"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I don't think I got you're name."
"Because I didn't tell ya my name,"
When survival is no longer living its time to take back their world from the dead. Can they do it together or is being so similar to each other more toxic...
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'The fence' as I learned throughout the day, means: prisoners or anyone of extremely low rank; are supervised at gun point while being put in charge of staking skin walkers to the fence or chains.
Out of instinct I attempted to kill three. Two because they came off their pikes. One because another man got attacked and shoved it at me.
I'm not covered from head to toe in dirt, dust, blood and sweat. Fantastic. I'm going to smell worse than I did yesterday.
A man with long blonde hair finally opens the door- per Negans order- allowing me inside because he wants to talk to me.
"Knock." Is all the man instructs before striding down the hall again.
I raise my fist to the door, knocking a small cheerful rhythm on the door.
"Come in." Negan calls from inside.
I push inside the large room, and falter. It's like the apocalypse hasn't touched the room.
Two Leather couches create a sitting area around a small table. The entire room is lit up by three large open windows framed by curtains. A small hallway table has small Knick knacks across it, all in perfect organization. Behind the leather couch is a book case, stacked with books and other small decorative objects.
A small sitting area claims the back corner. one small chair and a stool. Two dressers frame the sitting area and a bowl of fresh fruit sits beside a oddly shaped lamp.
A large four-poster bed sits against the wall to the left of the door, it's grey sheets are fresh and clean. The entire room has a gold and grey post modern theme throughout. I'm surprised Negan can color coordinate.
Negan is sitting on the couch facing the door, Lucille sits on the coffee table in front of him. He's leaned back with a handful of papers in his gloved grasp.
"You wanted to see me." I state standing in front of the mahogany doors. This man's has taken everything unnecessary or unthought of in this world and made it a lifestyle. This room alone is proof.
"Takin' in the room? Everything in this room I've found out there and brought back here. If I'm going to live in this world I'm going to live comfortably." Negan tosses the papers across the table.
"It's certainly different. But I suppose when ya have an entire buildin' and over a hundred people inside it, then survival ain't really living is it?" I admit, I would love to live, not just survive but that's not something I'll ever get used to. Not in this life.
"Dwight tells me you held you're own out there today. That's good," he rises from the couch. "We're going to keep you out there for a couple more days. Prove to me you deserve a different job and we'll talk again in a few days. Until then I suggest taking your new points and buying yourself a new pair of clothes. Whoa! You reek!" He waves a hand in front of his face.
I glance down at my clothes, my boots alone make this entire room look dirty. Completely caked in shit I've left foot prints on his dark floors.
"Oh! Shit! I'm sorry. I wasn't watchin' to see if I was leaving foot prints." I exclaim bending over to pull off my cowboy boots. Hanging on to the back of my boots I straighten up. Negan steps in front of me, he holds a hand over his head and then compares it to my own height. His hand hovers only a few inches above my head. The top of my head stops at the top of his nose.
"Damn! I thought it was your shoes that make you tall. I didn't think you were actually that tall." He declares. I raise an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, why is ma height important? You've gotta like six foot? I'm only two inches from being six feet tall," I shrug. "But, how many points do I get from being out there? If this debt is as bad as you say it is then I ain't gonna go into debt over a clean pair of clothes."
"It's gonna be a BIG decision. New clothes or dinner? Which one?" I nod with a lack of idea of what else to do to show I understand. I have enough points for clean clothes or dinner. Is walking around in disgusting clothes worth the price of food?
"May I go?" I point towards the doors.
Negan shrugs sitting back down in his seat.
I close the door, heading down to the market for some clean clothes.
As Negan said, I only had enough points for a pair of clothes, I don't mind. What bothers me is the dirty looks I receive as I leave the market.
I retreat upstairs without checking the cafeteria for Mateo, despite my growing hunger pains and any real idea of where he could be.
I receive more dirty looks on my way up the stairs and to the shower room. I cant tell if it's the fact the putrid smell rising from my clothes is leaving a wake behind me. Or if it's just the fact that most people just hate me for being able to have a conversation with Negan and not have it end with either of us unhappy.
Washed up and dressed in a pair of clean clothes similar to my previous clothes. A pair of dark jeans, a dark green tee shirt and my denim jacket. I wash my old clothes in the sink. The water changes color the moment I dunk the fabric in. After several attempts to scrub them clean I then hang them from the dresser drawer to dry.
"Auntie D? I brought you some dinner." Mateo calls as he opens the door.
I turn around with a small smile. "Thanks buddy." I take the plate from him.
"You were gone early. I met a man named Simon. He took me around with him. I earned a bunch of points for food. He's asked me to come with him tomorrow. if that's okay?" Mateo explains setting himself down on the bed.
"That's great buddy. I'm gonna be gone the next couple days. I'm workin' the fence for 'em. I want you to be careful with 'Simon' alright? I ain't gonna have you getting hurt." I warn taking a mouthful of food.
Mateo laughs leaning back against the pillows, curling up on his side. "I will auntie D. I was raised by the best survivor there is. Goodnight auntie D."
