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XLI

I winced when I woke up, the dried blood cracking and tearing at my skin as I shifted. This is so... fucking horrible. 

I thought it was bad when I was down here by myself, but I didn't quite grasp how good I had it then. Before, I didn't have to listen to that stupid fucking song, and I was alone so I didn't have to listen to other peoples' screams, and I got to see Dale for an hour a day. 

I haven't been able to see him since we got back here, the only faces I've seen, have been Leo, the dick who's found enjoyment as using me to torture Daryl, and apparently Negan has decided to use us as a test for Dwight of some sort, because he has become Daryl's new... jailer I guess. Dwight comes in, gives Daryl his dog-food burger, and leaves the door open while Daryl eats, and I am beaten while he eats. Leo only stops hitting me when Daryl finishes the burger, so more often than not, he's tried to swallow it whole, so Leo can only get one or two good hits in, but then I can hear him puke it up later over the music. 

He's getting thinner. I don't know how long it's been, time seems... fake down here, but based off the meals Daryl has been given, it's been four... maybe five days. I haven't been fed at all. Which is fine, except I'm so skinny now that when the punches hit me, I feel like there is no cushion between my bone and his fists, so the bruises are darker, so much darker than they used to be when I was hit. 

It feels like... it feels like before the zombies. When I was with Ashton. God, I can barely even remember what his face looked like, but I can remember the blue and white plaid shirt he was wearing when he broke my nose, and the brown leather dress shoes he was wearing when he kicked me so hard my ribs broke. 

I can remember every second of his torture, and I'm afraid that eventually, torture is all I'll be able to remember. It's in my dreams, my memories, my present, and probably my future if this continues any longer. 

Hell, let's be honest, if I don't get food soon, I won't have much of a future left. 

When you're on Easy Street

The music shut off, and I mentally prepared myself to watch the shadow of Riley get beaten again while I struggled to choke down that crap sandwich, but when the door opened, Dwight was holding some clothes, and not a burger, and he threw it at my face. 

"Put them on." He growled out, and I struggled to pull the pants and sweatshirt on, a large A painted across the chest. I barely had them on when Dwight pulled me out, and I was able to stare over at Riley, who had fallen asleep in the chair, leaning back with dark purple, almost black bruises covering most of the skin I could see. She didn't wake up when Dwight slammed the cell door shut, and she didn't flinch as he turned the music back on and dragged me out. 

He didn't say a word as he drug me down a shit ton of hallways, and up a few flights of stairs, but we eventually got to a door and he burst right in. 

"Carson." He spat, and when I looked up there was a guy in a white doctor's jacket, talking to a woman sitting on the thing that definitely used to be an exam table from a hospital or something. 

"We were just finishing up." The guy, Carson said easily, but I was watching the girl. It was the one from the woods. The one who lived, took my bike. 

"Chop-chop." Dwight said, not even looking at her. I thought they were married or something? 

"Hi, D." She said softly, and when he didn't answer her, she turned her attention to me, and I bristled. 

"Hey. Daryl, right?" I didn't even get the chance to snap at her, 'cause Dwight was already doing it for me. 

"Don't talk to him." He growled out, and she nodded, looked at whatever she was holding in her hands, and looked back up at him. 

"It's negative." Oh. They're trying to get pregnant. 

"Well, maybe next time." He growled out, and Carson stepped forward, obviously trying to stop whatever was going on between them. 

"Sorry! Still getting used to being my own assistant." He said, and I guess that was her cue to leave, 'cause she dropped the pregnancy test in the trash and stepped up next to me. 

"Whatever they say... just do it." She whispered, and Dwight jerked me away from her. 

"I said don't take to him!" He growled out, and she practically sprinted out of the room. Carson came up to me, and gestured for me to get up on the bed. 

"Okay, let's take a look." He said, and once I was settled, uncomfortably on the table, he lifted up my shirt to look at the probably broken ribs I had obtained for throwing that sandwich at that douchebag, and the other bruises I had gotten since I got here. 

"I'll get better... if you let it. Negan will take care of you. Trust me." Carson said, and I glared up at him. 

"It's not me I'm worried about." He didn't get the chance to respond, Dwight practically threw me off the table and shoved me out the door, and then a chuckle sounded out through the hallway, and I jerked my head to the sound. It was Negan, and he was holding a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes, and I couldn't help but think he looked... so familiar. 

"Dwight boy! I need to talk to my associate for a minute. Go about your business. Except for you. You stand right there. Sit. Kid, why don't you go sit with him?" Negan said, dragging Dwight down the hallway a bit after he sat the kid down, and he came over to sit next to me. It was silent for a minute, but he broke it. 

"What's your name?" He asked bravely, and I turned my head to look down at him. He was maybe six inches away from me, but it felt way to close, intimate. 

"Daryl. What's yours?" I asked, and the kid looked up at me, a weird look in his eyes.

"Dale. Are you my daddy?" He asked bluntly, and I felt my heart stop. 

"Is... is Riley your mom?" I whispered, and he nodded, a sad look written across his face. 

"Yeah. Mr. Negan said that mommy died." I felt my eye twitch as I glanced up at Negan, and tried to keep his attention off us by not moving much, but I don't know how long he's gonna be with Dwight, and my son can't walk around thinking his ma is dead. That just.... no. 

"Riley... your ma, she's not dead. She's been down in the basement with me. I'm your Daddy, she... she was real brave. Stood up for me and your Uncle Rick, and the rest of them, and Negan is torturing us. She's not dead, and she didn't leave you. I'm gonna... I'm gonna get us out of here somehow okay? You, me, and your ma, we're all gonna get out." I whispered, reaching out with one hand to touch his cheek, and he nodded, leaning into my hand a bit, and I couldn't help but wonder how long Riley had been separated from him, for him to be this desperate for affection to take it from me. 

"I told mommy you still loved us." He said quietly, and then Negan was walking towards us, and I jerked my hand away, not wanting to give away the fact that my son had probably just told me more information then Negan wanted me to know, and just gave me even more motivation to get us the fuck out of here. 

I wasn't lying to him. I'd get us out, or die trying.  

A/N: So, I have two scenarios playing out in my head, and I can't decide which I wanna do so, what do y'all think? Have Daryl save the day so he can try to redeem himself in the eyes of Riley and Dale? Or have Riley save the day and be like... badass feminist woman who don't need no man?