Chapter 4

The throbbing in Charlotte's skull felt like someone was taking a hammer to the inside of her head, or maybe a barbed wired bat with a strange name. She groaned, rolling onto her side on the thin mattress, and immediately regretted the movement when the world spun violently around her.

Metal bars. Concrete walls. The smell of mold and despair.

A cell. They'd put her in a fucking cell.

"She's awake." The voice was gravelly, familiar in the worst possible way.

Charlotte forced her eyes open, squinting through the pain to see two figures standing outside her cage. One tall and lean with a sheriff's stance, the other broader with that damn crossbow still slung across his back.

Rick Grimes. Daryl Dixon.

The men who'd abandoned her. Or so she'd been told.

"Charlotte." Rick stepped closer to the bars, his voice carefully measured. "We need to talk."

"Talk?" The word scraped out of her throat like broken glass, piercing her wavering voice. "You want to talk now? Where the fuck was all this talking when you left me bleeding in the dirt five years ago?"

"We never left you—" Rick attempted to start.

"Bullshit!" Charlotte struggled to her feet, using the wall for support, wincing at the pulling stitches in her shoulder. "You all saw me get dragged away! You saw me breathing! And you just... you just left me there!"

"That's not what happened—"

"You left me after Maggie was killed!" Her voice cracked, five years of Negan's lies eating at her soul, but she didn't know any different. "And where were you? Where was anyone?"

Daryl stepped forward. "Charlotte, we looked for you. For months. We turned over every stone, checked every outpost—"

"LIAR!" Charlotte slammed her good hand against the bars, making them rattle. "Nice try, but I'm not some naive kid anymore! You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that?"

Rick's face was earnest, desperate. "Charlotte, we searched for you. Every day for over a year. We checked everywhere, followed every lead—"

"Stop it." Charlotte's laugh was bitter, mocking. "Just fucking stop it. You think making up some stupid sob story is going to work on me now?"

"We're not making anything up," Rick pressed on. "We found three different places where you'd been held. By the time we got there, you were always gone. Moved. Hidden—"

"Wow, you're really committing to this lie, aren't you?" Charlotte backed against the wall, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's next? You're going to tell me you kept my bed made and dinner warm every night? Had a funeral? huh?"

"The red barn outside Hilltop," Rick continued desperately. "We found evidence you'd been there. Your hairband. The one with the blue flowers that Maggie gave you."

Charlotte's expression didn't change. "Anyone could have planted that. Anyone could have made up that detail. You think I don't know how manipulation works? Everyone knew about that headband. Stop trying to feed me a shit load of lies!

"Charlotte, please—"

"No, you, please." Charlotte's voice turned cold, deadly calm. "Please stop insulting my intelligence with this pathetic performance. You abandoned me. End of story. Own it like adults instead of trying to lie because it makes you feel guilty."

Daryl looked frustrated. "Why would we lie about this?"

"Because you feel bad!" Charlotte exploded. "Because you know you fucked up and left a thirteen-year-old to rot, and now you're trying to make yourselves feel better with some fantasy about being heroes who never gave up!"

"We came back for you," Daryl said quietly. "We went back to that fuckin' place for days! Just checkin' if they'd dropped ya off!" He snapped, voice gruff but louder

"No, you didn't." Charlotte's voice was flat, certain. "You drove away in your little lie and you never looked back. Negan told me exactly what happened. How you all agreed I was replaceable. How you decided one dead girl wasn't worth the risk."

Rick's jaw clenched. "And you believe him? After everything he's done?"

"I believe what I saw with my own two eyes," Charlotte shot back. "I saw you all pile into those vehicles. I saw you drive away. I saw you leave me there to die."

"We were forced to retreat—"

"You were forced to make a choice, and you chose to save yourselves." Charlotte crossed her arms, unmoved by their pleas. "At least Negan's honest about being a monster. You two? You're just cowards trying to rewrite the past."

Rick reached for the cell door, desperation clear in his voice. "Charlotte, if you would just listen—"

"Don't you dare open that door!" Charlotte snarled. "I know exactly what this is. You found out I'm alive, and now you're trying to recruit me or use me or whatever. Well, guess what? I'm not that scared little girl anymore. I don't need your pity or your lies. I don't believe in that shit anymore!"

Rick's hand stilled on the lock. Charlotte was completely closed off, every word they spoke bouncing off the armor of certainty she'd built around Negan's version of events.

"She's not going to believe us," Daryl muttered. "Not like this. Five years of being told we abandoned her..."

"I can hear you, you know," Charlotte said coldly. "And you're right. I'm not going to believe your convenient little story. Because unlike that scared kid you left behind, I'm not naive enough to trust liars like you."

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look, both realizing that words weren't going to be enough. The damage was too deep, the lies too ingrained.

"We're not giving up on you," Rick said quietly. "Whether you believe us or not."

"How generous of you," Charlotte replied with mock sweetness. "Maybe check back in another five years when you work up the courage to spit a bunch more lies."

They walked away, leaving Charlotte alone with her unshakeable conviction that she'd been abandoned, and her bitter satisfaction at seeing through their lies.

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Charlotte didn't know how long she spent pacing the cell, replaying the conversation. The audacity of them, thinking she'd fall for such obvious manipulation. Did they really think she was still that naive girl who'd believe anything?

She wasn't staying here a second longer than necessary. Whatever game they were playing, whatever they wanted from her, she wouldn't be anyone's pet again. The Sanctuary might have been a prison of some sort, but at least there she knew where she stood. Here, surrounded by lies and false promises, she needed to get out. She'd already tested the window, too small, even for her. The bars were solid, but maybe the lock had a weakness she could exploit.

The sound of their voices had faded down the hallway, but Charlotte could hear someone listening nearby. She was back at the tiny window, wedging her shoulders against the frame and trying to force her way through, when new footsteps approached.

"What are you doing?"

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at the stranger outside her cell. Tall, long hair covering half his face, his shoulders not as broad unlike the two other men she'd seen around here. She'd never seen him before.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" she snapped, abandoning the window to examine the door lock. "I'm trying to get the hell out of here."

"You're one of them now, aren't you?" His voice was cold, disgusted. "A Savior."

Charlotte straightened, turning to face him fully. "Yeah, so what? Got a problem with that?"

"You switched sides. Joined the people who killed your own sister."

"They didn't kill my sister," Charlotte shot back, working at the lock mechanism. "One of your people got her killed. Big difference."

The stranger stepped closer to the bars, his voice getting harder. "You're defending them? After everything they did?"

"After everything they did?" Charlotte laughed bitterly. "What about what your people did? They left me there to die!"

"We came back—"

"Bullshit!" Charlotte slammed her hand against the door. "You weren't even there! Save the sob story for someone who gives a shit. I know the truth."

"The truth?" The stranger's voice was getting louder, angrier. "The truth is you're wearing their clothes, fighting for their cause, defending the man who—"

"Who what? Who took care of me when my own people abandoned me?" Charlotte turned around fully now, getting in his face through the bars. "Who fed me, sheltered me, protected me while they all drove away and forgot I existed?"

"Protected you?" His voice cracked with disbelief. "He brainwashed you! He turned you against your own family!"

"My family left me to rot!" Charlotte screamed. "So yeah, I joined the people who actually gave a fuck about keeping me alive!"

There was something familiar about his voice when he got angry, something that made her pause. But she pushed the feeling aside, mistaking it for the burning sensation in her shoulder.

"You're pathetic," she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "Coming in here trying to make me feel guilty for surviving. For choosing the people who actually wanted me around."

"We wanted you around," the stranger said quietly. "We searched for you every day—"

"Oh, here we go again with the search story, you don't even know me!" Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you're going to tell me about all the sleepless nights and the tears you shed?"

"I did know–" He cut himself off with a groan, running a hand over his face before he continued.

"I did cry," he said, and something about the raw honesty in his voice made her look at him more carefully. "Every night for months. Wondering if you were alive, if you were hurt, if you hated us."

Charlotte stared at him through the bars, something clicking in her mind. The voice, the way he stood, the guilt radiating from him...

"Wait," she said slowly.

He stepped closer to the light, and she saw his face clearly for the first time. Older, changed, but unmistakably...

"Carl?" she whispered.

"Hey, Charlotte."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Charlotte's face twisted with rage.

"CARL FUCKING GRIMES!" she exploded, throwing herself against the bars. "YOU! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Charlotte, please—"

"MAGGIE IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" Tears were streaming down her face now, five years of buried rage exploding to the surface. "YOU COULDN'T JUST SIT THERE AND TAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT!"

"I was trying to protect everyone—"

"YOU PROTECTED NO ONE! YOU WERE SELFISH!" Charlotte was clawing at the bars, trying to reach him. "YOU GOT MY SISTER KILLED AND THEN YOU LEFT ME THERE!"

Carl's face was pale, brows twitching with anger. "We didn't leave you! We—"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Charlotte roared, voice raw from screaming. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT BEFORE I FIND A WAY TO DO IT FROM BEHIND THESE BARS!"

He turned and stormed off, leaving Charlotte collapsed against the bars, sobbing and screaming his name like a curse.

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Carl nearly collided with Daryl in the hallway, the older man grabbing his shoulder to steady them both.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" Daryl's voice was low and dangerous.

"I just wanted to—"

"You wanted to what? Make it worse?" Daryl's grip tightened. "That girl's been through hell, and you thought you'd go poke at her wounds? Make her believe us a little less?!"

"She was trying to escape, I thought—"

"You thought you'd go torture her some more?" Daryl shoved him back, hard but not enough to hurt. "She blames you for her sister's death, Carl. You think going in there and reminding her of that is helping anyone?"

Carl's face crumpled in anger. "I didn't mean to—"

"You never mean to," Daryl cut him off. "But you keep doing shit like that anyway. Stay away from her, Carl. You've caused enough damage."

Daryl walked back past the cell where Charlotte's sobs were finally starting to quiet, leaving Carl alone in the hallway with his guilt and the sound of her broken voice cursing his name, trails of hurtful insults following.