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"𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩."

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.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Turns out, being on alert after finding the walker mask at Oceanside was the right move. It sure seemed as if the Whisperers back. Again and again, swarms of walkers were headed straight to Alexandria.

Some people liked to believe it was coincidence, but everyone was certain this was Alpha. All of them were exhausted, the attacks were relentless, they would kill one swarm, then another would come right after.

Sunny was drained, physically and mentally. Although, she had found that focusing on simply killing the walkers every hour meant her mind was finally quiet. No thoughts about the barn whatsoever.

So, Sunny made sure to volunteer every time a group went outside the walls to clear walkers. It was easier this way — just her, the dead, and her bat. She didn't have to think, didn't have to feel. It was simple. Swing, smash, survive.

And when she was outside the walls, it meant she didn't have to talk to Negan about what happened. The idea of opening up to him still felt wrong. He was her dad, sure, but shouldn't she hate him? After everything he'd done, everything he was?

Sometimes, when she looked at him, all she could see were the things she wanted to forget. The blood, the screams, the manipulation. It felt like a betrayal to lean on him, even if he was the only one who didn't tiptoe around her.

So, she avoided it. Out there, she didn't have to decide what to feel. She didn't have to sort through the mess in her head.

She just had to keep moving.

On top of everything, one of the whisperers had came to Alexandria, telling them Alpha wanted to speak to them at the border. So, Michonne decided to hold a meeting. Sunny would rather be in bed than surrounded by a shit ton of exhausted, angry people.

Sunny was sat next to Lydia, nervously chewing on the skin around her nails. All Sunny wanted to do was avoid the thought of the barn, avoid the thought of anything to do with the whisperers, but that was impossible.

The room was chaos. People were shouting over each other, their voices sharp and bitter. Tired eyes, furrowed brows, clenched fists — everyone was on edge.

And all those angry eyes kept drifting toward Lydia.

Sunny noticed the glares, the whispers that weren't even trying to be quiet. Some people just flat-out stared, like Lydia was the one who sent the walkers at them. Lydia's shoulders curled in, her head down, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt.

Sunny's jaw clenched. It wasn't fair. But when was anything ever fair anymore?

Her eyes flicked to the floor, her fingers still picking at the skin around her nails. Her stomach twisted. The more the voices rose, the more it felt like the walls were closing in.

Lydia didn't move, didn't say a word. And Sunny didn't blame her. What could she even say to stop this? The anger in the room was too big, too loud.

Sunny took a shaky breath, wishing she was anywhere but here. Wishing she didn't have to hear them talking about the Whisperers. Wishing she didn't feel like the barn was right there, waiting for her the second she closed her eyes.

"Alright!" Michonne then yelled, trying to finally silence the room. Once everyone was quiet, her eyes drifted over to Lydia. "Is this your mother?"

Everyone's heads turned to face Lydia, Sunny just wished that the girl didn't have to deal with this anymore. Sunny thought it was bad that she was always reminded of Alpha, she couldn't imagine how Lydia felt.

"No. I don't think it is." Lydia replied, looking around nervously.

"Why's she wanna talk with us?" Daryl then asked the girl. Sunny couldn't help but furrow her brows at the man. Wasn't it clear that Lydia shouldn't have to speak about her mom?

"You crossed into her land. Again. You have to answer for that," Lydia quickly responded.

"We don't have to do anything," Aaron said. "We could just not go."

"That's a bad idea-" Lydia began.

"We're already under attack," the new doctor, Dante, interrupted. A huge chorus of 'yeah!' followed his words, making Sunny chew on her lip. She didn't like the new doctor much, he was odd. 

"It isn't her. If she wanted you dead, then she would have sent the horde," Lydia spoke up once again. "All of it. Not just a few waves at a time."

"Maybe she's trying to wear us down first," Carol said.

"Or, as I relayed to you all at the beginning of this meeting, there's plausible reason to believe that the satellite and fire-" Eugene began, standing up from his seat.

"I don't want to hear about the damn satellite anymore, Eugene!" Margo yelled. "My friends died trying to save yours and ended up with their heads on spikes."

Sunny's breath hitched at those words. She tried to focus on the chair in front of her, anything to keep herself grounded, but it didn't help. The barn, the screams, the chains—they were right there again, clawing at her mind.

Why?

Why didn't she die that night? Why was it other people? Why not her? The question never left her, always circling, always whispering in the back of her mind. She could still see the faces of the others—people who didn't make it, people who deserved to.

Margo's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts like a knife.

"Two of your people survived," Margo snapped, her glare landing squarely on Sunny. "And one of 'em shouldn't have. Ain't she one'a the reasons we're in this shit?!"

The room went silent for a moment, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Sunny's jaw tightened, her fingers digging into the edge of the chair she sat in. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.

Lydia's hand twitched beside her, as if she might reach out, but she didn't.

Sunny swallowed hard, staring at the floor again. The guilt in her chest burned, spreading through her like fire. Maybe Margo was right. Maybe she really shouldn't have made it. She'd been the one adamant on saving Lydia, maybe it was her fault.

Before Sunny could say anything, Daryl's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"That's enough," he growled, his tone low and sharp, carrying across the room.

Margo turned to him, her mouth already opening to protest, but Daryl didn't give her the chance.

"You don't get to talk about her like that," he said, stepping forward. His eyes were hard, locked on Margo with a look that could stop anyone in their tracks. "She's a kid. She ain't the reason for any of this, so don't even try layin' it at her feet."

"She's not just a kid—" Margo started, but Daryl cut her off again.

"I said, that's enough!" His voice was louder now, sharp enough to make a few people flinch.

Sunny looked up, startled by the intensity in his voice.

"You wanna blame somebody?" Daryl continued, his voice steady but laced with anger. "Blame Alpha. Blame the ones actually responsible. But you leave her out of it."

The room was quiet again, everyone's eyes darting between Daryl and Margo. Margo huffed, crossing her arms, but she didn't say another word.

Daryl turned, his gaze softening slightly when it landed on Sunny. "You good?" he asked quietly.

Sunny nodded, even though her throat felt tight, and she wasn't entirely sure she was okay. She appreciated him standing up for her, though, more than she could say.

"None of this matters anyway! The Highway men want justice!" Margo then proceeded to shout, leading to other people joining in the yelling. "So all I want to hear from you, Michonne. Is that you're gonna take a dozen of us to meet these freaks at the border and we're gonna take that lead bitches head off!"

"We cut it off! And then we put their head on pikes!" Gage yelled.

The shouting grew louder, voices clashing in a chaotic storm of anger and frustration. Sunny tried to block it out, but it clawed at her, each word a reminder of how fragile everything around her was.

Suddenly, Siddiq stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His face was pale, and his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the room.

Sunny didn't hesitate. She pushed herself up and followed him, slipping quietly out the door before anyone could notice or stop her.

The cool air hit her as she stepped outside. Siddiq was sitting on the porch steps, his shoulders hunched forward, his head in his hands. Sunny didn't say anything. She simply sat down beside him, her legs tucked up close to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that said everything without needing words.

After a while, Siddiq sighed, his voice quiet and strained. "It doesn't go away, does it?"

Sunny shook her head, her chin resting on her knees. "No."

They sat there, staring out into the darkness, the echoes of the meeting still faintly audible behind them. Neither spoke again, but for the first time in a long time, Sunny didn't feel completely alone.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

A small group went to the border, deciding to follow Alpha's orders. She knew they had crossed the border, and in turn, she demanded more land as punishment. Thankfully, that was all. No more deaths. Nothing. 

Everyone was unhappy with that decision, but honestly, Sunny was just relieved. She didn't want any more problems with Alpha, she just wanted it all to be over. 

Sunny sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, staring at the fraying thread of her blanket. Margo's words played on a loop in her head, louder and sharper with every repetition.

"Two of your people survived, and one of 'em shouldn't have."

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her forehead against her knees. If it had been anyone else in that barn—someone stronger, someone better—they might've been able to do something. Might've saved someone. Might've...

The thought sat heavy in her chest, pressing down until she could barely breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing—just for a moment—that she hadn't made it out either.

The sound of a quiet knock at the door pulled her out of her spiral. Sunny looked up just as Daryl eased it open, his expression a mix of concern and caution.

"You ain't come out all day," he said softly, stepping inside. "Figured I'd check in."

Sunny shrugged, her gaze dropping back to her blanket. "Didn't feel like it."

Daryl sighed, leaning against the wall, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. "What Margo said... that ain't on you. You know that, right?"

Sunny's jaw tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her blanket.

"I've been through a lotta shit, kid," Daryl continued, his voice steady but gentle. "And I get it. Sometimes it's easier to just keep it all in, act like you're fine. But that don't mean it's gotta be that way."

"I'm fine," Sunny muttered, the words automatic, hollow.

Daryl frowned, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. "No, you ain't. And it's okay to not be fine, y'know? You can talk to me, Sun. You don't gotta keep it all locked up."

Sunny's throat tightened. She wanted to say something—to let him in, to tell him about the barn, the nightmares, the guilt that never seemed to go away—but the words stayed stuck, tangled up in her chest.

"I'm fine," she repeated, a little sharper this time, her gaze fixed firmly on her blanket.

Daryl sighed again, quieter this time. He crouched down in front of her, trying to catch her eye. "You're my family, Sun. I ain't gonna stop tryin'."

She didn't respond, and after a moment, he stood up, stepping back toward the door.

"If you change your mind," he said, his voice softer than before, "I'm here."

Sunny nodded slightly, but she didn't look up until the door clicked shut behind him.

She swallowed hard, her chest aching. She knew he meant well, knew he cared, but... she just couldn't. Not with him.

Her mind wandered to Negan, to the way he didn't ask for explanations or try to fix things. He just let her exist, let her be messy and broken without asking her to be anything else.

And before she could think too hard about it, she was already standing, her legs moving on their own.

Sunny's legs carried her down the hall, her steps quick and uneven, like she was afraid she might change her mind if she stopped moving.

She knew it didn't make sense. Daryl was the one who'd been there for her since the beginning, the one who stood up for her no matter what. But right now, she couldn't face him. Not with the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.

Negan, though... Negan didn't expect anything. He didn't ask her to open up or tell her she needed to. With him, it was simpler. Easier.

She reached his cell, her hand hovering over the bars for a moment before she finally opened the door, stepping inside.

Negan looked up from where he sat, one leg stretched out lazily, the other bent, his elbow resting on his knee. His brow arched when he saw her, a hint of surprise flickering across his face.

"Well, well. If it ain't Little Miss Night Owl," he said, leaning back. "What's got you prowlin' around this late, huh?"

Sunny shrugged, her arms crossing over her chest. "Couldn't sleep."

Negan tilted his head, studying her for a moment. "Yeah? That why you're lookin' like a cat that just got dragged outta the rain?"

She huffed, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it disappeared just as quickly.

Negan's smirk softened into something almost... concerned. "C'mon in, kid. Don't just stand there."

Sunny hesitated, her fingers tightening around her arms. She didn't know what she expected, but the easy way he said it—like it was no big deal—made her legs move again. She slipped inside, leaning against the far wall, as far from the bars as she could manage.

Negan didn't press her, didn't push. He just leaned back and waited, giving her space to settle. Negan's gaze then flicked to her briefly before he spoke. "Daryl know you're here?"

Sunny's heart jumped, and she quickly shook her head. "No. He'd kill me."

He huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Don't blame him, either. Hell, I'd probably feel the same way if I were him." He ran a hand over his jaw, his voice dropping a little. "I did some shitty things, Sun. Hurt a lot of people. I don't deserve to talk to you. Not really."

Sunny bit her lip, staring at the floor. She didn't want to think about all the things he'd done. She didn't want to think about how wrong it felt to be here, to be talking to him. But she also didn't want to leave.

Negan shifted slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the cot he sat on. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I really am." His voice was quiet, almost raw. "I don't expect you to forgive me. Not now, not ever. But... I just want you to get better, kid. You're holdin' all this shit inside, and it's gonna eat you alive if you don't let it out."

Sunny swallowed hard, her nails digging into her palms.

Negan leaned back, his tone softer now. "I know it ain't easy. But if you wanna... I mean, if you need to talk about it again, I'm here. No judgment, no interruptions. Just... say what you gotta say."

Sunny hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. A big part of her wanted to leave, to bury it all back down where it wouldn't hurt as much. But another part—the part that had brought her here—wanted to get it out, to stop carrying it alone.

Sunny's fingers twisted in the fabric of her shirt, her knuckles white. Her chest felt tight, like there wasn't enough air in the room. Every word stuck in her throat, heavy and impossible to push out.

Negan waited, his posture still, his eyes steady on her. "Take your time, kid," he said quietly.

Her gaze darted to him, then back to the floor. Her stomach churned, and she hated how much she wanted to say it—how much she needed to say it—but the weight of it was unbearable. She swallowed hard, her voice barely audible when she finally started.

"We... we were all in the barn," she said, her tone trembling like a frayed string. "It was dark. So dark. And I was scared. I was so scared."

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to keep going, her voice shaky but determined. "But... Henry was right by my side. He... he never let go of me. Not once."

Negan leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped between his knees, his expression unreadable but not cold. He was listening, really listening, and it made her stomach twist even more.

"I don't even remember how it all started," she admitted, her voice cracking. "One second, it was just us, and the next... the Highwaymen burst in. They were yelling, fighting. The Whisperers—" She stopped, her voice cutting off like a broken record.

Negan stayed quiet, his gaze never leaving her.

She clenched her hands tighter, her nails digging into her palms. "They were everywhere," she whispered, her voice raw with the memory. "Everyone was fighting, screaming. I didn't even think—I just stayed by Henry's side. We were... killin' them together. Fighting for our lives. Our hands..." Her voice broke, and she bit her lip hard, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"I... I was holdin' his hand," she finally choked out, her shoulders shaking. "Even when we were swinging our weapons, even when... even when there was so much blood, we held on to each other. Like if we didn't, we'd lose ourselves."

Her voice dissolved into a shaky breath, her chest heaving as the memories poured out, vivid and relentless. "And then... and then..."

She couldn't finish. The rest of the words were trapped, a jagged knot in her throat.

Negan let out a slow breath, his voice low and steady. "You don't gotta keep goin' if you don't want to, Sun. You've already said a hell of a lot."

Sunny took a deep breath, she needed to speak about it, right? That's what would help. She wasn't even sure if it would actually help, but at this point, she was out of options. Nothing was working. 

"I... I gotta, if I don't, then I ain't gonna get past it, right?" She quietly spoke, her nails digging into her palm.

Negan's gaze softened, but he didn't say anything right away, giving her space to decide what came next. She was shaking, her breath coming in sharp, jagged bursts. It felt like she couldn't stop once she started.

There was a pain in her chest that was worse than the tears; the guilt, the shame, the feeling of betrayal — because it felt wrong to talk to him about all this. It was supposed to be someone else. Someone else was supposed to be there for her, not him.

But he's here, she thought bitterly, as she struggled to stop the sobs. He's the one who's here now.

She wiped at her face, fighting the tears that were already welling up. She'd been holding them back for so long, but now that she was talking, it all came rushing out in a chaotic flood.

"People I didn't even know, Negan... Watching them... watching 'em die was fucking horrible. I couldn't even stop screaming. It never stopped." Her voice cracked, and she had to pause to catch her breath, her throat tight with the weight of it all.

"One by one... just... gone. And I couldn't do anything... Enid... Tara..." She choked on the words, her chest tightening. "I just kept watchin' it happen, and it... it was like I wasn't even there with them. I just—" She couldn't finish the sentence, her sobs breaking through.

Her body trembled as the memories came crashing back, each face, each moment, all those lives slipping away one after another. She could still hear their screams. Still hear their pleas. The air had smelled like blood, like fear, and her hands, her fucking hands, had been covered in it.

She gasped for air as more sobs wracked her body, unable to control the way her chest heaved.

"Sun, that's enough, Darlin'," he said softly, his voice a quiet anchor in the storm. "Remember what I said? It don't gotta be all tonight. You've said enough. You've already carried more than anyone should have to, and talkin' about it? That's a hell of a lot of weight to take on, kid."

Her eyes were squeezed shut, but the tears didn't stop. She nodded, but even as she did, it felt like her body had become a vessel of grief, one that she couldn't stop from spilling over.

"I just... it's all I think about, Negan. I can't unsee it," she whispered, barely audible.

He didn't try to offer empty reassurances, and he didn't look at her with pity. He just sat there with her, letting her feel all of it.

"You don't have to carry it all at once," he said, his tone soft but unyielding. "You take it bit by bit. We'll do this together, Sun. Ain't no rush to get through it. Hell, some days you won't feel like talkin', and that's okay. But you got more time than you think."

The ache in her chest didn't go away, but his voice was a lifeline. She hated that it felt so right, that he was the one she needed, even though everything inside her screamed that this shouldn't be the way it was.

He's my father, she thought again, but it didn't come with the comfort of childhood memories or the hope of a parent protecting her. It came with the weight of mistakes, his mistakes, that had left scars deeper than her own. And that made it feel so wrong.

But it also felt like maybe, just maybe, he was the only one who would truly understand the depth of her pain, because he carried his own. A father who hadn't been there for her, yes. But now, when she needed someone who wouldn't flinch at the darkness inside her — who wouldn't judge her, or tell her she was too broken to be worth loving — he was here.

Sunny wiped her face on her sleeve, but her tears didn't stop. She didn't know if they ever would. She didn't know if she'd ever truly be free of the weight she'd been carrying for so long.

Negan's heart clenched at the sound of her sobs, the weight of her pain so palpable it made him ache. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he kept his distance, giving her the space to process, to feel. 

He let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he spoke again, softer now, his words like a quiet anchor in the storm of her emotions. "You said it yourself, right? You gotta let it out, but that don't mean you gotta drown in it. You can take breaks. Ain't no shame in it. You ain't weak for stoppin' when it gets too much."

Sunny's sobs slowed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she wiped at her eyes, trying to pull herself together. She nodded slowly, though her chest still shook with the remnants of her tears.

"Yeah..." she murmured, sniffling. "I just... I just don't know how to let it go, Negan. How to move on from it."

Negan's expression softened, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "You don't have to let it all go at once. Hell, maybe you don't ever have to let it all go. But you can keep goin' with it, piece by piece. One step at a time, kid. One step at a time."

Sunny looked up at him, her eyes red and raw, but there was something else there, too — a flicker of something like relief. She nodded, though she wasn't sure she truly believed it yet. 

"Thanks, Negan," she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion.

He gave her a slight nod, his gaze steady. "Anytime, Sun. Anytime."

It felt wrong, so wrong to tell him—to share her pain with the man who was supposed to be a stranger to her, the man who had caused so much suffering. But in this moment, with him sitting there, listening without judgment, it felt right. 

He wasn't just the man who'd once been her enemy; he was the man who understood the darkness, who had seen the same hell, and somehow, somehow, that made him the only person who could truly hear her.

For a brief, fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was some kind of healing in this strange, fractured bond they shared.

As the tears dried on her cheeks, she found herself thinking, It shouldn't feel this way. But maybe... it's the only way it can feel.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

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Apologies for not being as active recently, having writers block around such a busy time has not been good lmao. I fear my updates aren't going to be great till after christmas, apologies.