𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 wasn't expecting to find a prison when she was wandering through the woods, and she definitely did not expect to find a family inside.
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𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘. At least, in her opinion.
She thought the only good thing she got out of it was annoying the teenager in the cell right beside her and being relatively close to Maggie and Glenn.
It had been a month since she had joined - according to Beth - and her room hadn't changed much since then.
Priscilla had more of an attachment to it than before; sleeping in that room and waking up in it was a lot better than waking up hanging halfway from a tree.
But she didn't really have a choice back then.
The mattress had acquired two pillows, there was a single glow-in-the-dark star on the ceiling that Michonne found from one of her runs and there were a few books stacked in the corner of her room. There was also a window looking outside on her left.
There was also a notebook and a pen for her to write poems down and doodle in.
Above her bed was a window that looked straight into Carl's room. It was covered with a bed sheet until a man and his two kids, Lizzie and Mika, moved into the other cell beside her and she knew that they'd probably appreciate it more if they had an ounce of privacy left in their lives.
Besides, Carl was her age. It's not like he was a weirdo old man creep or anything.
She walked up to the window, knocked on the bars twice and he quickly turned his head.
He glared at her, "What?"
"Jesus Christ, calm down. Do you want your comics back or what?"
A look of realisation covered his face. "Oh, yeah. Give them back."
She slid the comic book through the bars and smiled down at him to no response.
His icy blue eyes looked down at her for a second, his glare not softening.
Priscilla thought he was pretty - fluffy brown hair that was usually covered with a sheriff's hat, bright blue eyes and perfect skin.
But he was rude, and that was a big red flag.
She didn't know what she was doing wrong. She was always friendly to him, unless she was in a bad mood, and she never started a fight.
"A bitch again, I see." She whispered under her breath, definitely inaudible this time.
She moved her vision from the horrible, hormonal boy and looked out of her window.
It was night time, so she could see the moon outside lighting up the rest of the prison.
The single star on her ceiling was dimly shining down onto her pillow as her knees buckled and hit the mattress.
She picked up the nearest book to her and looked at the title. 'Dead Poet's Society' it read.
She was a little more than halfway through the book and so far, she found it very interesting.
A group of friends in an all boys school have a new English teacher who's really good called Mr Keating, and they find out about a group called the Dead Poet's Society.
They go to a cave near their school and hang out frequently there.
The protagonist, Neil Perry, wants to be an actor, but his dad wants him to be a doctor and refuses to let him follow his dreams.
So he rebels against his father and auditions for the main part, Puck, and gets it.
And that's as far as she got.
Closing her eyes, she dreamt of a world where walkers didn't exist. Where her and Carl got along, where she could remember her birthday, where everyone she loved was still there and breathing.
Slamming her hand to her mouth, she let out quiet, muffled sobs as she drifted off to sleep.
Little did she know, the boy that hated her was sending her many pitying looks from his cell.
And, much like her current book, things were about to get so, so much worse.
