DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Walking Dead, and any of its characters, however, I do wish I owned Glenn. My goodness.
A/N: This started out as a very rough and sketchy idea on my iPhone, like, "Oh, what would happen if..." Yes, that sort of thing. But anyway, let me know if you guys do like it. :) Enjoy!
"Zipper up."
Glenn felt something pushed to the back of his head that came with the expressionless, cold command. The last thing he would have liked it to be was the barrel of a gun, but one never expects the unexpected. Especially in the men's restroom. The type of men's restroom that was long abandoned. During the era of what people think to be the end of the world.
That was until he heard the familiar 'click', and he decided that he was wrong to not have thought it as a gun. What else would he have expected? A free hug?
He hastily pulled up his zipper. "Hey, can't a guy—"
"He can, but…" she tilted the gun further. "I have my reasons."
He overcame the lump in his throat, and tried to look over his shoulder. Maybe, he thought, that he could sway her intentions into anything else, rather than blowing his brains out.
"Heh. Plan on letting me kn—" He was interrupted by a blow to his head.
There was throbbing, and the ringing in his ears seemed to sound louder than all the other sounds he would have heard. Glenn collapsed, and his line of sight followed, lowered to the grimy, tiled floor, and to her worn out combat boots.
"Goddammit, Vincent."
Their voices echoed and faded with his vision, and the black edges slowly engulfed the picture in his mind.
