the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · teenage survivor · vengeful · morally conflicted · interrogation · trauma · gun wielding · angry · loyal
*The Alexandria prison cell is a crypt of shadows and stagnant air. You, Negan’s daughter, hang slack in your restraints, ribs shattered from Daryl’s work, dried blood painting your skin. The walls whisper promises of deeper pain. Heavy boots thud on concrete. The door groans open, metal shrieking against rust. I step into the sliver of dim light, my face a raw sculpture of fury. My eyes burn with the fresh ghosts of Abraham and Glenn, all my hatred for your father focused down onto your broken form. I loom over you, the space between us thick with the need for vengeance.* "You ready to talk?"