[ ii. no exceptions ]

october 27th, 2012

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LUCILLE, THE BARBED-WIRE baseball bat, came crashing down upon Abraham Ford's head.

The impact instantly shattered bone and exploded brain matter. The bloody concoction elicited a horrified cry from Astrid as she felt it spray across her face.  As the former marine crumpled to the gravel below, Bailey began to wail against Astrid's chest.  She hurriedly wound her arm tighter around the twelve-year-old, holding Bailey's head secure to her chest, all the while still trying to keep herself from screaming further.

"Oh, would you look at that!" bellowed Negan. "Taking it like a fucking champ!"

The leader of the Saviors had unleashed holy hell upon them.  Beneath the cruel façade of a game, Abraham's fate was sealed. Yet, even in the face of unfathomable pain, he refused to die quietly.

To Astrid's disbelief, she watched as Abraham, defying the very laws of mortality, dragged himself back to his knees. Blood streamed thickly down his face from the deep, gaping wound smashed into his indented brow.

"Suck . . .  my . . . nuts!" He spat defiantly.

Negan only cackled.  Then, he raised Lucille once more, before bringing the barbed-wire bat crashing down upon Abraham's thick skull for a second time. Astrid flinched at the loud sound of flesh meeting wood. More blood splattered upon her as Abraham fell and did not rise again.

The lineup wept.  Sasha Williams and Rosita Espinosa, both linked to the fallen soldier by loves all their own, bore the mightiest brunt of the torment.  Eugene Porter's sobs also joined, his swollen eyes overflowing with tears for his butchered best friend.

Each strike against Abraham's head seemed to rend Astrid, too. Despite the urge to turn away, she remained transfixed, unable to tear her stare from the grotesque spectacle unfolding before her. With each swing, Abraham's once-distinguished features were obliterated, reduced to a mound of gore.

When only a battered corpse was left, Negan laughed again. "You hear that? He said, 'suck my nuts!'," He exclaimed, his maddening guffaws echoing through the clearing.  "Oh, my goodness!" Negan's voice dripped with pride as he swung the bat around, casting crimson arcs of their friend's blood down the lineup. "Look at this . . . You guys, look at my dirty fucking girl!"

Astrid felt frozen as she stared mindlessly at the stained weapon. Tears still steadily streaked down her cheeks, mingling with the blood and grime, as her chest tightened with a familiar ache. The pain was robbing her of clarity. Even though she had not been the one hit, she felt as if her own eyes wanted to close for the final time.

Negan abruptly sidestepped Astrid. She barely moved.

"Sweethearts, lay your eyes on this," He whispered. He thrust the blood-soaked, skin-infused, bat toward her and Bailey. The fresh gore dripped from Lucille's barbs, forming a puddle at their knees.

Bailey took one glace at the soaked weapon, then flicked to Abraham's caved-in head, and terror contorted her features all over again. She turned back into Astrid's chest, her small cries piercing and sharp.  Astrid held her tighter.  She tried to part her own lips, to scream at the Savior to get away from them, but she found her voice stifled by fear. The courage she once possessed had wilted away entirely.

Beside her, Daryl emitted a guttural grunt. He still swayed where he knelt, but his jaw clenched, fighting a ferocious, silent battle against his conscience.  Astrid knew that her husband's only desire now was to protect them, his family, even as he bled from a wound to his shoulder.

"Oh, damn . . . Am I frightening the little one? My apologies . . ." Negan's sadistic smirk twisted as he eyed Bailey. "My apologies that you're trying too hard to protect her from the real fucking world. Kid's crying like she's a goddamn two-year-old when really—she should be thanking the corpse beside you. He just took one, or six, or seven for the team! If she can't see that, then perhaps she needs a lesson too." He glanced fully at Astrid now. "Maybe the both of you do!"

Negan advanced toward the mother and child, his bloodied bat poised for further cruelty.  Astrid whimpered and tried to twist Bailey further behind her.  But a sudden eruption of rage halted another swing.  Daryl leaped unsteadily from his knees and lunged at Negan, his fists carved by a fury born of desperation. His first blow landed, sending Negan reeling back several feet, but before he could strike again, he was overwhelmed by Negan's Saviors and thrown to the gravel.

"No!" Astrid shrieked. "Stop it! Leave him alone!"

She watched helplessly as Daryl was forced onto his back and his pale arms were twisted at harsh angles and held above his head. Negan stepped closer to the pile and pressed the barbed-wire baseball bat against Daryl's blood-splattered cheek.

Another terrified wail escaped Astrid. She had already almost lost Daryl twice that day—first when he disappeared into the forest, and again when Dwight's bullet found its mark. She could not lose him again. Not when he lay so vulnerable and alone before a remorseless killer.

"Oh, no . . . That is a no-no!" Negan chastised. His finger stabbed accusingly at Daryl's slumped form. "The whole fucking thing. Not one bit of that shit flies here!"

Dwight parted easily from the surrounding crowd of Saviors. He was wielding Daryl's crossbow like it was his own. With a chilling calmness, he aimed the weapon at Daryl's head, his scarred face grinning. "Do you want me to do it?" He asked, seeking Negan's approval.

"No!" Astrid yelped again. Her world narrowed to a single, miserable plea as she leaned forward on her broken hands and knees. Every eye in the shadowy clearing had turned to her. "Please," She begged, her voice cracking. "Please, don't do this. Please . . ."

She could not face this barbaric world alone, not without Daryl by her side.

Mere hours ago, she had convinced herself, perhaps naively, that she could brave this life alone. But now, as her husband's life hung in the balance, poised to die right before her very eyes, just an arm's width away, Astrid realized her weakness. She had always been lying to herself, she supposed. She could not raise Bailey and their unborn child solo. She could not continue to face the ruthless horrors of this apocalypse—not with monsters like Negan within it—alone. She refused to traverse this nightmare called their life without her hunter at her side.

"One shot," Dwight said, entirely unforgiving of her cries. "Right here, right now."

Astrid's gaze locked with Daryl's. In his deep blue eyes, she saw echoes of her own terror mirrored back at her. He was afraid to die.  Afraid to live, too.  He did not deserve to meet his end like this. He was only trying to protect what was his. Astrid would not let him die for her, not when he still had so much to live for. He needed to cradle their newborn child in his arms for the first time.

Astrid silently willed Negan to show mercy, to spare the man she loved.

And finally, after many agonizing heartbeats, Negan relented. "No, you don't kill them," He decided as he stepped away and inched farther down the left side of the lineup. "Not until you've tried a little, at least. Get him the fuck back in line."

Startled, painful relief coursed, scalding hot, through Astrid's veins like a tidal wave. She exhaled a broken breath and practically slumped in on herself, her forehead nearly scraping the gravel.

But she lifted her head once more as the Saviors began to tear at Daryl again. Dwight had twisted his fist into her hunter's unkempt hair, forcing him upright against his will, and dragged him back to her side.  He was dropped in a heap.  Tears continued to trickle down Astrid's cheeks as she reached out, her quivering hand seeking Daryl's blood-soaked forearm.  Her fingers curled around his wrist.  She simply needed to feel him, to reassure herself that he was still here.

Yet, even with the promise of her husband's warmth, the harsh reality of—still being here—remained starkly evident. Abraham was dead. And Negan was not done with them yet.

"Anyway." Negan had resumed his stride along the lineup of terrified survivors. "That's not how it fucking works. Now, I already told you people first one's free. Then, what'd I fucking say? I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions." He stopped before Glenn, his back turned to the young man, eyes scanning the remainder of the onlooking group. "Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are fucking important. I need you to know me. So . . . back to it!"

Negan pivoted away from them, tightened his grip on Lucille, and in one swift, brutal motion, brought the barbed-wire bat down upon Glenn Rhee's skull.

An inhumane sound escaped Astrid's lips.

It felt as though her lungs had been stripped clean from her chest, her vocal cords shredded, her very soul torn and ravaged into irreparable pieces.

At Astrid's side, Daryl's startled breath left him in choppy cries and gasps. Between them, no longer supported by either parent in such shock, Bailey wretched on the gravel.

Negan swung the bat again.

"No!"

Maggie's deafening, heartbroken screech ripped through the night sky. It was a haunting sound of grief and agony. Her knees gave out completely, sickly-white hands trembling uncontrollably as they reached out in a long-lost attempt to save her husband.

But, like Abraham, Glenn refused to yield willingly to the death. With a steely determination, he rose from his broken knees, and another horrified sound left Astrid as she looked upon his battered face. It was a mask of gore, dented horrifically by two blunt hits to the head. Blood cascaded down Glenn's cheeks, nose, ears, and forehead. But it was his left eyeball—now hanging halfway from its socket—that made Astrid's bruised hands fly to her gaping mouth.

She would never sleep again.

Groaning and gasping for air, Glenn tried to tilt his split-open head towards Maggie, undeniably wanting her to be the last vision he ever saw. Maggie, in turn, locked eyes with him, tears carving down her cheeks.  She was hunched over, so entirely defeated as she looked upon her husband's harrowing final moments.

Whilst watching the heart-wrenching lovers, Astrid's mind thought of their unborn child, to the tiny life within Maggie's womb.  Glenn would never get to be a father.

"M . . . M . . . Ma . . . Mag . . ."

"Buddy, you still there?" Negan jeered, interrupting Glenn's struggles. "I just don't know . . . It seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a fucking hit! I just popped your skull so fucking hard, your fucking eyeball just popped out! It is gross as shit!"

Blood bubbled and surged faster from the top of Glenn's skull, a crimson torrent flooding his remaining eye and his mouth. Yet he still clung to consciousness, to life itself, driven by an unseen, impossible power to convey a final message to Maggie, his wife, a promise only she would carry for the rest of her life.

"M . . . Mag . . . Maggie . . . Maggie, I . . . I'll find you."

And with that whispered vow, Glenn Rhee died.

Glenn, the innocent pizza delivery boy who had risked life and limb for Astrid in the hellscape of Atlanta, was gone. Glenn, who had unwittingly woven the very fabric of her new life with simple threads of friendship. Glenn, who had introduced her to Daryl and the surrogate family that became her entire world. Glenn, the epitome of resilience and compassion, the beacon of hope in a world drowned of it. Glenn, a brother, a friend, a son, a nephew, a husband, a father, was gone.

All Astrid could do was crumble. Her forehead pressed against the gravel once more. The sheer agony of losing one of her dearest and oldest friends consumed her, tearing her apart with a brutality akin to being stabbed and shot simultaneously. She shattered and her fractured pieces scattered to the wind.

In the wake of Glenn's murder, no one would emerge from it unscathed. The Alexandrians were forever haunted.

"Oh, hell." Negan's raspy voice sliced through Astrid's rattling thoughts. "I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am. But I did say it . . . No exceptions!"

With a sickening crack, Negan swung his bat once more, sending Glenn crashing to the gravel for the final time. Blood, shattered bone, and brain matter exploded into the air as Glenn's body convulsed in its death throes.

"You bunch of pussies!" Negan screamed excitedly between hits. "I'm just getting started. Lucille is thirsty . . . She is a vampire bat!"

Maggie continued to wail loudly as she watched her beautiful, pure husband be beaten to a pulp. Astrid again could not tear her gaze away from the savagery.  Eugene had covered his face, unable to look any longer.  Michonne, Rosita, and Sasha quivered on their knees, tears streaking their faces. Aaron and Rick stared on in horrified disbelief, while Carl struggled to contain his angry, vengeful, heaving breaths. Daryl whimpered quietly and winced with every blow, and Bailey, once nestled against Astrid's chest, now knelt on her own, her stare far away.

After the tenth hit to Glenn's corpse, Astrid felt herself go numb.

She was broken, traumatized, a mere shell of her former self. She had witnessed death before, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

When the beating finally ceased, when Astrid was utterly spent and lost amongst her heartbreak, leaving only the soft sound of ragged breaths and muffled sobs, Negan sauntered back to Rick's side, dragging the blood-drenched bat behind him. His grin was mocking and cruel.

"What?" He scoffed. "Was the joke that fucking bad?"

Astrid glanced towards Rick, her vision blurred by tears and blood but her hatred burning bright and fierce. She did not need to see him clearly to feel the intensity of her loathing.

Abraham Ford and Glenn Rhee were dead. Brutally murdered. And it was all Rick's fault.

As Rick finally raised his eyes from the gravel, they locked with Negan's expectant ones. His voice was barely a whisper, lost in hoarseness. "I'm going to kill you," He vowed.

Negan's smirk widened. "What?" He taunted.  He was clearly relishing in Rick's simmering rage, knowing he would not act upon it. "I didn't quite catch that. You're going to have to speak the fuck up."

Rick drew in a shaky breath, his gaze flitting away from the carnage surrounding them. "Not today . . . Not tomorrow . . ." His voice trailed. "But I'm going to kill you."

For a long moment, Negan did not speak. Instead, he seemed to be probing Rick for weaknesses, looking for a bluff. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he turned to the nearby mustached Savior. "Simon," He barked. "What did he have, a knife?"

"A hatchet," Simon corrected "He had an ax."

Negan chuckled darkly. "Simon's my right-hand man," He informed. "Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole fucking lot of work. Do you have one, Rick? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Or did I . . ." Negan clicked his tongue as if indicating the bashing of the bat's hit.  He paused, waiting for a response. When it did not come, Negan huffed. "Sure . . . Yeah . . . Give me his ax."

He extended a gloved hand, demanding the ax from Simon, who complied without hesitation. Negan's beady eyes never left Rick's tearful ones, still searching for something intangible yet vital. Failing to find it, he rose to his full height and slipped the ax into his belt.

"I'll be right back," Negan announced brashly. He unexpectedly seized Rick by the wool collar of his brown coat, ripped him forward, and began to drag him forcefully across the gravel toward the RV still parked at the head of their lineup.

Astrid barely registered the movement. Barely breathed.

"Maybe Rick will be with me," Negan threw sharply over his shoulder. He did not even bother to glance back at the kneeling, blood-soaked Alexandrians. "And if not, well, we can just turn these fucking people inside out, won't we? I mean . . ."

"The ones who are left."

~~~~~~~~~~

the hardest episode i've ever had to watch, let alone write. i hope i did it justice.