You couldn't tell what day it was when you awoke and definitely not the time. There was no light that could ever hope to enter the cell you were imprisoned in.

All you knew was the tearing pain that bit at your hands and the thirst that gnawed at your throat. A Doctor had come in at some time, cleaning your wounds, flexing your fingers and wrapping tight bandages around them. Mumbling something about points, painkillers and how you should say two little words.

You were still so tired, but the memories of previous events jabbed at you like a hypodermic needle.

Lucille flashing above your head and biting down on your fingers like an angry snake. Maggie's hollow and anguished face as she cradled Glenn. Rick's torn and pale face when he raised that axe. Sashas and Rosias cries as Abe was...

The door unexpectantly opened and the light felt almost searing. The doors creak sounding like metallic claws. When your senses adjusted you saw...Dwight. His burnt face looked impassive and thoroughly unimpressed, the burned silvery skin under his eye looking sore and taunt.

You tried to stand up, but your body firmly rejected you. Instead, you let out a low groan and shuffled backwards.

"Pfft not so tough now are we? Where did your little plot get you huh? Rotting in this cell? I bet you think your people are coming to save you, don't you? Well listen up, they're not, you are totally alone. Negan owns them, he owns you...He owns this cell...This water bottle".

He held it tantalizingly close and you reached out for the water, only for it to be snatched away and out of your grasp.

"You will learn to obey, to follow orders...We all have to" He said the last part softly, as if troubled and you regarded him closer when your ears registered the slight strain in his voice.

"If you want to survive, and you've lasted long enough to know how. You WILL have to give in". He observed you for a silent few seconds, shaking his head and lowering his eyes when his gaze fell upon your exposed shoulder, you consciously tried to cover yourself up.

His aloofness quickly returned and he only shook his head. Throwing you the bottled water whilst holding something else out at arm's length, you looked quizzically at the paper plate he held and realized he was offering you food. You reached out gingerly and gently took it.

He turned around fast, attempting to shut the door before you bolted, but you both knew in this state you weren't going anywhere soon. The thought didn't even cross your mind.

"Dwight" You softly called, taking off your boots to give your feet a break from their weight.

He froze, closing his eyes as if waiting for you to plead for some further relief.

"Thanks for the water and food". You felt compelled to thank him. You had once read one of Shane's police books he kept in his backpack, and distinctly remembered reading a chapter on hostage negotiation. Try to humanize yourself, build some rapport, earn some trust. You're less likely to be hurt by a captor if they see you as a person with a name.

Dwight scoffed to himself, genuinely amused "Don't thank me yet". He shot over his shoulder.

You saw the look he gave you briefly, you once had seen it on Lori's face, many years ago at the camp outside Atlanta. It was the first few months after the outbreak, and you noticed she was watching you sat in your corner struggling to untangle the huge knots in your hair. She gently approached you, Carl close on her heels. She had knelt down and revealed a pair of scissors, her eyes flooded with motherly concern.

"Here Honey. Let me help, I've just cut Carls hair and yours looks like it needs a bit of tidying up. I'll get those knots out for you, you have such lovely hair, you don't want to pull it all out".

You realized in that moment, she had felt pity for you.

Then the door was shut, and darkness enveloped you once more.

You struggled to undo the cap on the water bottle with your injured fingers, growing frustrated with it enough to bite at it. Eventually, it was conquered, its coolness like liquid silk down your throat, water had never tasted as good in your life and you savored every drop.

Next came time to sate your appetite, your stomach was imploring you to feed it. But the smell was strange, familiar even, where had you smelt it before? You held what you assumed was a stale bread roll closer to your nose, tenderly sniffing it. Then it hit you like a 50cal.

That FUCKERS given me DOG food!

Enraged you threw it with what little strength you had at the wall, a wet splat echoing through the room.

MOTHER FUCKER!

You lay in that cell for a week. You knew how long you had been in there as Dwight, when he came bearing water and Dog food had told you the time and date when you had asked. The tally's on the door now made sense.

The smell was in there was noxious, you had not smelt this bad since before Alexandria and you yeared for a hot shower and your own soft bed.

You passed the countless hours with sweet daydreams and awful nightmares. You lost count of how many times you jolted awake with a start, or woke up speaking to a person who was never there.

You let your mind disappear through the hallways of your mind and kept your body from slipping into a sluggish lethargy by doing push-ups and press-ups. All the while wishing you could punch a hole through that heavy green door and run.

Yet in the darkness your thoughts also wondered to Negan, you couldn't understand why he didn't kill you? Why he didn't make you suffer more, after all, he had threatened worse violence than this. Or was he biding his time, planning some sick revenge?

You remembered when his fingers traced over your jaw, that quiver of excitement you felt as he tucked your hair behind your ear, an action usually reserved for people who were very close. 

And how good it felt to give in for just a little while when he came on his midnight visit.

You laughed to yourself as you re-lived when you burst into his room. Briefly seeing his face scrunched up in thought and gently nibbling on his pencil in concentration.

Seeing him looking vulnerable felt wrong, though you could not think why. The look of shock and...disappointment on his face when he knelt down next to you.

Settling yourself against the wall and covering yourself in the filthy moth-eaten quilt left to you by Dwight, you hummed a soft tune to yourself, Lulling your mind into an uneasy sleep.

Your last day in the cell went the same as the others. You sat patiently waiting for Dwight to open the door and supply your daily nutrition and empty your squalid bucket.

Finally, your ears alerted you to footsteps echoing down towards your cell. But there was something unfamiliar following after them...The clicking of heels?

You leaned on your knees in anticipation.

The key jangled into the lock and the door swung open violently. Dwight stood in the middle of the frame aiming his crossbow at you and you ducked instinctively, putting your hands in front of your face and removing yourself from the line of fire.

"Dwight, what the fuck are you doing? I'm unarmed here, you bullying dickhead! Get that fuckin thing out of my face!" You squeaked, kicking your foot out to him so he would take a step back and throwing an empty water bottle at his chest.

"Now listen here and listen good, coz I'm NOT playing around...This here is Sherry" Dwight spoke slowly and carefully, his timbre confident and commanding.

With that a woman sheepishly made her way into the door frame, she was beautiful looking...Tall and thin, with deep brown shoulder-length hair that bounced with freshly curled waves and an enviable shine.

But what surprised you was how she was made up,  you eyed her suspiciously. Her full lips were a deep rouge and a thick coat of mascara framed her pretty hazel doe eyes, a tight black bandage dress hugged her body and the smell of a sweet perfume wafted off her. She was pristine.

Sherry smiled and gave a cautious wave to which you nodded your head in reply, smiling lightly in return.

"Oi!" Dwight snapped his fingers and you slowly faced him, the action irritating you like a rash.

"Negan has asked Sherry to help you clean yourself up. Coz in case you haven't noticed, you stink to high heaven and I could use your hair to grease the frying pan."

Both yours and Sherry's noses wrinkled in disgust at the image of his comment, and you unconsciously ran your fingers through your tangled mop.

"What!? It's the truth." Dwight grinned to himself like a Cheshire Cat, thoroughly amused with his snarky comment. You desperately wanted to shoot him an insult back. To say something nasty and hurtful about look who's talking about frying pans "extra well done". But you bit your lip and pinched the skin on the back of your hand to reprimand yourself.

"You try to pull a fast one with her or hurt her in any way. It wont be Negan you need to worry about." Dwight exclaimed, taking a step towards you and rattling his crossbow at your face as a threat. He Raised his eyebrows in expectancy of an answer.

You thought for a long minute. You could tell Dwight and his Gal pal to go and fuck themselves, spit at them and curse. Then crawl back up on the filthy floor and sleep...Ration your water and chew on the grissel in the dog food. It would feel good to insult them and prove you weren't beaten just yet.

But the thought of being able to clean yourself, maybe even walk out of this cell and eat some proper food was far more tempting. It might hurt your pride, but you did need to clean the cuts in your fingers and scrape off the layer of sweat on your face.

So you chose.

"Yes. okay. I just want to get out of this stinking cell and get a hot shower" You finally shot, suddenly very feeling itchy and crawling like a flea-infested Sewer Rat.

"I MEAN it Alexandria! Try anything with her and I'll make sure you die in there!" Dwight snapped back like a yapping Jack Russel. His blue eyes full of a heavy seriousness.

You held your hands out in mock surrender, rolling your eyes and exhaling heavily through your nose. You still wanted to tell him to go to hell, you were sick of obeying and taking his spiteful attitude.

"Yes, captain crunch I mean, Dwight...Capiche, crystal, LOUD and clear". You mock saluted, rising to your feet and throwing your blanket on the floor, giving it a hearty stomp and imagining it was Dwight's blonde head.

Sherry held her arm out to you, prompting you to walk towards her, a look of sympathy etched on her soft face. You felt as graceful as a newborn calf and slightly embarrassed at the days worth of sweat, dirt and dried blood emanating off you.

Dwight shot you another warning glance and placed Daryl's crossbow on his opposite shoulder.

"Don't think about running away either...Trust me, you won't make it out of them gates alive."

He turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction. Looking once again over his shoulder and smiling at Sherry.

You couldn't help but notice Sherry and Dwight's body language towards each other, cautious yet familiar. As if they had known each other a long time, you sensed the chemistry. It hung over them like a stormy raincloud as Sherry watched him walk away, a subtle pining in her eyes.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and in some fresh clothes. Negan said you're not allowed to eat yet, but you'll feel much better after a shower". Sherry gently said, turning to look at you and placing a polished hand on your shoulder.

You couldn't help but smile at the first kind human contact you had received since you'd arrived.

"Pfft, Negan... The biggest twat walking the planet. Why's he asking you to help me out?" You asked Sherry, watching her face carefully for any insight or explanation.

"Well...He wants to see you after you've cleaned up...B-but don't worry though! I'm sure he's calmed down after you...um....". Sherry looked at the floor and bit her lip, removing her hand to pull her hair over her shoulder.

"You know about that?!" You coughed, your eyebrows raised and lips in a grimace.

You thought Negan would have wanted to keep that quiet. A stray girl escaping from the cells and wondering up to his room to murder him, might make his security seem thin and incompetent. Definitely not the image a leader like him wants to paint.

"Oh, the whole Sanctuary knows about it, word spreads like wildfire around here, it's the juiciest piece of gossip people have had their traps around for ages. No one has ever challenged him like that...Definitely, no one here's ever tried to kill him". Sherry gently bumped her shoulder against you playfully.

"Oh! So I made a lasting first impression then?" You giggled, throwing up your shoulders and gesturing up and down your body.

"You could say that!" She laughed along with you. Her exposed teeth making you crave some toothpaste and a brush.

Sherry led you to a private room and it was large and spacious. With big windows and a plush red rug that covered the shiny bare wood floor. It looked like paradise to your cell, a literal ostentatious oasis in comparison.

You stretched out your arms and twirled in a circle, reveling in the sunlight streaming in, its warmth gently caressing your face. 

"Here's a new fresh towel and some clothes. I wasn't sure what size you'd be so I brought a few different bra's for ya to try on"

Sherry handed you the clothes. She had a gentle and sincere face and you felt it was impossible to be rude to her, so you gave her a smile and a sweet thank you in return.

"The showers just in there, I've laid out everything you need. So you're all set, take as long as you want". She insisted, walking away to plop herself on the little single bed in the middle of the room.

"Thanks, Sherry, Its appreciated...even if you've been told to do it".

You padded your way towards the shower room, closed the door and pulled the curtain back. The hot water sprang to life with a single twist and it felt divine. A little bubble of elation rising in your stomach at the thought of clean, warm and running water.

You peeled off your old clothes like a scab and they fell to the floor with a heavy thunk.

Climbing into the hot jet stream you spent the best part of an hour scrubbing and washing and cleansing until your skin was pink and fresh. The dried blood and crusted mud drained into the plug hole in a murky sludge and when the water ran clear and not a trace of dirt remained you clambered out begrudgingly, wrapping the surprisingly fluffy towel around your body and ruffling it over your hair before dressing.

Padding out of the shower room you saw Sherry was still sitting on the bed, high heels off and propping herself up on a little red pillow. You walked over to the mirror hung on the wall, soaking in your reflection and feeling a pang of resentment at her.

You knew you were far from ugly, hair still thick and shiny, long eyelashes framed your Babmi eyes and your features were soft yet distinguished.

But Sherry looked like a model, so effortless and chic.

You eyed yourself with a sorry sigh, your lip still slightly fat and a cut flashed vertically on your eyebrow, your wrists were still bruised and you rubbed them gently, fingering the fading black one on your temple as if you could rub it off.

"Better?" A little voice broke you out of your self-pity.

"Oh, god...Much, much better...I was starting to think I would melt into the walls" You laughed, taking note of Sherry's stupidly long legs and trim waist. She must have noticed your glances and sat up, fumbling around in her little bag and pulling out a pack of Marlboro Lights. Your eyes lit up with expectation, silently praying she would offer you one.

"You want one"? Sherry smiled, holding up a little cigarette in the air and reaching it out to you.

"Pfft...Please" You grinned, snatching it out her hands in a playful gesture. "Yoink".

She produced a pink little zippo and ignited it, the little flame slightly hypnotizing you as she lit her own and yours in turn. You sat next to her and inhaled deeply, savoring the flavor and exhaling the smoke from your nose, enjoying the contrast in taste between spearmint toothpaste and cigarette.

"Fuck that's good...Better than sex" You grinned, crossing your legs and rolling your eyes in pleasure. "I'm not so sure about that" Sherry shrugged, tapping her toe against the floor and looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

A comfortable silence took over the room as you smoked your cigarettes until Sherry spoke up with a cough. "I'm sorry, Honey...I don't mean to rush you but we need to get going...he's expecting us".

Your stomach dropped and your heart rate increased. You swallowed a nervous gulp, finishing your cigarette to the filter and placing it in a little ashtray next to the bed.

A cruel idea surged its way into your mind. Sherry looked so weak and fragile, like you could break her under your heavy boot and you fidgeted at the thought of it. You could easily take her down and try to escape, or you could use her as a meat shield...Wrapping your arms around her lithe neck, threatening to break it if they didn't let you walk out of the gates. You really didn't plan on killing her, but they wouldn't know that.

She looked at you with kind eyes and the warmth of them quickly vanquished your nefarious plot. You took in a deep breath, willing confidence into your body while standing up, you might as well rip it off like a band-aid.

"Shall we go then!" You walked up the wide and winding corridors, taking in the chipped paint and dodging passers-by, who all gave you resentful glances and spoke in inaudible whispers to one another, pointing at you and shaking their heads.

"See..." Sherry smirked, "I told you word spreads fast." As she Frowned at the gawkers.

You had to wonder why everyone you passed smiled at her. Stepping out of her way and nodding at her in recognition. Everyone knew her, was she famous around here or something?

"Yeah, no shit, I bet living in this place is like an episode of Jerry Springer". You mumbled while your eyes scanned the corridors and you focused on your breathing.

"Pretty much like that...Except the people are uglier and a little less bright". Sherry scoffed.

You laughed together and continued walking but she abruptly stopped, gently grabbing your shoulder and taking her gentle polished hand to lightly tug your wrist.

You stopped and gave her an inquiring look, watching as she made sure no one was around to hear. "What's wrong"? You asked, stepping closer to her like you were about to have a secret conversation.

"Listen...About Negan. A-Anything he's done to you and your friends...There's more, there's always more."

You tried to open your mouth to speak but she shook her head in protest to silence you.

"No! Listen, whatever he asks you to do, just...just do it, I know its hard to swallow. I-I was in the same boat as you a few months back" Her eyes misted over with obviously repressed memories that looked painful.

"If you want to live, if you want to keep your friends alive, do what he says. You can't run, you can't get away, he'll find you and...More of your people will die."

"Sherry, what are you trying to say? What's he going to ask"? You took a step back but she bridged it and looked at you with somber eyes, struggling with her own thoughts before she waved her hand dismissively and smoothed down an eyebrow.

"Come on, let's go. He said to take our time but not the piss." She took a few steps forward and looked over her shoulder to see if you were following, waving her hand when you stood still against the wall.

This is what the walk to the gallows must feel like. Or how Daniel must have felt in the Lion's den.