Chapter Text
Chapter Three
Pity Party
I felt hands wrapped around my shoulders, lightly shaking me.
“Wildflower, wake up. Wake up. It’s just a dream. Open your eyes,” A deep voice growled.
My eyes flew open and locked on Negan. His eyebrows were drawn together and there was a look of concern in his eyes. I pushed myself into a sitting position, running my hands over my face. Negan removed his rough hands from my shoulders.
“You were having a dream and it didn’t sound like a f*cking fun one,” Negan murmured, sitting on the edge of my bed, his presence all up in my personal space.
I shook my head. My heart rate felt elevated in my chest, but I couldn’t remember what I had been dreaming about.
“I don’t remember it, which seems to be a common theme. What time is it?” I asked, trying to shake the sleep from my body.
“A little after one. I had lunch brought, but you’ve been out and I didn’t want to bother you,” he responded, looking at me.
I glanced over to the nightstand, noticing the tray with soup and crackers on it.
“Can you tell me where, exactly, I am? Dr. Carson said I was at The Sanctuary, which sounds a little too Manson for my taste.”
Negan laughed.
“You’re f*cking hilarious. The Sanctuary is my place. A community, just like the other ones, but it’s extra special because I built this sh*t from the ground up,” he responded, sounding real proud of himself. “So no, not a cult. Just a place for people who don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Can I see it?” I asked, looking up at him.
His eyes widened a little. “You want a tour?”
“Please. I want to get out of this bed. Have I ever been here before?”
He chuckled. “No, but not from lack of trying on my end. I asked you multiple times to come here with me, but you were pretty set on sticking it out in Purcellville.”
“Oh. Why wouldn’t I come here, even just to visit?”
“Well, that wraps up today's portion of seventy five f*cking questions. How about we get doc to come get that tube out of your arm, get you out of bed and into a shower, and then I’ll give you the grand tour and get some food in you?” Negan jumped off the bed and began striding toward the door again without looking back before he disappeared through it.
I tilted my head, not missing how he completely ignored my question, which he seemed to do pretty often. All of his answers were… non-answers. I could already tell he was a pro at skating around situations and fluffing up whatever his version of the truth was.
I pulled the blanket off my legs and slid them slowly over the side. I felt better today. Not as tired. Still a little sore and my joints protested my movements to the highest degree, I felt my bare feet hit the cold floor, sending shivers down my spine. I stood, my knees shaking a little, as I stretched.
Oh, f*ck, this feels so f*cking good.
I pushed my arms as high as they would go, stretching out every muscle I could. Two and a half months of sleep attempted to shake off my body as I twisted and turned as much as I possibly could.
I took a few steps, not able to go too far with the needle still dug into my arm. My fingers skimmed over where the needle was stuck. I pulled the butterfly strips up and slowly pulled the needle out, before letting the tube drop, still hanging from the machine it was attached to.
A few drops of blood leaked from the spot on my arm. I held my fingers over the small hole and slowly walked toward the shelving to my left, my eyes falling to the jar of bandaids sitting near the sink. I pulled one out and carefully peeled the wrapping off, laying the bandaid over the wound. Perfect.
I looked down, noticing I was still in the blue nightgown. I laughed a little at the wildflowers all over the soft blue fabric, not doubting for a second that Negan had picked this out. It fell just above my knees, leaving the bottom half of my hairy legs cold. Oh, jesus. Send to the woods and call me Sasquatch, for f*cks sake.
The door opened again and I watched Negan walk in, a panicked look falling over his features as he took in the empty bed. His eyes frantically scoped the room before landing on me. Dr. Carson leaned to the right of Negan, previously unviewable behind Negan’s broad shoulders, and stared at me.
“Skipped right past the part where I said I would get Dr. Carson to come pull that sh*t out of you, huh?” Negan grumbled, sounding slightly irritated.
“Oh, the good doctor has already done enough for me. It was a small needle. Look, I already put a bandaid on it,” I responded, shoving my arm out to show him.
Dr. Carson stepped around Negan, looking horrified, and walked toward me, lightly laying his hand on my shoulder and guiding me back to my bed, pushing me to sit.
Negan leaned against the wall, close to the door, crossing his arms over his chest and propping one of his ankles over the other. The picture of confident arrogance. He watched as the doctor took vitals and asked a hundred questions about how every part of my body was feeling and if I remembered anything yet.
When Dr. Carson had explained for the sixth time that I could walk around and eat small portions, but wasn’t allowed to do absolutely any strenuous activity, and was required to report back in a few hours so he could check me one more time before bed, he exited the room, giving Negan a stern look on his way out.
I jumped off the bed, my legs wobbling a little bit in the process, and clapped my hands together.
“So, shower? Right? You have clothes that will fit me?” I asked, suddenly excited to leave the dingy room and badger Negan with questions.
Negan laughed, leaning up from his spot on the desk, and reached out for my hand.
“Come on, wildflower. Let's get you clean.”
I thought for a second. I still didn’t know this man, not really. It’s very possible he was a very bad man and I was just falling into whatever plan he had.
I shook my head. No way. He smiles at me constantly and I can see the softness in his face when he looks at me. He cares about me. Why else would he have had the doctor watch me the last few months?
I reached for his fingers and wove mine through them. He tugged me close to him and pulled me from the room, the devilish smile never leaving his face.
----------------------
The hot water ran down my body as I just stood there, eyes closed, face tilted upwards into the stream. The water flowed down, soothing my muscles. I’m never getting out. I will drown before I step out of this shower.
I’d been in the shower for at least ten minutes, soaking in the warmth of the water. Negan had brought me up two flights of stairs, explaining he was taking me to his private quarters. From what we passed, I made out that we were in a factory of some kind. We didn’t pass any people on the way up, which Negan had explained was because no one came over in this direction unless it was absolutely needed.
When he pulled me into his living area, I was shocked. I had expected the same dingy walls and stale smell. What I got was a room that had nothing but expensive sh*t everywhere. A leather couch, a big wooden desk, bookshelves lined with books and expensive looking trinkets. The walls were painted a soft gray and paintings hung everywhere. Negan explained this was where he worked when he didn’t have to be out. He pulled me through another door, into an even more expensive looking bedroom.
A large black, king sized, four poster bed sat in the room with red silk sheets and a black soft looking blanket on it. There was a medium sized table and chairs in one corner and a small kitchen set up in another. He had a TV mounted to a wall and a small entertainment center below it with a DVD player. Movies and CD’s lined the shelves.
Negan let me take everything in. This either really was the middle of an apocalypse or I was happily letting a strange, gorgeous man that I may have met one other time keep me hostage in an abandoned factory.
Negan had pointed towards a door, letting me know that clothes were on the counter and he’d put “lady sh*t” in the shower for me.
And here I stood, soaking in the warmth and trying to keep myself held together. Pity party, table for one, please.
It felt like I was in an alternate universe, or stuck in a dream that I couldn’t wake up from, with no memory of my past life. Negan seemed nice, to me, at least,, but I didn’t know him. My one memory of him wasn’t bad, but who knows what happened between us after that? I assumed my family was dead, but I didn’t even remember them to grieve the loss. The small bits of information I had been able to piece together wasn’t enough to even tell me what kind of person I had been.
I let myself have another minute to cry and pull out of the panic I was sending myself into, before grabbing the “lady sh*t” and scrubbing my hair thoroughly. Everything he had set out for me smelled like roses and it made me hum in appreciation. I smelled f*cking delicious. I focused on my body, shaving the thick layer of fur I had grown over the last two and a half months.
Eventually pulling myself from the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself and set to brushing my teeth and running a brush through my long blonde hair. I stared at myself in the mirror.. I was skinny. Skinnier than I wanted to be. The doctor had let me know they’d had nutrients pumping in to me while I’d been out, but it wasn’t enough to keep any meat on my bones. I needed to work on that.
My hair fell to the middle of my back. Blue eyes stared back at me as I finally met my own gaze. Looking at myself made my stomach hurt, for some reason.
I looked down at the counter, taking in all of the stuff Negan had laid out for me. Deodorant, lotion, what looked like a perfume bottle, mascara, a blow dryer, and neat clothes folded to the right.
I quickly set to work blow drying my hair. I unfolded the clothes, my eyebrows drawing together as I held up a sundress. It was bright yellow and looked pretty short. Apparently I liked this stuff because I remembered wearing a similar dress in the memory I had of meeting Negan. I shrugged to myself and pulled on the white panties and matching bra that had been beside the dress. Finally pulling the dress over my head, I turned to look at myself again.
The dress fit, but it was slightly too big around my waist. Not enough to be noticeable to most people, but enough to give me a goal on how much weight I needed to gain. I looked away again, not wanting to make eye contact with my own damn self, and slathered on deodorant, lotion, and sprayed myself with the perfume. I coated a little mascara on and threw my hair over my shoulder, before squaring my shoulders and heading towards the door.
I stepped through to the bedroom, my eyes scanning the room to search for Negan. Except, he wasn’t there. I walked to the door on the far end, and stepped through it, finally finding him sitting at his desk with black thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He was reading over a few papers in his hand, his forehead scrunched in concentration.
Without looking up at me, he said, “Oh, I had assumed you had drowned. I was about to send in a rescue team.”
I let a small smile tug at my lips and a snort fall from my nose. Negan’s eyes lifted with the corner of his mouth at the sound, before they landed on me.
His mouth opened slightly as he took me in, making heat rise in my cheeks. My eyes fell to the floor. I couldn’t watch him look at me like that. It wasn’t good for my heart.
“Holy f*cking sh*t, wildflower. Give me a second, let me just pick my jaw up off the ground real quick,” he muttered.
“Don’t make this weird, Negan. Let’s go. I have questions. Plus, you promised food and I’m so hungry, I’d literally start gnawing on you if you were close enough.”
My eyes finally lifted to him again. He was watching me the way a cat watches a mouse. Not today, satan.
“If you wanted to put your mouth on me, doll, all you had to do was f*cking ask,” He responded, his eyes rolling over my body again.
“Oh, ew, Negan. I’m quite literally about to throw up on you,” I angry whispered, spinning around and walking towards the door. “Food, now, please.”
I heard laughter and loud footsteps follow me to the door, his long legs catching him up to me quickly. His arm snaked around my side and he grabbed the doorknob before turning his head in my direction, his breath skating over my ears.
“You smell just as good as you look, Wildflower,” he murmured, finally pulling the door open and leading me outside.
