After working sixty hours this week, I worked twenty hours today. Twenty. TWENTY.

And then I was too tired to even go home...So I'm laying on a roll-away cot in a closet with 34 howling dogs in the next room as I hammed out the last 3,000 words of this chapter...And I have to be awake and at the Greyhound station in...4 hours to hop a bus to the friggen woods to see *my* hillbilly(I do actually have one. They're great when they clean themselves up some, I swear).

What the fuck is my life. For real. It's not even a question. It's a statement. WHAT THE FUCK IS MY LIFE.

ENOUGH COMPLAIN.

I do believe that this will be the last chapter for this...Book? Portion?...Thing?

Why? Because I can't stand stories that go past 5,000,000 chapters in one shot. So, preemptive strike! And goddammit, I've gone way past 100K words, haha.

Have no fear though, my little chickadees! The story shall continue! In sequel form, no less! So if you're looking to see where this hellish little bend in the road will take our poor characters, now would be the time to follow me.

This chapter is a lot of dialogue and unsettling as fuck. Or at least I tried to make it that way.

EdiBethKain! I AM SO SORRY I BRICK WALLED YOU THERE! LOL I hope this chapter keeps up the momentum I built up for you and that it doesn't let you down! Thank you so much for your review and your kind words

LittleNikki! This chapter has a song, too. It's actually the song I built into the background in the Gov's house. Patsy Cline- Sweet Dreams.

Everyone else! I LOVE YOU. LONG TIME. Keep reading and reviewing for me. It really does keep me keepin' on. And like I said, if you want to see what's next, follow follow follow!

BED TIME.

Disclaimer: I do not own. None of it. Except for a handful of characters.

"Welcome home, ladies." Merle rasped as he rolled the big truck to a stop in front of a tall, solid, black metal gate that stretched out far beyond each side of the vehicle. She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was road wearied and happy to be wherever they were. She sat petrified, still as a statue in Deacon's lap. He'd drifted off to sleep in the dark cab of the truck a few minutes back, but his arms were still curled tightly around her.

The ride across the state seemed like it had taken years. The sun had set a short while after they'd been shanghaied from their ranger station in Homer, making the claustrophobic conditions in the crew cab feel even more so.

Before they'd left, Beth, Andrea, and Michonne had been loaded, none too easily, to their credit, into the back seat. She kept her head turned forward most of the time, though, not wanting the other women to see the fear in her eyes, especially young Beth. And especially while Deacon was running his meaty hands up her thighs and over her stomach crudely.

Merle, for his part, had been rather calm and talkative most of the drive. It was almost as if he was trying to be comforting in some warped way. He talked loudly about how much they'd enjoy their new accommodations and company.

"No more roughin' it for you dainty lil' things…That is, if ya'll decide to play nice, anyways. Got us a fully fucntionin' town, we do!" he'd announced among other inanities and vacuous garbage. She'd tuned most of it out while she stared at the clock on the dash, marking off the number of soft green minuets that ticked by in her mind.

The high barrier before the gate began to slide open, and it slowly revealed just that, though- A town. A living, breathing town. It was dark for the most part, but there were large portable light towers that were illuminating the street and the buildings that stretched on ahead.

A stocky man sporting a ball cap and another high-powered automatic jogged out to the truck and came to Merle's window. He slowly rolled his head along the headrest, clearly annoyed at something, and then moved to lower the window.

"Any bit, Merle?" the man asked in a low, serious voice.

"Kiss mah ass, Eli." He returned. His tone was soaked in contempt. The other man shook his head and then turned back his attention back to the gate.

"All clear!" Eli called, waving the trucks onward. Merle eased onto the accelerator on pulled the truck inside the walls and steered it down the street. They finally came to rest in front of what looked like a small, old town hall. The front was nicely painted, and the lawn and landscaping were well manicured. The place looked like part of a set of some 50's family sitcom. Pru startled as Merle went to slap at Deacon's shoulder.

"Git yer ass up, you lunkhead. We're back." He said as he opened the door and hopped out. Deacon jostled her in his lap a bit as he woke. He came to quickly and squeezed her waist a bit and hummed into her shoulder.

"Thought all that was just a real nice dream." He said as he moved to toss the door open to her right. He shifted his weight and dropped her out of the seat first, still clutching tightly to her shoulder, before lowering himself out behind her. He ushered her along by that same shoulder, around the front of the truck, and up onto the steps that led into the lit up town hall. Merle turned around in front of them, at the top of the steps as he removed the bladed fixture mounted at the end of his stump.

"Get them women inside…Put 'em in that cell in the downstairs 'til we're ready for 'em…Rest a'you unload all that shit…An' be careful with mah bike! I find one more scratch on it an' I'm gonna repaint it with somebody's blood." He ordered. At that, she heard Deacon chuckle from behind her. Merle stood to the side as he threw the door open and Deacon pushed her inside. The hallway was bright and pristine. The walls weren't streaked and splattered with blood, there were no broken or boarded up windows, and the scent of decay was absent. There had been no death here, or if there had been at one time, it was cleaned up so well that there wasn't a trace left. It was surreal to see such an untouched and functioning reminder of the way the world had been before it was swallowed up by the hell outside those gates, and at the same time, the fact that it was uncorrupted was hellishly unsettling.

Now that they were in the light, she realized that Merle was staring down at her. He came through the door and set his blade down on a table that lined the wall. She kept her eyes averted, staring at the floor between their boots. He reached up and pulled her chin up and forward forcing her to look at him. She was shocked at the sight of the eyes that looked into her own. They were so similar to Daryl's eyes but not as blue. Nothing was as blue as her Daryl's eyes. Her own eyes responded to the thought by betraying her fear with the saline dew that threatened to spill past her lashes. She gave a weak snarl to him as he inspected her face and he answered it with the mix of a sneer and a smile.

"That brother a'mine always had shit taste in pussy…Hate to say it, but I'm damn near proud'a him this time, girlie. You're a looker."

She spat in his and the glob of moisture landed on his leathery cheek just below his right eye. He blinked and a smile came to his face as he wiped it off and looked at it on his fingertips. Suddenly he drew his good arm up and clamped his thick fingers down around her throat. Her head was going to explode from the pressure and her larynx was going to crack and cave in. Andrea and Michonne were struggling and fighting against the men bringing them in at the sight of him grabbing her by the throat.

"That shit ain't lady like." He said darkly. He released her with a bit of a shove and she hit against Deacon's chest.

"Jus' like his disrespectful ass." Merle grumbled, referring to his younger sibling, "Take Peggy Sue an' her friends downstairs fer a bit."

He walked off through a wide doorway at the left of the hallway and suddenly she felt Deacon roughly guiding her further into the heart of the two-hundred year old building. Down the hall, they came to a small door that, when opened, led into the dark basement. The light was switched on and down the creaky, wooden planks they descended until they were standing in front of a tiny jail cell that must have been as old as the building was. The thick, black bars were corroded in some places but they still look unsettlingly sturdy. She felt the fight come back into her and made a move to pull out of Deacon's grip as they moved closer to the door.

She dipped away from him easily, as slow-moving and lumbering as he was, and doubled back through the other men gut-checking the one who was holding onto Michonne with her shoulder. That allowed Michonne enough space to pull away and twist the arm of the guy that had been holding tight to her. The sound of his wrist snapping was loud in the low ceilinged, tiny, concrete area.

"Dammit, man! Grab 'er!" Deacon yelled as he went to push past the other men. Pru grabbed onto the open banister over the stairs and began pulling herself up past the six or seven lowest steps. A powerful hand grabbed at her foot and she kicked back at it with both feet, landing a heavy blow to something hard that grunted loudly but didn't relent in its yanking on her limb. She felt her hands losing purchase on the wood and sliding back down and off.

She met the concrete floor face first and all the air, along with the actual ability to breathe at all, left her for the second time in a matter of minutes. She struggled to suck in a painful breath as Deacon grabbed her up by her left foot and wrist and just about chucked her into the cell. She rolled onto her belly and all but sucked on the musty old floor, mouth wide, trying to inflate her lungs. Beth was tossed in next and the weight of the girl as she fell on top of her only made breathing harder. Somewhere in the room, the struggle was still continuing, but she wouldn't have been able to find it past the starburst eating up her vision. Michonne was taking one or two of the men on alone, and holding her own.

As Andrea was pushed in, Pru could hear a gun cock and Beth screamed. Pru waited for it. She waited to hear that gun go off and the dull sound of Michonne's body falling to the floor come right after it. But it didn't happen. Everything just got quiet and suddenly slow, defiant footsteps were marching into the cell and coming to stop in the far corner. The heavy door groaned and swung shut after that, and then a clinking came as something was knocking into the iron pen's bars. She wheezed and rolled onto her side and Beth pulled her legs off her back, sitting up to take her by the shoulders.

"Ya'll better learn to behave yerselves. An' quick." Deacon suggested tersely before moving to walk up the stairs followed by the other men. Andrea was at her side after that and she began choking as she tried to sit up. The Clydesdale that was standing on her chest was apparently deciding to finally fuck off and the let air into her lungs again.

"Are you okay?!" Andrea said in a quiet, shaky voice. Pru just nodded and pointed at Michonne, the gesture meant for one of them to check the other woman.

"Stop it. I'm fine." She said sternly, walking to where they'd been locked into the cell. Beth and Andrea helped Pru hoist herself to her feet, and her eyes went to where Michonne was standing. The woman stuck her hands through the bars and lifted whatever it was keeping the door locked closed. She scoffed and dropped it then began shaking and rattling the door roughly.

"A fucking bike lock? Seriously?" she shouted incredulously, angling her raging eyes up the flight of rickety wooden steps. She reared back on a single leg and kicked forcibly at the metal bars, causing a loud, clanging hum to rattle and reverb around them in the small space.

"It's not gunna break, man." She wheezed, leaning her weight into Andrea's arm.

"I know that." Michonne bit out. She turned to face the other captives, eyes angry and cast to the floor and slid her back down the bars into a sitting position. She looked up a silent moment later and shook her head at Pru, grimacing.

"He got you real good." She said quietly. Andrea went to prod at the quickly purpling flesh of her throat but Pru swatted her away.

"I hadn't noticed." She snarked, pushing away from Andrea's support to rest her weight against the wall opposite Michonne.

"What are we gunna do?" Beth whispered in a trembling voice.

"There's nothing we can do…Not right now, anyway." Michonne said wearily, rubbing at her forehead and eyes, "We'll have to make another attempt next time they come and open that door."

"They'll shoot you!" Beth all but sobbed. Michonne rolled her dark eyes and let her head fall back hard against the bars of the cell.

"I'd rather go out fighting than wait around and see what they plan on doing."

Pru rubbed at her throat absently as she crossed her right leg underneath her weight, trying to get comfortable against the cold, hard floor. She winced when her ankle bone rolled over something hard in her boot.

"Oh my god." She said as she reached into her boot. How in Hell had she forgotten about her boot knife. She drew it out and flicked it open, the five inch blade glinting in what dim light the small, old bulb at the foot at the stairs cast into the dank room.

"That would have been significantly more helpful a moment ago." Michonne said tersely.

"Yeah." Pru agreed, voice distant as the lives they'd all once lived, as she listened to the sets of heavy feet moving from room to room on across the ancient ceiling above them.

...

It couldn't have been longer than twenty minutes or so. The door at the top of the stairs creaked back open and a troop of booted feet were plodding down the stairs. She'd sheathed the knife and tucked the bit of fabric that spilled out of her boot more tightly around it long ago, but it was still at the front of her mind. The feel of that hilt in her grasp was their ticket out of this place. Andrea and Beth had called her and Michonne insane for wanting to try for freedom again, which was fine by her. She knew it was crazy, and that they'd more likely end up dead than not, but that was option was far more appealing than what she knew was awaiting them.

A different man, one who she hadn't seen before, was heading up the bunch that had obviously sent to fetch them. If she had to describe the guy, she would have said there wasn't a damn thing about him that struck her as a distinguishable person. The only thing that struck her at all about the guy was how absolutely average he looked. Average height, middle age, and no expression whatsoever across his as-good-as featureless face.

She rose to her feet defensively when he came to stop in front of the cell, rolling his eyes and shaking his head just a bit in a 'how the hell did I get roped into this one?' way as he removed the lock from the door.

"Don't make us have to shoot you, okay?" he asked quietly. It was a damn request not an order. Four other men walked into the cell, each grabbing hold of one of the women and roughly ushering them out and up the flight of stairs.

"Get them out to the truck, and keep someone in with them." She heard him call from the back of the pack.

"Right, Eli." The man tugging at Andrea said from in front of her. Apparently, this Eli fellow was unpopular with the rest of the locals for some reason. The same disdain for the man which had played amongst Merle's crudely spoken words upon driving up to the gate had just echoed in the voice of this other guys.

Who the hell is this guy, and why does everyone hate him?

They were led out of the building and back down the steps to the bed of a waiting pickup truck. Coaxed in with the muzzle of a shotgun at their backs, the four sat as close to the window at the back of the cab as possible. One of the men, the one with said shotgun, climbed in after them, closed the tailgate up, and perched his rear on the wall of the bed.

"G'head." He called to the driver, who'd immediately brought the vehicle to life and began to drive. Pru eyed the man with the gun carefully through a down turned sideways glare. She felt Michonne's eyes on her, eagerly waiting for her to make a move. She shook her head. It was far from the right moment, yet.

They drove through the winding streets of the immaculate little town for a few blocks. It was dark, mostly. All the lights in the buildings were out, but every block or two there would be another one of those big portable lights acting as a lonely street lamp, fending off the blackness of the area at which it had been placed. The ride was a very short one, only a handful of blocks, but it had felt like a short roadtrip. They'd gone off the main street immediately and wound through smaller side streets until slowing in what looked to be a neighborhood.

The houses were spread out down the street, most sitting on large plots of property. The houses were older looking but well kept up with. Most had large screened in porches or verandas, some with whitewashed picket fencing. She imagined that at one time, maybe even as recent as last spring, people had used those spaces for entertaining friends and relatives or lounging around on a hammock while sipping on sweet tea and reading old, classic novels. One house had a tire swing that hung from large silver maple in the yard, and its lazy swaying in the chilled air sealed and cemented the eerie feeling of the place for her immediately.

Before she could gather her wandering mind back up, she was being yanked from the truck again. Her eyes were drawn to a soft light making its way through thinly veiled windows at her left. The house was wide and tall with black shutters that framed those glowing windows, a large green door with an ornate knocker, and a fenced in yard. Silence screamed around them as they were dragged along with only the shuffling of uneager, booted feet to break it up.

As they drew near to the porch, though, the faint sound of music could be heard. It must have been coming from inside the house, because as they neared the front door, it grew slightly more audible with every footstep. It was old and slow and romantic. It was something that her Aunt had listened to often, though she couldn't place it exactly. The soft, graceful, evocative voice accompanied by wistful string and piano broadcasting from somewhere in that house was foreboding, singing to them of the lurid events that would soon unfold.

One of the men in front of her reached that door and he led the group inside. The first thing that struck her aside from the again, unsullied, interior of the home, was the warmth. Outside, the night air was chilly, and her skin had been reminded of the season, rather redundantly, as the wind had blown over them while they were in the exposed bed of the truck. In here though, it was comfortable, and she found her body wanting to shake off the unease and relax into the sunniness that the home radiated, not only in temperature, but in the other half of its demeanor. The house was a two-sided coin, treacherous and haunting as well as nostalgic and inviting.

"Dining room." One of the men at her back directed quietly up the line.

They made a right turn off yesteryear's foyer and into a well-loved and comfortable looking formal parlor, where she discovered the music had been coming from. An old record player sat in the corner and the woman's haunting voice continued to flow from the speakers. Through the doorway at the other end of the room, she could see and hear Merle talking and laughing amicably with someone while he pushed some food around a plate in front of him. She watched as their movement forward caught in his periphery and he turned to face them, standing.

"Looks like our dinner guests are finally here." He chuckled. She was pulled through the doorway and into the bright, open dining area. The three men stood upon their entrance at the linen covered, well-set table; Merle, Deacon, and another man, one who they hadn't seen yet. He was probably just under Merle's height, with a lean build. His dark hair was kempt and he looked clean. He projected a more refined air than that with which Deacon or Merle carried themselves.

"Bunch of fucking southern gentlemen." Pru muttered sarcastically under her voice. Merle heard her and barked a sharp laugh in here direction.

"An' don'chu ferget it, girlie." He said as he plopped back down into his chair. Deacon was now laughing and shaking his head as he, too lowered back into his chair.

"Ladies, why don't you have a seat?" the stranger at the head of the table asked. Before they could even begin to consider sitting, they were all shoved roughly in to chairs. Beth and Andrea were placed on the side next to Merle, with Beth closest to the new man, Pru and Michonne on the opposite side of the table flanking Deacon.

"Can we get you anything? Food? Drinks? Perhaps a cold beer or a glass of wine?" the new man asked again.

"How's about some shut up with a side of go fuck yaself?" Pru snapped. Merle's good hand immediately balled into a fist and slammed into the table in front of them, causing it to shake and the china, silverware, and glasses upon it to rattle.

"I 'bout had enough'a that smart mouth a'yers." he said crooking his finger at her. Pru snarled, just about to open her mouth to say something that he'd make her regret, when the other man spoke up again.

"Merle." Was all he'd said. His tone was warning, but very even. Merle looked over to the man who was very obviously his superior, and then turned his head back to Pru, allowing a long rush of air to escape his flared nostrils. The other man leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of his face.

"Jennifer!" he called over his shoulder, tone again devoid of anything resembling emotion.

"Mhmm?" a happy voice came back from the kitchen. The head of a woman around Pru or Michonne's age popped around the corner. A woman. Now she was really confused.

"Four more plates, please. Water, too?" He asked.

"Sure thing." The woman said, pulling her head back behind the wall. He turned his head back to the table and Pru saw him smile at Michonne who was sitting just passed Deacon's hunched body as he gobbled the food on his plate tactlessly. Pru's lip curled in disgust. He looked like a pig feeding from a troth. Sounds and all.

"So," the man began again, "Did you all enjoy your ride here?"

That did it. Not only for her, though. Apparently Michonne had had enough of the game the man was playing, and she beat her to the punch.

"Cut the shit. What is this place, and who the hell do you think you are to treat us like chattel?" she flared. Pru heard Merle mutter a slur under his breath across from her like an insolent teenager and she glared at him again. The man at the end of the table either ignored it or didn't care that he'd said it.

The man, to whom Michonne spoke, cleared his throat and shot her a cheap, condescending smile.

"This, my dear, is Woodbury, and I'm the Governor…"

Four sets of eyes moved around the table catching each other a few times. Had they even heard him correctly?

What the fuck?

This guy's crazy.

Deluded motherfucker.

I have a bad feeling about this.

"…You didn't answer my entire question." Michonne said finally. Suddenly the woman who'd been in the kitchen came out carrying a large silver serving tray and started to pass ornate china dishes heaped with food to them. As she handed the food out to the women, Pru looked her up and down realizing more with every second that the woman playing waitress was completely at ease. This chick wasn't being held against her will, or if she was, she'd succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome a while back. She just carried on, dealing out plates and water glasses, a small, polite smile on her lips all the while.

Pru was angry, confused, and creeped the fuck out.

"…penance."

The word drew her back to the conversation that was going on between the other members of the dining party.

"Ya can't keep them prisoner because ya think someone else wronged ya." She said as she stared in Merle's direction, shaking her head.

"Well, there's the fun part, sweetheart. They ain't prisoners…Most a'that back there was just fer show. To get yer boys all riled…I ain't no damn savage, unlike some'a us." Merle explained plainly, as he tore into a chuck of game meat like, well, a fucking savage bastard. He nodded over to where Deacon sat at the completion of his sentence and Deacon just laughed quietly.

"So we're free to go?" Andrea piped up skeptically as she crossed her arms.

"No, no, no. I ain't said that." Merle chuckled.

"So then we are prisoners you ignorant fuck." Michonne snapped. Merle growled at her and went to open his mouth again, only to be interrupted by Deacon's disgustingly full mouth.

"Yer free to choose whether you wanna live or if you wanna die." He smiled, ripping into a piece of freshly made bread. Merle smiled and nodded at the younger man.

"You see, ladies, we have a town to keep in order here. The people of this town depend on each other for food, for fuel, for camaraderie, and for safety. We as leaders," he paused gesturing between Merle, Deacon, and himself, "have a responsibility to these people now. They look to us for all those things…They look to us to provide the lives they once had."

"…And?" Michonne prodded the windbag.

"And with any luck, in the very near future, we will be able to provide a haven for many more survivors." He said as he delicately sliced through a small piece of food and popped it neatly into his mouth.

Pru scoffed, rolling her tired eyes to the ceiling and letting her head roll back. For the first time since she'd sat down at the table, the man, the Governor, looked something other than emotionless. He was annoyed by her comment, and it was very clear by the side cast look he was shooting her. He cut off another small slice of meat and punctuated his next sentence with a bite.

"I assure you, my dear, the ball is already rolling. Our next site has already been cleared out and gated. Shortly, we'll begin repairs…And we may potentially have a third and fourth now, thanks to my commanding officers, here."

"So what does that have to do with us?" Andrea said, voicing the frustrations of everyone else. Was the man being coy, or was he so fucking full of himself that he kept on going off on tangents? He lowered his fork to the plate and took a swallow from the glass of red wine that sat next to him, smiling as he put it back to the table.

"Your choice is not to merely live or die, but to live very well, or die very slowly and very painfully."

Pru cocked her eyebrow at the man, and when he didn't get the reaction from the four stoic women that he'd wanted, he proceeded after clearing his throat.

"...The surviving members of the scouting team that brought you here this evening told me of the fight you ladies put up. Both in hand to hand, and with weapons…And I must say I am rather impressed. You were, no doubt assets to your group…Assets that I hope to attain. I'm offering you the chance to become rather crucial members of our army…Your reward will not only be your lives, but you'll get your own home, or homes, if you prefer…You'll have peace of mind and permanent security in this place. You'll never go hungry or thirsty, or want for anything again."

Pru saw Merle nodding sagely at the other man's words. She looked to him and saw that he was addressing the woman to his right, Andrea.

"Got me a nice little house up the road here." He said as he sucked at his teeth and nodded in a vague direction, right arm bent outward at the elbow with what would have been his palm flat on his lap. The way in which he'd done it was further reminder of who's older brother he'd been. Daryl made the exact same gesture, the exact same way all the time. She frowned and averted her eyes from him down to the quickly cooling meal in front of her, the ache in her heart almost too much. She found herself wanting to jump the gun, draw her knife, and fly across the table at him.

"So what's our other option?" Michonne dared. Merle and Deacon shared conspiring chuckles immediately. The Governor took another small sip of wine.

"My little niece. Penny." He said simply.

"Come again?" Andrea asked.

"Penny." He repeated, motioning to with his head to the doorway they'd come in through. Pru suddenly became very aware of a hissing noise floating in through the other room along with the music that was still playing. The tiny, withered, and dried corpse was fighting pathetically against the catchpole that was being used to guide her into the room. Beth whimpered at the horrific sight. Pru had heard the detailed accounts of more than one of their group member's about the day that Shane had opened that barn up. The sight, no doubt, was causing her to relive bits of it just then.

"I have this problem, you see. My poor niece is always ravenously hungry. I've offered her everything…The only thing she seems to enjoy, however, is human flesh…And the fresher, the better."

The tiny walker struggled against the wire at her throat and snapped her boney jaws at them all like an alligator. The too loud sound made Pru's stomach churn and she began to finger nervously at the seam at her knee. Her hands wanted so badly to move for the blade stashed just a few inches lower.

"Now, I won't be cruel and make you all decide on the spot. I'll give you a few days to mull it over. Until then, you'll be allowed to roam freely among the people of the town. However…If any of you make any attempts at an escape, or you injure or kill any resident, you'll be forfeiting your choice and you'll be dealt with swiftly." The Governor said running his eyes over Beth, Andrea, and then Michonne.

"I don't know how much my answer will change over the course of a few days." Pru found herself chuckling.

"You see now," Merle spoke up again, "Here's the sad bit…We don' take to kindly to murders 'round here… Now, if I remember Deacon's story correctly, you went an' scrambled up his buddy Bill's brain real good with a pencil or sum'mat. Ain't that right, brother?"

"S'right, Merle. Scrambled." He answered before swilling down a few large gulps of his pisswater beer, "An' then shot me all up."

"Assault to boot!" Merle hooted. Pru aimed her angry growl across the table to him.

"We all know what they did to me."

"Don' matter, Peggy Sue. Murder's the Ace. It trumps all other cards…An' for that, you don' get the choice yer friends get…No, you get to live! An' live you will with all them little promises Deacon made to you all the way here." Merle smiled.

In her horrified desperation, she suddenly found herself looking to the Governor for help. He shrugged at her as if the matter was out of his hands. Her blood boiled while her skin crawled.

She'd come into the room expecting what was just said. She'd expected what they would subject her and the other women to, but after having that small glimmer of hope for escape dangled in front of her only to have it snatched away with a reason soaked in hypocrisy, she became enraged.

With barely a thought, she'd reached down to the sheath strapped to her boot and pulled the knife out. Before anyone realized what was happening, she had Deacon's right hand pinned to the table, palm down. The man squalled in pain and she roared into his ear, glaring at Merle as she twisted the hilt. She saw Merle go for the gun at his back, then looked back to the Governor, who looked a bit bewildered, and grabbed hold of one of Deacon's thick mutton chops, bringing the knife to his throat. The men in the corner of the room were still too preoccupied with Penny, who now had the scent of fresh blood, to pull any weapons on her.

"Remember this game, Merle?!" she just about shrieked, pressing the sharp blade into his friend's throat, "Both of ya. Guns. Now."

"Shootin' fer double homicide?" Merle sneered as he slowly produced his gun and slid it across the table. She took her eye off it for a second to motion to the Governor that he was to pass his off to Michonne, and then brought her eyes back to Merle's.

"Whatever it takes, sweetheart." She hissed. She looked down at Deacon and yanked on the thick hair on his cheek.

"It's razor sharp. Ya flinch and ya're a dead man."

After a second of relishing his pained grunts and panting, she let go of his sideburn and grabbed for Merle's discarded gun. Her hand found it quickly and she flicked the safety off and aimed it down at Deacon and then at Merle for emphasis.

"Wall." She ordered, still holding tightly to the knife at Deacon's neck. She nodded to Andrea, beckoning her to her to pull the gun free of Deacon's waistband. She watched as Michonne lined both the Governor and Merle up, facing the wall. Andrea pulled the gun free and immediately aimed it at the woman who'd been sneaking in from the kitchen with a knife meant for Beth's back.

"Toss it." She demanded. The woman complied easily and chucked the knife across the floor and it slid under somebody's grandmother's china hutch.

Once that was dealt with, Pru took the knife from Deacon's neck and pressed the gun hard into his back, forcing him to the wall with the other two. His bleeding hand made a tiny creek of red down the ornately papered wall. She heard Andrea's steps moving behind her. She walked up to Penny and fired a single shot that tore through the former child's skull and exited into the gut of the man who'd been hanging onto her at bay with the catch.

"You'll regret that." The Governor said through gritted teeth.

"No. We won't." was Michonne's frank answer. Another shot followed Andrea's first, and their path out of the house was clear. Andrea ducked to retrieve the fourth man's gun as well and then called to Beth, handing it off with a look that said, "They don't know you can barely use it".

"You ain't gettin' far." Merle assured.

"Won't get anywhere if we don't try, amiright?" she joked as she started backing out of the room. Michonne covered her as they began running out the front door into the cold night air.

"Which way?!" Andrea asked voice barely discernable over the sound of their rushed movements across the pavement.

"Pick one! We'll hit a wall eventually and go over it!" Michonne replied. They flew off to the left of the house, ducking around the house next door. They could hear shouting on the street behind them and the rumble of big engines somewhere not too far off as they raced through the neighborhood.

"I- I can't-" Beth panted. Pru grabbed for the girl's wrist and began yanking her along. Pru started out running Andrea, even with Beth in tow behind her. They were about to blaze past another old porch when everything went black.

...

She couldn't see anything. She tried to open her eyes, but there was a pressure and a weight that she could place holding them shut. And the pain. HOLY HELL the fucking pain. It was radiating from the center of her face, and she knew it could have only been one thing. Her nose was broken. Badly. And if she was right about her nose, it would explain why her eyes were swollen shut.

She went to move her arms and found that they were bound above her head. Her finger tips were beginning to go numb. She struggled weakly against her bindings and then gave up, opting to call out for her friends quietly. Their names came out as nasally, pained groans.

"They ain't here…S'just you an' me. We got us some alone time."

She began struggling hard this time, kicking out frantically in any direction she could. Something impacted her stomach, forcing the fight from her instantly. He chucked as she sputtered.

"…I got yer knife here. Thought you might wanna know where it is."

Her head was pounding and now every breath was painful. She felt him move closer and she held her breath, shrinking away from him, knowing he had the knife in his hand. She felt a small tug on her shirt and then heard and felt the material being cut away. She winced and began to cry.

"Shh, shh, shh…Now lemme see all these pretty pictures you got here…Why don' we trace o're a couple'a these."

And the pain, as he lightly began to carve into her, was intense and sharp, and unlike anything she'd ever felt before.