“I don’t really get why people say Negan is so
much worse then the governor. In the comics and i assume the tv series,
the governor is horrific, cruel and evil. Negan is at least logical and
imagine: the Governor is your abusive boyfriend. when Daryl arrives at Woodbury, you drunkenly confess your secret and he becomes determined to help you escape.
this is kind of sort of based on the song “Last Chance” by Emily Kinney (i’ve been listening to her new album non-stop because i miss Beth sooooo much)
word count: 1,752
TW: domestic violence, abuse, injury
i’m considering writing a part 2 to this! please let me know your thoughts and i’ll maybe get a part 2 up soon :) - gabby
I woke to his body writhing next to mine, the sheets tangled from his tossing and turning, his forehead hot and clammy on my hand. Tears fell from his visible eye; still after months of being his girlfriend he still hadn’t revealed to me what hid underneath that eye patch. I didn’t care enough to find out, anyway.
"Bad dream, sweetie?“ I cringed at the nickname as it escaped my mouth.
"What was it?"
"I can’t remember.”
He turned over to fall back into sleep again; I slipped my hand underneath his pillow, feeling the cold metal of the broken wedding rings that he kept under there. I knew exactly what, or rather, who he was dreaming of.
Woodbury was busy that Friday morning, familiar faces greeted me as I made my way towards the gate, where I’d be meeting Merle and his newest ‘recruitment’. As the harsh wind bit at my ears, part of me wished I was still tucked up in bed, but the other half was glad to leave Phillip behind.
“Morning, Merle!” While he returned the greeting, I looked to the man stood beside him, noticing how the sleeveless leather jacket he wore complimented his biceps. I shook off the thought. “So, who’s our newest member?“
"Believe it or not, Y/N, this is my baby brother, Daryl,” He gestured towards his sibling with his metal hand. “Though he don’t look much of a baby.” Daryl’s eyes scanned my body as he chewed the inside of his lip. I coughed and grinned to ease the awkwardness, pulling the sleeves down my arms a little.
"Welcome to Woodbury, Daryl.“
"So what’s it like bein’ the governess of this place?” Daryl asked as I showed him around his room. He’d kicked up a fuss about having his crossbow confiscated; he didn’t seem to be settling in well.
"I’m not the governess,“ I protested, checking that he had plenty of towels and fresh clothes. Somehow I didn’t think the cardigans and light wash jeans would suit Daryl.
"I’ll bet he makes you call him Governor when you’re fuckin’,” he smirked, but his expression soon changed when he noticed that I wasn’t smiling back. I hated how Phillip called himself the Governor. “You alright, Y/N?"
"Yeah. Um listen, I gotta go,” I stammered, collecting my things. “See you tonight at the party?"
"I guess so."
I stood in front of my mirror in a white dress as I pulled the last roller out of my hair, letting the curls cascade down my back. For the first time since the world turned to shit, I felt beautiful. He entered the room, whiskey in his hand.
"Do I look okay, Phillip?” He looked me up and down as I slipped my heels onto my feet.
"You’re probably the last pretty girl alive,“ he drawled, his voice filled me with disgust. "So you’ll do.” He chuckled, making to leave the room.
"Well, you’re the last decent man,“ I half-whispered, attempting to make humour.
His face was suddenly just inches from mine, the scent of alcohol prominent and invasive.
"I’d like to think I’m more than just decent, Y/N.”
His fist collided with my eye so quickly that I didn’t have time to react. I didn’t flinch as his hand seized my throat, nor when my head hit the wall after he slammed me into it. It was nothing new.
"Let’s head to the dance,“ he muttered, drinking up one last whiskey. I covered up my swelling eye with glittering eyeshadow, smoothed down my dress and followed him out of the door.
Aside from the abundance of questions regarding my blackening eye and the lies that followed suit, the night was going well. It was sort of tradition for Phillip and I to dance together at the beginning of the night while everyone watched before they joined in. I hated dancing, I hated everyone’s eyes on me. But I painted on my signature fake smile and danced; I’d already been hit once tonight, I didn’t want another black eye for refusing.
"Nice moves,” Daryl had come to join me in the lounge after I’d finished dancing. I smiled as I sipped my ice water. “Ain’t you drinkin’ anythin’ stronger?"
"Phillip doesn’t like it when I drink.”
"Right,“ he frowned and I felt him staring at my swollen eye. "How’d you-"
"I hit it this morning when I rolled out of bed,” a fake giggle left my lips. “I’m going to need an eyepatch too at this rate!”
"But it was fine when I saw you this mornin’,“ Daryl studied my eye a little closer, his fingertips lightly touching the tender skin. "Did he do this?"
I stood up abruptly and pulled my hair over my face to hide my eye.
"Y/N,” Daryl grabbed my shoulder. There was a concoction of emotions in his eyes, the main ingredients being concern and anger. “Did he do this?"
"I’ll tell you everything if you let me get drunk at your place. Deal?"
Somehow, after consuming five beers we’d stolen from the makeshift bar, I was teaching a sober Daryl how to ballroom dance, a hobby of mine from years ago.
"You’re not bad at this, Dixon,” I slurred as he spun me around, his cheeks flushed.
"Don’t you dare tell my brother ‘bout this, hear me?“ We laughed, so much so that I was in tears.
"We could become professional dancers! Live the life of fame and fortune and be the stars of some show!” I exclaimed ridiculously, to which Daryl rolled his eyes and chuckled, trying to catch me as I tripped over my own feet. His laughs soon subsided as the hem of my dress rose to reveal not only my underwear but the fingertip-shaped bruises scattered across my hips. I’m not sure which was more embarrassing.
"He hurts you,“ Daryl mumbled, pulling me to my feet. I nodded, settling myself on the edge of his bed. I didn’t dare look him in the eye. "This ain’t right."
"It’s hard to know what’s wrong and what’s right anymore."
"It ain’t right. Why don’t you leave?"
"I can’t leave."
"Yeah you can, just walk outta those gates and don’t look back."
"He won’t let me. He won’t let anyone leave."
"We’ll figure it out, Y/N, I know people who got a prison, it’s safe,” Daryl looked panicked, his predominant don’t-care attitude fading. “I’ll think of somethin’, hear me?”
I stood up, noticing the time. It was late and I knew I couldn’t keep Phillip waiting. I thanked God that I’d sobered up slightly and made my way towards the door.
"Daryl, we should have more midnights drunk and dizzy dancing at your place.“
"We’ll organise that once we get outta here, promise."
We had a plan. It had taken a week or so to devise it and it had taken a lot of sneaking around, but we had a plan. The day had finally come to make our escape.
"Phillip, I’m going out to the armoury to check up on things,” I called out before I left the house. My watch read 2 P.M., 2 hours until it got dark. He met me at the door, kissing me as he pushed me up against it. His tongue felt revolting in my mouth and as his hands made their way up my shirt, my stomach churned.
The sleet cooled my face as I walked towards the armoury; the red welts from last nights argument still stung. I silently prayed for a hurricane, or a snowstorm, anything that would destroy this hideous town. I hoped to find comfort here, instead I found abuse.
“Shit, Y/N,” were the first words Daryl spoke to me upon seeing my blistered face. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill the bastard.”
“It’s okay, Daryl,” I muttered, putting some guns into a bag, ready for tonight.
“It ain’t okay."
The time had come. The whole town had gathered to watch two idiots wrestle in front of toothless biters, the perfect time for us to slip out unnoticed. I’d told Phillip I was using the bathroom and gave him one last kiss. A kiss he didn’t know would be the last.
As I walked towards our meeting place, I suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash over me. Woodbury had taken me in when I was at my weakest, nursed me back into health, supported my decisions, given me hope. And I was just going to leave it all behind and run off with some man I’d only just met?
I took one last look around my house on the way to meeting Daryl. Leaving without saying goodbye felt wrong, no matter how much abuse I’d faced. I scribbled a short note and left it underneath Phillip’s pillow, alongside the wedding rings. I took one last look at my reflection before I left, the sight of my wounded face giving me the encouragement I needed to get the hell out of there.
He was two minutes late.
"Where have you been?!” I whispered as he strolled towards me.
"Forgot to pack cigarettes,“ he replied, his breath visible in the cold air. "You ready?"
I raced over to the three people on lookout, shouting their names.
"Biters are swarming the left side of our gates!” I screamed, catching their attention. “You have to go now, I’ll stay on lookout here!” They left in a hurry almost immediately, taking their guns with them.
"That was easy,“ I muttered to myself, signalling for Daryl to come and join me. As I turned around to face him, I saw the town of Woodbury the same way I’d seen it for the first time, dark but inviting. A lump formed in my throat; I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was making the wrong decision.
"We gotta go now, Y/N,” Daryl passed me the bag of supplies, swinging the bag of weapons over his shoulder along with his beloved crossbow.
"I don’t think I can,“ I whispered, looking at the street ahead of me. I’d called this place home for so long.
"What’re you talkin’ 'bout? This is our last chance! We gotta go!” His hand reached out to grab mine, our fingers intertwining. “It’s our last chance.”
I nodded, and with his help, and his hand holding tightly onto mine, Daryl and I climbed over the fence and ran into the woods, leaving Woodbury, the Governor and the hideous memories behind.