A/n: Let's get into those flashbacks! Hope you enjoy it!
Main Masterlist || Daryl Dixon Masterlist
PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER
Your sickness got worse. So much worse.
And you were all alone with itโuntil Daryl and Merle showed up.
At first, Daryl didnโt know why Merle bothered. He wasnโt the kind of guy to play nursemaid, and he sure as hell wasnโt the type to stick around when things got tough. But for some reason, he kept dragging Daryl back to that rundown trailer in the middle of nowhere, like it was just another stop on their endless list of bad decisions.
But it wasnโt.
Being there for you was probably the best decision the two of them had ever made.
And you let them inโnot just into your house but into your life and heart.
Daryl didnโt get that either. You shouldโve known better, shouldโve realized they would only bring trouble and heartbreak. It never ended well with him and Merle around. Then again, Daryl figured you didnโt have much left to lose anyway.
You were getting worse by the day, skin paler than it had any right to be, bones jutting out where they hadnโt before. Every time he saw you, it was like looking at a ghost that hadnโt figured out it was dead yet.
And still, you smiled.
Even now, coughing up blood into a tissue, you grinned at them from your spot on the couch like it was just another Tuesday.
โAt this point, the Grim Reaper must be scared of me,โ you wheezed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. โJust doesnโt wanna show the fuck up.โ
Merle let out one of those wild, barking laughs of his, shaking his head. โShit, girl, I donโt blame him. Youโre stubborn as hell.โ
โDamn right.โ You stretched, wincing, but you didnโt let it show too much. โI oughta start charging him rent if heโs just gonna keep circling and never really move in.โ
Daryl didnโt laugh. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching you like you might disappear between one breath and the next.
Because you might.
Merle, either oblivious or just refusing to acknowledge reality, sprawled out in the recliner across from you, kicking his boots up on the coffee table. โSo, what? You gonna outlive all of us just to spite that bony bastard?โ
โThatโs the plan.โ
You and Merle grinned at each other like it was all some big joke.
Daryl didnโt think it was funny.
That night, when Merle was outside smoking and talking shit on the phone to some guy Daryl didnโt care about, he sat on the couch beside you. Not too closeโjust close enough to remind himself you were still here.
You were wrapped in that same old blanket you always had, the one with holes in it, the one you swore was perfectly fine even though Daryl had half a mind to steal it and replace it with something that wasnโt falling apart.
Your hands trembled when you reached for the glass of water on the coffee table. Daryl saw it before you could pretend otherwise and handed it to you instead.
You nodded in thanks, taking a slow sip before leaning your head back against the couch. โYouโre quiet tonight.โ
Daryl huffed, staring at a crack in the wall. โAinโt got nothinโ to say.โ
โYeah, you do.โ
He glanced at you, scowling. โNo, I donโt.โ
You smirked like you knew some big secret. โYou get all quiet when youโre mad about something.โ
Daryl looked away. He didnโt want to admit you were right. Didnโt want to admit that his heart skipped a beat because you noticed that little fact about him.
You sighed, running your fingers over the rim of the glass. โYou donโt gotta be mad for me, yโknow.โ
He clenched his jaw. โAinโt mad.โ
You gave him a look, all sharp and knowing. โBullshit.โ
Daryl inhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against his knee. His hands felt restless, like they should be doing somethingโfixing something, fighting something. But there wasnโt shit to fight. Nothing he could win anyway.
โI donโt like seeinโ you like this.โ The words came out rougher than he meant, but they were the truth.
You exhaled slowly. โI know.โ
โFeels likeโฆโ He trailed off, frowning.
โLike what?โ
Daryl shook his head, restless energy thrumming under his skin. โLike youโre just sittinโ here waitinโ to die.โ
You didnโt look surprised by that. Maybe youโd already thought the same thing yourself. Maybe youโd been thinking it longer than he had.
After a long pause, you said, โI donโt think Iโm waiting to die. I think Iโm just trying to live while I still can.โ
Daryl swallowed hard, shifting in his seat. โThat ainโt much better.โ
You shrugged. โItโs all I got.โ
And maybe that was what pissed him off the most.
That youโd accepted it. That you werenโt fighting. That you were making jokes about the damn Grim Reaper instead of doing something.
He knew it wasnโt fair. Knew this wasnโt something you could punch your way out of. But that didnโt stop the anger from curling hot and sharp in his chest.
Didnโt stop him from wanting to do something.
You mustโve seen it written all over his face because you sighed and nudged his arm with your knee. โCโmere, Dixon.โ
He frowned. โFor what?โ
You patted the couch beside you. โJust come here.โ
Daryl hesitated, then shifted closer. You tugged the edge of your blanket over his lap and leaned your head against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Daryl froze, shoulders tense. โThe hell you doinโ?โ
โRelax, would you?โ You sighed, closing your eyes. โYou feel like a damn rock.โ
He let out a breath through his nose but didnโt move away.
โYou ever just let yourself be still?โ you murmured.
He didnโt answer.
You hummed, like you already knew. โYou should try it sometime.โ
Daryl stayed stiff for a long moment before slowly letting himself relax.
Just a little.
Your breathing was steady, softโlike maybe, for the first time in a while, you werenโt in pain. Like his presence was better than any painkiller youโd ever taken.
And for the first time in a while, Daryl let himself believeโfor just a secondโthat maybe youโd still be here tomorrow.
A/n: So I had this little idea for a one-shot for a while now, it was supposed to be just something really really short but it kinda turned out to be more than that, so it'll be a smoll shortie series of flashbacks and late night conversations between Daryl and Rick, maybe someone else too??? We shall see. Hope you enjoy it!
I'll add the taglist in the comments later on, probably
Main Masterlist || Daryl Dixon Masterlist
NEXT CHAPTER
The fire crackles between them, casting long shadows on the ground. The night is quietโtoo quietโbut neither of them seems to mind.
โI had someoneโฆ 'fore it all began,โ Daryl mutters, breaking the silence.
Rick glances at him, just for a second, before casting his gaze back to the fire. He doesnโt push, doesnโt ask. If Daryl wants to talk, heโll let him.
Daryl exhales, shaking his head. โReal dead girl walkinโ.โ A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. โWouldโve fit right in.โ
Rick frowns, waiting.
โSheโd have liked me callinโ her that, too,โ Daryl continues, voice quieter now. โHad a sick sense of humor. Always laughinโ at shit she shouldnโt. Couldnโt ever tell if she was tough as hell or just didnโt give a damn.โ He huffs. โGot along with Merle, though. Ainโt many could say that.โ
Rick tilts his head. โThat so?โ
โYeah. Thought he was funny. Thought I was funny, too.โ Daryl lets out a breath, almost a laugh. โNever did get why.โ
A beat of silence stretches between them before Rick asks, โWhat happened to her?โ
Darylโs jaw tightens. He doesnโt look up. โHell if I know,โ he mutters. โShe was barely survivinโ before the end of the fuckinโ world. Always sick, never gettinโ out much. Was born like that.โ
Rick watches him carefully, but Daryl just stares into the fire, lost in his own head.
It was a shitty day, too damn hot, and Daryl was already in a bad mood when he stomped up the rusted steps of the trailer.
Merle had dragged him out here to some backwoods lot, said they were meetinโ up with an old buddy for some โbusiness.โ Daryl didnโt ask too many questions.
But when the trailer door swung open, the last thing he expected to see was a girlโno older than himโleaning in the doorway with a cigarette between her lips and an amused look in her eyes.
โMerle Dixon,โ you drawled, exhaling smoke. โFigured that was your ugly mug pullinโ up.โ
Daryl blinked. You were paleโlike real pale, the kind that donโt see much sun. Dark circles under your eyes, too, like you never slept. But there was somethinโ about you, the way you looked at him like you already knew him.
โAnd you,โ you said, flicking your cigarette. โYou must be Baby Dixon.โ
Daryl scowled. โThe hellโd you just call me?โ
You grinned, tapping your temple. โGood guess. You just got that look, yโknow? Like a kicked dog with a temper.โ
Merle barked out a laugh, slapping Daryl on the back. โShit, girl, you nailed โim.โ
Daryl huffed, crossing his arms. โWho the hell are you, anyway?โ
You leaned against the doorframe, smirking. You introduced yourself like you were proud of your name. โAinโt got no fancy title like โBaby Dixon,โ though. Guess youโll just have to come up with somethinโ for me.โ
Daryl scoffed. โHow โbout โpain in my assโ?โ
Your laugh was loud and real, shaking your head. โI like you, Dixon.โ
He rolled his eyes, but damn it if he didnโt kinda like you, too.
Daryl swallows hard, the memory fading. He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face.
โSheโd have made it fun,โ he says, voice rough. โThis whole end-of-the-world shit.โ
Rick doesnโt say anything for a while. Then, finallyโ
โWhatโd you call her?โ
Daryl huffs a quiet laugh. โDead Girl.โ His throat tightens. โShe thought it was funny.โ
Rick nods, watching as Daryl pokes at the fire with a stick, lost in thoughts of a girl long gone.
Pairings: Negan Smith x Female! Reader; Lucille Smith x Female! Reader; Negan Smith x Lucille Smith
Word count: 2,5k+
Warnings: usual twd themes, cancer mentions and treatment, nightmares
If you're not on the taglist but would like to be tagged, let me know!
Main Masterlist || "The Cockroach" Masterlist
PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER
It had been days. Maybe longer. Time didnโt feel real anymore.
Your bruises were still ugly, your ribs still sore, but at least you could move without wanting to vomit. Progress. Physically, at least. Mentally? Different story. Sleep was a joke, and when it did come, it wasnโt reliefโit was Murphy. His voice, his face, his name sitting heavy in your throat like a swallowed scream.
You shouldnโt have left him. You needed him. Murphy was your anchor, your world, and no matter what you felt for Lucille, no matter what this place meant for you nowโyou would not leave him behind.
The dim glow of the basement faded, replaced by warm sunlight pooling through white sheets.
Murphyโs smile. Bright, boyish, untouched by the weight of the world. He lay beside you, half-hidden beneath the covers, his messy hair a dark halo against the pillow. His blue eyes sparkled as he nudged your side, his body warm and solid against yours.
โYou ever think about just staying like this forever?โ His voice was hushed, like speaking too loud would shatter the moment.
You smirked, rolling onto your side to face him. โYouโd get bored.โ
โNah,โ he grinned wider, reaching out to push a strand of hair from your face. โNot with you.โ
The sheets filtered the morning light, turning everything soft and hazy. It felt safe here, hidden away from all the bullshit. Just you and him.
You laughed, shaking your head. โYouโre such an idiot.โ
Murphy leaned in closer, nose brushing against yours. โYeah, but Iโm your idiot.โ
You wanted to freeze time. Keep him here. Keep him safe. Keep him yours.
But the memory fracturedโripped away like torn fabric.
The dim basement light returned, washing the world in cold, sickly yellow.
The silence was unbearable tonight.
You sat at the kitchen table, thumb picking at a loose thread on your sleeve, knee bouncing. Across from you, Lucille sipped weak tea, her expression unreadable. The sound of the chemotherapy bag dripping into her IV filled the space between you. Or maybe that sound was just in your head.
Her gaze flicked toward you. She noticed. The restless energy, the way your fingers twitched like they wanted to wrap around something solidโlike they needed something to fight.
โYou should get some sleep,โ she said gently.
You let out a sharp exhale, shaking your head. โYeah, Iโll pencil that in right after my mental breakdown.โ It came out sharper than you intended, but you didnโt bother softening it.
Lucille exhaled through her nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. Her lips twitched, like she wanted to smile but wouldnโt.
โYouโre restless.โ
โGee, what gave it away? You should be a detective,โ you deadpanned.
She didnโt react to the sarcasm. Just waited. That was the worst part. Not pushing. Not demanding. Just giving you space to step forward or step back.
You rubbed a hand over your face, fingers pressing into your temples as you let out a slow breath. The words werenโt ready to leave you yet. But Lucille was patient. And patience was the one thing that always broke you.
โI left him.โ The confession was barely above a whisper, pried from between clenched teeth.
Lucille didnโt askย who. Maybe she already knew. Maybe she just knew you.
Who else could it be? You had no boyfriend. No casual flings. Just you and Murphy. A relationship so tangled, so blurred at the edges that defining it was impossible. It was a whole thing.
A hollow laugh slipped from your throat. Sharp. Bitter. Fractured.
โVery dramatic. Blood, yellingโa real โgo, save yourselfโ moment. Wouldโve been a hit in theaters.โ You tried to make it sound like a joke, but your voice shook at the edges.
Lucilleโs expression softened. โAnd now you canโt stop thinking about him.โ
โHuh. You are perceptive,โ you mocked, but it lacked any real heat.
She gave you a look. The kind that made you feel like a petulant child. The kind that Murphy used to give you when you got too stubborn for your own good.
You scoffed, crossing your arms.
โI shouldโve fought harder.โ The words fell out, raw and jagged. โI shouldโveโI donโt know. I shouldโve done something.โ
You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat didnโt budge.
โAnd now heโs out there, and Iโm here. Sitting on my ass like some goddamnโโ
You cut yourself off, but the damage was done. The tears gathered, hot and stinging, burning at the corners of your eyes. You blinked rapidly, looking away, pretending they werenโt there.
Lucille leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees.ย Drip. Drip.
โYou donโt have to hold it in.โ Her voice was soft, but firm.
You let out a tight, bitter laugh. Shook your head.
โNo, I canโt.โ
She frowned, but before she could argue, you pushed forward, voice quieter now.ย Raw.
โBecause if I start, I wonโt be able to stop. And if I canโt stopโฆ then I canโt save him.โ
Silence.
Lucille didnโt tell you it was okay. She didnโt feed you empty reassurances. She just let you sit in it. Let you breathe through it.
The clock ticked. Your pulse slowed. The tears didnโt fall, but they were thereโa storm behind your ribs, waiting for permission to break.
Lucille nodded once. Decisive. Certain.
โThen weโll figure it out.โ
And just like that, the conversation was over. No pity. No sugarcoated comfort. Just a plan.
You nodded back, exhaling.
The storm didnโt break tonight.
You headed upstairs, looking for something to doโanything to make the weight in your chest disappear. Anything that would silence Murphyโs voice, the echo of his last words still gnawing at the edges of your mind.
You didnโt have anything against his voice, but you sure as hell didnโt want to hear that moment replaying over and over again.
โGo.โ The unsaid โsave yourselfโ.
Like hell you could.
You pushed the thought down and stepped onto the porch, where you found Negan, slouched in a chair, smoking. He was back from wherever the hell he disappeared to, looking like he was trying way too hard to be unbothered.
You werenโt stupid.
He was doing it againโpretending. Acting like Lucilleโs condition wasnโt sitting on his chest like a goddamn anvil. Acting like the slow creep of death in the next room wasnโt tearing him apart the same way it was tearing you apart.
But it was always there.
The sickly pale color of her skin. The wigs she insisted on wearing every day. The dark circles under her eyes, beautiful even as they dimmed.
Negan could pretend all he wantedโbut you saw it. Andย heย saw thatย youย saw it.
Without a word, you sat down next to him, carefully keeping some distance between you. Close enough to share the moment, far enough that you wouldnโt have to acknowledge it.
โShare?โ you asked, holding out your hand for the cigarette before he could even think about telling you no.
Negan sighed, side-eyeing you before handing it over. He didnโt protest, but you could tell by the way he rubbed a hand over his face that he wanted to.
And in true Negan fashion, he didnโt offer comfortโjust commentary.
โYou look like a kicked puppy. That a new aesthetic choice, or are we just leaninโ into the whole โexistential crisisโ thing?โ
You took a drag from the cigarette, exhaled slow, hoping it would settle you. It didnโt.
โCan you just shut up for once? Or is that too hard of a job for you?โ
Negan let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.
โYouโre the one who chose to come out here, sit next to me, take my damn cigaretteโand nowย Iย need to shut up?โ His voice curled with annoyance, every word growing sharper. โI think the fuck not.โ
Your grip tightened around the cigarette, the burn of it grounding you.
โJesus Christ, Negan.โ You turned toward him, eyes narrowed. โI don't know how Lucille puts up with you.โ
โOh, Iโm sorryโam I not grieving properly for you?โ His smirk was mocking, but his voice was cutting. โYou wanna teach me how itโs done? Maybe I should sit in a dark corner and mope until I implodeโthat more your speed?โ
Your jaw clenched.
โYou are so goddamn exhausting.โ
โAnd you are so goddamn predictable.โ He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. โYou think I donโt see what youโre doinโ? The whole tortured, guilt-ridden, it-shoulda-been-me act?โ
Your breath hitched, but you refused to react.
โNews flashโyou can sit here and hate yourself all you want, but it ainโt gonna bring your boy back.โ
The world stopped.
You went still.
The cigarette slipped between your fingers, hitting the porch floor with a faint sizzle.
Neganโs eyes flashed when he realized he hit something real.
โAh. There it is.โ He exhaled, shaking his head. โThatโs what this is about, huh? Poor little girl lost her best buddy, and now she donโt know what the fuck to do with herself.โ
That was it.
Before you could thinkโbefore you could stop yourselfโyour hand lashed out.
Crack.
The sound of skin meeting skin cut through the night.
Neganโs head snapped to the side, jaw tight, the ghost of your slap burning red against his cheek.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Your hand trembled, but your face remained stone cold.
Negan slowly turned back to you, jaw flexing. His tongue ran over his teeth, and for the first time, he didnโt have a smartass response.
You saw the moment he decided not to react. The way he swallowed down the anger, the fight, the instinct to throw another verbal punch.
Instead, he let out a slow, low chuckle.
โThat all you got?โ His voice was hoarse, full of something you couldnโt place.
You ground your teeth together so hard it hurt.
Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms, the weight of his words pressing against your ribs like a vice.
You turned and walked away.
Your boots thudded against the wooden floorboards, each step carrying the raw, burning rage heโd just set loose.
Negan stayed where he was, watching you disappear into the house.
Neither of you said another word.
But the fight?
It wasnโt over.
The night crept in, slow and heavy, wrapping itself around you like a too-tight rope.
You tossed and turned on your makeshift bed, your body restless, your mind refusing to shut the hell up. It wasnโt about the discomfortโLucille had done her best, piling blankets and pillows together until it almost felt like a real bed. Almost.
Hell, it was probably better than that shitty excuse for a mattress you had in your apartment.
But comfort had nothing to do with it.
It was the rageโboiling under your skin like molten iron, filling your chest, coiling tight around your ribs. It was the fear, cold and sharp, creeping up your spine, raising goosebumps along your arms. It was the guilt, thick and suffocating, curling around your throat like a noose.
And it was all so insufferable.
A well-deserved torture for leaving Murphy behind.
But eventually, your body betrayed you, exhaustion dragging you under despite the demons still clawing at your mind.
And it was worse.
โOh, there you are! Missing me already?โ
The voiceโhis voiceโsnapped your head up so fast, you almost stumbled.
Murphy stood a few feet away, arms crossed, a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. His blue eyes were bright and joyful.
Just him.
Standing there like nothing had happened.
Your breath hitched, something sharp lodging itself in your throat.
โMurphโฆ?โ
The relief came so fast it almost hurt. You wanted to run to him, throw your arms around his shoulders, bury your face in his hoodie and just breathe him in.
Heโd press his lips to your forehead, over and over again, like he always did after being apart too long. It was his ritual. His way of saying he missed you.
And every single time, youโd scrunch your nose and shove at his chest, muttering, โEww, Murphy, youโre slobbering all over me.โ
But the truth?
You never wanted him to stop.
You wanted him to do it now.
You took a step forward, a laugh bubbling up past the knot in your throat. โMiss you? Thatโs rich coming from youโdonโt tell me you were crying in your sleep, Murph.โ
Murphy gasped dramatically, hand to chest. โMe? Crying? You wound me, honey.โ
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
You felt warm. Safe.
For the first time in days, your ribs didnโt ache, your chest didnโt feel hollow.
It was just Murphyโhis voice, his presence, alive and real.
โYou really thought I wouldnโt find you?โ He smirked, head tilting. โCโmon, honeypie, have a little faith.โ
You let out a soft scoff, shaking your head. He always said that. Always.
And yetโฆ
Something was wrong.
Your stomach twisted. The warmth started to fade.
The light around you dimmed.
Murphyโs smile twitchedโjust barelyโbut you saw it.
His body stiffened, the playful glint in his eyes flickering, dimming into something else. Somethingโฆ unnatural.
His expression slackened.
His hands trembled.
โMurph?โ Your voice wavered.
His mouth parted, lips forming a wordโyour name? No. Not quite.
And thenโ
His eyes clouded. His skin paled.
And his voice dropped into something hollow.
โYou left me.โ
Your entire body seized.
Murphy lurched forward, his face twisting, his mouth gaping open, rotting teeth, dark veins spreading down his neckโ
No. No. No.
His arms snapped out toward you, fingers curling like clawsโ
โYou left me.โ
You ran.
You turned, bolted in the opposite direction, but your feet wouldnโt move fast enough.
His breath rasped behind you, wet, guttural, wrong.
โYou left me.โ
And thenโ
Darkness.
You woke up gasping.
A jagged, shuddering inhale that burned your lungs, your chest tight and constricted. Your body shook, fingers curling into the blanket like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.
Panic. Raw and suffocating.
Your throat was tight, your pulse hammering against your ribs, against your skull, against every nerve ending in your fucking body.
Your vision swam.
The walls closed in.
You werenโt in Alexandria. You were backย there.
You were back in the moment you ran.
โYou left me.โ
A sob punched out of you before you could stop it, your hands flying to your mouth, fingers digging into your skin as you rocked forward, trying to breathe, trying to push it down, trying to stop the shaking.
But you couldnโt.
You couldnโt make it stop.
And thenโ
A voice.
โSweetheart?โ
Lucille.
Your head snapped up, wild-eyed, chest still heaving, vision still blurred.
Lucille was crouched in front of you, voice soft, gaze steady.
Not hovering. Not coddling. Just waiting.
You squeezed your eyes shut, exhaling shakily, grounding yourself in the sound of her breathing.
In. Out. Steady.
Slowlyโpainfully slowlyโyour pulse began to even out.
Lucille didnโt ask.
She just nodded. Then she stood.
โCome on.โ She offered her hand. โIโll make you some tea.โ
And just like that, the world came back.
It didnโt make the weight in your chest disappear.
Pairings: Negan Smith x Female! Reader; Lucille Smith x Female! Reader; Negan Smith x Lucille Smith
Warnings: injuries, usual twd themes
A/n: It's all getting a little bit complicated...
If you're not on the taglist but would like to be tagged, let me know!
Main Masterlist || "The Cockroach" Masterlist
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You woke up feeling like absolute shit.
Not just the regular, run-of-the-mill โI didnโt sleep wellโ kind of shit. No, this was a special kind of miseryโthe kind that made you feel like youโd either been hit by a truck or had the worst night of your life in the city, drinking cheap whiskey and making terrible decisions. Except, in this case, the whiskey was your own tears, and the bad decision was apparently existing.
For one blissfully dumb second, in your half-conscious state, you thought, Maybe it was just a bad dream.
Then you shifted.
Pain exploded through your ribs like a goddamn firecracker, and you let out a noise that could only be described as a dying cat attempting opera.
Neganโs voice came from across the room. โWell, good fuckinโ morning to you too, sunshine. You sound like a goddamn feral possum.โ
You cracked one eye open, vision still blurry. โI thought it was more like a dying cat.โ
Negan took a slow sip from a steaming mug, his smirk evident even with half his face buried behind it. โEh. Tomato, tomahto. Either way, you sound like something that needs to be put outta its misery.โ
You scowled at him but didnโt have the energy to argue. Not when the pain was this bad. Instead, your gaze flickered to the mug in his hands. You expected the rich aroma of coffee, but instead, it smelled like burnt dirt water.
Figures. He would drink black coffee that tastes like despair.
โDonโt be mean,โ Lucille scolded as she stirred something in a bowl nearby. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly, and your stomach clenched in response. It had beenโฆ what? A few days since youโd eaten anything? Maybe longer?
Negan huffed, leaning back in his chair. โI ainโt beinโ mean, Iโm beinโ observant. Like a motherfuckinโ scientist. And science tells me our girl here got her ass handed to her.โ
You grumbled as you attempted to sit up. Every muscle in your body immediately filed a formal complaint. โPretty sure I got hit by a truck.โ
Negan smirked. โYeah, well, you sure as hell look like you did, sweetheart. Some sadistic asshole had a vendetta against your face.โ
Your stomach twisted. Murphy.
You had to find him.
Lucille must have noticed the panic creeping in because she was at your side in an instant, pressing a warm hand against your arm. โHey, itโs okay. Youโre safe here. You donโt have to talk yet, but we do need to knowโwho did this to you?โ
Negan, ever the subtle one, added, โโCause if you tell us, I got some spare time today to go introduce their skulls to a baseball bat.โ
Lucille shot him a glare. โNegan.โ
โWhat?โ he shrugged, looking unbothered. โIโm just sayinโ, if someoneโs out there treatinโ her like a damn punching bag, itโd be real rude of me not to return the favor.โ
Despite everythingโthe bruises, the pain, the overwhelming weight of it allโyou let out a weak chuckle. Because, really, what kind of world was this where murder threats were comforting?
Lucille sighed, rubbing your back gently. โIgnore him. He has all the emotional sensitivity of a brick.โ
Negan scoffed, placing a hand over his chest. โI am deeply offended by that, Lucille. I have layers. Like an onion. A very charming, profanity-ridden onion.โ
โYouโre making her laugh at a very inappropriate time,โ Lucille muttered, though her voice held undeniable fondness.
Negan grinned. โI call it trauma bonding. Itโs a service I provide free of charge.โ
Despite everything, despite the pain and fear still clinging to you, you smiled. It was small, fleeting, but it was real. The weight of what happened hadnโt gone away, but at least, for now, you werenโt alone.
Lucille handed you a bowl of whatever concoction sheโd been making. โEat first. Then weโll figure things out.โ
You hesitated for just a moment before taking the spoon. You had a long way to go, but for the first time since youโd run here, you felt like you could breathe.
And maybeโjust maybeโyou werenโt entirely broken yet.
You woke up groggy and sore, your body still a battlefield of aches, but at least the pain had dulled to a constant throb instead of the full-blown rebellion it had been before. The scent of something warm and familiar filled the room, coaxing you into awareness.
Slowly, you sat up, wincing as your ribs protested. Your surroundings came into focusโLucille at the portable camping stove, stirring something in a dented pot, her movements slow but practiced. Across from her, Negan sat at the table, idly flipping through a battered deck of cards, shuffling and cutting them like he had all the time in the world.
For a moment, it was almost peaceful. Almost.
Then Negan opened his goddamn mouth.
Without even looking up, he drawled, โWell, look who finally decided to rejoin the land of the fuckinโ living.โ
You blinked, still shaking off the last bits of sleep. Apparently, a simple good morning wasnโt part of Neganโs vocabulary.
โHow long was I out?โ you rasped, your throat dry and voice hoarse.
Lucille turned, offering you a gentle smile. There was warmth in her gaze, something soft that eased the sharp edges of your discomfort. โA couple of days,โ she said. โYou had a fever for a bit. Your body wasnโt handling all this stress and the injuries too well.โ
Negan, never one to let a moment of tenderness breathe, added, โYeah. Lotta moaninโ. Lotta tossinโ and turninโ. Real dramatic shit. Thought we had a goddamn soap opera star in our bed.โ
The flick of his cards echoed in the quiet, and you rubbed your face, too drained to fire back just yet.
Lucille, ever patient, ladled some soup into a bowl and set it beside you. โEat. You need it.โ
You hesitated, stomach tight with knots, but the smell was too good to ignore. Your fingers curled around the bowlโs warmth.
Neganโs gaze was on you before you even took a bite, his tone light but edged. โYou allergic to soup, or just planninโ to sit there starinโ at it all day?โ
You shot him a glare but finally picked up the spoon. The first sip was scalding, but it was rich, full of flavorโcomforting in a way you hadnโt expected. The warmth settled into your bones, easing something inside you that had been clenched tight for too long.
โDidnโt realize hospitality came with a time limit,โ you muttered, mostly to spite him.
Negan snorted. โAinโt got much of it to begin with, sweetheart. But you can thank my wife for that.โ He gestured toward Lucille. โSheโs the nice one. And apparently, she likes your annoying ass far too much.โ
โNegan.โ Lucilleโs voice carried a quiet warning.
He held his hands up in mock surrender. โWhat? Just makinโ an observation. Like a scientist.โ
You ignored him and kept eating, but you werenโt the only one noticing things.
The way Negan shifted in his seat. The way his fingers drummed against the table. The way his eyes flicked to you, then away, like you were an eyesore he was forcing himself not to acknowledge too much.
Finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering something under his breath before speaking up again.
โSo. Whatโs the plan, then?โ
You frowned, mid-spoonful. โWhat plan?โ
Negan gestured vaguely at you. โYour grand fuckinโ plan. You gonna stay here forever? Set up shop in my goddamn bed?โ
The bite in his tone was subtle, but it was there.
Your grip on the spoon tightened. โDidnโt realize I had an eviction notice already.โ
Negan shrugged. โAinโt about that. Itโs justโI got enough shit on my plate, alright?โ
Lucille looked between you both before settling on Negan, her tone even but firm. โSheโs staying. Weโre not throwing her out, and you know it.โ
Negan let out a long-suffering groan. โJesus Christ. End of the world, and I still canโt win an argument.โ
With a grumble, he pushed up from the table, snatching up his cards as he headed for the door.
โTwo of you nagginโ me. Just my goddamn luck,โ he muttered before disappearing outside.
Pairings: Negan Smith x Female! Reader; Lucille Smith x Female! Reader; Negan Smith x Lucille Smith
Warnings: injuries, usual twd themes
A/n: Well... that was fast. Hopefully, I can write my other series just as fast as this one hehe
If you're not on the taglist but would like to be tagged, let me know!
Main Masterlist || "The Cockroach" Masterlist
PREVIOUS CHAPPTER || NEXT CHAPTER
The despairing cries that tore from your throat shattered Lucilleโs heart. She held you tighter, pressing your face into her chest, trying to muffle the soundโbut it didnโt make the pain any less real.
Your whole body shook uncontrollably, wracked with sobs that you couldnโt contain. Lucille didnโt know what to do to help you, to make it all better. She kissed the crown of your head, whispering soft reassurances, her hand rubbing slow, steady circles on your backโa grounding, constant motion.
Negan sat silently in his chair, watching. It had beenย hoursย since you turned up on their doorstep, your fists slamming against the wood with what little strength you had left. When heโd opened the door, you hadnโt hesitatedโyouโd thrown yourself at him, arms winding around his waist, your face buried in his sweatshirt.
It wasย weird.
Youย hatedย him. He wasnโt exactly fond of you, either. But the way you clung to him, shaking, silentโheโd known right away.
Something wasย reallyย fucking wrong.
So heโd pulled you inside, led you to Lucille, and the moment you saw her, youโd completely fallen apart.
That had been hours ago.
And youย stillย hadnโt spoken.
Lucilleโs voice was a quiet plea, coaxing, desperate. โHoney, talk to me.โ
But you only shook your head, violently, your face still buried against her.
Lucille sighed, glancing up at Negan with a helpless look.
Negan met her gaze but didnโt speak. He didnโt know what theย fuckย to do either. If this had been anyone else, he wouldโve forced them to talk by now. But youโhe wasnโt sure heโdย everย seen you like this.
Your hair was a tangled, bloody mess. Your hands and face were caked with dirt and gore. The cuts on your cheeks looked badโreallyย bad. Your clothes were stiff with dried blood, clinging to you like a second skin.
He rubbed a hand over his face.ย Jesus fucking Christ.
โWe should clean her up,โ he muttered finally, the concern in his voice foreign even to himself.
Lucille shook her head. โNot yet.โ She adjusted her grip on you, rubbing slow circles against the back of your head. โShhโฆ itโs okay, darling. Youโre safe here.โ
Negan exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. He trusted Lucille to know what was best for you. She was your friend, after all.
But what the fuck had happened before you got here? What hadย done thisย to you?
You clung to Lucille like she was the only thing keeping you afloat, fingers fisting the fabric of her sweater as though letting go meant drowning. She was your anchor, the warmth of her embrace keeping you from slipping too deep into the dark waters of your thoughts.
The need for comfort, for safety, was overwhelming.
And Lucille gave it to you without hesitation.
Eventually, your sobs quieted. You werenโt shaking as much, your breath no longer coming in broken, panicked gasps.
Lucille felt the shift and pulled back slightly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. โPlease,โ she murmured, her voice gentle but insistent. โTell me what happened. Let us help.โ
You swallowed hard, your throat raw from crying. You wanted to tell herโyou needed toโbut the words wouldnโt come. Your mind was still reeling, every thought tangled and jumbled, the weight of fear sitting heavy in your chest.
You neededย Murphy.
โPlease,โ you whispered hoarsely, voice barely above a breath. โNot now.โ
Lucille searched your face, her concern deepening. But she didnโt push. Instead, she gave you a small, understanding nod. โAlright,โ she said softly, squeezing your hand. Then she stood and pulled you gently to your feet. โLetโs get you cleaned up first. Then weโll talk.โ
You nodded. You knew she wouldnโt let this go forever. Sheโd want answers. So would Negan.
But right now, all you could do was follow where she led.
Lucille sat you down at the worn wooden table in the middle of the room. Negan took a seat across from you, his arms resting on the surface. He looked tired.
โYou feelinโ any better?โ he asked gruffly.
You nodded, still caught off guard by this softer version of him. Since you could remember, the two of you had only communicated through sarcasm and glares. Now, here he wasโactuallyย checking in on you.
It was strange.
You let yourself breathe, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension in your body eased. For the first time since you arrived, you took in your surroundings.
The Smithsโ basement had been completely transformed. Where there had once been a burgundy leather couch youย despised, there was now a bed. The TV and Neganโs matching armchair remained. A row of mannequin heads sat by the bed, each sporting a different-colored wig. The windows were boarded up, the only light coming from battery-powered candles on the table and a dim bedside lamp.
Lucille returned with a wet cloth, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers. โHold still,โ she murmured, dabbing at the dried blood on your face.
You flinched when she hit a particularly sore spot.
โSorry,โ she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
Negan watched, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.
When Lucille reached for the hem of your shirt, she hesitated, searching your face for permission. You gave a small nod.
She lifted it carefully, peeling the fabric away from your skin. The moment the shirt hit the floor, she sucked in a sharp breath.
Negan cursed under his breath.
Your torso was a mess of bruisesโdeep, ugly splotches of purple and green. Your ribs bore the worst of it, and the cuts on your arms ran deeper than theyโd realized.
Lucille turned to Negan, their eyes locking in silent horror.
Negan clenched his jaw. Any lingering jealousy heโd felt earlier vanished, replaced by something far worse.
Who theย fuckย had done this to you?
โShe needs a proper shower,โ he muttered.
Lucille nodded. โCโmon, sweetheart,โ she said, helping you to your feet.
She led you to the small bathroom, and when you stepped under the warm spray, the weight of exhaustion finally crashed over you.
By the time Lucille guided you back to bed, your body felt heavy, every muscle sore.
She tucked you in, smoothing your damp hair away from your face before pressing a final kiss to your temple. โGet some rest, honey,โ she whispered.
You barely heard her. Sleep pulled you under before she even stepped away.
Lucille and Negan sat at the table, speaking in hushed voices, their eyes constantly flicking toward your sleeping form.
โWhat sick motherfucker hurt her like that?โ Negan muttered, his voice sharp, barely restrained.
Lucille shook her head. โI donโt know,โ she whispered, her gaze full of worry. โAnd I donโt think sheโs ready to tell us yet.โ
Negan let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. โYeah. Wouldnโt be smart to push her.โ His grip tightened into a fist. โShit. Iย canโtย believe someone did that to her.โ
Lucille nodded. โWeโll find out. And when we doโโ her voice dropped to somethingย coldโโtheyโllย pay.โ
Negan clenched his jaw. He wasnโt the sentimental type, but guilt settled in his gut. He hadnโt been there to stop whatever happened to you.
And that didnโt sit right with him.
โWe need answers,โ he muttered.
Lucilleโs voice was calm, but firm. โShe needs toย healย first.โ
Negan knew she was right. But that didnโt make it any easier.
His gaze drifted back to you, his expression hardening.
Pairings: Negan Smith x Reader; Lucille Smith x Reader; Negan Smith x Lucille Smith
Warnings: usual twd themes, slight mention of SA
A/n: Let me know what you think! Slowly getting back to writing and this series was and always will be my roman empire. Also I hope you love my boy Murphy just as much as I do ๐ฅฐ
If you're not on the taglist but would like to be tagged let me know!
The Cockroach Masterlist || Main Masterlist
PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER
The morning sun was warm against your skin, but you were too drained to care. Dehydrated, starving, and trudging along an endless road, there was no energy left for even a sliver of appreciation. You passed Murphy without a word, too caught up in your own exhaustion.
Not many things could dampen the mood between you two, but hunger and the apocalypse apparently made the list. Your relationship with Murphy had always been easyโbuilt on years of jokes, teasing, and an unspoken understanding. But now? Now, for the first time, there was actual tension, and you fucking hated it.
โWould you stop ignoring me?โ Murphy groaned, throwing his arms out like a dramatic teenager.
You turned on your heel, crossing your arms over your chest like one. โI told you we need to get to Lucille.โ
โThat is miles away,โ he pointed out, exasperation leaking into his voice. โDo you want me to teleport us there, or should I summon a flying unicorn to give us a lift?โ
โWe could get a car,โ you shot back, rolling your eyes.
โThe roads are blocked.โ
You narrowed your gaze, closing the space between you both with fast, determined steps. โMurphy, I can't let her go through this alone. Especially not now, when all hellโs breaking loose.โ
He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. โIโm sure Neganโs with her.โ
You snorted so hard your cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk. Murphy grinned, knowing damn well heโd set you up for that exact reaction.
โYeah, we both know heโs not,โ you scoffed, shaking your head. โThat man only cares about his stupid ass. If there was a competition for โWorldโs Most Self-Absorbed Dickhead,โ heโd be hoisting the trophy and giving a speech about how he single-handedly saved humanity.โ
Murphy smirked. โAt least heโd make it entertaining.โ
โOh, for sure. Heโd probably thank himself twice and then dedicate the award to his reflection.โ
Murphy huffed a laugh, but the amusement faded just as quickly. His face softened, and you knew the next thing out of his mouth wasnโt going to be another joke. โI get it,โ he said, voice quieter now. โYou need to be there for her. But I need you to be realistic. We donโt have food, we barely have water, and weโre running on fumes. If we rush in without a plan, weโre both gonna end up dead in a ditch.โ
You hated that he was making sense. You wanted to argue, to do something instead of just standing here talking about how impossible everything felt.
You let out a long breath, shaking your head. โOkay, fine. Whatโs your realistic plan, then?โ
Murphyโs lips twitched, just a little. โStep one: We find food so you donโt murder me in my sleep.โ
Your stomach chose that exact moment to growl violently, proving his point.
โShut up,โ you muttered, and he grinned.
โWeโre adding water to that list too, by the way,โ he teased, tapping your shoulder before walking ahead. โYouโre already cranky as hell, and I donโt need you passing out on me.โ
You rolled your eyes but followed after him, muttering something about how he was the cranky one.
For now, the mission to get to Lucille had to wait. But youโd get there. You had to.
Youโd managed to ransack an abandoned car for some food and waterโif you could call a half-crushed granola bar and a bottle of warm Gatorade โfood and water.โ It wasnโt much, but it had to do. You were learning quickly that the apocalypse wasnโt exactly the buffet of resources youโd hoped for.
Apparently, you were late to the whole end-of-the-world thing, having spent the first weekโor moreโholed up in your apartment, wasting away in bed out of sheer boredom. At the time, you figured if society was going to collapse, you might as well be well-rested for it. Turned out that wasnโt the best strategy, considering most of the supplies had already been picked clean by the time you stepped outside.
Now, food was scarce, the gas was drained from most vehicles, and the town looked like it had been evacuated overnight. No hesitation, no looking back. The second the dead started walking, people got the hell out while they still could.
Smart move.
โI thought most of the population here was old people,โ you mumbled under your breath, kicking an empty can along the cracked asphalt. The rattle of metal against pavement echoed in the otherwise quiet street. โWhere the hell did they all go?โ
Murphy hummed beside you, his fingers squeezing yours absentmindedly as he swung your joined hands between you. โMaybe they were super-elders,โ he mused. โSuper-speed, teleportationโwhole damn X-Men package.โ
You snorted. โYeah, right. โGrandpa Lightningโ just zipped out of here at Mach speed.โ
โOr,โ he continued, deadpan, โthey all turned into zombies but, like, polite ones. Just wandering around a retirement home somewhere, playing bridge and moaning about how they miss the good olโ days.โ
You chuckled, the ridiculous image softening the tension in your chest. Even with the world ending around you, Murphy still had a way of keeping things light.
He gave your hand another squeeze. โAnyway, we need to find somewhere to fortificate for the night.โ
You stopped in your tracks and turned to him with a skeptical look. โReally? Fortificate?โ
He arched a brow. โYeah?โ
โIโm pretty sure thatโs not a word. And if it is, you definitely used it wrong.โ
Murphy scoffed. โOh, Iโm sorry, Ms. English Major. My bad for not conjugating my fake words properly.โ
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. โI think you meant fortify.โ
โOr maybe,โ he smirked, โyou just lack the vision to appreciate my linguistic creativity.โ
You huffed a laugh and nudged his shoulder before scanning the area ahead. The street was lined with darkened storefronts, their windows either shattered or eerily intact. A few houses sat in the distance, but you werenโt eager to test if they were occupiedโby the living or the dead.
Then, you spotted it.
A rundown convenience store, its metal security gate partially bent but still hanging on. The sign above it flickered weakly, half the letters missing, leaving behind something that read โM_R__โ_ M_RT.โ
โMurphyโs Mart,โ you announced, pointing at it. โPerfect. Looks like the universe wanted to name something after you before it collapsed.โ
He grinned. โDamn right it did. Letโs see if my store has any decent snacks left.โ
Together, you made your way over, slipping through the damaged gate and into the dimly lit interior. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of dust and old, melted candy. Most of the shelves were ransacked, but there were still a few treasures leftโa couple of dented canned goods, a few bags of chips that hadnโt been torn open, and a lone can of beer sitting proudly on the counter like some post-apocalyptic holy grail.
Murphy snatched the beer immediately. โOh, hell yes. This night just got so much better.โ
You grabbed a bag of chips and plopped down onto an overturned crate. โI hope you know weโre splitting that.โ
โUh, excuse you?โ Murphy clutched the can to his chest protectively. โThis was my mart. Clearly, this beer is meant for me.โ
You threw one of the chips at him. โWeโre sharing it, dumbass.โ
He sighed dramatically before flopping down next to you, cracking open the can. โFine. But only โcause Iโm feeling generous.โ
You both took turns sipping from the warm, probably expired beer, passing it back and forth as you leaned against the empty shelves.
For a moment, with the faint neon glow of the half-broken sign flickering outside and the distant, eerie silence of the world beyond the store, it almost feltโฆ normal.
But then, as if on cue, a distant groan echoed from outside.
You and Murphy exchanged a look.
โGuess the super-elders didnโt teleport that far,โ he muttered.
You rolled your eyes, shoving the last of the chips into your mouth before pulling out your knife. โCome on, genius. Time to fortificate.โ
He grinned. โSee? Itโs catching on.โ
And with that, the two of you got to work, reinforcing your little shelter for the night, knowing damn well this was only the beginning.
The convenience storeโs counter wasnโt exactly a luxury bed, but it was what you had for the night. You shifted, trying to find a spot that didnโt have something digging into your backโa loose screw, maybe, or some other part of the register determined to make you miserable. The ceiling above you was a dull, off-white, and you found yourself staring at it without really seeing anything.
The fire you and Murphy had managed to scrape together from broken shelves flickered weakly in its makeshift pit on the cold tile floor. It wasnโt muchโbarely enough heat to chase away the chill, hardly enough light to make the room feel less empty. Youโd shut off the storeโs generator in the hopes that the flickering neon sign wouldnโt act as a beacon, inviting the dead to come clawing at your doorstep.
Didnโt mean the silence was any less suffocating.
โDo you think sheโs alright?โ you asked, still staring at the ceiling, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.
Murphy let out an exaggerated groan from his place on the floor. โGod, youโre like a lovestruck teenager today, arenโt you?โ
You didnโt bother looking at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice.
โSheโs fine,โ he added, rolling onto his side to face you. โYou havenโt already forgotten what a fierce little lady she is, have you?โ
You finally turned your head, raising an eyebrow. โLittle? Sheโs taller than you.โ
โShe is not,โ Murphy scoffed, affronted.
โMurphy, she could bench press you.โ
He narrowed his eyes. โAre you that blinded by love?โ
โMight be,โ you admitted with a soft chuckle. But just as quickly as the smile came, it faded. Your fingers picked at the edge of your jacket absentmindedly. โI miss her.โ
Murphy sighed, folding his arms behind his head. โSometimes I wonder if you hate her husband just because he is her husband.โ
โI do not,โ you shot back, but there wasnโt much conviction behind it.
Murphy smirked. โYou're right. If hating someone was that easy, Iโd already be six feet under by now. You still havenโt forgiven me for sleeping with your best friend in high school.โ
Your head whipped toward him, eyes narrowing into a glare. โIs that why you think I dropped out?โ
Murphy shrugged, unbothered. โWouldnโt be the dumbest thing youโve ever done.โ
โIf I wasnโt sure about killing you before, Murphy, I definitely am now.โ
He cackled, completely unfazed.
Before he could get another smartass remark in, a loud crash shattered the fragile quiet of the store.
Glass breaking.
Loud.
Really fucking loud.
You and Murphy locked eyes for half a second, completely still.
Then, the realization hit.
You could have expected this. Should have. But apparently, between the two of you, there was only one functioning brain cell, and youโd been passing it back and forth all day.
The store had been secured against the dead. But the living?
Theyโd found a way through.
The sound of boots crunching over broken glass sent a chill down your spine.
Someone had just stepped inside like they owned the place.
โHey, calm down. Thereโs nothing here,โ you said, raising your hands in a show of peace.
The muzzle of the gun pressed against your forehead, its cold steel a sharp contrast to the heat prickling your skin.
โYeah, we definitely believe you, little girl,โ the man sneered.
โLittle girl?โ Murphy scoffed, letting out a dry chuckle despite the knife digging into his back. โShe could bench press you.โ
You shot him a glare. โMurphy, now is not the time.โ
The man with the gun curled his lip, unimpressed. โHey, man, tell your bitch to shut up.โ
Your head tilted slightly, eyebrows raising in disbelief. โYou think I need to shut up?โ You let the silence stretch, then deadpanned, โBe for real.โ
Murphyโs expression twisted as if he was holding back a groan. โHoneybun, please shut up,โ he hissed, his tone shifting to actual concern when the knife was pushed harder against his spine. It hadnโt broken skin yet, but Murphy wasnโt Jesusโhe wasnโt about to test resurrection theory. He knew where he was headed if he died, and he had no plans to go just yet.
The gunman scoffed, shaking his head. โMouthy little thing, huh? I kinda like that.โ
Your stomach turned.
The second manโthe one holding Murphy hostageโchuckled darkly. โBet sheโd be fun to break in.โ
Murphy stilled.
Your jaw clenched.
The gunmanโs eyes flicked over you, his smirk widening. โBeen a while since we had something this fresh. Maybe we oughtaโโ
Murphy spit in his face.
The man jerked back, stunned, as saliva dripped down his cheek.
โYou fucking piece ofโโ
He didnโt get to finish. The punch he threw cracked against Murphyโs jaw with enough force to send him to the floor.
Then everything went to hell.
Fists. Boots. Knuckles meeting flesh and bone with sickening cracks.
You fought back, but it was like trying to fight against a tide of fists and steel-toed boots. A punch landed square in your ribs, knocking the wind from your lungs. Someone grabbed your hair, yanking your head back, and the moment your vision cleared, you saw Murphy curled on the ground, blood leaking from his mouth, his face already swelling.
You screamed his name.
The response you got was another kick to your stomach that sent you sprawling.
Your body screamed in protest, but Murphyโs voiceโweak, wheezingโcut through it all.
โRun.โ
Your head snapped toward him. โWhat?โ
Murphy coughed, spitting blood. Then, in one last act of sheer, reckless defiance, he started laughing.
โIs that all you got?โ he taunted, flashing them a bloody grin. โFuckinโ amateurs.โ
The men turned on him, their attention shifting.
And you knew.
This was his shot.
Your shot.
โMurphy, donโtโโ
His eyes met yours. The same look he always gave you when he was about to do something really stupid.
โGO.โ
Then he lunged at the closest guy.
You didnโt wait to see what happened next. You forced your battered body to move, stumbling toward the door, barely able to stay upright. The moment you hit the street, you ran.
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