Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

79: The Breaking of Rick Grimes

Daylight had fully risen upon the forest before the RV rolled back into its previous spot. By then, we were all emotionally and physically drained, our faces sticky with sweat and tears, and our voices raspy from crying.

When Rick was tossed onto the ground like nothing on the gravel in front of the RV, I realized he was completely covered in blood. Cries began building up in my throat once again, but no tears came; I was all cried-out.

Negan stepped out of the RV, staring down at Rick, examining him. Rick glared up at Negan, his eyes as hateful as sin. Negan let out a sigh, and rubbed his hand through his stubbled beard.

"Do you have any idea what that little trip was about, Rick?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Rick remained silent, shifting his gaze to the gravel beneath him.

"Speak when you're spoken to!" Negan yelled, and Rick jumped.

"Okay!... okay..."

"That trip was about the way you looked at me, Rick. I want to change that, I want you to understand... but you're still looking at me the same damn way, like I took a shit in your scrambled eggs and that's not gonna work for me... so, do I give you another chance?"

Rick hesitated, unwilling to answer, before he suddenly remembered the rule. "Yeah... yes," he rasped.

"Okay, alright, there it is," Negan said, doing a sweeping gesture with his left hand. "The grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether you're crap day becomes everyone's last crap day, or just another crap day... now, get some guns to the backs of their heads."

I stiffened, and felt the presence of a circular gun barrel coming to rest harshly on the back of my head. It was bearing into my skull, and I had an urge to wince. "Good, and make sure you level it with their noses, so if you have to fire, it'll be a huge mess."

The angle of the gun was tilted downward, and I drew in a trembling inhale.

"Alright, now, kid," he said, gesturing to Carl. "Front and center."

My heartbeat most certainly came to a halt.

Carl warily stood up, looking around with a stone-cold expression. He didn't look scared whatsoever, but I could tell that, on the inside, he was petrified.

"Are you a South Pole?" asked Negan, and he began undoing one of the belts wrapped tightly around his waist.

"A what?" Carl asked, furrowing his eyebrow.

"A leftie," Negan corrected, holding his belt tightly wrapped in his hand.

"No," Carl replied, a snarky tone to his voice.

"Good."

Abruptly, Negan walked towards Carl, and grabbed his left arm, wrapping the belt as tight as he could just above Carl's elbow. "That hurt?"

Carl shook his head, trying to cover up for the fact that his hands had begun to tremble in the slightest.

"Really? 'Cause it's supposed to," Negan supplied with a grin. "Alright, kid, get down on the ground there, spread those wings." He snatched Carl's hat from his head and tossed it aside, it landing several feet away.