seven

Ariana stepped inside, her senses immediately assaulted by the contrast between the dark corridors and the dim, warm glow of the lounge. The room was furnished with a mix of salvaged chairs and sofas, but the atmosphere was far from inviting. It was thick with a tension that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Three women sat in the center of the room, their postures relaxed but their eyes telling a different story. Each one had a look of weariness, a heaviness that spoke of resignation more than contentment. Despite the obvious luxury of their surroundings, the women carried an air of quiet despair, their laughter brittle and their smiles thin.

The tall blonde woman, with sharp eyes and an elegance that seemed out of place in this world, was the first to notice Ariana. She straightened slightly, studying the newcomer with a mix of curiosity and something darker.

"You must be the new girl." She said, her voice cool but not unkind. "I'm Laura."

Ariana nodded, feeling the weight of their gazes on her.

"Ariana." She replied, her voice cautious.

The dark-haired woman, sitting with her legs tucked under her on the sofa, glanced up from the book she wasn't really reading. Her eyes were tired, but there was a sharpness there, a lingering anger just beneath the surface.

"I'm Amber." She said, her tone flat. "Welcome to hell."

The third woman, with curly brown hair and a weary smile, offered a half-hearted wave.

"Sherry." She introduced herself. "Have a seat. Might as well get comfortable.

Ariana hesitated before sitting on a chair slightly away from them. She could feel the heaviness in the room, the kind of pervasive sadness that clung to the walls like mold. These women were not content; they were survivors in the truest, grimmest sense of the word. Their existence was one of endurance, not enjoyment.

Laura poured herself a drink from a bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table, then looked at Ariana.

"Want one? It doesn't help much, but it takes the edge off."

Ariana accepted the glass, though she doubted it would do much to calm the nerves that were now on high alert.

"Thanks." She muttered, taking a small sip.

Amber closed her book, setting it aside with a sigh. "So, how long do you think you'll last?" She asked, the question blunt and dispassionate.

Ariana frowned, unsure of how to respond. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Sherry leaned back against the cushions, her eyes drifting to the ceiling.

"He's got a way of breaking people." She said quietly. "We all thought we could handle it at first. But then... you realises there's no way out."

Ariana's grip tightened on her glass, her mind racing. She had known that Negan was dangerous, but hearing these women, his wives, speak with such desolation was unsettling. The facade of luxury and care was just that... a facade. Beneath it lay a prison of psychological manipulation and fear.

"I'm not here to be one of his wives. That's never going to happen." Ariana almost laughed, before taking a big gulp out of her glass.

"Well we all said the same thing." Laura's gaze was sharp as she looked at Ariana. "What's your story, Ariana? How did you end up here?"

Ariana hesitated, feeling the weight of their questions. "I was out on a supply run when I got caught. That's pretty much it."

Amber scoffed, her lip curling in a bitter smile. "It's never just that. You must've done something to catch his eye. Negan doesn't bring just anyone into his little kingdom."

Sherry nodded in agreement, her expression distant. "He's always looking for new... entertainment."

Ariana's stomach twisted at the implications, but she forced herself to stay calm.

"I didn't do anything special." She said, trying to sound indifferent. "I just got unlucky."

Laura drained her glass and set it down with a sharp clink.

"Unlucky is one word for it." She said, her tone hardening. "But if you're here, it means he sees something in you. And that's not always a good thing."

The room fell into a tense silence, each woman lost in her thoughts. The flickering light from a nearby lantern cast shadows on their faces, making them look even more worn and haunted.

Finally, Sherry spoke, her voice soft but tinged with sorrow. "We used to have dreams, you know? Plans for the future. But now... this is it. This is all there is."

Amber's jaw clenched as she looked away, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We survive. That's all we can do. Don't make the mistake of thinking there's anything more."

Ariana's heart ached at the hopelessness in their voices. She had expected danger, but not this... this crushing despair that seemed to suffocate everything in its path. These women were not just survivors; they were the living dead, trapped in a gilded cage with no way out.

As the night dragged on, the atmosphere grew heavier, the weight of their shared misery pressing down on Ariana until she could barely breathe. By the time Atlas returned to escort her back to her cell, she felt drained, as though the life had been sucked out of her by the sheer force of their despair.

Ariana shifted in her seat, trying to dispel the unease that had settled in her chest. She glanced at Sherry, whose gaze was still fixed on the ceiling, her expression distant.

Ariana hesitated, then leaned forward, her voice softening. "Sherry... how long have you been here?"

Sherry blinked, as if pulled from a trance. She turned her head slowly to look at Ariana, her eyes searching hers for a moment before she sighed.

"Too long." She replied her voice barely audible. "Long enough to forget what it feels like to be free."

Ariana felt a pang of empathy for the woman beside her, a flicker of connection in the desolation that surrounded them.

"It doesn't seem fair." She said quietly, her words tentative. "You don't deserve this."

A bitter laugh escaped Sherry's lips.

"Fair? That word doesn't exist in a place like this. You stop thinking about what's fair and start thinking about what's necessary to survive." She glanced at the other women, then back at Ariana, her expression softening slightly. "But thank you... for saying that."

Ariana offered a small, tentative smile. "I just wish there was something I could do to help."

Sherry's eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing Ariana's sincerity. After a moment, she spoke again, her tone less guarded.

"The best way to help is to keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself. Negan... he's always watching, always waiting for someone to slip up."

"I'll keep that in mind." Ariana replied.

Sherry studied Ariana for a long moment, her gaze intense, as if she were trying to see into the depths of her soul.

"How old are you, Ariana?"

"Twenty seven? Max?" Ariana swallowed, shifting her sitting position slightly. "I think. Honestly it's been hard to keep track of time."

Something in Cherry seemed to soften. She reached out, placing a hand on Ariana's arm. "We have to stick together." She said her voice low and earnest. "That's the only way any of us will get through this."

Ariana nodded, feeling a flicker of warmth in Sherry's touch. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"We can watch out for each other." She agreed, her voice firm with conviction.

Sherry managed a faint smile, the first real one Ariana had seen since she'd arrived. "Maybe we can." She said softly, as if the idea of solidarity was something she hadn't considered in a long time.

Amber glanced at the two of them, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, but she said nothing. Laura simply returned to her drink, her thoughts seemingly far away. But Ariana noticed the brief flicker of hope in Sherry's eyes, and it gave her a sliver of hope as well, hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to survive this nightmare together.

As the night continued, Ariana and Sherry exchanged quiet words, small things, memories of the world before, little pieces of themselves that they hadn't shared with anyone else. It wasn't much, but it was enough to start building a fragile bond between them.

When Atlas finally appeared at the door to escort Ariana back to her cell, she stood up slowly, reluctant to leave. She glanced at Sherry, who gave her a small nod of encouragement.

"Remember what I said." Sherry whispered as Ariana passed by.

"I will." Ariana whispered back, her resolve hardening.

As she walked through the darkened corridors, she felt something new stirring within her, a determination not just to survive, but to protect those she was beginning to care about. The images of hollow eyes and forced smiles still haunted her, but now there was something more, a faint light of camaraderie, however tenuous, that she was determined to keep alive.

When she finally settled onto the hard cot in her cell, she knew one thing for certain: she had to find a way out, not just for herself, but for Sherry and anyone else who still had a flicker of hope left. The darkness might be closing in, but she wasn't going to let it swallow her without a fight.