This is my first FanFiction so please be kind. I got the idea while I was watching the walking dead. Spoilers ahead! If you haven't seen all of the walking dead up until now please turn back.

Anyway I was watching the walking dead and then Carl died. Carl! I was like what the fuck! no no no. I just sat there thinking this is not how this was supposed to go. Why did they do this? I was deeply upset, he just had way too much potential to kill off. I wanted to see him come into his own, grow up and eventually learn how to lead and sort of carry on Ricks legacy. So then I went down the rabbit hole looking for fan fiction about Carl that did just that but I couldn't find much.

Btw if you have any recs of story's like that then please please send them to me.

Then I got Lucinda into my head and I couldn't get her out. I wanted to write my own version of a daughter of Negan and try to make her a complex character with layers that Carl will eventually unpeal and slowly and I mean slowly fall in love with her.

This is mostly Lucy's story and I want to go into her background and make her a fully fleshed character before she ever meets Carl.

I don't want her to be in the story just for him. I want her to have her own story and for Carl to play a huge role in it but later much later on.

It will be a slowburn. Like Hocus Pocus black flame candle slowburn.

I'm really hoping you guys like it but it's mostly for me to know that in my own little universe Carl is a Badass who has his whole life ahead of him in this zombie apocalypse. Think of this as my love letter to what could of been.

I'm writing this story now and I don't know how long it's going to take but I'm nearly finished chapter one so far now here's the prologue of my story.


PROLOGUE

It was the same bat that he taught me how to play baseball with when I was seven.

It was the same bat that he picked up one night and threw over his shoulder then barrelled down the stairs when our black Labrador Nala began barking at the front door. Raising the alarm that someone was outside our house that shouldn't be.

It was the same bat that we bought from Gary's sports and cleaning supplies multi purpose store. It was an odd combination but we had always went there. Dad said it was Because Gary needed the business and the old bastard did him a kindness once.

I remember the day.

I picked it out.

Now he was using it to bash people's heads in.

It was the same bat but not, just like he was the same guy he'd always been but not. He was still my Dad, the person who had always loved me, protected me and taught me all the things a daughter should learn from her father but at the same time he wasn't.

The man who raised me wouldn't hurt people for fun. Wouldn't have a grin on his face while killing innocent people with a song in his heart.

I couldn't understand how he could be so different but exactly the same.

I had tried to understand when it had happened, when that switch flipped, when he had become so unlike himself but I could never pin point it. It was like trying to solve a puzzle when you are missing half of the pieces.

If only my mom could see us now standing in front of people placing ourselves above them like gods.

No. Not Gods.

Predators. Demons.

No we were worse than that.

No word that was created before the world went to shit seemed dark enough, evil enough to define what we had become.

This world needs a whole new dictionary to be able to describe the shit that goes on in it.

She would be ashamed. I know it. My mother would be completely ashamed of us. Of what we have had to become to survive. You can either be the killer or the victim and I know that I will never be somebody else's victim.

Even though I know that this is necessary, that these people had to pay for what they had done. Standing in front of them these stupid, trembling idiots who looked like they might either vomit or piss themselves I'm glad she's dead. Im glad she doesn't have to see this, what is about to happen.

It will be horrific and terrifying and strangely beautiful like a Shakespearean tragedy. Tragedy always either brings people together or completely tares them apart.

God they really were idiots nobody goes against Negan and walks away unscathed. Everything has a price and unfortunately for them in this new apocalyptic world the price was their life or the life of their dearest friend, child, their brother maybe? I'm not sure not many people had family nowadays.

I wondered which one of them would die tonight? Dad said it would be just one. Enough to reel the others in and make them see who was in charge of this place.

I looked around at them, would it be the strong red headed man who looked as surly and defiant as ever?

Would it be the the short haired woman who looked to be in so much pain already. Tears were streaming down her beautiful face. She looked about ready to clock out.

I didn't think it would be the kid, Dad didn't usually hurt kids but he was if was angry enough he might forget that little honour code and do something truly bellow the belt.

I studied him.

He had on what looked like a cowboy hat. That was weird in of itself. A checkered shirt and jeans, a generic country boy. His hair was long and shaggy looking, it was covering one side of his face. From the side that wasn't covered I could see one blue eye the bluest I had ever seen and I could tell that he was starring at my Dad with a sharp and calculated look like he was accessing him. Watching his every movement. I didn't like it. He didn't look scared at all. He looked vengeful like he was thinking about all of the ways he could get up from his spot on the floor and kill my Dad. Like he wanted to slowly rip him apart.

He was stupid for not being scared but he would be. He was about to be very scared if he knew what was good for him.

Thats exactly what my Dad wanted from these people, total submission and he was going to get it. He always did.

I looked away and decided that he was an imbecile and wasn't worth another second of my time.

I thought about my Dad.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever feels anything anymore? If he still thinks of her? If he knows that these little displays of power he puts on would sicken her.

Does he ever feel shame? Apprehension? Does he ever feel guilty? Like I sometimes do.

I shake my head. It's not like I would ever find out we don't talk about the past and the people we used to be anymore.

That life was over, done, dead.

And it would remain that way along with the memories of my dead mother and stupid shit like picnics on Sundays, playing call of duty with dad until midnight and wearing stupid shitty matching Halloween costumes.

Zombies.

I always made us dress as Zombies.

The irony of it almost makes me want to laugh.

God that really was a whole other me, a whole other life.

I didn't realise how lost in my thoughts I had become until Alex nudged my side and slightly shifted his head towards my dad who stood in the centre of the circle. Demanding to be seen to be heard. He was the judge jury and executioner of this circle.

Alex was looking forward his face straight and emotionless but I knew he was struggling. He hated violence always had, ever since I had fist met him. I remember I used to hate it too but I soon learned that this was the way of the world now.

I looked forward too and put the same mask upon my face that all saviours seemed to adopt. It was time to watch.

It was showtime.