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Blake.

A last name Mira did not want to be associated with, in the slightest. When word got around of Penny Blake's passing, her life took a turn for the worse. A life that was once all too perfect, turned to ashes. A loving family? Gone. A normal life? A distant memory.

Her father's love?

Gone.

Woodbury, the once safe town her father founded and protected, now felt like a prison to her. Surrounded by walls that were supposed to protect her, she felt nothing less than suffocated. In her own house at that.

Not able to walk the streets without being looked at, pitied, feared. She hated it. She hated it all.

Her family had never been without its flaws. Her father was like a tyrant, lashing out at the most unpredictable times. It got worse after her mother died, before Woodbury. Though, Penny barely seemed to be the victim. He always favoured Mira in that way. Though, it seemed he only favoured Mira in that way. Penny was the blessed one.

She had always been the cheery and happy one of the two younger Blake's. Making friends at school came easily to her, all the while Mira struggled to even ask for a pencil. Penny always got invited to birthday parties, and Mira had to be dragged along because the parents felt bad for the girl. That being said, she'd just wander about at the parties; knowing damn well that none of the kids truly wanted her there. And to be fair, Mira shared the sentiment.

Despite everything, Penny had been the unfortunate one to get the large bite on her cheek, such a small thing that had taken her life away in a matter of minutes. The wail that tore from her father's throat was a sound Mira never expected to hear. It was heartbreaking, terrifying even. Mira had known right away that that scream of anguish would be the scream that changed everything.

And it did.

All the anger her father had hidden deep down, pushed far away so no one would ever see, resurfaced, gradually but unmistakably. His first outburst had left Mira terrified. It hadn't been that bad, compared to the way his outbursts were today. He had only slammed a plate down on the kitchen counter a bit too hard, just hard enough so it would shatter into a hundred pieces.

He had stared at it for a while. He hadn't dared to make eye contact with the girl stood before him, looking at him with big, terrified eyes. He hadn't dared to accept the fact his daughter was afraid of him. To do so would be to accept his own failure as a father, to both Mira and Penny. And failure was not an option. It would have him think Penny's death was a fault of his. And it wasn't.

No, it wasn't.

It was everyone's fault, but his.

The outburst after that, had been a whole lot worse. He had actually thrown a glass Mira's way, the fragile thing just barely missing her shoulder as it flew past her and shattered against the thin apartment wall. He hadn't stared at it then, he had stared at Mira, as if she had thrown the glass. As if she was the one breaking everything

Everyone knew it was in fact Philip Blake breaking everything around him; his family, his life, his daughter's life, and soon, Woodbury.

•

Death, an unwelcome visitor, had become an all too frequent guest in their lives. It lingered in the corners of their thoughts, whispered in the night, and left its mark on every soul it touched.

Lunette had seen death before, had stared into its cold, unforgiving eyes, but nothing could have prepared her for the pain she felt now.

The bright sunlight hit her face like a cruel mockery as she cautiously creaked open the door, trying to ignore the baby in Maggie's arms crying behind her. Peering through the gap, her stomach sank like a stone as she saw everyone standing in the courtyard.

Glancing back at Maggie, Lunette's voice trembled. "Everyone's out there."

Maggie's lips quivered as she fought back tears. "Go," she whispered.

With a nod, Lunette wiped away a few stray tears and pushed the door open further, sunlight flooding in and momentarily blinding them. As they stepped out, the group had to adjust to the sudden brightness. Lunette pushed open that door, wincing at the loud creak it made and it alerted their presence.

Lunette stepped out first, and relief washed over everyone's faces at the sight of them. But when the baby's cries filled the air, their relief turned to dread as they realized someone was missing.

Lori wasn't there.

Exhaling heavily, Lunette stepped out of line, retreating to a spot of her own. She crouched down, her legs shaking, and bowed her head. Her gaze was fixed on her blood coated hands, blurring as the image of Lori's lifeless body flashed before her eyes.

Maggie attempted to speak, her voice caught in her throat as she met Rick's gaze. No words emerged, just a desperate gulp. Tears welledup in her eyes, and she slowly walked over to Rick. He moved toward her as well, disbelief etched across his face. With a trembling hand, Rick dropped his axe.

As Maggie reached him, she let out a heart-wrenching sob, tears streaming down her face. Rick's lips trembled as he reached out to her.

"Where... where is she? Where is she?" Rick's voice trembled with every syllable, each word a plea. He moved about frantically, searching for a sign, a glimmer of hope. But deep down, he knew the turth. His wife was gone.

Then, he began to walk past Maggie toward the room they had been hiding in. Maggie tried to stop him, reaching for his arm. He shrugged her off, his gaze fixed on the door that held the answers he feared to find. Kneeling beside Carl, who refused to meet his father's gaze, Rick's heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

"Oh, no. No!" Rick's cries pierced the air, tears flowing freely now. Lunette lowered her head, pressing her knuckles into the corners of her eyes, feeling Daryl's gaze on her.

Rick's strength crumbled beneath him as he collapsed to his knees, overcome with sobs and repeated cries of "No!". And in that moment, Lunette couldn't bring herself to look at Rick or anyone else in the group,

•

Lunete couldn't do anything but stare at Rick as he sat on his knees, eyes fixed on the ground in defeat. His babies' cries echoed through the air, possibly the only thing keeping Lunette sane. The same could not be said about Rick. Each time the cries went only a pitch higher, he'd flutter his eyes closed and sway back and forth, as if on a weird kind of drug.

Everyone else was busy inspecting the baby, showing her to Hershel to check if she was healthy. Lunette on the other hand, was only thinking about Lori. How she had cut her stomach open, how the thick red blood had coated her hands, Carl's screams, Maggie's cries—it was too much.

She had killed a pregnant woman.

Of course, it had been Lori's choice—wish even. It did not make Lunette feel any better. Though, under no circumstances would she have had Maggie do it. Her hands had been shaking in fear, vision blurred by the tears in her eyes. Maggie couldn't have done it.

There's a baby.

What do babies eat?

Not canned food.

Lunette turned on her heels, and headed straight for the fences. She noticed everyone falling into a silence behind her, but she ignored it as she pulled the gate open and waltzed through, all the while slipping her knife out of its holster.

She was almost certain the group did not have any formula laying around anywhere, since the baby hadn't even been born yet. They weren't prepared, so Lunette was going to make sure they had everything they needed. They couldn't lose the baby.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to tell Oscar and Axel to open the gate, she felt a hand tap her bare shoulder. Whirling around, her fingers instinctively gripped her knife, only to find herself staring into piercing blue eyes.

"Ya gonna attack me?" Daryl said with a huff as he eyed the knife in her hands.

"No." Lunette lowered her hand, repositioning it by her thigh. "What?"

"Where are ya goin'?" he asked. Lunette broke away from his gaze, spotting Maggie and Glenn stood behind him.

"Getting that kid some food. Why? Is that a problem?" she said, returning her gaze to his eyes.

"Nah." Daryl shook his head, nodding his head over to the car that stood just a few steps away from them. "So are we."

"Okay."

Glenn huffed and walked forward, placing a hand on Lunette's shoulder and guiding her toward the car. She shot a confused look at Daryl from over her shoulder before redirecting her gaze forward so she wouldn't trip. "What are you doing?"

"Four's better than three," Glenn explained, patting her shoulder before letting go as they reached the car. "There's a Piggly Wiggly on 85," he informed the rest as he turned around.

"No, the baby section's been cleared. Lori asked me to keep an eye out, but I haven't had much luck," Maggie countered.

"Is there any place that hasn't been completely looted?" Daryl asked.

"I saw some signs for a shopping center before those dead ones caught on to me. Might be worth checking out," Lunette proposed.

"Yeah, so did we, but there's too much debris on the road. A car will never get through there," Maggie said, and Lunette let out a sigh.

"I can take one of ya," Daryl offered, looking at the group.

"On foot?" Lunette wondered aloud, quickly retracting her question as she saw Daryl climb onto a bike. "Oh. I'll go."

Daryl nodded, patting the seat behind him for Lunette to hop on. She nodded back, hurrying over to his bike. As she swung a leg over the seat, she had to admit it was really cool. She'd never ridden a bike like this one before.

"Here, take this." Maggie handed Lunette a backpack, which the latter gratefully took. "Put everything in that."

"Thanks," Lunette muttered, placing it onto her lap, sandwiched between her and Daryl. "I won't get it dirty."

Maggie breathed out a laugh, prompting a smile to tug at Lunette's lips. Unexpectedly, Daryl started up his bike, prompting Lunette to grab onto him to steady herself. The engine roared to life beneath them, vibrating through Lunette's body as Daryl revved the motorcycle. With a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure she was securely holding on, he shifted the bike into gear and they began to move.

•

Books had always fascinated Mira. At home, before the fall, she would sit in her room for hours on end and finish reading book after book. Losing herself in the world of non existing people helped her to take her mind off of her home situation. It helped her not to think about all the things that had gone so terribly wrong in her life. Instead, she was able to read about magical beings, heroes, and friendships. All of which she wished existed in her life.

After the world crumbled, she had been devastated when her father had forced her to leave her books behind. His reasoning for this was because they were unnecessary, and only held more weight to carry. As a solution, he had told her her dreams would be enough. Little did he know, her dreams had turned into nightly nightmares since then.

Ironically, she was standing inside of Woodbury's one and only bookshop. It had been her father's idea, funnily enough. She thought he might have cared for her wellbeing then, though he definitely did not now. Nonetheless, she was happy to be standing there, trailing a finger along the spine of a promising looking book right before her.

She slipped it off of the planks, leaving a gap between two other books that failed to catch her eye, holding it in her hands. In scratchy handwriting scrawled on the inside cover, she read, "The Tales of Whimsy and Wonder." The title alone fascinated Mira, and she couldn't resist flipping through the pages.

Lost in her thoughts, Mira didn't notice Neil sneaking up behind her until he suddenly grabbed her shoulders, shouting, "Boo!"

Startled, Mira let out a yelp of surprise and instinctively swung her fist backward, connecting with Neil's nose before she even realized what she was doing.

"Jesus—" Neil stammered, clutching his nose as blood trickled down. "What the hell?"

"Oh, shit!" Mira exclaimed, fluttering her hand to soothe her stinging knuckles before reaching out to his shoulder, horror evident in her widened eyes. "Sorry! I didn't notice it was you. Sorry, sorry!"

But Neil cut her off with a laugh, holding up his hands in surrender. "It's okay, it's okay! I deserved that one. I shouldn't have scared you like that."

Mira couldn't help but laugh too, the tension easing from her shoulders as she realized Neil wasn't upset. With a sheepish grin, she repeated, "Sorry, really."

Neil laughed again, but it quickly mixed with a groan of pain as the blood seeped through his fingers. "Shit—your punches are good."

"Neil, you have to see the doctor," Mira said, grabbing her book and putting it back onto the shelf before grabbing Neil's shoulders, guiding him to the door.

Mira's heart raced as she watched Neil clutch his nose, blood seeping through his fingers. Guilt gnawed at her, knowing that she had hurt her friend unintentionally. She quickly guided him towards the door.

"Come on, let's get you fixed up," she said, her voice laced with concern as she guided Neil towards the infirmary.

Neil winced as they approached the infirmary, his steps slightly hesitant. "Do you think it's broken?" he asked, his voice muffled by his hand pressed against his nose.

Mira bit her lip, her brows furrowing. "Don't be dramatic."

They entered the infirmary, the bell above the door chiming softly as they stepped inside. The receptionist looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of Neil's bleeding nose. "Oh my goodness, what happened?"

Mira glanced at Neil before turning back to the receptionist, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I accidentally punched him," she admitted sheepishly.

"Legend says it wasn't an accident..." Neil muttered under his breath, earning him a sharp look from Mira. Despite being the obvious older one, he raised his brows in surrender and shrugged.

"Drs. Macoy is in that room over there," the lady said, pointing toward a door down the hall.

"Alright," Mira said with a nod, patting Neil's back as she guided him toward said door.

•

Mira pushed open the front door of her home and stepped inside. The familiar scent of her father's cologne mingled with the musty odor of the old house, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Mira," her father's voice called out from the living room, the tone cold and commanding.

Her heart skipped a beat as she made her way towards the source of the sound. Her father was sitting in his usual spot on the couch, his posture rigid and his eyes hard.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger.

"I was with Neil, sir," Mira replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite the fear bubbling inside her. "We went to the infirmary. He got hurt."

"Hurt how?" her father pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Bloody, uh—" she started, tapping the tip of her shoe against the floor. "Bloody nose, sir."

That was a new thing that had gone into play after Penny's passing, too. No more father, no more dad, just sir. She called him anything else, there would be consequences.

The Governor narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her response with suspicion. "And how did he get a bloody nose?" he asked, his tone growing more intense.

Mira hesitated, her mind racing as she searched for a believable explanation. She knew her father wouldn't take kindly to the truth—that she had accidentally punched Neil in a moment of panic. But she couldn't risk lying to him either.

"He, uh, scared me," she admitted reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I reacted without thinking."

Her father's expression darkened at her admission, his jaw clenching with barely restrained anger. "So you assaulted him," he stated, his voice dripping with disapproval.

Mira's heart sank at his words, guilt gnawing at her stomach. She had never intended to hurt Neil, but now she had to face the consequences of her actions.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said softly, her voice trembling with regret. "I didn't mean to—"

But her father cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Save your apologies, Mira," he said coldly. "You're old enough to know better. This behavior is unacceptable."

Mira nodded in acknowledgement, directing her gaze to the ground. She felt a lump form in her throat, her nerves on edge as she awaited his next words.

"You think this is a game, Mira?" he snapped, his voice rising with each word. "You think you can just go around hitting people whenever you feel like it?"

She flinched at the sharpness of his tone, her shoulders hunching as she tried to shrink away from his wrath. "No, sir."

"I expect better from you," her father continued, his voice low and menacing. "You're my daughter, and you represent me. I won't have you behaving like a common thug. Is that understood?"

She nodded silently, her eyes downcast as she took in her father's words. She knew there was no point in arguing with him—it would only make things worse. All she could do was nod and obey, no matter how much it pained her to do so.

"Good," he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for further discussion. "Now go to your room."

As she turned and fled from the room, she heard the Governor scoff and harshly place down his glass behind her, the sound of him filling it up with more whisky filling the air. "Useless," he muttered, though loud enough for Mira to hear.

As she closed the door behind her, she sank onto her bed, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. She felt incredibly alone, trapped in a house with a father who seemed more like a tyrant than a parent.