Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead nor its characters. I only own what is made up in my own head.


She watched in horror as his face scrunched into one of rage and then absolute emptiness as he raised his M-27 and took aim. The large group only had time to inhale before the sound of machine gun fire filled the air. They ran back as fast as they could, but they were no match for the rapid amount of shots that came from the barrel. Bullets pierced their backs, skulls, legs, and arms, not showing mercy to one living soul. One by one, bodies fell to the ground with a sickening thud, the deep crimson staining the old highway. When the firing finally ceased, one man stood in front of him, his rifle raised with trembling hands as he did his best to stop the man from slaughtering any more.

The man simply chuckled before pulling his pistol from his side and sending one bullet through the protesters skull, marking him just between the eyes. It was then, only three others remained. She watched as the two henchmen looked at their leader with utter shock and awe pouring from their eyes. She did her best to swallow the lump in her throat as he finally turned on them, the wild rage still present in his face. She stood still, trying to figure out what his next move would be. Kill her? Surely not. There had to be a reason he had yet to put a bullet in her head. Perhaps it's because he wanted her to die slowly before becoming one of them. But he couldn't know, could he? He thought it was someone else, he told her so. She was safe.

"Genevieve," his voice ripped through her thoughts like a sharp knife. She tried to hide her fear, to flush it from her eyes and to stop her violently shaking hands. She was gripping her rifle so tight; her knuckles began cracking under the pressure.

"Y-yes?" she asked quietly. His face was stone; no emotion, no nothing.

"Make sure they're dead," he said hardly before putting his gun away. He turned to his two right hand men, and ushered them to get into the truck. She somehow pushed herself forward and made her way out into the field where many of her former friends and neighbors laid. One by one, she took aim at their heads and ended their eventual transformation. Her heart was about to rip out of her chest, but she continuously told herself that it was better that she do it. As she went to each body, she said their name and a quick apology for not being able to save them. Lloyd, Frank, Jack, Adam, Lily, Sam. The names continued and her heart only broke into more pieces. She should have stopped this. She should have ended it when she could, but instead she missed her moment and they were dead because of her.

She reached a younger boy, one she knew as Brody. She slung the now empty rifle over her shoulder and pulled the colt .45 from her holster. As she cocked it back, she heard it. The sound of a shaky breath comes from underneath Brody. She glanced behind her to see if the three men were watching her, but they had their backs turned toward the truck. She looked back at the body, only then to notice another underneath it. She crouched down to see who it belonged to and a strangled whimper escaped from the woman.

"Karen," she hissed as she saw the fresh tears on the young brunettes face.

Karen looked up at her with fearful eyes, but she shook her head to reassure her that she wouldn't kill her. She slid her pistol to the woman who pleaded with her not to go, but she simply got up and walked back to where the men waited. She tried to hide her sadness, her anger, and her thirst to shoot all three of them in that moment. Now wasn't the time. She'd get her moment.

By the time she was half-way back to the truck, it was then they turned to face her. Glancing at the smaller Latino man standing to right, his eyes were full of concern. He shook his head vigorously at her, but she could not decipher this hidden message. When she glanced at the one in the center, she froze. His hands now held the sniper rifle that had been hidden in the bed of the truck for emergencies. As he pulled it up to his good eye, she fell to the ground quickly. When she heard the gun go off, she anticipated the darkness; her end. But it didn't come. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Karen lying lifeless this time, her pistol sitting beside her. He saw them.

Without a second thought, she pushed herself up and began running toward the woods, moving her legs in a zig zag fashion. Multiple shots rang out, but none hit her. Just as she thought she was going to make it out, pain ripped through her shoulder and she fell to the ground hard. A warm substance, that could only be her own blood, began to soak through her t-shirt. She decided not to move in case they were watching her. Instead she stayed still, wondering how she had gotten to this point. How had she let this happen? How had she not seen this coming? Andrea was right.

As her vision began to blur in the corners of her eyes, she laughed. She'd spent so much time trying to make him love her and be proud of her, but nothing was ever enough. Why had she wasted her time? He was selfish. The pain in her shoulder began to consume her entire body, but she did not scream. Instead she thought of those who were lying not to far away from her, dead because of their leader, their "Governor". Dead because of her father.

A/N: Obviously I shouldn't start another story, but I am sooo…don't hate me. As soon as I saw this scene in the finale tonight, it hit me. So yeah, another Daryl/OC and The Governor. This is just the prologue which means you all will get to see what led to this moment (i.e Why he wants to kill his own daughter) and what comes after (Daryl lovin' anyone?). Like my other one, it'll be eventual because Daryl isn't the type to be all mushy and lovey dovey soo…yeah. Hope you like this. Can't promise frequent updates, but I like this idea.