"Damn tragedy. That's what this is."

Rosie was standing between Rick and Negan, with Gabriel behind her and Daryl a few feet away, staring down at a gravestone right in front of her. She wasn't sure if she was breathing or not, or if her heart was still beating. Her ears were ringing and her eyes were making everything all blurry. She sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip so hard that she could taste blood, and Rick was right beside her. He held Lucille loosely in his left hand, so close to Rosie's right hand. Negan was just on her left, and if she could just-

"Well, this must really suck for you guys."

Maggie was dead, and she was buried in the dirt beneath Rosie's feet, and her baby was dead, too, because unborn babies can't live without their mommas. And the baby, Rosie wasn't sure if it was a boy or a girl yet, but either way, it didn't matter anymore because it would never be born. Maggie would never get to be a momma and Glenn would never get to be a daddy, and Rosie would never hold that baby. She would never hug Maggie again, and she would never hold Glenn's hand again, because they were all dead. And Negan had killed them, and he was standing right there next to Rosie, unscathed, unharmed.

He needed to be dead.

Negan had stopped them when Maggie needed to be with a doctor, and then he bashed in Glenn's skull and made Maggie wait there, all night until the sun rose. And he killed Glenn, and he killed Maggie, and he killed the baby. Rosie couldn't breathe, and maybe she'd be dead soon, too, but she didn't care. All she cared about was Negan being dead, even if it meant that Coach Smith died with him, because Negan killed Maggie and Glenn and Abraham and the baby, and he took Daryl and he hurt Daryl, and he took Rosie and she hated him for it.

Her hand was so close to Rick's, so close to the bat. She wasn't allowed to speak, she wasn't allowed to leave Negan's side, she wasn't allowed to touch any weapons, but she didn't care, because Negan had to be dead. It was a terrible plan and Rosie didn't think it would work, but she had to try because Negan had to die.

So she took hold of the baseball bat, and before Rick could stop her, she was tearing it out of his hands and raising it up, ready to show off her swing and kill Negan all at once, but Negan saw it coming. When Rosie tried to swing at him, he grabbed onto her arms and he was squeezing so tight that it would hurt, and Rosie was pretty sure she was crying, but she couldn't tell.

"Hey! No!" Negan was shouting in his loud, powerful, authoritative voice as he pried the bat from her grip. Rosie let out a loud, pained scream that sounded more like a sob as she tried desperately not to let go of the baseball bat.

Rick had his hands on Rosie's arms now, too, and he was saying, "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie," in his soft, kind voice, and he was trying hard to calm her down, because he knew her well and he was sure he could help her, but Negan wasn't having it, because Rick wasn't allowed to talk to Rosie, because Rosie wasn't Rick's, because Rick wasn't there for her before things changed, so Rick didn't deserve to be with her now, and Coach Smith did, because he was always there for her.

Negan tore the bat away from Rosie so roughly that it sent Rosie tumbling into the dirt, away from Rick, but Rosie didn't care. She was back on her feet in less than a second, and she was going back for Negan, kicking, shouting, screaming, hitting, doing anything she could to hurt him, but new hands were on her arms, and they were strong and they were pulling her back.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Rosie was screaming, kicking her legs out towards Negan. Negan was staring at her, his eyes wide and angry. "You killed them! You killed Abraham! Glenn and Maggie and her baby! You killed them!" She knew she was crying now because she could feel it on her face and in her throat, and she could hear it in her voice. She thrashed in the arms of whoever was holding her back. "Get off a' me! Get off! "

"Negan," the person said. It was Arat's voice- Arat was the one holding her back. She sounded angry and annoyed, but Rosie kept kicking at her and thrashing in her arms.

"Let go of me! Let go! You killed them!" Rosie kept shouting, angry in a brand new way.

"Take her back," Negan said, his voice tense as he gripped onto his bat tightly. Rosie kept fighting Arat as she dragged her back to the trucks, but it was no use. Negan had never seen Rosie act like that. He'd seen her get angry, hit someone or something, but never like that. So distraught and devastated. But it was his fault. He'd done that to her, and now she was screaming and crying because of him. He wasn't sure if she'd ever care about him again.

•

Rosie didn't stop kicking or thrashing, even when they arrived back at the sanctuary. They dragged her weak, but fighting body through the dim halls of the factory and tossed her back into that cell. She tried to push the door back open, but they locked it before she could even try. She didn't give up there, though. Rosie kept slamming on the door, kicking it, hitting it, punching it until her hands felt like shattered glass. When she finally did give up, she went sinking to the cold floor, her hands pulling, pulling, pulling on her blonde hair.

After all the crying, a terrible, terrible feeling found its way to Rosie's stomach. It wasn't just the deep feeling of grief and loss, but an actual, awful sick feeling. She kicked the door. "Let me out! I'm gonna puke," she said, trying to get the attention of anyone out there. She could feel the bile rising in her throat. No one opened the door, so Rosie just had to puke in the opposite corner of the cell. Out came the sandwich, and whatever liquid that was in her stomach that made her throat sting so badly.

From then on, Rosie just pressed herself into the back left corner and buried her face in her knees, trying not to think. Trying not to think is quite a difficult thing to do when you're left alone in a dark cell with nothing but your own vomit for hours on end. Rosie wondered what was going on at Alexandria. She wondered what Negan was taking. She wondered where Ian was. She wondered if Heaven was real, and she really wished it was, so then Maggie and Glenn could be together with their baby. She wasn't so sure, though. How could God be so kind as to create a place like Heaven, but then make Rosie feel all of these awful things. But Rosie- Rosie hoped, anyway.

It was hours- at least, Rosie was pretty sure it was hours- until someone finally came to the door again. She didn't want anyone to be on the other side of the door, but she also did. Because she hated Negan, and she hated the Saviors, but she didn't want to be alone anymore. She wanted to hold Glenn's hand, and she wanted to hug Maggie, and she wanted to smile at Abraham, and she wanted to be at home.

There was a day- a day just a week or two after the bell tower fell and everything went bad- when Daryl and Rick went out scavenging. They went out scavenging a lot, then. But that particular day, Rosie remembered more than she remembered the other ones. When Daryl was gone, she was looking for Fraser's hoodie. It was missing, and she needed it. So, she was looking around everywhere, even in the drawers that Daryl kept his stuff in. There was a drawer in the nightstand that was beside Daryl's bed, and Rosie didn't think a hoodie could even fit in it, but she had to check, anyway, because Fraser's hoodie was nowhere to be found. So, Rosie pulled open the drawer.

In the drawer, there were shoelaces. Rosie didn't know whose shoelaces they were, but that wasn't what was catching her eye. There was also a pack of cigarettes, a box of bullets, and a pocket knife. But those weren't what was catching Rosie's eye, either. What was catching her eye was a small photo album- the cheap kind that ripped apart after awhile and you could find at Michaels. The photo album had lots of pictures of little Rosie and a few pictures with her and Fraser in it. It was a photo album that Fraser made. She could tell by the handwriting on the cover. It said, in black Sharpie marker, Rosie and Fraser. But why did Daryl have it? And where did he get it?

Now, though- now, Rosie understood why he had it, and why he must've taken it from Fraser's bedroom. She understood because, right now, she wished that she had a photo album of Daryl, and Maggie, and Glenn, and Abraham, Carl, Ian, Judith, Rick- everyone. Because she missed them badly. And she wanted to see them, so she could remember when she was with them.

It turned out, though, that Fraser's hoodie wasn't lost at all. It was just being washed, and Rosie didn't know. When Daryl got back home that night, she didn't ask about the photo album. She pretended she didn't see it. She wanted the photo album now, though.

On the other side of the door, the footsteps stopped, and Rosie knew it was Negan. The door opened, carefully, and Negan stood there, blocking the light from invading Rosie's red, puffy eyes. He looked to the corner with the throw up in it.

"Fat Joey," he said loudly into the hall. A man with curly hair hurried over to him. "Clean that shit up."

When the man named Fat Joey came into the cell to clean up Rosie's vomit, she pressed herself even further into the corner. Negan stayed in the doorway, and Rosie didn't look up at his face, because, if she did, she'd probably want to kill him again, and that'd be useless. She didn't have any weapon. It wasn't like she could kill him with her bare fists.

"Fat Joey," Negan said again once the throw up was cleaned. "Get the hell out of here."

"Yes, sir," Fat Joey said, his voice all shaky and nervous. He left the cell in a hurry, and then it was just Rosie and Negan again. It was quiet.

"I didn't know that-" Coach Smith began. But he stopped himself, looked back into the hallway, then back at Rosie. "I had your pal- Daryl- pack up whatever shit was yours," Negan said. He stepped back, out of the way, and two Saviors came into the cell. One was carrying Rosie's backpack and blanket while the other was carrying a pillow. They set it all down on the floor and left. "See that? That's me taking care of you. You're welcome," Negan said before turning around and leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Once the door was closed, Rosie finally moved from her corner and over to the backpack. The first thing she pulled out of the bag was a flashlight, which was tucked into the side pocket. She flicked it on and shined the flashlight over at the pillow and blanket. The blanket- that was really hers. She could tell, because the topside was dark blue and the bottom side was green. The pillow, though, wasn't hers. Rosie's pillow was white with green stripes, and the green matched the green on the underside of her blanket. This pillow was an off-white color. This pillow was one of the pillows off of Daryl's bed. It sort of smelled like him, and it was a bit puffier than Rosie's pillow. Rosie placed the pillow in her corner, then pulled the blanket over her knees, leaning back into the pillow.

Next, she started going through the backpack. It was the same black backpack that she kept under her bed- the one she took from her house. She opened the front pocket first. Inside, there was her velociraptor toy. She pulled it out quickly and stared at it for a few moments, her chest feeling heavy. The next thing was the stegosaurus that Liam had Ian give to Rosie after she saved his mom. Rosie placed the two dinosaurs on the cement floor next to her.

After the two dinosaur toys, Rosie pulled the picture of her and Fraser out of the backpack. Usually, the picture of her and Coach Smith was with it, the two photos being clipped together with a paperclip. But the picture of her and Coach Smith wasn't in the bag. Rosie wondered if Daryl took it out, or if Negan took it himself. He had obviously gone through the bag, because if he hadn't, he'd be stupid, because there was no telling whether or not a weapon was in the bag unless he checked. So he must've checked.

Rosie took a moment to look at the picture of her and Fraser before sliding it back into its spot in the front pocket of the backpack. The only thing left in the front pocket of the bag was a box of crayons. She moved on to the main part of the bookbag. The first thing she found in it was her favorite dinosaur t-shirt. She quickly shrugged off Fraser's hoodie and replaced her plain t-shirt with the dinosaur one before putting the hoodie back on over top of it. Next was her Jessie doll, and then Bear and her brachiosaurus stuffed animal. Rosie felt her eyes starting to burn again, but she was all cried out.

In the back of the bag, behind everything else, was a notebook. She drew in this notebook sometimes, and she guessed Daryl probably thought she might want something to do in this awful, awful cell. Daryl was nice like that. He was good.

Stop thinkin' about everyone you miss. The tears were coming again, but she thought she was all dried up. Apparently not.

That was all that was in the bag. Rosie was crying again, even though all this stuff was supposed to make her feel better. She felt sad because she wanted to be with them. Negan- his logic didn't make sense. If he wanted her to forgive him- to want to stay here with him- then why had he done all of things he'd done? Why did he kill Abraham and Glenn and Maggie and take Daryl and lock Rosie away in this room? If he really wanted her to care about him again, then why was he just leaving her alone in here? His logic was flawed. But he was right, because in this room, nothing could get to her except for him. In this room, she was safe from everything but herself and her mind.

Rosie thought about Abraham. Abraham. Abraham at Terminus, Abraham at the church, Abraham on the road, Abraham in Alexandria, Abraham at the Hilltop, Abraham behind the barrels, Abraham driving the RV, Abraham kneeling in the dirt, Abraham with Negan standing tall in front of him.

God, she hated Negan, she hated him, so, so, so, so much, and she was crying again. Why was she always crying? Why couldn't she stop? Her ears were ringing and her hands were pressed hard into her eyes. She couldn't breathe.

"Rosie. Rosie, hey. Can you hear me, kid?"

She thought back to Glenn, in the Atlanta camp. He had gotten her to drink water when no one else could, back after David died. And then, Rosie thought about the rooftop in Atlanta. Glenn was there, and he had Merle's hand in his backpack, and it made Rosie feel queasy. She thought about the farm, where Rosie caught him kissing Maggie, and she thought it was gross. And at the prison, when Glenn cared so, so much about Rosie and Maggie being safe after they all got taken by the Governor. Or when Rosie threw that rock and left Alexandria, and Glenn- he found her and brought her back, safe and sound, because he was good like that.

"Rosie, breathe, kiddo. You're not breathing. Come on. Breathe."

And then Maggie. Maggie's sweet, happy smile. Maggie, at the farm, when she brought Rosie a sandwich and all those dinosaur books for her to read while her leg got better. Maggie, on the road, when she'd check in on Rosie because she really, truly cared. Maggie, at the prison, when she took care of Rosie when Daryl wasn't there. Maggie, at Alexandria, when the others were leading the herd away, giving Rosie a gun to keep herself safe. Maggie, at home, on the couch, eating pickles with Ian and Rosie. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.

Dead, dead, dead. Gone, gone, gone. Why did she ever, ever, ever get so attached? How could he? How could Negan do that and keep going on like he never did anything wrong? Where was his heart? Where was his heart?

"Come on, kid. I don't know what to do."

How many more people were going to die? Would she ever, ever, ever get to see Ian or Carl or Judith ever again? What about Daryl? And Rick? Rosie- she hated Rick. At the beginning, she hated him, up on that rooftop, but he saved her, anyway, because he was good like that. And now, Rosie was sure that he was on the list of people that she loved, but she wasn't so sure how to tell anyone that.

"Rosie, can you hear me? Rosie, listen to me. Can you...?"

A second later, and arms were around her, pulling her close to their chest. Rosie knew whose voice it was and whose arms were around her, and she should've pushed them away, but she felt like she was little again, and she was missing Fraser, and Coach Smith was there, and he was helping her. So she let him hug her and lean his chin on her head, and she cried into his chest, even though it was the chest that was covered by a leather jacket, because Coach Smith was there, and Rosie couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. They needed to.... If I could take your pain and make it mine, I would. I'm sorry. They needed to understand."

🦖🦕🦖🦕

Oh Negan you cheeky little master manipulator

PSA: Negan isn't trying to do harm to Rosie. He doesn't want to hurt her mentally / psychologically at all, but he's doing it without meaning to. He's stuck between being the good guy Coach Smith for her, and being the powerful leader of the Saviors Negan. Problem is, he can't do both- at least not without hurting Rosie in the process.

PSA PART 2: I don't own the idea of Negan being a teacher/coach to an OC from before the apocalypse. On TikTok, I've seen people using similar ideas as I did and them getting low key harassed in the comments about it. I don't care at all. Any of you can do whatever you want with this story lol I don't care and if it's helping inspire other people to write their own story, then GOOD. Not bad. Unless you're just like copying and pasting my work. Don't do that. Be nice to people please and thanks 🙏🙏