When Negan stumbled upon you, a kid drenched in Walker blood, it was as if you had just emerged from a fierce battle, yet your frail frame told a different story. He recognised the fierce resilience within you, a toughness forged in the fires of hardship. But that strength came at a cost; it spoke of a past marred by darkness, a history that had sculpted you into the formidable force you had become.

Against all odds, a bar stands defiantly amidst the chaos, complete with a motel attached—an unexpected oasis in the heart of the apocalypse. At least now, the burden of payment is lifted from shoulders. You and Negan have taken refuge in one of the rooms, evading the relentless pursuit of the New Babylon marshals after he took down five men. It always struck you as absurd that anyone would cling to the illusion of law and order in a world so utterly unraveled.

Tossing and turning in your bed, you accidentally knock your beloved stuffed bear to the floor, but the flashes of your gruesome past refuse to fade. You feel trapped, forever ensnared in the shadows, with haunting memories that mock your every thought. Just when the weight of despair feels too heavy to bear, a warm, calloused hand gently strokes your hair, offering a flicker of comfort. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and you find yourself gazing at your father—or at least the man you see as a father figure—crouched beside you. The deep lines etched into Negan’s forehead suggest a rare moment of concern, though the darkness obscures your view. Yet, somehow, his presence brings a sense of calm that begins to ease your troubled mind.