𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚. (𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏)

{31} Disregard

"stand up and get on your feet- now"

•••

A stream of speckled light shone through the blinds of Negan's bedroom, the consistent rattling of chains and howling snarls from Roamers tied up outside acting like an alarm clock that hadn't been snoozed yet.

Stretching her limbs, Brooklyn gradually peeled her eyes open, wiping the crumbling sleep from out of the corners of her eyes. She rolled over, expecting to meet the tucked up body of Negan beside her, yet instead found a series of empty silken bed sheets. Brooklyn frowned, raising one eyebrow as her brain started stirring, trying to gather up the possibilities regarding the whereabouts of Negan.

She threw the duvet aside, wriggling her legs out and swinging them across to meet the carpet. At least her head wasn't aching anymore, it was clearly true that she did need rest. Brooklyn slowly got up, the bed creaking as her weight was lifted, "Negan?" She called out, immediately clearing her throat when she realised how hoarse and guttural it was, "Negan you here?"

It was only until then, that Brooklyn noticed a folded up piece of card sat lonesomely on the dining table. Without thinking twice, the girl stumbled towards it and picked it up, eyes scanning the contents of the clearly-rushed letter.

Brooklyn,

I know you're gonna probably hate my fucking guts for doing this- but I left for Hilltop this morning whilst you were asleep.

I'm sorry sweetheart but I can't risk you getting hurt. So please don't do anything stupid and try to find us or some shit like that because there's no need. By the time you wake up, we'll already (hopefully) be there.

I'll be home by tomorrow night ;)

I love you...

-Negan

To say the least, Brooklyn was fuming. In instinct, she scrunched the letter carelessly in to a ball and chucked it in the trash. This made it clear on what she had to do- and that was go there herself. So what if Negan had told her not to? He could be in trouble, not that she didn't have any faith in him at all, but it was just her job to constantly worry about him.

Bare feet hurrying across the floor, Brooklyn swung the closet doors open, expressing a sigh of relief when she realised that Negan had bothered to move her clothes in to his room. In no time, she picked out a plain pair of black jeans, a grey cotton shirt and an army green hoodie to go over the top. She then brushed through her hair with her fingers and shoved on her usual scuffed converse.

Brooklyn checked Negan's chest drawers for any weapons, deviously grinning at the sight of one Colt Revolver and a pocket knife. "This'll do nicely," she mumbled to herself.

Before long, the girl was completely ready, and wasted no time scurrying down to the outside compound.

There were very few guards out on patrol due to the majority of saviours led down to fight, which in return made it easier for Brooklyn to leave. She smugly strolled towards one of the trucks, swiping the keys from the windshield and unlocking the door. Then clambering inside, her fingers latched on to the wheel and she twisted the key in the ignition.

Like she hoped it would, the engine roared to life, signalling that the truck was ready to deport. Brooklyn slammed her foot harshly down on the gas pedal, bursting through the gates and out on to the road.

All she knew was that the saviours had headed to Hilltop, so who knows where they were now.

<><><>