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

eightytwo.

Vanessa POV
three months later.
(Trigger warning.)

I groan at the sight of the Governor perched in the corner on a chair. He venomously grins when my gaze lands on him, "hello little lady. It's been too long." I shake my head, hating that my subconscious decided to conjure a different breed of lunatic to drive me further into insanity. Though, he's more of a welcome sight than Owen himself.

How far into insanity have I gone if I actually admitted that? I run my hand along my exhausted face. "Fuck me," I whisper, exasperated.

I've lost track of time between the hallucinations and the torture. Every fucking day is a new form of physical or psychological abuse. My nose seems to be broken from the dangerous game of fifty questions. Almost every inch of flesh is bruised. New cuts liter new parts of my body that he left untouched previously. The burns now scar my flesh.  A permanent nasty reminder of my stay that I'll have to live with until my dying breath. My rib cage moans under every breath from the repeated beatings that have become a daily occurrence. I've come to the conclusion that they seem to just be cracked. It takes everything inside my soul to sit and take it, knowing I'm capable of killing him, even in my current state. But, I have to be complicit to protect my brother and chosen family.

I've stopped eating everyday once I realized that they were lacing my food with some sort of a drug. I only eat enough to stay alive. However, the hallucinations have remained. Every person that has died around me has come to haunt me. Another slap in the face, and further proof that my own mind is an enemy of mine; reminding me of everyone that I have failed in some way shape or form.

Kelly joins my side when Owen enters my prison, lending his support to help keep me focused on staying with the land of the living, forcing me to watch his face while Owen defiles and hurts me. Maybe it's a way my subconscious is using to protect me. Though, my heart breaks every time I see his figure, reminding me of the biggest loss I have faced to this day.

I have forced myself to stay awake as much as my body can handle it, needing to be on guard at all times. I can barely tell the difference between reality and warped delusions.

Emotionally, I feel myself grow more and more numb. My heart is hardening. I lost hope long ago  that my family is coming to save me. After everything I've done for them, I feel as if they've thrown me away. I know I saved Negan, but I'm still family, right? If I somehow am able to get out of here, I'm considering taking my babies and running for the hills. I wipe a stray tear, realizing, I might have to do this to myself. However, I doubt James will come out on the other side of this alive. I refuse to take him down with me in a moment of recklessness.

My hand seeks out the spot along my shoulder blade that Owen had cut into, removing my tattoo for Loki. In his usual sick fashion, he forced James to patch me up, protecting me from a terrible infection. At some point I had passed out from the pain, throat raw from the ear splitting scream that escaped my pink lips. I have no idea why he'd do something so twisted but I doubt a man like him needs any type of reasoning to do some something as fucked up like cutting pieces off of me. He's even taken some of my hair into his possession.

My fingers brush the image of Daryl and our twins that was thrown in front of me yesterday. His face is etched in sadness while he watches our children smile up at their father. I reach up, wiping another tear that has escaped from behind my blue eyes. I'd give anything to see Caroline and Kellin one more time; to kiss their little faces. My heart sinks, as I grasp that I'm facing down my death at any point. My babies will have to grow up without their mother, not having a single memory of me. I sob at the heart wrenching thought and conclusion.