Nora had made up her mind long ago that she would break free of this place with or without Andrea and Michonne's aid. She had enough grim determination to survive on her own well before Shane had found her bleeding out in the woods. She knew that same drive to live was still buried in her domesticated demeanor somewhere and she would damn well find it if it meant she would be released from this hell.

It had been one month. One fucking month of sorry, feeble attempts to escape. She had been caught, beaten for information, demanding that the girls remain untouched as she knew how to endure this pain more than they ever would. She had lead the Governor on a wild goose chase for her group multiple times and her excuses were running out. Her time was running out to keep Andrea and Michonne safe and her luck of finding Daryl and the group was wearing down quickly.

The Governor had some twisted plans mapped out for Woodbury and a theme park of red delights planned for those who defied his words of leadership. There was a demon in him; an evil thing that crawled, poked and prodded beneath the surface of his slate eyes. They burned a hateful fire that clenched at Nora's stomach every time she dared to meet them. They were daggers that sliced into every heart, every soul and every hopeful dream of escape. Nora had noticed it upon first meeting him and never said anything to the others; and he had a grip on this town and its prisoners... er... residencies like a hooker on her last load that could not be easily shaken.

Had ta figure dat one out th'ard way. She mused to herself as she spat blood venomously upon the Governor's large boot; a thing she had come to know well after many attempts of escape.

But this time was different.

So different.

The shot to her gut knocked the wind from her, making her slump helplessly to her knees while the guards held her limp arms in their vice grips; more than likely creating bruises on her bare flesh. Blood poured from a cut on the inside of her cheek. Her ribs were bruised and battered from a series of multiple kicks and punches and her wounds screamed out for her to let go; to give into the punishment and accept her fate.

Fuck death, she thought to herself as she coughed out from the impact of another catapulted foot that night shattered her ribcage. She wasn't gonna go out like this; not at the hands of this asshole or any other.

"We could keep going all day with this, Lenora." He breathed through heavyset bleats. He leaned in closer to catch her eyes, which tried their best to give him the harshest glare she could muster. She just looked tired; worn and beaten. "Sweet Lenora... don't look at me like that."

"Fuck you." She spat, her voice riddled with the most potent of poisons. The hate traveled like wildfire from her parched lips. A part of her prayed to whatever deity above that her looks could kill just once. He wouldn't be anything but a pile of goop in front of her.

"Not right for a lady t'use such language." He said as he tilted her chin upwards. "You've drawn on my last nerve, Miss Brannigan." He wrapped his fingers around her throat, smirking sadistically as her air supply was cut and she struggled for air. "You want so badly to be out there... with the dead."

Nora twitched and blinked rapidly, seeing her world as it began to go dark.

"Bring... it." She managed before her arms were released and she fell to the floor, unconsciousness consuming her being.

"Be careful what you wish for." The Governor muttered before dropping her limp neck carelessly. He turned to the guards and nodded curtly. "Do it. I'll take care of the others."

"Best be careful, Leprechaun. Gettin' too close could cost yah." He had said to her. She noted the sincerity in his eyes. The way he had said the group needed all three of them as though he was merely covering up for the fact that he needed her. She remembered how close he came to her when he reached out to place the satchel on his bike; a part of her begging for him to merely take her into a tight grasp and promise her that nothing was going to happen to him.

No such guarantees could've been made in such hard times.

"Time t'wake up, Leprechaun." He said as he reached out to grace her cheek with the lightest of strokes. Nora leaned into it, much like the heartfelt fool she was.

"Why are ye always 'ere, Beastie?" She murmured weakly against his palm. He absentmindedly roved a calloused thumb over her lower lip.

"It's your dream. You tell me."

His voice faded just then; consumed by the darkness in her own mind before she was able to properly relish the satisfaction of his touch again. So rare and short-lived, these dreams were. Too short to even properly recall, but they were all she had to go on in times like these.

"Some asshole... crossbow shot Nelson in the ass... outskirts overrun... group... Andrea..."

The voices made her drift in and out of consciousness. But she couldn't compute the words; the very vital themes that she would come to know so well when she awoke fully.

"Say nothing to either of them."

"Ugh..." She muttered as she felt the dull ache in her head, splitting down the center of her skull from the various beatings she'd obtained. She opened her eyes to an endless abyss of blackness. Confusion riddled her gaze as her pupils attempted sorely to adapt to the darkness surrounding her. "Th'fuck." She muttered as she reached out blindly, feeling for something... anything.

She touched something solid; splintered and rickety. She pushed harder, trying her best to see if it would budge. She heard a creak of feeble wood and the soft sounds of something... dust? She pushed again, only to feel the heavy, gritty sand hit her face.

Dirt?

Panic welled in her heart, making it beat erratically. Her breathing intensified as claustrophobia began to set in. Her stomach clenched. She pushed harder, coughing as her face was hit with more dirt. She spat out what she could and turned onto her side. Barely able to move... so confined... her eyes closed tightly. This couldn't be real. Couldn't be.

She felt something at her side and reached down in a panic to grab it.

"Flashlight!" She shouted in triumph. However, the moment she turned it on, she found her worst fears were confirmed.

Now hyperventilating from her inner turmoil of confined spaces, she held the flashlight up to the makeshift coffin's lid, seeing a way out... through the dirt and grime that clouded the path. God only knew how deep underground she was.

Scribed loosely on one of those boards were the very words she recalled from her last interrogation.

"CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. RIP."

She'd been buried alive.

"Oh my God..."