Man with the Bat || a Negan novel

Chapter 12: Bruised, but Never Broken

Negan gently set me down on the counter of his luxurious master bathroom, carefully placing me as if I was a fragile glass and setting me down too harshly might break me. He let out an aggravated sigh as he stepped back to take me in. His eyes intently examining where the blow had occurred, as if he was a doctor himself. 

"Hmm" Negan quietly murmured, softly reaching up to grab the side of my face in attempt to study it better. His other hand lightly holding the back of my head.

As he analyzed me, I couldn't help but do the same to him. His forehead was creased in concentration as he studiously viewed the lesion on my head, his beautiful brown eyes furrowed in agitation and almost what seemed like a tad of concern, and those perfectly pink lips of his pressed together in fine concentration. 

Wow, Simon must've hit me harder than I thought.

"He hit you pretty good, but you're conscience so that's good news," Negan acknowledges as he opens up the bottom drawer of his bathroom cupboard. From it he removes what looks to be rubbing alcohol and a towel.

"Wow, what a guy. I should probably go shake his hand and thank him for not knocking me unconscience, what a sweet man" I sarcastically drawl, earning a light chuckle from Negan.

"Simon's my right hand man, he's an outstanding guy!" Negan assures me, "He just isn't all that good at handlin' situations without involving violence."

"Probably gets it from you" I slyly remark, "Don't you believe violence is the only thing that gets shit done?"

Negan smirks in amusement at my comment as he pours the rubbing alcohol onto the towel.

"You've got a point there Mia" he chuckles, "This may sting a lil'."

He carefully places the towel on my head, the sharp pangs like needles as the alcohol cleans out the spot where Simon had split the skin. 

I bit down on my lip to conceal the groans of discomfort I was experiencing. 

"At the end of the day, violence really is the only thing that gets shit done, even Rick knew that."

As little as Negan knew about Rick, he knew enough to the point where he knew Rick was a badass. Emphasis on the was because now that Negan was in charge, Rick wasn't looking to so eagerly flaunt his rebellious ways. Though our war started with Negan because of Ricks alter ego getting ahead of him, but that wasn't the point. Rick did resort to violence time and time again, but overall he did it for those he loved. Every time he resorted to killing someone or doing something rash, it was to protect those that he loved. For that, I would always respect and defend Rick.

"You don't know Rick" I tell Negan, "I know that you think you do, but you don't."

Negan removed the towel from my head, "I know Rick, not as well as you do of course, but I know him."

There was a slight venom in his tone, but he helped me off the counter anyways. I didn't resist as he led me over to his bed, assisting me in getting on it. I sat on the side, watching as Negan shed his leather jacket, hanging it over the back of one of his chairs. 

"So tell me Mia," he starts, "what were you and Rick doing anyways?" I watched as he poured himself a glass of brandy, the brown liquid only filling half the glass.

He raised the drink to his lips, sipping the strong liquid, "Just fuckin' or what?"

My eyes widened at his accusation. 

"No" I reject a little too quickly, Negan taking notice of my hurried denial, "I mean, we were just good friends. Do you think we could not talk about Rick and everyone while I'm still recovering, makes my head hurt."