𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 -Negan x Reader

•14•

!! ⚠️TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT ⚠️!!

The door slams shut behind you. Water beads and drips off of your face from running in the falling rain. Every muscle burns as well as your lungs. The pain in your shoulder becomes more excruciating as the adrenaline wears off. You force yourself into the bathroom to try and examine the wound. In the mirror, you stare into your wincing face and you peel the soaked jacket from your arm.

There is no exit wound, the bullet is still embedded into the soft flesh of your shoulder. Your arm is almost completely useless. You open the medicine cabinet with a shaky hand and throw gauze, rubbing alcohol, and bandages onto the bathroom counter in front of you. Closing it, you turn to examine the bullet wound only to find your arm is sliced open as well. You know they won't be far behind, you have to be quick.

Your eyes scan the bathroom looking for anything to bite down on. Landing on a decorative towel you fold it up and stick it between your teeth. You grab the alcohol and flip the cap open. Taking a deep breath in, you shut your eyes and squirt the substance onto your bullet wound. You scream into the towel and bite as hard as you can. You've never experienced pain this terrible.

With a substantially shakier hand than before, you shower your cut with it too, letting out another wail. You throw the alcohol back onto the counter and begin taping the gauze onto the wounds and wrapping them with bandages.

Still shaking from the immense amount of pain, you exit the bathroom only to hear footsteps coming up onto the porch. You knew they would follow the trail of blood but you didn't have any other choice but to patch yourself up. Your blood runs cold as the sound of their muffled voices get closer to the door. Pulling the gun from your waistband, you pull out the clip.

Five left.

You duck behind the couch and chamber a bullet, waiting for them to enter. Your hands shake as you point the barrel of Dwight's pistol at the door about head high. Your nostrils flare from the sheer amount of air you're rapidly breathing. The door creaks open but no one comes into sight right away. You keep as quiet as you can, waiting with your finger tightly wrapped around the trigger.

The adrenaline starts to pump through your body. One of the men finally step through the door, gun drawn. The moment his head of long wet hair rests between the sights of your gun, you squeeze the trigger and his body crumples to the floor. Through the sound of your rapid heartbeat, you hear the floor creak behind you. You whip around only to be met by the swing of a baseball bat and then everything goes dark.

-

The throbbing sensation in your head only grows as you regain consciousness. You try to bring your hand up to touch your head but you're restrained. Your eyes try to flutter open to no avail. The light in the room beams into your eyelids like a heat lamp turned to the maximum. In turn, making the pounding in your head worse. You let out a small groan and start realizing why you're restrained.

"About time you got up.", an unfamiliar voice retorts.

Your eyes fly open despite the immense pain it causes you. Through blurred vision, you see a man standing across from you eating a can of your food. His black hair is wet and matted and his face is adorned with a long beard with bits of grey sprinkled throughout. His eyes are small, beady, and pale in color. You're in the kitchen, and it looks like he's made himself at home.

"How long have you been alone?", he asks, mouth full of spaghetti-o's.

Lie.

"I'm not alone", you spit.

Shoving another spoonful into his mouth; he looks you up and down blankly.