Joan scowls at him through the rear view mirror, not liking one bit the victorious expression on his fucking face. She isn't sure exactly what that means, only that it's definitely not good news for her.
Maybe this one isn't the rapist. Maybe it's his shithead friend. Or maybe they're cannibals. Maybe they just like to torture kids for kicks. There are all kinds of reasons he could want to drag her back to his weird little enclave. Fucking Woodbury. She hates how unassuming it sounds.
If-- when?-- they try to take her gun, she'll claw out their eyes.
"Shouldn't he have better shit to do? Or is he running low on teenagers to boss around with you gone so long?"
Of course, when she's scared, she bites. Christ. At least if she dies, she'll probably deserve it.
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Maybe this one isn't the rapist. Maybe it's his shithead friend. Or maybe they're cannibals. Maybe they just like to torture kids for kicks. There are all kinds of reasons he could want to drag her back to his weird little enclave. Fucking Woodbury. She hates how unassuming it sounds.
If-- when?-- they try to take her gun, she'll claw out their eyes.
"Shouldn't he have better shit to do? Or is he running low on teenagers to boss around with you gone so long?"
Of course, when she's scared, she bites. Christ. At least if she dies, she'll probably deserve it.