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"𝐀𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞."

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.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Sunny wished she had the ability to understand. But, nothing made sense to her, no matter how many hours she spent trying to process what happened, nothing made sense.

Her father was alive. Alive and an entirely different person to the man she remembered. For hours, she had been trapped in her memories, trying to understand how someone so good could become so bad.

Sunny had never spoken a bad word about her father, because there truly was nothing bad to say. He was a good dad, the best. But the events of that night made her think that she was making it up, her mind tricking her into believing he was good. He wasn't.

Over and over again her mind kept replaying what had took place, every crunch, every laugh Negan released, everything. It was a nightmare that she couldn't escape.

She wasn't even sure how long she had been trapped in the room for, all she knew was that she had counted every tile on the floor around forty times, trying to keep her mind occupied.

It had felt like forever since she was hauled out of the van, catching a quick glimpse of Negan as he yelled orders at his men on where to take the 'prisoners'. A prisoner. That's what he had called her. Not his daughter, not his little girl. A prisoner.

Then she and Daryl were dragged into the factory-like building, forced down dimly lit hallways that smelled like oil and rust. She could barely see where they were going, her heart pounding in her chest as they passed a string of people whose faces seemed shadowed, unfeeling. Every part of her wanted to disappear.

But then, without warning, Daryl was yanked toward a separate hallway. Sunny let out a cry, panic surging as she tried to run to him. "Daryl!" she screamed, her voice breaking. He fought against the man holding him back, trying to reach her, his eyes wild with worry. But the grip on her arms was like iron, and no matter how much she kicked and screamed, they dragged her further down the dark corridor.

She fought with everything she had, but it was no use. They were split up.

The men pulled her up a flight of stairs and led her all the way to the top floor of the building. When they finally stopped, she was shoved into a room, and she stumbled inside, landing on her hands and knees. She heard the lock click behind her, sealing her in.

The room was surprisingly nice. It was a plain but clean room with a bed and an en suite bathroom, a small window casting dim light over her surroundings. She sat back on her heels, her breath hitching as she took it all in, confused. Why had her father put her here, in a room instead of a cell? Why give her anything decent, after everything? To him, she was just a prisoner—she wasn't anything more.

Ignoring the bed, she had stumbled to the bathroom, her reflection barely recognizable in the mirror. Her face was smeared with dirt, bruised, scratched, blood still streaked across her cheeks. Glenn's blood.

She turned on the sink, splashing water onto her face, desperately scrubbing, trying to rid herself of it. She scrubbed until her cheeks stung, her skin raw and cut. Blood mixed with the water, but she kept going, wanting to erase every trace of what had happened, every reminder.

And then her legs buckled, sending her to the cold tile floor. She hugged herself, her body wracked with sobs that she couldn't stop, couldn't even muffle. She cried until her throat was sore, until her eyes felt heavy and swollen, until there was nothing left to come out. She hugged her knees, feeling emptier than ever.

Hours had passed since she was thrown in here, and Sunny had been in the bed ever since, barely moving. She lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, her mind reeling, turning over the events of the day again and again. She'd thought she'd already faced the worst the world had to offer. She'd lost friends, lost her home, survived things she hadn't thought possible. But none of it compared to this—none of it felt as painful as being dragged away, forced to watch her father become someone she didn't recognize.

This... this was worse than anything she'd ever known. 

Her own father—the man she had idolized, the one she once thought of as a hero—had taunted her, laughed while she cried, watched her fall apart and seemed to enjoy it. And worse, he'd even mentioned her mom, twisting her memory into something unrecognizable. How could he? Did he actually believe she had willingly left her mom behind?

The thought dug deep, an ache that spread through her chest and turned her stomach. How could he see her suffering and think it was funny? She'd spent so much time searching for him, holding onto the idea that somewhere, he was out there, and that he was still her dad. She had clung to the memories of a father who protected her, who would have done anything to keep her safe. And now, he'd become someone she barely recognized, someone who seemed to see her pain as a joke, like her tears and heartbreak didn't matter at all.

She curled tighter into herself, feeling the ache deepen as every memory resurfaced: bedtime stories, his voice warm and steady; the way he'd tuck her in, making sure she felt safe. But those moments felt like fragments from another life. Now, every memory twisted with hurt, her mind tainted by the image of his sneering face.

Maybe he really was gone—the dad she remembered, the one who used to love her. This man was a stranger.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

The quiet click of the lock jolted Sunny from her thoughts. Her entire body tensed, and she sat up quickly, knees drawn to her chest like a shield. She stared at the door, heart pounding, waiting to see who was behind it.

The door swung open, and there he was—Negan, strolling in with a casual ease as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just seen him smash a man's skull in front of her. His expression held none of the regret or tension she felt; in fact, he looked almost cheerful, like he was about to catch up with an old friend.

"Sun," he greeted, his tone way too casual, like nothing had even happened. Leaning against the doorframe with a cocky grin, he crossed his arms and gave the room a quick once-over. "So, I know this place ain't exactly the Ritz, but I got my guys out there right now lookin' for some pink shit. You still into that, right? Pink pillows, pink blankets, the whole nine yards?"

She swallowed, fighting the tightness in her throat, but her eyes never left him. How could he sound so...normal?

He stepped forward, shrugging like he hadn't noticed the way she had recoiled slightly, as if she could somehow press herself deeper into the bed. "I mean, hell," he chuckled, setting his bat against the wall, "you've grown up so much I hardly recognized you at first. Can't believe it. My girl. Right here, in the flesh."

Sunny kept her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, biting her lip hard enough that she tasted a hint of blood. She didn't say a word, her gaze fixed on him with a mixture of confusion, anger, and something that looked almost like betrayal.

"What... what do ya want?" She spoke, trying to sound angry, but her voice was just a broken whisper.

Negan's eyes shifted to Sunny, finally seeming to take her in fully. The fire in her eyes that he remembered was different now—diminished, hurt, and wary, like she was a cornered animal. He let out a heavy sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face.

"Look, Sun," he began, voice softer than it had been outside but still trying to carry a note of authority, as if that would reassure her, "I get it. I get that shit wasn't... ideal." His hand gestured vaguely, as if he could somehow wave away the violence and horror she'd witnessed. "But I had to show them who's in charge, right? It's how things work now. It's how I keep things safe."

Sunny's lip trembled, and she quickly bit it again, her eyes boring into him with a mix of fear and disbelief. "Safe?" she managed to say, the word nearly catching in her throat. "How is any of this safe?"

Negan grimaced, looking at her as if he couldn't understand why she didn't just accept his words. "I know it's hard to see now, Sunbun," he murmured, using her childhood nickname as if that would magically bring her comfort, "but one day, you'll get it. You'll understand that I did what I had to do. You're strong—stronger than you even know. I taught you that, didn't I?"

She looked down, hands clenching in her lap as she struggled to hold back fresh tears. "That... that wasn't what you taught me, Da-..." Her voice was barely audible, the words slipping out as if they hurt her to say. "You told me to be brave, to be kind. And now... you... you laughed."

Negan shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. "It's just how things are now, Sun. You gotta be tough. You gotta let people know they can't cross you."

She shook her head slowly, her arms wrapping tighter around her knees. "But not like that," she whispered, almost to herself. "Not... like this."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with words unsaid, with broken trust and shattered illusions. Negan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He had expected her to be happier to see him now that they were alone, but he was wrong.

"Look, kid," he said, his tone losing some of its bravado. "Maybe I went a little far. Maybe... maybe I forgot for a second what it'd feel like for you to see all that." He paused, frustration and a hint of regret flickering across his face. "But you're here with me now, okay? We're together again. That's what matters."

She didn't answer, her eyes fixated on her scraped knuckles, her mind reeling with the memories of what she'd just witnessed.

Negan sighed, taking in the sight of his little girl. She had grown so much since he last saw her, no longer the smiling little girl who couldn't hurt a fly, but a girl who had seen the cruelty of the new world, a girl who was stronger than he ever imagined she could be. He hadn't been there and it pained him.

He bowed his head slightly, shaking it. "Shit. I thought I lost you, Sun." He took a deep breath, looking at the girl he had believed was dead. "Seeing you out there? Hell, I couldn't believe it."

Negan's words hung in the air, and Sunny stared at him, heart pounding as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. He'd thought she was dead, but here she was—alive. She should have felt relieved that he still cared, that he was happy she'd survived... but the weight of everything he'd done crushed any relief before it could surface. How could he look so proud, so glad, after what he'd just put her through?

A bitter taste rose in her throat. He looked at her like she was his kid again, like she was supposed to be grateful he'd noticed her pain. But he wasn't just her dad anymore—he was the man who'd taken her new family and crushed it with a swing of his bat.

She could feel the heat of tears building, but she tried to keep them at bay. She wanted to be strong, to not let him see how broken she was. "You just... you killed 'em," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "People I loved."

Negan's face faltered, the smile slipping. "Sun, it's not... I had to show them who's in charge, y'know? It wasn't personal." He sighed, running a hand over his jaw. "I get it. You had your life with them. But you're here now, with me. Things are different."

She closed her eyes, feeling her heart twist painfully. It was like the father she remembered was still there, somewhere, but buried under a mask of cruelty that she couldn't peel away. All she could see was the man who had laughed as her world shattered.

Her thoughts spiraled, her mind racing. Did he really think this was okay? Did he think she could just forgive and forget, that they could go back to being father and daughter as if nothing had happened? She couldn't wrap her head around it, how he could be so happy to see her while destroying everything she held dear.

Sunny swallowed hard, her voice a thin, broken whisper. "This ain't... it's not okay. You don't get to kill people I care about and act like... like I should just be fine with it."

Her words seemed to strike something in him, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I know it's hard for you to understand," he replied, his tone sharper now. "But you'll see one day—this world needs strength, and sometimes, that means making tough calls. You'll come around, kid."

She shook her head slowly, the tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "No. I don't think I will."

He furrowed his brow at her, a deep crease forming as he studied her face. She had always been kind, quick to forgive him no matter the circumstances. But now, there was a wall between them. He understood that witnessing him kill had to have cut her deeply, but he struggled to comprehend why she hadn't offered him that familiar forgiveness.

"Those people... you damn well said, 'it can be me.' What kind of bullshit is that? They're not worth a damn, let alone your life," Negan shot back, his voice thick with frustration.

"You don't know 'em! They're my family," she retorted, narrowing her eyes against the tears.

The word 'family' echoed in his ears. That's what she thought of those people? He was her family, why didn't she understand that?

Negan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he scrutinized her. His expression shifted from frustration to something more probing. "You keep talking about them like they were golden. But let me ask you something, Sun—why would you die for those pricks? You think they'd do the same for you?"

Sunny felt her heart race at his words. "Because they were good people! They cared about me!" She could hear the fire in her voice, the way it cracked with anger and hurt. "Unlike you, they didn't treat me like some piece'a shit who laughed when I fuckin' cried!"

Negan chuckled, but it was a hollow sound, lacking any real joy. "Cared about you, huh? Where are they now? Six feet under, thanks to me. But you? You're still here." He leaned back slightly, a hint of pride creeping into his posture. "You think I wanted to kill them? This isn't a damn picnic, Sunny. I had to make a statement. You know that."

"But why?" she pressed, tears blurring her vision. "Why couldn't you just let 'em live? You didn't have to do this!" She pointed at him, her finger trembling as she struggled to hold her ground. "You think I wanted to be alive if it meant you had to hurt people I love?"

Negan's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "You really think I'm that cruel?" He shook his head, frustration creeping back in. "Look, I didn't enjoy it. You've gotta understand that!"

Sunny's voice shook as she replied, "I don't understand shit! You.. you laughed at them!"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that felt oddly vulnerable. "Dammit, Sunny. You think I like killing people?"

She felt her breath hitch, a wave of confusion washing over her. "But you did! You just killed Glenn! You don't get to act like you care when you're the one making these choices, Negan!"

Negan's expression hardened for a moment, but beneath his bravado, a flicker of hurt lingered. Hearing his daughter refer to him simply by his name was a stark reminder of the damage he had inflicted—a chasm that wouldn't be easily bridged.

He sighed, trying to steer the conversation away from the painful topic. "You've changed, Sunbun."

"No shit. Can say the same for you," she muttered, her tone sharp.

He chuckled, shaking his head. She still had that familiar sass. "Hell, you used to hate talkin' to people, get all shy and stuff. And now look at you. Got a whole damn group, huh? How'd that happen?"

Sunny crossed her arms, the defensiveness evident in her posture. "I met them while I was lookin' for you. Found them at a church and just... stayed with them."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You were lookin' for me?" Sunny nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. She wished she hadn't said anything at all. "When I came back to the house... I thought you were dead."

"I didn't leave Mom to die, like ya said," she mumbled, a frown creasing her brow as she focused on her hands.

"Well, where were you?" he pressed, his tone softening.

"We were waitin' for you to come back. Mom got sicker, really sick... I wasn't sure if you were ever gonna show. She made me promise to go look for you, so I left. I regretted it and came back a few hours later... and she..." Sunny took a shaky breath, her voice trembling as she continued, "She was already gone."

Negan bowed his head, grief coursing through him like a heavy tide. The weight of her words settled in the pit of his stomach, a mixture of sorrow and guilt intertwining. He felt the loss more acutely now, the absence of her mother—a wound he had thought healed but had merely scabbed over. "I'm... I'm sorry, Sunny," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted that for you."

Sunny wiped her eyes, looking down, refusing to meet his gaze. Her throat tightened, words of protest bubbling up, but she bit them back.

Negan shifted in his seat, breaking the silence. "Tell me 'bout your face, what happened there?" he asked, his tone light, almost casual. He wanted her to open up, tell him about all the time that had passed.

But Sunny couldn't bring herself to answer. All she could think about was the horror he'd caused, how the man she once admired had become a stranger. Part of her wanted to talk to him for hours on end about what had happened since she last saw him, but she couldn't. She needed to remember who he was now. He wasn't her dad anymore. 

She shook her head, steeling herself, her voice barely a whisper. "I want to see Daryl."

Negan's face twisted with irritation. "Dammit, what is with you and that redneck? You ain't seein' him."

"I gotta!" she snapped, her voice breaking. "He gets me!"

"And I don't?" He searched her face, a flicker of something vulnerable passing over his eyes before his expression hardened again.

Sunny shook her head, and Negan's frustration deepened. "I know all sorts of shit about you, Sunny. I know you love Iron Maiden—same as me. And baseball too, though I bet you only got into it 'cause I liked it. You hate tomatoes; they make that little nose of yours scrunch up, just like your mama's did..."

She hated that he knew anything about her, why did he have to know her? Why did he have to be her father? It wasn't fair.

"I want Daryl," she repeated, her tone firm and unwavering, each word a defiance.

Negan rubbed his temples, exasperated. "For fuck's sake, Sunny, I'm tryin' here, alright? What do you want me to do?"

"I want to go home," she said, her voice thick with grief. "I want to see Glenn 'n Red, but I can't, 'cause you killed them. And I want you to leave me the hell alone."

Negan's mouth tightened, his gaze dropping. He wondered if he had been naive in thinking that his daughter would forgive him immediately, her voice broke every time she spoke, she looked at him with hatred in her eyes. But, he knew one way or another, his daughter would be happy to be with him again.

 After a long silence, he nodded, standing up slowly. "Alright. I'll give you some time alone, kid. Guards'll be posted at the door—no one's comin' in, or out."

Sunny stood too, her legs unsteady but her resolve firm. "No... no, I ain't stayin' here. I... I can't," she stammered, her voice breaking as she looked at him, anger flashing in her eyes. "Why'd you even bring me here?"

Negan's jaw clenched, his own frustration simmering as he fixed his gaze on her. "You're here because you're my damn daughter, Sunny," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I thought you were dead. Now that I know you're alive, I'm makin' sure that stays the case."

"But this—" she gestured around the room, the walls closing in on her, "this ain't livin'. You took everythin' from me, and now you wanna pretend I'm safe here?"

Negan's expression softened slightly, though his voice remained hard. "You don't get it. This world—it ain't a game, kid. You think Daryl or anyone else out there could protect you like I can? I got men, walls, food... you wouldn't survive out there."

Sunny scoffed, stepping closer, unafraid to meet his gaze head-on. "I was surviving just fine without you," she shot back, bitterness lacing her words. "And it sure as hell beats bein' locked up like some... prisoner."

Negan took a step toward her, his voice lowering. "You're not a damn prisoner. I'm tryin' to protect you."

"Protect me?" She almost laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "You killed my friends, you left me to watch that horror—" Her voice caught, and she took a shuddering breath. "If that's your idea of 'protectin',' then you don't know me at all."

He looked away, guilt flickering across his face, but his resolve remained. "I did what I had to do," he muttered, almost to himself. "But damn it, Sunny, you're my blood. That means something."

Sunny's face hardened. "Means what? That I'm supposed to forgive everything you've done?" She clenched her fists, holding back the tears threatening to fall. "I used to look up to you. But now, I don't even know who you are."

Negan swallowed, visibly shaken by her words. For a moment, he struggled to respond, his hands clenching and unclenching as if searching for something to hold onto. "Kid... I don't know what I can say to fix this. But whether you like it or not, I'm still your father. And that means I don't let you go."

Sunny turned away, unable to look at him. "Then maybe you should've let me stay dead."

A silence hung between them, thick and charged with pain, and Negan finally sighed, letting his shoulders slump. Had he took it too far? Had he truly lost his daughter? No. He wasn't going to let that happen, she just needed time.

"Alright... I'll give you some time to... dwell on shit, I guess," he murmured, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Pretty damn sure there's a dictionary on that shelf—I know you like your words and all."

Sunny didn't look at him, didn't respond. She couldn't. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, barely holding herself together as he stood there, waiting for something that wouldn't come. He sighed, his hand lingering on the doorknob.

"Just... just know that I love you, Sunny. Alright? I mean that."

The door closed, and she heard the heavy click of the lock. The silence pressed in around her, suffocating and final.

A shuddering breath escaped her, her chest tightening as a sob broke free. She wanted to go home. She wanted Daryl. She wanted things to be the way they used to be.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

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I hate this so much omg. I'm sorry i'm aware it sucks ass. Writers block is so no bueno.