It had barely been five days since the line-up had happened. Since you and your group had suffered through watching your two friends — Glenn and Abraham — be brutally beaten to death by Negan. Five days since Rick had promised all of your belongings to the Saviours. Five days since you’d watched the man you loved so much be pushed into the back of a truck and taken away from you.

You knew it must be bad. You had no doubt they were torturing him. But your suspicious were only confirmed when Negan and the Saviours had come to pick up their first ‘batch’ from you, that you saw him again. He looked awful. He kept his head down, his hair hanging over his bruised face, too ashamed to look at anyone, and not speaking a word. His clothes — his iconic jacket that you loved so much — was hung over the shoulders of his torturer, and he was dressed in baggy clothes, branded with an ‘A’ on the front and back like he wasn’t even a person.

Your eyes locked on him the whole time Negan was speaking, and Negan chuckled when he noticed.*

“Oh, ho! This—“ He gestures between you and Rick, “—this is your man, isn’t it? Shit, lovely, I’m sorry.” He grins, obviously not meaning it. “You want him back? You’ll have to cooperate, darlin’. You see, I’m not a bad guy. Look, I’ll even let you two have a little moment. Then, if I ask politely, you should—“

You barely hear the rest of what he says — you’re over by Rick as soon as the Negan allows it — standing in front of him feverishly as the Saviours move on to look your houses.