I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Drowning

WARNING: This chapter contains triggers for depression, anxiety and PND. Please take caution before reading.

The Sanctuary could be an odd place at times. As dark and as oppressive as it often could seem, it was still the home to at least a few hundred people these days, and since the arrival of Blake in their midst, the looming factory had felt like an entirely different place. More like a home now than a hard regime. She lit a room up when she entered, talked to almost everyone these days. She had made their existence better.

But similar to how a child feels when their parents are rowing, over the past two days, the Saviours were indeed struggling to handle the very obvious tension that hung between both Negan and Blake. And most of them noticed a distance in the blonde woman over the last few days that sent whispers of concern flying around the Sanctuary.

While Negan was angrier than ever taking this out on whoever seemed to get in his way. His frightening and unpredictable demeanour had returned. And most Saviours knew to avoid him at all costs when he was like this, or feel the wrath of Lucille.

But Blake, on the other hand, had been noticeably absent for days, and it was rumoured that she had spent the last few nights sleeping back down in her own bedroom, the reason not being clear to anyone, not even Nergans' ex-wives, who feared of course that at any moment that they would be called upon again to resume their positions up in that parlour.

But all of this was just hearsay and worry among the Sanctuary residents, that things were about to go back to the way they once were.

It was true that neither Negan or Blake them had really spoken since that fateful night and certainly true that Blake had moved back into her old room down on the second floor, taking Mia with her.

For things had been said now that could not been unsaid, and Negan's words alone had scarred Blake's skin almost to the point of no return. And after the events of the past couple of weeks, this left a mark far worse that David had ever left on her skin...

After all they had been through together, after all that had happened, it hurt her to believe that that was the way Negan thought of her.

Still as this weak woman, blinded by those around her.

Blake had always, of course, been the opposite of that, and even in her weakest moments had always found the strength to get through it, to old her head up high.

But now, for the first time in her life, Blake felt herself slipping into something she had never had to deal with before.

It was the culmination of everything most likely. David's death; her miscarriage; and Negan's words, all happening over such a relatively short space of time, and without Negan by her side to help her cope with it, Blake was indeed struggling.

Visibly struggling.

She found herself crying almost all of the time. Sobbing in the shower, or late at night when Mia was sound asleep, or even when the little girl was awake, wondering why Blake was upset.

And with no Negan to talk to, she felt confused, dazed, like she was panicking at everything.

The caramel-blonde was struggling to catch her breath, her chest restricting as the weight of everything barreled down onto her shoulders, pressing her further and further into the ground.

Was this still the signs of grief and loss?

Or was this something more?

Even with Mia being here, Blake was finding it hard to cope. All that stuff with Tara had turned everything here on its head, and her happy existence here had since turned sour.