the floor.

You dropped Lucille and like the one ring, she sought a way to return to her master.

You scurried backwards on your hands to where you dropped your little knife, quickly picking it up and holding it in front of you. Trying to stand but your stomach would not allow it, the pain crept everywhere like he had exploded an ulcer.

You were overcome with desperation, it implored you to stand, to run, to do something. But the pain in your gut simply wouldn't let you comply. Your mind blared like an old wartime siren, except the bat was about to drop instead of the bomb. 

"WHY won't you DIE?!" You screamed at Negan, throwing pieces of vase at him as they flicked off his chest like a pinging pop shot. He approached you slowly, regarding you almost curiously. Like how a child would try and watch a bird with a broken wing trying to fly.

You saw the thick muscle on his arms flex and his knuckles turn white over Lucille's handle. He was getting close now, his socked feet padding gently on the ridiculously plush carpet.

His gaze never left yours and you saw how his eyes blazed with a dark fire, his chest rising and falling...so controlled, not betraying a hint of exertion or stress.

Your knife was still raised up towards him. If this was your time you needed to at least cut him.

I'm so sorry, I failed you all. Forgive me, be stronger than I could ever be and beat this world.

A strange wash of calm caressed you as you thought about everyone you had loved and lost in this world.

I'll be with you all soon.

Negan raised Lucille high above his head, looking ten foot tall as his eyes glinting with the promise of violence, but at least there was no smile on his face.

"Oh, baby. You have no idea how bad you just fucked up. I mean, I thought you spitting on my face and backtalking me outside was a fuck up. I was so fucking wrong. This is one catastrophic fuck up of EPIC proportions...You are really done for, girlie".

"Do it then! FINISH it! Don't be shy, I hope it really fucks your carpet up...I'll haunt you in the afterlife". You spat through gritted teeth and closed your eyes to await his blow.

Lucille came down hard and heavy, her barbed wire stripping flesh and crushing bone. The pain shot from your hands all the way to your toes, making you see bright white flashes and gasp loudly.

You looked down at your hands to see them streaming with blood and the knife you were holding now flung to the other side of the room. You felt strange and wondered if you were actually dead as a lightheaded apathy blanketed you as a shield to the pain.

The door burst open to reveal a concerned looking Simon and at least ten men pushing their way in with guns raised, mouths agape as they surrounded you like circling vultures.

"Oh my God! Boss, are you okay? How the fuck she get out?!" The unintelligible voice floated in your ears, all you could focus on was the strange tickle on your hands-caused by the breeze from an open window gently ghosting over your warm blood.

"This fucknut here barged into my room and tried to KILL ME!...Unfortunately for her, she fucked it up...Now we can really have some fun". Negan leaned down onto his haunches, his head tilting as he regarded you. You met his eyes with a thousand yard stare. The emotions on his face were so difficult to read and he didn't look overjoyed with his win.

Anger? Disdain? No, something softer... Almost sympathy, concern and...?

"Put her to fuckin sleep"

The wooden butt of a gun smacked you hard on the side of the head to deliver the perfect anesthesia. The room started to spin and darkness enveloped your body, as your vision faded into a nothingness vacuum.