THWACK.

The sound was sickening—wet, final.

Marcie flinched, her hands flying to cover her mouth before she remembered she couldn't make a sound. Her heart screamed even if her lips didn't.

Vivian squeezed Carl's hand so hard it hurt, both of them frozen as Abraham's body rocked from the blow. He didn't collapse right away.

Instead, somehow, impossibly, he straightened.

"Look at that! Taking it like a champ!"

Blood streamed down his face. His head lolled slightly, but his mouth curled into a familiar smirk.

"...Suck...my...nuts..."

Then came the second swing.

And the third.

Marcie felt a sob rip through her chest. It didn't make it to her throat.

Vivian closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks—not from fear, but fury. Abraham didn't beg. Didn't cry. He went out like a soldier.

A damn hero.

But Negan only laughed, "Did you hear that? He said 'suck my nuts'."

Marcie turned away, squeezing her eyes shut, but the sound—it wouldn't stop.

The sickening crunch of bone. The wet slap of blood.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think.

She didn't know how much time passed.

When it was finally over, what was left of Abraham didn't look like a person.

Just blood and meat and bone.

Silence fell again, but it wasn't peace.

It was horror.

Unbearable, echoing horror.

"Oh, my goodness." Negan spun the bat around and Abraham's blood splattered across Rick's cheek.

Vivian opened her eyes again slowly, nausea roiling in her gut. Carl had gone rigid, and she pulled him toward her, trying not to break in front of him.

Trying to shield him from a world that was already too far gone.

Marcie stared at the gravel beneath her knees, blood flecking the dirt, her chest heaving. She couldn't cry. Not yet.

Not until she knew who was next.

"You guys, look at my dirty girl!" Negan smiled, showing off the blood stained bat to all of them that was left in the lineup,

Vivian looked over at Sasha, wanting to comfort her as she tried to hold back her sobs. Negan swayed over to Rosita, who sat frozen on the other end of the lineup, staring at the gravel in front of her.

She wasn't even sure if the woman knew it was Abraham who was killed, she looked frozen in time.

"Sweetheart... Lay your eyes on this." He waved the bloody bat in front of her face, but her eyes didn't move, "Oh, damn. Were you- Were you together? That sucks." He grinned, "But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red, and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team! So take...a damn look."

She still refused to look at what was left of Abraham,

"Take a damn look!"

Daryl leaped from his kneeling position and Marcie called out his name, reaching out for him, but it was too late.

Her breath caught in her throat as his fist made contact with Negan's jaw.

No. No, no, no...

What was he doing?

For one second — one wild, impulsive second — she understood. It was instinct. A reaction. Something primal and protective and furious. Daryl had always carried that fire just under the surface. But now wasn't the time for fire. Not now. Not with Lucille inches away from Carl's skull. Or Rick's. Or hers.

Daryl was pinned to the ground by multiple men, huffing into the gravel like a rabid dog.

Her eyes darted to Negan, watching how quickly the smirk returned. How easily he wiped the blood from his mouth like it meant nothing.

And she knew.

She knew that punch had cost them.

Negan didn't even raise his voice. That was worse. He grinned.

"That? Oh, my! That... is a no-no." He crouched down next to Daryl and Marcie was afraid he would bash his head in right there in front of her, " The whole thing-not one bit of that shit flies here."

Dwight came forward, aiming Daryl's crossbow at its' owner and Marcie held back a sob, "Do you want me to do it? Right here."

Negan tugged Daryl's hair out of his face, "No. No, you don't kill them... not until you try a little."

Dwight lowered the weapon and helped drag Daryl back into the lineup.

"And anyway... that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people, first one's free, then- what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down!"

Marcie knew what was next. She glanced over at Daryl one last time, just in case it was one of their last moments together.

They made eye contact and more tears filled her eyes, 'I love you' she mouthed to him.

"No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me."

Marcie's heart slammed against her ribs. Cold dread washed over her, rooting her in place.

But it was too late.

Negan turned.

And suddenly, he wasn't pacing anymore.

He was choosing.

"So... back to it."

"No," Marcie whispered. Too quiet for anyone to hear.

But it didn't matter.

Lucille was already in the air.

Vivian flinched as she saw Glenn go down. He didn't even see it coming. Not Glenn. Not after everything. Not with Maggie like this. Not now.

She couldn't move. Couldn't blink. She didn't even realise she was holding her breath until Lucille came down.

The sound of the bat slamming into his head echoed louder than the screams in her mind.

"No!" Maggie wailed.

Her eyes were on Maggie, who was trembling so hard Vivian thought she might shatter. Vivian wanted to crawl to her. To wrap her arms around her and take even one ounce of the pain away.

But she couldn't move. None of them could.

Then Glenn moved. He sat up, blood streaming down his head, one eye bursting from his skull, gurgling on what air he had left in his lungs.

But somehow — still alive.

She wanted to look away. God, she wanted to stop seeing. But she couldn't.

Glenn's voice rasped out something broken. Something meant for Maggie.

"Buddy, you still there?" Negan smiled down at him, "I just don't know. It seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard, your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!"

Glenn looked over at his wife, "Maggie, I'll find you."

Vivian whimpered, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Not just for Glenn, but for Maggie.

Because that girl — she had just lost her whole world.

"Oh, hell." Negan turned to all of them, "I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am. But I did say it. No exceptions!"

Negan kept going. Another hit. Another. Until Glenn was just... gone.

Marcie was frozen in place, fists clenched in the dirt. Her entire body buzzed with adrenaline and horror and guilt.

Daryl had meant well. She knew that. But Negan had warned them. And now look what happened.

Her chest was caving in on itself, all breath gone. She could feel something wild and desperate clawing up inside her — rage, maybe. Or grief.

"You bunch of pussies." Negan landed another blow to Glenn's twitching body, "I'm just getting started. Lucille is thirsty." He laughed, "She is a vampire bat."

He walked back over to them, standing in front of Rick, "What? Was the joke that bad?"

The silence that followed Glenn's death wasn't silence at all — not really.

It was breathing. Choked sobs. Maggie's gasping grief. The sickening drip of blood off Lucille, painting the dirt red at Negan's feet.

And still — that smile.

Marcie didn't know how he could smile like that. After that. After all of it.

She couldn't unclench her jaw. Her molars ached from how hard she was grinding her teeth, but if she loosened anything — her grip, her posture, her rage — she might start screaming and never stop.

Rick blinked away his tears, looking up at the devil himself, "I'm gonna kill you."

Negan kneeled down in front of their leader, "What? I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up."

He knew what Rick said, but he wanted him to repeat it. Wanted to look him in the eye while he threatened him.

Rick sniffled, trying to recuperate, "Not today... not tomorrow... but I'm gonna kill you."

Negan pursed his lips, that smirk that Vivian wanted to punch off his face growing, "Jesus." Without breaking eye contact, Negan spoke to one of his men, "Simon... what did he have, a knife?"

"Uh, he had a hatchet." The man, Simon, who caused them so much trouble earlier that day, spoke up,

Negan broke eye contact, "A hatchet?"

"He had an ax." Simon corrected,

"Simon's my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing?" Rick didn't respond, "Oh. Or did I..." he waved the bloody bat in his face and clicked his tongue.

Vivian could see Rick clench his jaw in anger. She knew he still had some fight in him, which she loved, but knew he would have to hold it back. If he didn't, who knew who would be the next to die.

And she knew that Negan had broken them. All of them except for Rick.

He sighed, "Sure. Yeah. Give me his ax."

Simon stepped forward and handed Negan the hatchet. He stood, sliding it into his belt loop before grabbing the collar of Rick's jacket,

"I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won't we? I mean... the ones that are left."

Negan dragged him across the gravel like a disobedient dog. Vivian's chest caved in as he pulled him into the RV and slammed the door shut.

Don't go.

Rick couldn't go. He was their leader. Their anchor. Her person.

Vivian gripped Carl's hand, who was now shaking uncontrollably, "It's okay," she whispered, though she didn't believe it for a second, as the RV drove away, "He'll come back."

God, she hoped she wasn't lying.

Vivian didn't even realize she was holding her breath until her lungs burned. She blinked, dazed. This felt like a dream. A terrible, mud-and-blood-drenched nightmare.

One that wasn't going to end.

Minutes passed. Then hours. Time had no meaning here — not in this clearing, this hell.

But the sun had started to rise.

Carl leaned against Vivian, her top soaking up his tears. No one else had moved, scared that if they did, they'd be the next to be beaten.

And Negan's men — they stood around like this was fun. Like they weren't standing in the ashes of a family that had just been shattered.

One of them shifted slightly and Vivian lifted her eyes to meet his. Emmett's. Standing just a few feet away... but it might as well have been another world.

He was on Negan's side. Not lined up like the rest of them. Not in the dirt. Not marked for death — not yet.  A kid, yes, but old enough to understand what this was. Old enough to be a pawn.

Vivian stared at him like he might disappear if she blinked.

He didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just stood there with his arms at his sides, back straight, face unreadable.

But his eyes — God, his eyes.

There was something breaking behind them.

Vivian wanted to scream. To crawl across the gravel and wrap him in her arms, to shield him from all this — the bat, the blood, the madness. To tell him it was okay, even if it wasn't. To be his safety, the way she'd always promised she would be.

But she couldn't even stand.

Her body refused to move.

And Emmett... Emmett didn't reach for her either.

His jaw tightened. Just slightly.

Her chest clenched like a fist. She had never felt more useless in her life.

And Emmett... he knew.

He blinked, slow and deliberate, and that one motion broke something open in her.

You said you'd always be there.

He didn't say it out loud, but they didn't have to.

Vivian's lip trembled, not wanting to cry in front of her brother, to show him that she was still strong. Not when her baby brother — the kid she raised, the boy she held through every storm — was standing across from her in enemy territory.

Trapped.

But watching.

Always watching.

And Vivian knew, without him saying a word, that this would be carved into both of them forever.

An engine rumbled through the silence, and Vivian broke eye contact with her brother.

The RV was coming back.

Vivian swallowed hard. She wanted to run to it. To see Rick with her own eyes. But she couldn't risk it — Negan's men were still watching them like a hawk circling dying prey.

The vehicle stopped. The engine cut off.

Then the door creaked open.

Rick was pushed out onto the gravel, with Negan following.

Alive. Rick was alive.

But something in him was... gone.

Negan dragged him back to the lineup, dropping him right in front of the group, "Here we are." Rick got onto all fours, glancing around at them to make sure no one else was killed while he was away,

"Let me ask you something, Rick, do you even know what that little trip was about?" He didn't respond right away, his eyes staring right into Vivian's.

She wanted to reach for him. Every part of her ached to close the distance — to cradle his face in her hands, to whisper that she still knew who he was, even now, and none of it was his fault.That she saw the man she loved under all the blood and pain and humiliation.

But she couldn't.

So instead, she looked at him.

I'm here, that's what she told him with her eyes, You're still you. I see you. Don't let him take that away.

Rick blinked slowly, like he was trying to hold on to that. To her. To something real in the middle of the madness.

And for just a breath — a second carved out of time — he wasn't on the ground and she wasn't shaking.

They were Rick and Vivian.

Still alive.

Still theirs.

Then Negan's voice cut through the moment, sharp and slicing.

And the next horror began.

"Speak when you're spoken to." Negan demanded,

"Okay. Okay." Rick whispered,

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me." The man stated, "I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me the same damn way... like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So..." He crouched down next to him, "do I give you another chance?"

"Yeah." Rick's voice shook, "Yes. Yes."

Negan patted him on the back before standing, "Okay." He chuckled, "All right. And here it is -the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day." He waved at his group, "Get some guns to the back of their heads."

Multiple men stepped forward, aiming rifles at each and every one of them. 

"Good. Now... level with their noses, so if you have to fire..." He lifted his hand and imitated an explosion, "it'll be a real mess."

He turned and Vivian's heart rate rose when he looked at the boy next to her, "Kid..." He motioned for him to come closer, "Right here."

Vivian shook her head and Carl glared up at him, "Kid...now."

"No." Her voice cracked, "No, please."

Carl went to stand and she tried to pull him back down. Instead, hands grabbed at her upper arms and pulled her backwards, "No! No, don't!" A hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head back, the barrel of a gun pressing under her chin.

Tears streamed down her face as Carl approached Negan, "You a southpaw?" He asked as he took off his belt.

"Am I a what?" Carl questioned, so much attitude in his voice that Vivian was scared Negan would kill him for that only,

"You a lefty?" Negan repeated his question,

"No."

"Good." Vivian began to hyperventilate as Negan tightened his belt over Carl's left arm,

"That hurt?"

"No."

"Should." Negan grinned at him, "It's supposed to. All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings." He took Carl's hat from his head and threw it over his shoulder,

Vivian silently begged as Carl laid down on the gravel next to his father. Please don't hurt him, was all she could think.

Using a sharpie he got from Simon, Negan lifted Carl's sleeve, revealing the beaded bracelet that Marcie gave him back on the farm, and Negan smirked, "Cute." He drew a line on his arm, "Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm. There you go. Gives you a little leverage."

"Please. Please. Please don't." Rick quietly begged,

Negan smiled at him, "Me? I ain't doing shit." He stood, "Rick, I want you to take your ax... cut your son's left arm off, right on that line."

Vivian began to struggle more and the men tugged on her hair harder, causing her to cry out in pain,

"Now, I know, I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die... and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it.

"You-You don't have to do this." Marcie's voice quivered as she finally spoke up, "We-we understand. We understand."

Negan shook his head, "You understand. I'm not sure that Rick does." He turned back to him, "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line."

Carl looked up at Rick with eyes that were far too calm for a kid about to lose a limb. His mouth was shut tight, like he'd already accepted it. 

Vivian had seen Rick in hell before — but this? This was something else. He was frozen, mouth slack, eyes glassy, still on his knees where Negan had left him.

"Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice/ Nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees... give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine." Negan shrugged, "Probably." He kneeled down again,  "Rick... this needs to happen now -- chop, chop -- or I will crush the little fella's skull myself." He held the bat over Carl's head and Vivian began to struggle more.

That promise she made Lori had rooted itself deep in Vivian's chest, a quiet vow she carried through every gunshot, every long night on the road, every second Carl looked up to her like she was something solid. And now... now Carl was on his stomach, and Rick was falling apart before her eyes. 

All Vivian could think was I broke it. I broke the one thing she asked of me.

"It can-It can-It can be me." Rick stuttered, "It can be me. W-W-... Y-You can do it to me. I c-- I can go with- with you." He sobbed,

"No." Negan stood, "This is the only way. Rick... pick up the ax." He stayed still, not reaching for the hatchet while his son laid in front of him, "Not making a decision is a big decision. You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing."

Rick began to sob in front of all of them, something they've only seen when Lori had passed away,

"Oh, my God." Negan groaned, tilting his head back in annoyance, "Are you gonna make me count?"

Their leader looked around, as if he could find someway out of the situation,

"Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. 3!"

 "Please." Rick sobbed and Vivian's heart broke further, "It can be me."

"2!"

"Please, don't do-"

Negan grabbed Rick's jaw, forcing him to look at the man in charge of their fate, "This is it."

Rick let out a cry, his hand squeezing Carl's before reaching for the handle of the hatchet.

"1."

"Dad... just do it." Carl whispered, looking up at his father, "Just do it."

Vivian clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sob. She didn't know who she was more heartbroken for—Rick, who was being dismantled piece by piece in front of her, or Carl, who had become a man far too soon, lying still and brave while the world spun out around him.

Negan was grinning. Carl was steady. Rick was on the edge of losing his mind.

And Vivian couldn't save them. She had promised Lori she would. But she couldn't.

All she could do was watch.

He raised the axe, and Negan kneeled down next to him, studying his face, "You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?"

Rick nodded, his breaths coming out in heavy, quick pants. Negan grabbed his jaw again, "Speak when you're spoken to! You answer to me. You provide for me."

"Provide for you." Rick mumbled in his haze,

"You belong to me, right?!" Negan yelled in his face,

"Right."

And Vivian's heart cracked like bone under pressure.

That single word, uttered like it was being forced from somewhere buried and broken, was worse than any scream. Worse than any injury. Because it wasn't a lie to survive—it was submission. A hollowed-out version of the man she loved, echoing back the only answer that would keep them alive.

"Right." Negan let go of Rick and pointed a finger in his face,  "That... is the look I wanted to see."

Rick's face was blank, hollowed out like someone had scooped the fire right out of his chest. The grief was still there, clinging around the edges of his expression like ash, but the rage was gone. The defiance, the fight, the Rick—gone. All that was left was a man who knew he'd lost. His eyes weren't just red from crying—they were empty, unfocused, as if staring at some place far away where he used to matter. That's what Negan had wanted to see. 

A man broken enough to listen, to obey. To belong to him. 

And now, finally, Rick Grimes looked exactly like that

He took the hatchet from Rick's fingers, "We did it... all of us, together... even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure. Today was a productive damn day!"

"Now, I hope, for all your sake... that you get it now... that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you... that is over now." Negan sighed, "Ah. Dwight... load him up."

Marcie looked up to see Negan pointing his bat at Daryl. Her eyes widened as they grabbed him by the arms and began dragging him towards the van,

"No!" Marcie shot to her feet the moment Daryl was grabbed, pushing past fear like it wasn't something that could stop her anymore. "Don't touch him!" Her voice cracked, wild and desperate, as she lunged toward the van.

They couldn't take him. Not Daryl.

A sharp whistle sliced through the air—Negan—and before she could reach Daryl, rough hands tackled her from the side. She hit the ground hard, knees scraping against gravel and dirt. But she didn't stop—she writhed, twisted, elbowed the nearest body in the gut and reached toward the van with her free arm.

"Daryl!" she called out for him,

Then came the boot.

Pain, blinding and instant, shot through her body as her shoulder gave way beneath someone's heel. A wet, gut-wrenching pop echoed louder in her ears than her own scream.

It was unbearable. Unstoppable. Her whole body twisted, curling in on the dislocated limb as a fresh wave of screams tore out of her. She didn't recognize her own voice—didn't sound like her, didn't sound like a human.

She caught a glimpse of him. Daryl in the van, struggling against the hands holding him down. He turned, eyes wide, mouth open—he heard her. He felt it.

Somehow, that hurt even worse.

Marcie's face pressed against the dirt, her good hand clawing at the ground like it might stop everything from falling apart. She could hear someone crying—maybe yelling—but she couldn't focus, couldn't breathe past the pain.

The van doors closed and that was the last they saw of each other.

"He's got guts - not a little bitch like someone I know. I like him. He's mine now. " Negan sneered, striding in front of them, mocking the words Rick had said earlier. "But you still want to try something? 'Not today, not tomorrow'. 'Not today, not tomorrow'? I will cut pieces off of..." Negan turned to Simon, "Hell's his name?"

"Daryl."

"Wow." Negan laughed, "That actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep -- or, better yet, I will bring pieces of him and put it on her doorstep." he pointed to the crying Marcie who was still on the ground,

She couldn't move. Could barely breathe. The fire in her had dimmed to embers, but even now, even with everything taken, the mention of Daryl—the threat to him—rekindled a flicker of fury. Of helpless, shaking rage. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

She just stared up at Negan, swallowing back bile.

He patted Rick on the back and stood, "Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits! I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week."

"Until then... ta-ta."

And then they were gone. Like the world hadn't just shattered.

Marcie closed her eyes, letting the silence close in. One week. That's all they had. One week until he came back for more.

Until then, all she had left was the weight of the dirt under her body—and the gaping absence where Daryl used to be.