Cult » Daryl Dixon

sixty four

sixty four.

Rick, Negan, and the RV were gone when I finally came to. I was laying on the ground covered in dirt, dry blood stuck to my face. My eyes widened when I realized where I was again. I sat up frantically and was immediately held still, startled by the seizure. I tried to pull my arms out of his grip, desperate to get away. I wanted to go home. I was kicked in the back to get me to stop, sending my body lurching forward. I hung my head in fear.

"Hey, Lover Boy," the man who held me called over to Daryl. "She's a fighter, ain't she?" I heard Daryl growl as the man chuckled. His grip felt like a form of suffocation. "She like this in the bedroom," he smirked as the rumble of the RV began to echo through the woods. I grit my teeth in anger at his comment. I stayed still as I heard the RV screech to a halt, the door flying open.

"Let me ask you something, Rick: do you even know what that little trip was about," Negan's voice boomed, ripping through the silence. It made me flinch. Rick didn't answer. "Speak when you're spoken too," he snarled in a voice that sounded exactly like my dad's. I snapped my head up from habit of hearing a tone like that, chills sliding up and down my skin.

"Okay," Rick huffed, physically and mentally obliterated.

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me: I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand, but you're still looking at me the same damn way like I shit in your scrambled eggs and that's not gonna work. Do I give you another chance," Negan wondered, his face inches away from Rick's.

"Yes," Rick whispered timidly.

"Yes? Okay," Negan chuckled. "Alright, here it is: the grand prize game! What you do next will decide whether your shit day becomes everyone's last shit day or just another shit day. Get some guns to the back of their heads, even the hot one," he demanded. My heart started to pound. The man dropped my arms and I flopped down onto the dirt. Guns cocked everywhere. A cold metal barrel pressed against the back of my skull once I sat up. This was it. This was the end. He's been toying with us long enough and now he's finally had enough of us. "Good. Now level them with their noses so if you have to fire it'll be a real mess," he laughed excitedly. The gun slid up to the middle of my head. I could feel my lip begin to quiver. "Kid, right here," Negan called over to Carl. Carl hesitated, glancing around in confusion. "Kid, now." Carl stood up cautiously and sauntered over to Negan. "You a leftie?"

"No," he spat, trying to act tough.

"Good." Negan took a belt and began wrapping it around Carl's left arm. "That hurt?"

"No," Carl retorted again.

"Should. It's supposed to," he lightly snickered as he finished tightening the belt. "Get down on the ground next to Daddy and spread them wings." Carl got down on the ground, Negan pushing him down with his boot further so he was laying completely flat with his face in the dirt. "Simon, you got a pen," Negan asked one of his men.

"Yeah," Simon answered, tossing him a marker. Negan caught it, taking off the cap with his mouth. He leaned over Carl and shimmed up his sleeve for him.

"Sorry, kid," he grunted. "This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm," he drawled as he drew a thick black line across Carl's arm with the marker. "There you go!"

"Please," Rick begged, shaking. "Please don't."

"I ain't doing shit," Negan began to laugh. "Rick, I want you to take your axe and cut your son's left arm off right on that line." My jaw fell open in disbelief. I was tired of the blood and pain; I didn't wanna see the color red anymore if I could help it. "I know, you're gonna have to process that for a second, that makes sense. I'm still gonna need you to do it though or all these people are gonna die, then Carl dies, then the people back home die, and then you eventually; I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years just so you can stew on it."

"You don't have to do this," Michonne spoke up, trying to reason with Negan as tears flooded her eyes. "We understand!"

"You understand." Negan turned back to Rick who continued to break down. "I'm not sure that Rick does. Now, I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line and I know this is a fucked up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice: nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees, and give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor, the kid'll be fine!" Rick stayed glued to his spot, stunned at Negan's demand. Sweat dripped from every inch of his body. "Rick, this needs to happen now. Chop chop or I'll crush the little fella's skull myself."

"It can, it can be me," Rick stuttered. "It can be me. Y-you can do it to me! I can, I can go with, with you."

"No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe. Not making a decision is a big decision. You really wanna see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing." Rick didn't budge. "Oh my God, you're gonna make me count," Negan groaned. "3!"

"Please," Rick begged. "Please! It can be me!"

"2!" I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the bullet to catapult into my brain. This was the end of my miserable life. I was gonna die.

"Please, don't do—"

"This is it," Negan bellowed. Rick hollered out in agony, his breathing at maximum speed as he hyperventilated. "You answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me, right?" Silence thick as vines filled the air. "Speak when you're spoken to," Negan screamed at the top of his lungs. I jumped at his voice, my eyes flying open. I couldn't do anything to shield myself from the violence. "You answer to me! You provide for me!"

"Provide for you," Rick muttered, breathing heavily.

"You belong to me, right?"

"Right." Rick nodded.

"That is the look I wanted to see," Negan smirked. "We did it, all of us together, even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award for sure," he chuckled. "Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your of sakes that you get it now, that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that's over now." He turned to the burnt man. "Dwight, load him up." Dwight grabbed Daryl and tossed him into the back of the van we were in earlier, aiming his crossbow at him.

"No," I whispered, beginning to tremble. I didn't wanna be separated from him. Negan turned towards me, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Oh, I didn't forget about you, sweetheart. Bring her here," he demanded, waving me over. I was yanked up off the ground and dragged over to Negan. He caressed my face. I drew back away from his touch. He laughed at me, running his thumb across my skin. My breathing was erratic, fear striking me as he inched his face closer and closer to mine. He stopped mere centimeters away from our noses touching. "Fear looks beautiful on you. You know, I had to try and refrain from looking at you that whole stint or otherwise, I would've gotten hard right then and there in front of your man," Negan whispered with a devious smirk stretching across his lips. What a disgusting piece of shit. "Load her up." I was pushed over to the van and tossed inside, hitting my head on Daryl's leg. "If either one of you touches or speaks to each other, both of you will die." Dwight hopped in the back with the crossbow aimed at us, ready to shoot at any given moment. I pressed my back against the wall. A tear slipped down my cheek as Daryl looked at me with guilt.

"Behave for me, beautiful," Negan called over to me, grinning widely. "I don't want you dead." He winked. I tore my gaze away from his. I felt repulsed. The doors to the van slammed shut, leaving me holed up with Dwight and Daryl in the dark. I glanced back over at Daryl. He continued to stare at me, sadness glazing over his eyes. I rested my forehead on my knee to save the both of us, tears soaking my pant leg.