❝One, in his time,
plays the parts of many men❞
[negan x oc]
[season 7]
[Do not copy this fanfic onto other pages and sites or I'll introduce you to Lucille]
❝ WELCOME TO A BRAND NEW BEGINNING YOU SORRY SHITS ❞
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Unknown POV
It's a curious thing; the death of a loved one. It's like riding one of the big rollercoasters at Six Flags but it never stops and you're not wearing a seatbelt.
At least, that's the way I saw grief. And it'd never been more clear to me than right now.
Glenn was...
My Dad too, maybe...
I didn't know why, but I always thought life was gonna be perfect. That we'd all settle down and live happily ever after or some shit. Guess I was wrong. Because in this life there was always gonna be something worse. And I think that deep down, I always knew it.
After Mom died, nothing felt real. Maybe because I'd never experienced guilt like that. Maybe because Dad went fucking crazy. I just knew that I never wanted life to feel like that ever again.
Maybe that's why everything got so much worse.
Or maybe I was chatting shit because some fuckin' psycho had given me concussion and a broken wrist.
I mean, it didn't help that his partner in crime or whatever had me in a fucking chokehold.
He kept muttering things in my ear. Not that I could actually hear him. All I could think about was my Dad.
They'd been gone for hours. Him and Negan. So long that the sun had risen.
As much as I knew my father was a fighter, there was a part of me that thought Negan might come back without him. And that they'd just kill us all. He even said it himself. And I believed him. Especially after everything that'd already happened.
There was no point in fighting without risking someone else's life.
It was torture. I wanted to throw up. Or pretend that this was a dream. But my mind was screaming at me, and I knew there was nothing that could bring me some kind of comfort now.
I could only stand and hope. For something. Anything.
As if on cue, the sound of tyres against gravel echoed through the dense woods as the RV pulled up into the clearing.
For a moment, there was nothing. Only silence.
My group and I were waiting with anxious anticipation, our eyes glued to the RV door.
Then suddenly, they emerged, Negan dragging my Dad through the dirt like a dog.
Negan let go of his jacket finally, and Dad collapsed face first right in front of us.
He looked broken. Like apart of him had died.
I dreaded to think about what might have happened during their road trip. If you could even call it that.
