I lurched forward, vomit flying out of my mouth and into the sink. I gagged on the taste of it, sending myself into a coughing fit. I closed my eyes, more vomit spilling out of my mouth while my stomach churned. My throat burned intensely.

"Get away from me," I sputtered at Negan whose hand was positioned on my lower back. He hushed me, running his hand over my head.

"C'mon, Doctor Carson can take a look at you." He held out his hand. I glared at it, a cold sweat washing over me. "Look, I'm not gonna watch you spit up your insides all day. Let's go," he demanded. I reluctantly slid my hand into his. Walking to the office was hell. All I wanted to do was lay down. It felt like someone was punching me in the stomach with every step I took. When Doctor Carson saw us, he quickly kneeled. "Thank you. As you were." Negan nodded for him to stand up. The doctor rose to his feet. "Carson, my girl has been vomiting everywhere and I was wondering if you could take a look at her while I go check on one of my supply trucks."

"Yes, sir. I'll take good care of her," Doctor Carson promised.

"You're a damn fine man, Carson," Negan bellowed happily as he exited the room. I sighed, finally relaxing at the absence of his presense. The doctor turned to me and gave me a faint smile.

"Other than nausea and vomiting, are there any other issues you've been having," he inquired. I began to think back to when I felt like shit even before today.

"Actually, my stomach's been hurting for a while. I just brushed it off."

"Any soreness at all?"

"My back kind of... it makes it hard to sleep, but that didn't start until a few nights ago," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. Doctor Carson grabbed something from inside one of the drawers. He turned around and handed me a pregnancy test. My heart sank.

"I'm gonna need you to take this," he said in a hushed tone. I was at a loss for words.

"W-what? Why? I—"

"From the sound of your symptoms, pregnancy could be a possibility. I would like you to test yourself to see if we can cross that out as a diagnosis. I'll step out for a few minutes while you do that, alright?"

"Okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Carson nodded as he left, shutting the door behind him. Tears pricked my eyes, my hand quickly flying up to my mouth. I couldn't be pregnant, not now. After a few moments of recollecting myself, I took the test, blocking every extra sound and thought out of my head as tears sprinkled my skin. I zipped up my jeans, set the test on the counter and washed my hands in the sink. I sat back down on the exam table, my stomach beginning to flip-flop again. I cupped it with my hands, the thought of a child possibly inside of me causing me to fix my eyes on my stomach; it wasn't outstretched or bloated in any way. The most it's done was growl from being hungry. I couldn't have a child now. It was dangerous; it couldn't grow up in this kind of environment. Doctor Carson opened the door and approached me with worry once he saw my face.

"Hey, everything's going to be alright. The stress of waiting is always an emotional experience." He patted my leg reassuringly. "Only a few more minutes and you'll be able to find out." He put on a pair of rubber gloves. "Did Negan find you alone," he asked, attempting to get my mind off of things.

"N-no, I-I have a group... and my boyfriend: Daryl," I sniffled, wiping away tears.

"I know him, actually. He was in here a while ago for a check-up; Negan likes him a lot." His voice lowered as he picked up the pregnancy test, glancing at it. I dug my fingernails into my skin to help ease my fear. "Negative." I let out a relieved sigh. "Now that that's crossed off our list, I would say at this point that this is a mild case of influenza. You should be better in a few days or even some time tomorrow if you're lucky." A large man suddenly entered the room. "Joseph, what can I help you with?"

"Negan told me to bring her to him," Joseph pointed at me. My eyes shifted to his hand. It held Lucille.

"Great timing! We just finished up." Doctor Carson turned back to me. "Make sure to hydrate yourself and rest as much as you can, alright?" I nodded, giving him a faint smile. I slid off the examination table, shuffling after Joseph. I followed him to a lavish room that surprised me with beauty.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but I have the girl," Joseph muttered nervously. "Also, you left Lucille out by the truck."

"Seriously? I never do that." Negan snatched Lucille from him. I quietly stood behind Joseph, praying to god I went somewhat unnoticed. "Guess a kid firing a machine gun is a little bit of a distraction." I shifted my eyes to a figure that sat across from Negan, my breath hitching in my throat; it was Carl. "Fat Joseph, did you carry her all the way up here for me?"

"Yes, sir," Joseph responded.

"Were you gentle? Did you treat her like a lady?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, sir, I did."

"Did you pet her pretty little pussy like a lady," Negan questioned him salaciously as he ran a hand over Lucille. Joseph began to stutter, flustered by the inappropriate question. Negan chuckled. "I'm just screwing around! A baseball bat doesn't have a pussy! But you know what does." He shifted his gaze over to me. His stare felt like a spotlight landing on you in a crowded theatre when you were on stage and didn't know your lines. "Aften, don't think I don't see you trying to hide back there," Negan grinned, Joseph nervously laughing. "Get the hell out," Negan growled at him, annoyed with his presence. Joseph's laughter ceased and he frantically exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Negan's eyes locked back on me. "You feeling better, darlin'? You look pale."

"I have the flu," I muttered.

"Your eyes say otherwise..." Negan bit his lip as his eyes sent daggers into mine. I fought back the urge to run out of the room. "What's wrong? I'm all ears." I glanced over at Carl who was staring at me with worry; seeing him here gave me a tiny bit of comfort, but I wasn't sure what his business was here.

"He made me take a pregnancy test," I whispered under pressure, hoping he couldn't hear me. Negan gasped excitedly.

"Do I have a child on the way? Please tell me I do!"

"No," I quickly hissed. "It was negative." Negan rolled his eyes, running a hand over his face in disappointment. Carl was clearly shocked by the exchange.

"That fucking sucks," he said, slowly approaching me. "You would've been so surprised at how fucking well I'd raise a kid. I'd make for damn sure that I wouldn't treat them the way your daddy treated you." My body tensed, my skin beginning to burn.

"How do you know about him," I asked, anger in my veins.

"I watched all the videos on that camera I snatched from y'all," he smirked. "By the way, deepest condolences: losing your mom and your little sister? That must hurt like a bitch." My hands turned into fists. He sighed. "This is a sensitive subject for you, I can tell. I'm sorry, sweetheart." Negan placed his hand on my hip, pressing himself up against me in an attempt to console. I suddenly pushed him away as hard as I could.

"Don't touch me," I snarled. Negan snickered.

"You know I love it when you're rough with me," he purred.

"You're disgusting," I spat as I placed my hand on the doorknob, ready to storm out of the room. I sucked in a sharp breath. "And if I was pregnant, I'd never let a sick bastard like you raise my child." Negan was silent, his rage building.

"That really hurts my feelings, Aften," he said, his voice gravelly and sincere. "But you know, Daryl'll never be able to raise a child 'cause he'll be dead before he ever gets the chance." That was enough to make me do anything. I spit in Negan's face, my whole body ignited in flames and my heart pounding in my ears. Negan drew back his hand and slapped me across the face. I stumbled back into the door, clutching my cheek. The skin stung sharply. "You know I don't like to do that but don't you ever disrespect me like that again, you understand?" I retreated from rage, nodding. A devilish smile pulled at his lips. "God, I love you."

◇

I could hear the deafening screams traveling down the hallway from the gathering area. I knew everyone was distracted at the moment and that's just what I wanted; I was planning something. I pressed myself up against the wall when they silenced. I didn't dare take anymore steps closer towards the edge of the wall because I knew everyone'd be leaving soon.

When the sounds of the dispersing crowd began and quickly faded away, I peered around the corner. Daryl was the only one left in the room, mopping the floor. My heart began to race at the mere sight of him. He put the mop back in a bucket filled with water and began to wheel it over to where I was hiding. I pressed myself up against the wall again. When he entered the hallway, I grabbed his arm. He jumped, almost swinging at me. Once he saw that it was me, his body loosened. We were quiet for a moment until he noticed my face.

"What happened," he asked, his hand coming up to touch the light bruise on my cheek.

"It's nothing," I muttered. I shivered at his soft touch, so gentle compared to Negan. I could feel Daryl tense before he dropped his arm.

"He really doin' all that shit to you like he said he was," he asked.

"He said it would keep you safe," I admitted. "I don't want you to get the shit kicked outta you every day."

"Aften," he groaned, grabbing my hand and running his thumb over my skin. "Don't give yerself away. Let me take the beatin'." I shook my head in distress.

"No! I-I can't. I can't do that. It would kill me to know that shit was happening to you." He lifted up my hand and placed it flat on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat.

"I think about you a lot."

"Me too," I said, a stray tear dripping down my cheek. Daryl wiped it away with his thumb, his arms snaking around my waist as he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him while he softly kissed the top of my head over and over again. Footsteps came towards us from a distance. We frantically untangled from each other. Daryl began to hustle down the hall while I walked away in the other direction. Just as he disappeared, Dwight came around the corner.

"What're you doing out here," he questioned.

"I was heading back to my room," I sniffled.

"I didn't see you out there with Negan tonight." He squinted, suspiciously observing me. My palms began to sweat. I wiped them on my pants. Dwight stepped closer to me. I took a step to the side so I could make a break for it.

"I have the flu. Doctor Carson said I have to get some rest so if you'll excuse me." I nodded, brushing past him and hurrying back to my room. I closed the door and let out a loud, relieved sigh before collapsing on my bed.

I later woke to someone shaking me. I jumped, almost swinging at the person. Daryl stood over me in a whole entire disguise, a baseball cap on his head.

"C'mon," he said frantically as he shoved a yellow piece of paper adorned with thick black writing into my shaking hands: . "We're gettin' the hell outta here."