Someone you loved

Dark hues transfixed upon the gravel beneath her feet, watching the swift, irritated footfalls as she walked ahead to escape the prodding gazes of the saviors standing by to witness the scene.  For those who'd been there long enough, Layla's little display was nothing out of the norm, and those who'd grown to know her had either come to appreciate and respect her, or fear every movement made, merely waiting for her violent tendencies to turn upon them directly.  However, the newcomers must have immediately formed opinion about the dainty brunette with wild chocolate colored hues and constantly tightened jaw.

And on any other occasion, Layla wouldn't have cared, actually deeming it better that fewer chose to pay her any attention or speak so much as a word- but Connor was out there, and had born witness to the monster which had surfaced long since in his absence, and now as she treaded into the depths of the sanctuary, instead of being content with her actions, she was riddled with a mixture of infuriation toward Simon for testing her as he had, and shame that she'd allowed someone she still so desperately adored to see her in such a wreckless state.

"F***!" she growled out, her fist connecting with the adjacent concrete wall, the surge of pain which erupted past her fingers, coiling into her wrist barely noticable beyond the adrenaline that still pumped like lightning through her veins.  She ripped open the door to the showers with a force that should have taken it clear off the hinges after gathering her personal affects, stopping for a second to glance into the mirror but the sight staring back at her only seemed to further the disgust.  "F***in' mess indeed," she muttered, the faintest of smirks pulling the corners of her pallette upward, her long auburn locks disheveled, face still caked in dried blood spatter.  "Well hell, if anythin' that'll teach 'em to stay 'way," she mumbled to herself, an abrupt chuckle fumbling from clumsy lips which immediately turned to an agonizing sob when she forced herself to look away and entered into the stalls.

She couldn't seem to remove her clothing quickly enough, shrugging out of her leather jacket, and tank top, hearing metal clank against the marble flooring when she removed her jeans, watching the sliver of metal roll across the floor just out of reach before falling onto it's side.  Tears streamed her porcelain cheeks, spurned on from the immense guilt she'd already felt, and having forgotten she still held onto the trinket she'd found when first Connor got there, only seemed in the moment to make it worse, flooding her head with nauseating nostalgia.

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A shallow sigh spilled from vaguely parted lips, a cigarette still dangling from her pallette as she inhaled and rummaged through the boxes of artifacts belonging to the newest inmates, writing down everything as she knew each piece would later be utilized as tools of bribery which could gain one their freedom from the wretched cages she knew all too well.  They'd been sorting all day, making her wonder just how many Negan had managed to nab from the road, always curious of their origins, and their placement, as she'd already encountered a few from the other communities that she knew too well, poor unfortunate souls that had simply been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, much like she had all those years ago.

Reaching for the seventh box of the day, she stopped dead in her tracks, dark hues widening at the taunting sliver of metal buried beneath a variety of unfamiliar items.  Her thumb ran over her ring finger where once that familiar piece of metal had sat, remembering the promise she'd once made never to remove it, until he'd decided to send her world crashing down around her.  Dark eyes shifted, immediately tucking the artifact into her pocket, the unsteady thrumming of her heart rate in her eardrums making her knees buckle as she clutched the table for support.  "Layla ya'll right?"  She'd immediately flinched out of the man's reach as he jolted back, almost prepared to be hit for daring to get too close to gather attention, though she merely lifted a hand and shook her head.  "I'm fine... Jus'... need to be done for the day."

Giving no further explaination, Layla stormed off toward her room, her fingers trembling as they clutched to the item in her pocket in a mix of disbelief, infuriation, and agony.  If this ring were in that box, it meant one of two things.  He'd perished, and someone had managed to get their grip on the item for whatever reason, or... and her heart, and stomach sank at the thought... somehow, some way, Negan had managed to get his clutches on Connor.  No sooner had she found her room, Layla sought comfort in the contents of a bottle, one becoming two, two becoming three until her mind reached the usual comfortably numbed haze in which she'd grown so accustomed in his absence.  She spun the ring on the table, watching it roll about until it stopped, repeating the motion, seemingly lost within a hypnotic daze that the trinket placed upon her.  "Why?" she whispered softly in a choked breath, the low droning of Eugene's damned radio through the thinned walls only adding to the winding tension coarsing through every nerve ending, the lyrics inspiring the weaker portions of her mind to just succumb to the misery.

♫ Now the day bleeds
Into nightfall
And you're not here
To get me through it all ♫

Her revolver sat across the table, glinting against the dim illumination of her lamp, as if beckoning into her grasp, slender digits twirling into the trigger chamber as she lifted it, lost in the music and the memories, the barrel dragging along her temple, residing there for a long pause as she shivered, inhaling a sharp breath as the pain in the cavity of her chest threatened to suffocate her, as if some invisible force had reached inside and squeezed at her barely beating heart.  The soft music dragged on and on, the ring sitting upon the table seeming to mock her, suddenly flooding her with the grim realization of all she'd assured herself.  Their time together, as he'd assured her, was just passing time.  He'd been so certain he never loved her to begin with, his promise of forever, nothing more than words uttered to obtain all he'd wished for to occupy himself until she'd no longer held value.  The gun trembled in her hand as the cold steel dragged down her cheek, left to reside just beneath her chin.  Her index finger wound into the hammer, dark hues slipping beneath thick lashes as she inhaled what she was determined would be her last breath.

♫ I let my guard down
And then you pulled the rug
I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved ♫

BANG!

Layla jolted from the sudden shot which reverbrated off the walls of the small room, her hands instinctively clutching at her ears, blinking as she glanced down to see the gun on the floor directly beside a broken bottle as Dwight charged into the door, his eyes widened in a mix of shock and panic.  "What'n the hell're ya doin' in here?! What was that?!"  Calming down he looked at the bottle, and the gun, by now, no stranger to her moments of monumental weakness and defeat.  Exhaling a calmed breath he took the gun, narrowing his eyes as he sat across the table, not bothering to say a word, awaiting for her to speak.  She was quiet for a lengthy pause, coming out of the stupored slumber she'd obviously fallen into just in the knick of time, choking back a sob as she stared at the scratched mohogany surface before her, her voice barely above a whisper when she'd managed to find it again.  "He's here..."

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Snapping out of the reverie, Layla placed the ring back into her leather coat pocket, quickly showering as she knew she couldn't afford any extra time as Negan would expect her back in the massive hall for dinner.  She combed her hair with her fingers, drying off and pulling on a tank top and jean shorts, lacing up her boots and walking back out into the corridors where two of the women immediately turned seperate corners, obviously avoiding any contact after the scene that had unraveled earlier.  She made no eye contact, dark hues staring directly ahead of her, emerging back into the population with a long winded breath of contempt toward most of her fellow men.  Scanning the crowd, she found Connor, immediately making her way toward him.

Her hand wound around the ring in her pocket, producing it with a grim smile.  She knew she shouldn't keep it from him, though silently, she wondered why even he held onto it all this time.  Forcing herself forward, she discreetly placed the ring on the table in front of him, as if it were somehow a silent apology for what he'd been forced to witness before she immediately turned on her heel and retreated to the quiet corner where she sat nightly, occasionally accompanied by Dwight who tonight seemed too preoccupied watching Negan parade around his wife, Sherry, as if helpless to look away.