I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Lemonade

The hours ticked by in the dark cold cell....yet sleep was not something that managed to come easily to Blake.

She tossed and turned, her head resting on nothing but bare concrete.

Every part of her ached, partly due to old bruises that littered her body in hidden places, but mainly due to the sheer cold. The gap beneath the door was drafty, and all night a chilly wind seemed to whistle beneath it, preventing her from falling into a deep sleep.

The hours seemed to crawl slowly by. And before Blake realised it, it was morning.

She could hear footsteps passing by in regular intervals and the sound of muttering floating under the door.

Yet the cell still remained as dark as ever...

Blake heaved herself up, propping her back up against the wall.

Her mouth and throat were parched. It had been twenty-four hours since she had had anything to drink and it was all she could think about.

It wasn't long before the morning drifted by too. And by the time ,that she calculated as lunchtime, came, Blake could take it no longer.

The caramel-blonde woman gave a pained groan and bashed her fist against the steel door.

"Hey!" she cried as loud as she could, with her croaky voice.

A second passed of silence before Blake banged her fist against the cold metal once again. "Hey!" she yelled.

Half a minute slipped by, but before she could knock once more, the door was suddenly wrenched open.

The blonde man she had seen with Negan last night was there once again, staring down at her. She now noticed that one side of his face, that had been, last night, obscured by his lengthy hair, was badly burned.

"What?" he uttered sharply.

Blake gave a difficult gulp.

"I...uhhhh....can I get some water....?" she said in a quiet tone, staring up at him. "...uhhh.....please...."

The man surveyed her carefully for a long second..... before abruptly slamming the door in Blake's face once again.

She gaped for a short moment...before bashing the door with her fist again.

"Please!" she cried out, before giving a small roar of frustration and leaning her head back against the wall behind her.

If she didn't get some water soon, she felt like she'd surely die of thirst.

Blake closed her eyes, slowing her breathing....

She wondered what David was doing right now?

Was he ok? Was he locked away in a cell too? Held prisoner until Blake dished the dirt on Rick and his group. Dirt that she did not even possess!

She was cold, thirsty, and right at this second, felt so so alone.

How had she got herself into this mess and how the hell was she going to get herself out of it again?

Could she makes something up? Try and sate Negan and the Saviours' appetite just long enough for her to hatch a plan?

Ughhh. It was useless.

That Negan guy would be sure to see through the lies in seconds. She knew men like him. He wasn't a fool.

And then what....a swift blow to the head with that baseball bat of his and it would all be over.

She still didn't know what to make of him. Negan. Sure he was intimidating, but he hadn't scared her as much as she'd expected. Perhaps that was all part of some sort of plan of his.