The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

seventysix.

I'm unable to stop the intrusive thoughts from invading my mind, driving me even more insane. I kick off the covers in agitation, sitting on the edge of the bed. I run a hand along my tired face. Sleep and I are no longer on speaking terms and haven't been for several months. I'll be lucky to quiet my dizzying thoughts long enough to get some shut eye for only two hours at most.

"Ya okay, Blue?" My husbands voice filled with concern. I peer over my shoulder, seeing Daryl's form on the opposite side of the bed.

"Yeah, I just need to walk off anxious energy. I'll be back. I ain't going to his office," I promise.

"I know ya haven't been okay lately. I ain't said anythin', but I know," the sounds of him facing me fill the air. His hand seeks out mine, intertwining his fingers. I close my eyes at his sudden touch. It's been so few and far between where his skin kisses mine. "I wish ya'd talk to me. Ya didn't even act like this at the prison or when ya first joined us."

I tease, smirking, "Mister Dixon, when are you going to learn I'm full of mystery and surprises?"

"I'm ya husband. Ya don't have to hide from me. I'm 'posed to make ya feel safe." I hang my head, dragging my hand away from his. "Damn it, Vanessa. I'm tryin' here," he growls in frustration.

I shake my head, "no you're not. You're gunning for the downfall of your own wife. That's not love, or being my safe place. This marriage has been nothing but a fucking war zone." I scoff, growing angry. He's been acting weird since he returned from Hilltop the day after Negan fell. He's been cold and disconnected. I barely get a view of the man lying next to me. I stand up abruptly, even more upset, "I'm not stupid. I know you, Daryl." I stalk towards the door when a thought occurs to me, without looking back at him, "why are we still pretending to be happy when neither of us are? Why don't we go our own way?" I close the door behind me without waiting for a reply.

I let my legs guide me to the doors leading to the outside world. I grab a piece of glass from the window we shot out ages ago. I throw it across the pavement, anger and sadness allowing a scream to tear out of my throat.

How can someone that promised me forever treat me so unfairly for a call Rick made? Why am I the only one facing backlash for following an order from our leader and a request from a child I once considered mine? It's not fucking fair. If I didn't think the order was sane or right, I would've been the first person to say something. I saw logic in Carl's young, dying mind and I decided to honor it. I know I made Kelly and Abraham proud. If I don't show mercy to those who deserve a chance at redemption, I completely lose my humanity and I am not okay with that thought.

Negan isn't The Governor. He's shown me mercy and compassion while we were on the opposite sides of the war. He didn't have to save me over and over, but he did. Negan isn't totally lost to this world. He'd make a hell of an ally if he is ever allowed to come out of the cell. I don't think he deserves to be in there for the rest of his years on this planet. Or maybe I'm just a little biased.

Truthfully, I could see myself in his shoes if Rick and company never saved me when they did. I could've been the leader he became. During our many conversations, I felt like I was speaking to myself. If Rick thought I was enough to save, why can't Negan deserve the same courtesy? Yes, he's done some fucked up things, but we all have. He's killed so many of us, but we killed many of his own.

I feel hot tears fall from my eyes as I curl into myself along the wall outside of the rundown factory. I observe the ring adorning my finger. The same ring Daryl used to promise to love me forever. Sometimes, I feel like I really don't fucking know the man that sleeps next to me.