Deadland

Chapter 127- I'm Not Lying!

(TW!! Mentions of torture!!)

(Alyssa Grimes' POV:) "Daryl! No! Adrian's back there!" 

He grunts and hoists me up so I'm in a walking position, "She's with Negan! We gotta go!" I continue to try and fight him off but once I see a knife fly right next to us, I give up and run with him. 

My leg is killing me. It feels like a tiny man is inside my thigh, slowly cutting it with a small, hot knife. The pain is so close to being unbearable, I can't hold in the small whimper that pours out of my mouth every time I put pressure on it. 

Walking through the woods with Daryl and Dog in the middle of the night with murderers practically surrounding us is terrifying. But Daryl's a goddamn tank so that makes me feel better. 

After about thirty minutes of walking, a leaf crunching a few feet away from us catches my attention. "Wait," I whisper. 

Without looking back, Daryl drops me and throws his crossbow at the man. I fall to the ground with a grunt and scramble for my knife as Daryl and the guy fight, Dog stands in front of me, protecting me.

Daryl grabs the man and throws him against a tree, though, Daryl met his match as the man grabs him and doubles him over, holding him by the waist and punching his stomach. I try to get up and help but every time I move, Dog repositions. It's like he knows I'm hurt. 

"Hey! Hey!" I yell, trying to get the man's attention so Daryl can take a breath. 

As he turns to me, Dog pounces, grappling onto his leg. The man screams in pain and grabs Dog by the neck, throwing him in the trees behind. "No! No!" Daryl yells as I sit in shock. 

I just god Dog killed. Oh my god. I just got Dog killed.

Suddenly, I feel arms grab ahold of me and pick me up. My heart stops and I feel my blood turn to ice. Grunts and groans surround me as I try and fight them off, kicking my legs, no matter how much it hurts, flailing my arms, and bucking my hips. Nothing is working. 

The three people and I stand behind Daryl; he just stares at the woods before whistling once and throwing a knife at the person holding me. Because of the whistle, before he throws the knife, I duck. But, unfortunately, they don't duck slowly enough and the knife misses the masked people.

The person holding me points left and right and the two men next to her take off. But she doesn't, instead, she drops me to the ground. 

Before I can do anything, something cold and hard smacks me in the head.

Black.

When I wake up, I'm tied to an operating chair in an all-concrete room. The ropes around my wrists and ankles are scratchy and uncomfortable, more so than when I got branded. My head is pounding and with every throb, I wince and squeeze my eyes shut in pain.

This is twice now.

As soon as I come to my senses and realize I'm out of luck, my hands turn clammy and my breath catches in my throat as if my lungs keep closing before I can get a full breath in. Immediately, with the lack of oxygen, I begin breathing heavier. And heavier. And heavier. 

Breathe goddamn it. Don't show fear. You show fear, they'll walk all over you. God, Adrian, where are you? Where am I?

The door in front of me opens and I quickly snap my head toward it, narrowing my eyes as two men step into the room. One of them is wearing a black, small beanie. His thick glasses make his eyes look bigger and his mustache and stubbly beard cover his mouth. The other man is a brunette with a sharp, angular face and a scar on his jawline. Both of them are in all-black outfits and are fucking terrifying.