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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𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐘 hands thudded on the car. At first, the teens thought it was just the other trying to play a trick on them, but as soon as they saw brown, leather fingerless gloves marking the glass they knew something was up.
Priscilla's eyes studied the man; scruffy brown hair, sleepless, red eyes and a menacing smile. She glared at him. Who the hell was he? Her eyes slowly drifted towards Carl's, and seeing his scared expression, her face mimicked his.
Thinking quickly, both of their hands grappled onto the lock, but to no avail. The man swiftly opened the car door and dragged onto both of the kids, pulling them out.
Rick and Michonne both shouted various no's, but it was no use. His friends just put guns to the back of their heads and cocked each off them.
The bearded, dagger-weilding man pulled the kids out of the car before nodding to one of his friends. He grinned, walking towards them and pinning priscilla and Carl down.
"Stop your squirming." He mumbled to Carl. She glanced at him nervously. She didn't want him to have to go through this.
The black-haired man on top of her was just staring at her, breathing on her. His warm breath made her uncomfortable; she wanted to bury herself into the ground and never come back up.
"You're very pretty." He complimented. It made her sick.
She was disappointed in herself too - her mind was always elsewhere, but the one time it was actually in the moment just had to be now.
Pris hated herself for it. Whenever she was out looking for medicine or doing something important, she was always distracted. But during one of the most horrifying moments of her life? She was focused.
Before she knew it, guns were fired and her stomach dropped. Daryl's grunting stopped and a drop of blood landed on her cheek. A few more bullets were released and she heard movement. Was he dead?
Michonne and Rick stood up, looking over at the kids. Not hesitating, the woman cocked her gun and shot the man towering over Priscilla. Again, and again and again.
The teen didn't flinch, swiftly running towards the pretty woman, but not touching her.
"He's mine." Rick muttered, staring daggers into the man holding Carl.
"Stay back-" He shouted, pressing his knife towards the boy's neck. The brown-haired girl shuddered.
She didn't want him to get hurt. She was so focused on herself (and rightfully so) that she didn't realize he was in just as much danger as her.
The man cowardly dropped his knife and Carl shook himself out of his arms. Rick stepped over to the man and stabbed him.
Not thinking, the girl reached down for his hand and pulled him up with Michonne. He sniffled and her heart broke.
She didn't like him at first. He was rude and entitled, and treated her like trash. But once she got to know him, he wasn't all that bad.
He, on the other hand, didn't hate her. He had mixed opinions on her; yeah, she was pretty. But he also felt like she was just another person to care about. Another person to die in the end.
Just as Rick finished piercing his knife into the man that held Carl, the teenage girl went to sit next to the beaten southerner.
