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I've done many things in my life that I regret. Letting Negan touch me is very high on the list. I can't bring myself to despise my actions too much. The apocalypse makes people lonely, and if there's one thing I've learned since the dead started to roam, it's that you can't mull over your regrets. It's a waste of limited time.
I escaped. I did it. I'm five minutes from the gates of Alexandria, sitting on a rock, and I need a short journal break before I can face my family again. They think I'm dead.
I need a hug from my grandmother and I need to look Rick in the eyes again. The man that I could credit my survival to. He almost raised me.
So close.
She shoved the journal into her backpack, clipped the pen onto the side, and started on her way again. She was staying away from the main roads, roaming through the forests. She was sure as soon as Negan noticed her absence he would send some vehicles out to search for her. Being deep into the woods made it much easier to hide.
It only took a little over a few hours. When her steps got closer and closer to the large, rusted gates, she could almost smell the familiar scent of the leaves in Alexandria.
Once she reached the wall, she pressed her hand to the cold metal and savoured the short moment. Alexandria was so much more welcoming than The Sanctuary. She didn't feel as if she were in prison anymore.
She couldn't help but worry about Sherry. It was a shame, she feared so much for her grandmother when she was away and now that she made it back she has somebody else to worry about. Her cries when she was with Negan were real, and Winona felt like a terrible person to leave her there. But there wasn't much option she had in that moment. It was go now, or wait to find another opportunity. With limited time, she took the former. Sherry was strong and she'd be able to find a way out of there, Winona knew of it.
Walking along the wall, it didn't take her long to reach the gate. Vengeance for the plunderers. What was a warning sign for others was a welcome sign for her. She was home.
There sat Spencer, oblivious of her presence, with his face buried into a book. He was never too good at doing his job.
As her steps got closer the crunch of the leaves alerted him of her presence. He dropped his book and swiftly grabbed his gun, aiming at Winona who threw her hands into the air. He wouldn't shoot without looking properly — Spencer was a bit of an idiot but not that much.
He lowered his gun slightly, covering his squinting eyes with his hands to get a better look at the girl. His mouth dropped. "Winona?"
