oh come on | twd

• How to Use Manners •

I'd woken up in the night to a nightmare. Every time I began to fall asleep I heard the bang of the gun fired at Tyreese. I heard Abraham crack his final joke. I heard Glenn, croaking out his final goodbyes to his wife.

As I sat there, I saw my clothes discarded on the floor. My eyes landed on my belt and I smiled a half smile. I brought it into my hands and remembered the pain it used to bring me. I could feel which hole Dad used from the frayed edges and then felt how far away my own makeshift hole was.

I wrapped it around my stomach and pulled it tight, fastening it. I nearly cried out from the pressure it made against my abdomen, my ribs screaming for some form of relief. I pulled my sweatshirt back down over it, hiding it from view. I didn't want to risk it being taken away. Even though it used to bring me pain it also brought me strength. Back when I'd fought David and walkers.

Maybe five minutes later, I heard the lock being opened and my door swinging open.

"Rise and sh-. Oh. You're already up," Craig said and I watched as he kicked over a tray of food.

I slid it back, turning my head away from him. If I'd learnt one thing, it was not to eat food provided by strange people in strange places. Terminus being a prime example.

He kicked it back, this time it spilling on the floor.

"Clothes," he demanded, and I didn't think twice about throwing them over.

They were getting old anyway.

The door closed with a slam and I eyed the food suspiciously. I couldn't even tell what it was. It didn't look too appetising though, so I looked away. I knew it was petty to deny myself food in these circumstances, in this world in general, but eating food provided by him was something I couldn't bring myself to do.

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Somehow, I'd managed to fall asleep on the hard cold floor despite the song being played again. It had been on repeat for hours and it was irritating me to no end. I was exhausted, and the lyrics constantly being sung out by some woman who was way to chipper really wasn't helping. When I awoke, what was once a pitch black room was illuminated by the door being opened. I sat up and glared through the bright light. It was Craig.

He scoffed when he saw the tray, untouched. He began to talk about how Negan wouldn't be happy about this. I knew this to be a lie. Negan didn't care about mine or Daryl's well-being. That's why we were here. The more he spoke, the more I began to realise. I recognised this man. His voice at least.

"We've met before," I stated and his features stilled.

I tried to rack my brain of where I'd met him. I didn't recognise his face at all. Just his voice. Not to mention his face was pretty unforgettable. He had a large scar down his face, going from the top of his forehead, across his eye and his nose, stopping just below his other eye. I wondered how well his left eye worked because of this.

He ignored me, pulling out a piece of paper or something out of his jean pocket. He tossed it over and as I reached across the floor to grab it his foot landed on my wrist, pressing down. I gritted my teeth but made no move to express my pain.

"Don't go causing trouble," he spat, adding one last bit of pressure before releasing my hand.

He slammed the door, leaving the small window in the door open for light to come in. Just enough for me to see what was on the picture. Tyreese. He wasn't laid how he had originally fallen. He'd been rolled over, so the polaroid could show the bullet wound. I swallowed a thick lump in my throat and tore my eyes away from the image. Even when I wasn't looking at the photo, the image burned in my mind.

I had to think about something else. Like where I recognised Craig from. I tried to recall every meeting I'd had with someone since the fall but my mind was foggy. It couldn't be someone from Terminus; Carol had burned that place to the ground.

If Dad were here he'd be furious at how stupid I was being. He'd tell me to get out and leave Daryl. Kill them all and leave no traces. Like he'd taught me to. Was this Craig someone I should've killed?

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I'd been left in my thoughts for so long that when my light was obstructed I didn't notice straight away. A man's head looked through the barred window and looked around warily.

"Oh god," he whispered, looking away from me and down to the floor, rubbing his face with his hands.

I stared at him. Why did he sound upset? He was on the other side of the door, it wasn't like he was the one locked away.

"I thought Craig was just paranoid but it really is you," he said quietly, looking around cautiously.

He looked like he was scared someone would even see him and I couldn't help but wonder why.

"You're called Amelia?" He said, and I squinted at the man; he already knew the answer. "You don't remember me?"

I looked at the wall in front of me instead of at the door. I knew I was supposed to recognise him. He knew Craig after all. I looked at him. He looked as though he was going to speak, but as I got up, about to approach the door he turned around and grew panicked.

Without another word, he had sped off, and not a minute later Craig appeared at the door. He frowned upon seeing the window open.

"How'd you open this?" He demanded, unlocking the door and pulling a knife out, pointing it under my chin.

I didn't say anything. Even if I did sell out whoever that man was, he'd never believe me and I knew he wasn't going to kill me. It would go against Negan's agenda. If anyone was going to end my short life it would be him.

He took a step towards me, the knife now digging into my neck. It wasn't painful, however it was very uncomfortable. The sharp end of the blade was digging in and I remained still.

"You know what, I'm going to go get David. Jog your memory on how to use manners."

He left, slamming the door and locking it behind him. The name he said instantly sent shivers down me spine.