⊱ 05 ~ ❝ the bright side ❞ ⊰
〖season one, episode four〗

All those who witnessed the domestic abuse and the brutal vengeance enacted upon the abuser by Shane Walsh ⎯⎯ came to an unspoken conclusion it would be best not to talk about what happened down in the quarry. Even Carol Peletier herself seemed to want to leave behind any remembrance of many people seeing only a fraction of what her husband had done to her in their many years of marriage.

Since then, Ed was driven back up to camp and inhabited the Peletier family tent ⎯⎯ sitting in his solitude.

Once back up in camp, Clementine was forced to accompany Dale on top of the RV ⎯⎯ when her father went MIA ever since everyone got back from the quarry.

Despite preferring to be allowed to stay in the quarry, Dale's company was proven to be a calming presence. Both of them were just content to share each other's space.

He lent her his book, The Sound and The Fury, while he took the post as the resident patrol of the camp to ensure everyone's safety. Dale periodically paced the length of the RV, keeping a watchful eye on all the visible land and the people present within those parameters.

When everyone had originally gotten back to camp, Dale looked the most concerned Clem had ever seen him. He was determined to know everything that happened, and Amy went ahead and told the man all the details ⎯⎯ including Ed's ridiculing of the ten-year-old girl, and calling her a failed abortion in front of everyone.

Marie Holloway would be turning in her grave at Ed's words ⎯⎯ if she had the luxury of being buried or put to rest in any form.

But when Dale heard what Ed had to say about Clementine ⎯⎯ and her father being nowhere in sight to comfort the girl ⎯⎯ he took the role of distracting her. At least he tried.

He gave her the book to read, a weak attempt to take the girl's mind off what she saw and heard. It concerned him that she had to bear witness to the brutality of two men down in the quarry. But there wasn't a single thing about Ed's fate that upset her in the slightest. If anything, she felt he deserved a couple of more punches to knock some extra ⎯⎯ much-needed ⎯⎯ sense into him.

Clementine got twenty pages into the book, but none of the words properly absorbed into her mind to make sense of the point. All of the in-depth meanings Dale was fully aware of, only flew straight over her head. Half the time she read, her mind wandered, thinking about all the quotation marks, making it close to impossible to process any of the words between said quotation marks.

The older man's constant movements back and forth also worked to pull her attention away, growing curious every time he lifted his binoculars in a direction. He rotated around the roof like it was a set schedule.

He stopped at the front end, looking down at the quarry before lifting his binoculars again. "What are you looking at?" She asked, closing the book with her pointer finger between the pages where she stopped.

Dale adjusted the strap of his rifle on his shoulder as he turned to face Clem. "Just keeping an eye on Andrea and Amy." He reassured, with a soft smile. His naturally wide gaze squinting at her from the sunlight.

It was hot ⎯⎯ the sun was blazing off heat down onto them all ⎯⎯ a strong risk of heatstroke for them all. Dale strongly insisted that Clementine sit in the chair, under the umbrella where the harsh temperatures wouldn't affect her directly. "Wouldn't mind swimming in that water right about now," Clementine suggested, standing next to Dale and peering down at the Anderson sisters.

"Does sound awfully nice." He agreed, looking down at her instead of the water where she looked.

Clementine nodded, looking at the two women fishing. "I hope they catch something..." She sighed tiredly, her stomach grumbling with hunger. Just recalling the mushroom and squirrel she forced herself to eat could make her lose her appetite. "We have so many people here, we're going to run out of squirrels and mushrooms before any of us start to feel full."

The pessimism Clementine so confidently spoke with instantly worried Dale. He was most definitely not one to ever consider the glass being half-empty. "You can't look at it that way, Clementine..." He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, crouching down to her height. "There are still good things. People here care about you, and they want you to be safe. Happy. You've gotta find the bright side, sweetheart."

The bright side was hard for her to find when everything she'd seen dimmed her vision ⎯⎯ incoming storm clouds covering the sun and the rumbling of potential thunder was her constant raging thoughts of warning. Don't get your hopes up ⎯⎯ had become a constant internal monologue playing in her mind ⎯⎯ but she found herself wanting nothing more than to be like Dale ⎯⎯ hopeful.

Nothing was ever promised and that's what she believed wholeheartedly. There were very few things Clementine was one hundred percent sure of, and most of those things lacked importance. But she nodded in agreement with the gentleman's advice ⎯⎯ but instead of taking a moment to ponder on his words, she reached into the pocket of her burgundy jacket, pressing the pad of her thumb against the rock tucked away inside.

It served as an anchor for her mind, silencing the piled-up thoughts and instead bringing her to an internal calmness, thinking about that song her mom would sing to her. Many times her mother was told not to sing such a sad song to her child, but Clementine relished being able to hear it every day. The lyrics didn't matter, it was her mother's voice that carried it to Clem's heart with a gentleness.

Dale stood back up to his full height, swiping a few strands of hair out of Clementine's face and behind her ear. "Your daddy loves you. We're all a team here working together to help each other ⎯⎯ maybe some of us indirectly ⎯⎯ but the goal is we all find peace."

Being a team didn't exist under the family category her father Jim had strictly asked her to worry about before anything else. Dale differed, but he didn't have any family in camp with him, similar to others. Glenn, T-Dog, Jacqui ⎯⎯ all of them also had no known acquaintances from before the shift in the universe.

Dale ushered Clementine to sit back down under the umbrella, muttering something about getting sunburnt and possible dehydration before turning his attention back to the boat down in the quarry.

In the process of taking his rounds, glancing around the camp, he catches sight of movement on top of the hill much taller than the RV. Even from that distance, without using the binoculars, he recognized the person ⎯⎯ he knew everyone in camp by name and especially knew Jim.

Jim Holloway, was on top of the hill, and the second Dale saw him, he glanced back at the girl sitting in his seat, ensuring she was not looking as he lifted his binoculars up and watched Jim for a couple of seconds.

It couldn't be good. Jim was all by himself up on a hill ⎯⎯ seemingly with a shovel doing who knows what ⎯⎯ and Dale was the last person to stand by and let it happen.

Meanwhile, Clementine was much more preoccupied with rereading a paragraph for the fifth time, actually forcing her attention onto the words to try and comprehend it. Her father was still MIA and she didn't know how long it would be until he showed up. It sounded better to force herself into another world.

"I'm going to go down to the quarry and check on the girls." He lied right through his teeth, not wanting to himself but preferring not to worry the girl any further. In his eyes, she had already had one hell of a day ⎯⎯ and would rather not pile any more stress on top of that. Dale stepped up to the chair.

Clementine instantly smiled, all worry of anything in the world dissipating at the sound of someone who wanted to watch her ⎯⎯ going somewhere she wanted to be. "I'll come!" The book clicked shut as she stood up quickly, not marking the page.

Waving his wrinkled hand side to side, he dismissed her offer. "No, you're dad wouldn't want you wandering off without him knowing where you are." He said grabbing her shoulder and making her put her back on the hill to control whether she saw Jim or not.

"He wandered off without telling me."

Dale sighed, the girl made a good argument ⎯⎯ she had every right to go with Dale when he was the one watching after her ⎯⎯ but he wasn't going to the quarry at all. He had to check on Jim without anyone else, Dale knew Jim well enough at that point to know Jim wouldn't want everyone in his business.

"You sit with Lori and Carol for me. Till I get back."

She crossed her arms, annoyed, and walked to the ladder before climbing down. "Unfair."

Both Lori and Carol spent their time sewing up holes in clothing, mainly for their children, while sitting on a car's back seat that had been ripped out of a dead vehicle days ago.

As an avocation someone could use to spend time, Clementine couldn't fathom why they would want to sit there for hours looping thread through already looped thread just to fix a tiny hole on a shirt. She came to her own assumption that the people around her had gotten to a point where those things didn't matter ⎯⎯ but watching them do it made her want to take off to her tent and grab all her socks with worn-in holes.

Since she arrived at the camp with her father, the few socks she had were thinning out on the toes and heels until mini holes would form, and those holes would gradually get bigger the more she wore them. So, she didn't wear them. She'd been avoiding wearing her socks for the sole reason of detesting the sensation of part of her foot not being covered by cloth. If she did wear socks she usually had to resort to wearing two non-matching socks.

The other kids had someone to sew the holes in their socks, Jim couldn't work with a sewing needle if his life depended on it.

Clem glanced over to Sophia, regrettably thinking about how lucky she was to have a mother to do those things for her ⎯⎯ before she disappointedly recalled that Ed Peletier was her father. Clearly, the girl was feeling a certain way about what happened between her mother, father, and Shane. She most likely didn't know all the details of the situation ⎯⎯ but she's lived with him since she was a baby, so the puzzle pieces fall together. Sophia had become habituated to keeping her true feelings quiet when it came to her parents' dynamic long ago.

Even if Clementine could reason with Shane's actions ⎯⎯ she knew Sophia wouldn't carry the same sentiment when the one who got beaten was her father.

Sophia caught Clementine watching her draw in the dirt with a twig ⎯⎯ making Sophia smile and wave her stick side to side in a greeting. The two had never spoken with Sophia's father looming over her shoulder at all times.

Instantly, Clem felt shame for staring and quickly looked away. Sophia was good. Deserved much more than the cards she'd been dealt and Clementine knew that even being younger than Sophia by one or two years... But Sophia tended to radiate much more naivety.

• ───────────────── •

Neither Dale nor Jim showed up at any point for what Clementine assumed to be a long time.

Two people do show up, though, both carrying chains holding numerous fish, each. Amy and Andrea ⎯⎯ apparently the hunters the group had been dying for since they ran out of canned food.

The sight of the many fish immediately caused Clementine's mouth to water ⎯⎯ thinking about her mother's famous lemon pepper tilapia she used to make every family gathering. While Clementine knew they didn't have the seasonings, the right kind of fish, or the woman to make it, she was still instantly ecstatic to see her stomach would feel full going to bed that night.

It was a much-needed relief for the camp. Food, finally. Every single person in the line of sight thought.

Morales surged to his feet with a visible excitement at all of the fish, despite being sweaty and exhausted from his chores, he was quick to meet the girls and lift Andrea's collection. He lifted it up and down a couple of inches, testing the weight of them with a wide grin on his face.

Clementine started counting, ignoring all the happy cheers and talking. One, two, three, four, five, six ⎯⎯ At least half a dozen just on the one chain, and as Amy passed over the other chain of fish into Morales greedily awaiting hands, Clementine counted again. One, two three, four, five.

"Oh my gosh." She gleamed with excitement at Morales proudly holding up the two chains in the air, waving one towards Lori, making her cringe away with a sweet smile on her face.

The woman was just as excited as the rest of them ⎯⎯ just proving her squeamish nature at the same time.

Clementine could only imagine the taste, half tempted to take a shot at trying sushi all of a sudden with all of the raw fish within grasp. It would be an understatement to say she'd rather starve than have to eat the atrocity she had been forcing herself to eat for the past many days.

Even as a baby the girl was well known for her strong pickiness when it came to food. Peas were a hard no, and usually, if her parents tried to trick her into eating them, she'd stop eating entirely during that meal. Her emotions had a strong sway on her appetite, making her lose hunger if she didn't like the taste, or was told to eat something she didn't want to. On nights when she was sad about her father or mother not being home until late ⎯⎯ she wouldn't eat dinner ⎯⎯ having absolutely no appetite with her strong emotions taking her full attention.

Next to Clementine a woman had been nursing a flame to boil some water, and Clementine was incredibly close to snatching one of the fish and throwing it into the flames, she'd eat it burnt if she had to.

Clementine looked up to find Dale, her smile wide, wishing to share the moment with the one person who had tried to care for her the most, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was supposed to be down in the quarry checking on the two girls who now stood in front of Clem, so why hadn't he returned?

"Where's Dale?"

The accomplished, happy smiles twist into raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Easily telling Clementine they had no idea why she was asking about him. Especially Andrea and Amy shared looks of confusion, thinking, how would we know ⎯⎯ we've been fishing?.

Clem pinched the fabric of her jacket's sleeves, biting at her chapped lips and peeling the dry skin nervously. "Dale said⎯⎯"

"Right here, Clementine," Dale called out, raising his hand slightly in a, calm-down, motion. His head hung low, and the rifle he left with was still looped over his shoulder.

Instant relief. The grandpa of the commune was safe and sound. And that was no insult. Dale was the wise and sincere one, with no doubt in anyone's mind. He acted as a compass for many people, especially Clementine, and her natural ability to overthink had put thoughts of many possibilities for Dale's missing presence into her mind. She had already long forgotten her way home, but Dale brought the ability to find a way at all.

Andrea excitedly shifted her attention. "Hey, Dale. When's the last time you oiled those line reels? They are a disgrace..." She smiled, oblivious to the sour look on Dale's face. Next to her stood Morales, showing off the fish, awaiting shared excitement to come from his older companion.

All attention fell upon Dale, but he stuttered over his words, looking at Clementine with a sense of pity. She saw it instantly ⎯⎯ having no idea where to begin deciphering it. Why's he looking at me like that?

It wasn't until he purposefully averted his gaze from the child that she knew for sure something was wrong. Dale and Clementine shared at least one thing in common ⎯⎯ and that was their comfortability with speaking their mind and telling it how it is. But Dale wasn't doing that at all. He had always been an open book just like her, and she knew her feelings were always a clearly read message on each and every pore in her skin.

Dale was attempting to close his book with his contact avoidance ⎯⎯ and even Shane who was sitting a good distance away saw the unnatural demeanor coming from Dale Horvath.

"I don't want to alarm anyone, but..." His eyes begrudgingly flicked to Clementine as he spoke, wishing she'd walk away so she didn't have to worry about it ⎯⎯ but she was already worried. "We may have a bit of a problem." Dale tried to explain without using any of the necessary details, uncomfortably aware that the daughter of said problem was less than ten feet away from him.

Paranoia seeped its way into Clementine's bones the same way she had imagined so many times the infectious disease did to people. It burgeoned at the seams of her clothing, blowing up like a balloon, filling and filling her chest with panic until it couldn't hold anymore.

All of the worst inclinations form in every crevice of her brain, bouncing off each other to create mixtures and even worse panicked thoughts.

He's bitten. Those that left are dead. Someone else is dead. The not-so-dead people are about to ambush them all. She's actively dying. The helicopters that bombed Atlanta are about to fly overhead and drop a hundred more on them. He found her father dead in the woods. It goes on.

When he turned away from her, glancing up at the hill bordering the side of the camp, she looked too. He turned sideways to Shane, pointing gently to the top. While everyone processes the sight, Clementine grabs her jacket sleeve, scrubbing at the front of her glasses and trying to squint to see clearer.

Dale looked back at the girl sadly, a good amount of people in camp fit the requirements of the visible figure. Tall, thin, white, male, wearing a hat.

Clementine didn't recognize him immediately. Didn't at any point think it looked exactly like who it was. But the already bubbling paranoia flitted through the options, and only one person had been gone without warning for the past couple of hours.

With a begrudging sigh, Dale looked at Shane. He had to say it in front of Clementine ⎯⎯ no matter how much he didn't want to.

"It's Jim."

• ───────────────── •

Many of the camp's dwellers, including ⎯⎯ Lori, Dale, Shane, Jacqui, and Amy ⎯⎯ tried their best to convince Clementine to stay at the RV. It took quite a lot of effort to persuade a little girl to sit by herself while the rest of them went and figured out what was going on with her father.

No amount of persuasion sufficed to convince her to do anything they asked her to do. It didn't feel remotely right that of all people she was the one who couldn't hear what Jim had to say. So, the only wise thing to do in her mind ⎯⎯ sneak up there, just a few steps behind the rest of them.

Dale and Shane lead the march up the hill, the Morales family, Anderson sisters, Jacqui, Lori, Carol, and both of the mother's children close behind them. Every other person who lived in the camp also followed suit.

Most of the people in the back, Clementine hardly knew a thing about. Faces were recognizable, some of their names danced on the tip of her tongue but none were for sure the right one. If all of them didn't even know her name ⎯⎯ she wouldn't be surprised. The fact the man they all were going to bombard was the father of the girl close behind them also flew over their heads. Along with the fact that she was the one not supposed to come.

And yet ⎯⎯ even if they did know her name, her father, or the fact she wasn't supposed to be there ⎯⎯ they didn't bat an eye when she filtered through the crowd of them to try and get a look at what was ahead.

Being at the very back, and much shorter, Clementine couldn't see her dad at the same time as everyone else, but she knew he was within sight when she heard, "Hey, Jim." From Shane. Jim gave no verbal response to the greeting. "Jim, why don't you hold up, alright? Just give me a second here, please."

Clementine forced herself past an older woman, getting a glimpse between people of her father. He stood up straight, planting the blade of his shovel an inch or two into the dirt. "What do you want?" He snapped back with annoyance, not noticing his daughter among the mob of people.

Mounds of dirt surrounded him, accompanied by at least three-foot-deep holes beside every pile of dirt. He's been busy, but what is the goal, what is he doing?

His hard work reflected on his clothing, he wore a white t-shirt with one of his old button-up work shirts. Both were covered in dirt and the sweat from his endeavor had soaked past the white t-shirt and was now darkening his button-up shirt beneath his arms and on the full expanse of his back.

Surely, he stunk. Most definitely a horrible fetor mixture of the natural sweat body odor, dirt, and the heat cooking it all together.

Working as a mechanic he came home often coated with dirt and sweat ⎯⎯ most often stinking of car oil and malodor. It was common for the rest of the Holloway family to avoid him until he bathed. But out in the middle of nowhere, there was no access to a proper shower, good soap, or even a way to clean his dirty clothes well enough that they wouldn't stink just as bad afterward.

"We're all just a little concerned, that's all..." Shane spoke with a calmness resembling that of a man talking down a rabid dog, gently, preparing for it to lunge. Like a child on the brink of an excruciating tantrum. Like two hands over two bright red buttons ⎯⎯ but only one saved mankind ⎯⎯ while the other was Jim, the worldwide detonation.

"Dale says you've been out here for hours," Morales announced from behind the cop, causing Jim to flick his gaze to Dale with a betrayed look in his eyes.

"So?"

Shane tilted his head curiously. "So, why are you digging? Are you heading to China, Jim?" Chuckled the man, attempting to make light of the situation ⎯⎯ trying to mitigate the tension but only succeeding at making a joke of the situation.

With a careless shrug, Jim turned his head back to the dirt, looking down at where he was about to continue digging.

Every fiber of Clementine's being wanted to jump out and ask, what the fuck are you doing, Dad? But she shrunk back into the crowd, hiding just behind Carol and Lori, blending into the background.

Outspoken was only one word to describe her but Clementine was a whole lot of other things. She was both quiet and loud, bold and yet fearful, independent and dependent. Almost every contrasting trait fits into her soul to create one hell of a hard time expressing her feelings.

"What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone."

Dale shook his head in disagreement, holding his rifle loosely in hand. "Yeah, except maybe yourself. It's... It's one hundred degrees today. You can't keep this up."

"Sure I can. Watch me." The point of his shovel sunk deeper into the soil as he pushed down on it with his shoe, physically making a point as he spoke challengingly.

Just in front of Clementine, Lori had enough. The mother stepped forward, taking a stand in between the two men facing off Jim. "Jim, they're not gonna say it, so, I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my son ⎯⎯ and Carol's daughter..." She paused, considering her thoughts before snapping his attention fully on her. "You're daughter's worried sick."

It was nauseating for Clementine to hear Lori defend her against her own father. Not only did the woman seem to see right through Clementine's carefully formed mask ⎯⎯ but she also verbalized exactly that. Right to Jim's face ⎯⎯ a man who hadn't quite taken emotion under consideration days.

He physically waved her words off. "They got nothin' to be scared of." Jim disregarded the statement, ostensibly letting the mentioning of his daughter's state be forgotten. "I mean... What the hell, people? I'm out here by myself. Why don't you all just go and leave me the hell alone?"

"We think that you need to take a break, okay? Why don't you go and get yourself in the shade? Some food maybe. I'll tell you what⎯⎯ Maybe in a little bit, I'll come out here. I'll help you myself."

Not even Clementine believed Shane, so she knew her father wouldn't either. But whether it was believable or not didn't matter much when Jim ignored half of what anyone said.

"Jim, just tell me what it's about. Why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel?" Shane asked, reaching his hand out just a little ⎯⎯ not fully intruding on his space.

"Or what?"

Shane cocked his head, furrowing his eyebrows at the man's attitude. "There is no or what. I'm asking you. I'm coming to you, and I'm asking you, please. I don't want to have to take it from you."

"And if I don't, then what?" Then you're gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier, aren't you? Y'all seen his face, huh? What's left of it..."

Clementine grimaced at her father's comparison ⎯⎯ her father had never laid a harmful hand on anyone, let alone his wife or children. Everything about Ed Peletier was the opposite, and ⎯⎯ in Clementine's opinion ⎯⎯ pointed to him deserving the beating tenfold.

It was clear Jim didn't think it was right to get involved in other people's business, especially when the world had many more problems to worry about. He distinctly said, family, was what mattered. Family, just, family. But how could anyone stand by when someone was so clearly doing the opposite? Harming their own family in a way that was disgusting.

Jim was up here for some reason, and Clementine was determined to know why. He wasn't just digging a hole ⎯⎯ he had dug at least a dozen and was seemingly not done.

No instantly reasonable conclusions came to his daughter's chronically overthinking mind.

"See, now that's what happens when someone crosses you."

Shane gritted his teeth. "That was different, Jim."

To the side, Amy stepped up this time. She hadn't spoken to Ed directly down in the quarry but she witnessed every second of it and wasn't about to let Jim excuse the behavior by comparing it to himself. "You weren't there. Ed was out of control. He was hurting his wife."

"That is their marriage! That is not his."

In all ten years of Clementine's life, not once had she heard her father yell ⎯⎯ at least not in a genuinely angry manner. In front of her, was not her father. The anger sat between his eyebrows in a furrow, and in a grimace on his mouth as he shouted. It was the least like the person she grew up with and it was surely not the man her kind, loving, and caring mother married.

Carol pulled her daughter closer, placing a hand on the side of Sophia's face in an attempt to physically shield her from Jim's harsh opinions.

"He is not judge and jury! Who voted you king boss, huh?"

"Jim, I'm not here to argue with you, all right?" Shane countered, stepping toward the intransigent man and reaching for the shovel. "Just give me the shovel, okay?"

Her father had what looked like an attempt to smile, but his anger at all the people watching him was evident. "No, no, no." He tried to hold the shovel out of Shane's reach, using his other arm to block him. Within a second, he twisted the shovel around into both hands and swiped the blade of it at Shane's stomach, coming within inches of spilling his guts ⎯⎯ literally ⎯⎯ all over the dirt below.

Clementine shoved her way to the front of the group. "Dad! Stop it!" She screamed bloody murder, horrified explicitly by her father's actions.

Along with everyone else, her yelling grabbed Jim's attention completely ⎯⎯ but Shane who was trained to work under pressure only used the distraction to his advantage. He tackled the recalcitrant man to the ground.

It looked just like Clementine had seen the cops do on the television, pinning him to the dirt on his stomach, arms behind his back as he shouted pleadingly. "You got no right!" Repetitively.

Shane tried his best to console the man, holding him still. "Jim, just stop it. Hey, hey, hey, hey. JIM? Jim, nobody's gonna hurt you. You hear me?"

The all-too-familiar statement had Clementine's eyes burning with the threat of tears, and it quickly had the same effect on her father, punching him in the gut. That same promise had twisted its way into the most innocent parts of her dreams and turned them all into a darkness she couldn't comprehend.

With his face pressed against the grass and dirt, his skin flushed from the heat and or the physical exercise of being tackled. "That's a lie." He muttered, locking eyes with his daughter. "That's the biggest lie there is." Every word stumbled out in a whimper as Shane cuffed his hands behind his back. "I told that to my wife and my two boys... I said it a hundred times. It didn't matter⎯⎯" He rambled breathlessly, his eyes visibly pointed directly at Clementine but somehow gazing straight through her. "They came out of nowhere. There were dozens of 'em. Just pulled 'em right out of my hands."

Lori placed a hand on Clementine's shoulder knowingly as Clementine fought to keep from crying. "Daddy. Please... Stop." She begged, her lip quivering.

Silence fell when her father didn't respond, giving everyone a false sense of finality before Jim busted through that barrier. She looked back at her father earnestly ⎯⎯ but the man wasn't truly looking at her. His umber eyes stared into her light sapphire blue ones ⎯⎯ not truly seeing her anymore. What he was truly seeing was someone else, a woman, who shared the same eyes. Someone who was long gone ⎯⎯ the ghost of her, stood behind his daughter.

"You know, the only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family." He sighed, defeated and exhausted from both the strenuous activity of digging for hours in one-hundred-degree weather ⎯⎯ and the act of finally spilling what had been weighing him down.

The man's eyes fluttered shut, disconnecting his line of sight with his daughter and letting his adrenaline run dry.

• ───────────────── •

For the rest of the day, Jim was ostracized, put under a tree per Shane's request, and frequently got water served to him or occasionally poured over his head.

By the time the sunlight was a tame sunset, he was allowed out of his corner and brought to the campfire where fish was being cooked. People went on with their night, disregarding Ed Peletier's abuse and Jim's strange decision to dig holes.

But Clementine sat in the RV, her plate of fish resting on the table in front of her. She could easily remember the feeling she got at the sight of fish being brought back to camp, but could no longer stomach the thought of digesting anything. It made her throat feel like it was going to close up just thinking about eating ⎯⎯ but Dale refused to let the girl go off without taking food with her.

Which so far seemed to have been a mistake since it had just been sitting, going to waste. Instead of eating she sat in the booth sideways, looking across the aisle and out the roughly square-shaped window just above the sink.

It looked fun, sitting by the fire. Whatever was being spoken about had most of them laughing and smiling. Inadvertently making Clementine feel even more quarantined than she'd already made herself feel. It only brought an overwhelming sense of dread to pool in her gut.

She could very well go out and sit with them, but feared facing her father after what he said. Jim spoke of their family's demise in the most gruesome way possible, telling everyone he only survived because his family was getting eaten alive. A reality Clementine was realizing all over again.

When Rick showed up she had some hope, that maybe, her mother and brothers could've lived, but that was just hope. A hope she suddenly wanted to pummel beneath her fist the same way Shane treated Ed.

Hope gave her nothing but disappointment.

Suddenly, Amy stepped up into the RV, closing the door behind her. She did her best to attempt a non-pitiful smile but the sorrow for the child was evident in her features. "Hey, Clem. How are you doin'?" Approached the twenty-some-year-old woman. Amy crouched down in front of the table, resting her forearms on the top of it, and setting her chin atop her arm. "Okay in here all by yourself?"

Clementine shrugged. She wanted to talk, tell her how she felt and how it was ripping her apart inside not to scream at the top of her lungs ⎯⎯ but she uttered nothing. Bringing nothing but awkward reticent muteness from the otherwise usually talkative girl.

"Hey..." Amy tilted her head into Clementine's avoidant line of sight, placing her hand over Clem's. "Let's make a deal... I'm going to go to the bathroom, and then we're going to go out there together. And you're gonna eat, okay?"

Up close, Clementine could see the soft hint of freckles up Amy's nose. Amy's profound beauty only made it harder not to talk to the woman. Clem forced her gaze to her lap, breaking her sight away from Amy's steel blue eyes. The genuine kindness radiating off of her was slowly suffocating Clementine's anger ⎯⎯ the anger Clementine was slowly becoming acquainted with feeling all the time.

She wished Amy never walked in, that way it would be easier to pretend she didn't want to be out there ⎯⎯ with the rest of them. But it was the kindness. A sweet and unmistakable generosity that swirled within the depth of her Weddell Sea irises.

Marie Holloway didn't have such piercing eyes, but what swam beneath the blue tones were just the same. An intimidatingly sincere warmth and tenderness that was held for everyone she met, including all the people who never deserved such grace to befall them.

A possibility formed within Clementine's mind, coming to a crushing thought that perhaps she was one of those people. What if I'm one of those people who will never earn the honor of being presented with benevolence so strong?

But that wasn't something Marie Holloway would ever want to hear Clementine considering ⎯⎯ so Clem shoved it down with all the strength she had, swallowing the self-hatred lump in her throat and letting out an exasperated sigh, as if it took everything she had to let the thought go.

"Okay."

Successful in pulling the little girl out of her mental cage, Amy happily stood up straight with an accomplished smile. She stepped back from the booth and moved for the bathroom, but Clementine immediately recalled that she had just gone to the bathroom ⎯⎯ and used the last bit of toilet paper.

"Oh⎯⎯ wait. We're out of toilet paper."

Amy dramatically slouched her shoulders, sighing. It was an act, she glanced sideways at Clementine, giving her a teasing smile before walking back over to the RV door, mumbling, "Dale better be hiding some under that hat."

Clementine cracked a smile, sliding out of the booth and following after Amy quickly.

"We're out of toilet paper?"

By the fire, people begin to turn their attention as she called out to those surrounding the flames, propping the door open with one arm, and dropping her other arm to her side in a defeated stance.

Just behind Amy, Clementine made it halfway down the RV steps, stifling a laugh at the woman's attitude, looking over her shoulder to see any reaction ⎯⎯ simultaneously, a man rounds the swung-open RV door.

For just a moment, Clementine expected him to speak, until the illish grey skin tone processed in her mind. It was no living man ⎯⎯ a walker that was scanning the area and within seconds grabbed onto Amy's outstretched arm.

A breath shoved itself down Clementine's esophagus as she heaved in. Petrified, wouldn't begin to explain it. Neither Clementine nor Amy had a way of defending themselves, and even if one of them did, it was doubtful that Amy knew how to kill one of those things any better than Clementine would be able to.

The rushed breath scraped down her throat painfully, the urge to cough arose and her eyes watered as she tried to put distance between herself and the walker. She attempted to take a step back, forgetting she was on a set of stairs and only stumbling onto her backside as the cough forced its way out.

One loud and elongated howl burst its way from Amy's lips. Pure and undiluted pain. The grimy teeth sank into her forearm's skin. Deep crimson pooled from the gnawed-on flesh ⎯⎯ the harsh shade of red looked incongruous against her naturally pale skin.

It hurt, Clementine could tell that it had to have hurt immensely just by watching the man's mouth pull back ⎯⎯ disgustingly stretching Amy's skin, ripping it from her form.

Amy tried to get away, but the agony of it had her legs buckling beneath her and she stumbled to the right, out of Clementine's line of view.

The reanimated man, however, wasn't done. He kept on toward Amy, still craving whatever internal satisfaction he got from tearing her apart.

Clementine hadn't realized until Amy's lungs took a break from releasing the wail ⎯⎯ that everyone else was screaming as well. It all hit hurt ears at once, going off like a tornado alarm.

Warning, warning, dead people are coming to kill you all.

Another high-pitched scream broke free from the depths of Amy's throat, her anguish ringing through Clementine's ears. It was loud. Everything was loud. People were crying, screaming, running, and yet Clementine couldn't even think.

Amy's return to screaming only told Clementine that the dead man had got what he wanted ⎯⎯ another bite.

Everything else racing through her mind had no answers.

She could close the RV door right then and there, and save herself, but what if she was the only one to make it out alive? She can't drive, cook, hunt, or fight. Saving herself would only seal her own fate in a cruel lonely death ⎯⎯ the one thing she was scared of the most.

A cadaverous woman hobbled in front of the open RV door, gaunt eyes landing on the ten-year-old Clementine ⎯⎯ a gluttonous desire to tear into the child like it was nothing.

Clementine surged with fear, her limbs suddenly gained the strength needed to push her body weight up and off the steps ⎯⎯ but Clementine had nowhere to run. The woman was close enough not to allow the door to be shut, and that door was the only way Clementine knew out of the RV.

The only option was to retreat into the RV, but as Clem turned her back on the ghastly woman, she lunged ⎯⎯ getting a vicelike grip on the girl's ankle within seconds. She didn't scream despite the overwhelming sense of panic that flooded her veins. Clem swung her leg around aimlessly ⎯⎯ remembering Ed's futile attempts to get Shane off of him.

She wondered how long she could fend off a grown woman. Sure, the damn thing is dead and weak, but she's just a kid. The weight of the walker alone would be a struggle to get off of her, but with it grabbing and scratching at her at the same time? It was a death sentence to be left alone with a walker two times her size.

The walker, having poorly functioning equilibrium, falls itself ⎯⎯ but still holds onto Clementine's ankle tightly. It tugged hard, pulling the girl down the steps of the RV, and causing her to land hard in the dirt.

Despite now being much closer to the walker, and on it's level, Clementine wasn't ready to give up the fight no matter how hard it was getting to breathe. She heaved in breaths over and over ⎯⎯ digesting some amount of dirt from the dust that kicked up as she scrambled, gripping at nothing.

Clementine slid underneath the RV, army crawling between the two front tires and back out from under the vehicle, quickly looking around panicked. She made it away from that walker, but what about the other ten just within her line of sight? How many more would come to the sound of gunfire and screams?

She heard a strange gurgling sound among the screams and looked over to see Amy flat on her back with the deceased man standing over her. He seemed to have had enough of Amy with so many kicking and screaming people still available.

"Amy...?" It left her lips before Clementine thought of the consequences ⎯⎯ and now the walker knew she was there. He turned, interest lost in the now dying Amy, and quickly growing a hunger for another living being ⎯⎯ Clementine.

Finally, Clementine let out an ear-piercing scream of unfiltered hysteric fear. If that frail walker almost got her, this tall man surely would.

At the same time, Andrea came running ⎯⎯ screaming and crying for her sister. She was prepared to tackle the male walker despite having no weapon in hand. Vengeance could make anyone do crazy things ⎯⎯ and Clementine didn't know if it was that or a sorrowful attempt at trying to rewrite the already burned-in history. But it was done. Amy's future had been scratched out, and a tally was carved in Clementine's bones as a constant reminder of the pain and loss following her every move.

Andrea didn't make it to the walker in time, thankfully, because she seemed to be prepared to lose her life just to take her already forming grief out on the being. Instead, Jim stepped up, shoving the woman back.

But Andrea's no longer approaching figure didn't stop the walker's advancement toward his daughter. He saw it ⎯⎯ and within his pupils, something there held recognition, like he'd already seen this before. And more apparent than loud and flashing cop car lights, every fatherly instinct came rushing to the forefront of his mind. A voice in the back of his head slapped him awake and initiated that natural impulse like flicking on a light switch.

Even if the light hadn't been turned on in days, there was still electricity within to power that bulb.

The voice to knock him into action held power ⎯⎯ but was soft as it spoke, wake up. Wake up. The same voice of a distant memory.

Having already seen his wife and two sons literally pulled away from him, he suddenly realized he hadn't lost it all that day. There was his baby girl and to hell if he would allow anything else bad to happen to her as long as he lived. She'd been through enough already ⎯⎯ he'd put her through enough already.

Ghastly colored hands grab onto Clementine's shoulders ⎯⎯ forcing the girl to face head-on with a being that should no longer be standing. Scarlet red blood, once belonging in the veins of Amy Anderson coated the same hands, seeping into the burgundy shade of her jacket. The same stark red dripped down the walker's chin ⎯⎯ but he was still hungry.

Within milliseconds of the walker having its hands on her shoulders a bat whizzed over her head, an audible woosh through the air, and it slammed right into the same bloody, grey face she couldn't pull her eyes from.

It fell backward, immediately concussed and limp from the impact.

What was worse ⎯⎯ seeing a friend torn apart in front of her, being dragged by the feet kicking and screaming, facing the very being that did the demolishing of said friend, or watching a bat slam into a head so painfully hard it emitted a dissonance of sounds. Clementine couldn't be too sure, it was all a swift-moving confrontation ⎯⎯ she wasn't even sure where the first walker had gone until she looked over and saw Morales bashing his weapon into its skull.

All of it happened too fast, and yet it wasn't over. People were still screaming, guns were still firing, and everywhere she looked there were either petrified faces or determined looks of disgust.

A different deceased being put itself between Clementine and the RV, blocking the only escape she had, and Jim was quick to shove his daughter back and into the arms of Lori Grimes. "Stay with her, Clem!" He yelled, swinging his bat into another walker's head.

Lori hooked her arm around both her son and Clementine, the two children, Lori, and Shane tightly compacted to avoid as many walkers as possible.

By the time Clementine could look back over to the RV, her father was gone.

"Carol?" Lori called out worriedly, looking back to make sure her friend was close ⎯⎯ and she was. Carol stood right behind, carrying her daughter tightly, looking back and forth. "Get to the RV! Go!" Lori yelled, swiping her hand at Carol to encourage her forward.

Carl grabbed for Clementine's wrist, only managing to get a handful of her jacket sleeve, but pulled her closer to him and Lori nonetheless ⎯⎯ but Clementine's hand was firmly tucked in her pocket, squeezing the wishing stone inside like her life depended on it.

• ───────────────── •

Just when Clementine was beginning to think they'd never make it to the RV intact, from the depths of the shadows came out the four men who left for Atlanta for Merle Dixon. The man who was still not present.

Gunshots rang in her ears, and she itched to cover them, but with Carl holding tightly onto one wrist and the other determined to keep hold of her rock, she just squeezed her eyes shut. If she were to die she didn't want to see it coming.

The sounds of bodies dropping almost scared her more than the piercing blares of varying guns, but then all loud noises stopped.

"Baby!"

Clementine stood behind Shane, watching Lori and Carl run into the arms of the returned Rick Grimes.

She wasn't one for physical affection, but suddenly she really wanted a damn hug ⎯⎯ but nobody was there to give her one. So she stood alone, her hands trembling, and her chest rising shakily with breaths that didn't feel sufficient enough to fill her lungs.

Out from the thicket came her father, now splattered in blood. The familiar look of detachment had already started to blanket his face as he looked around at the gore. Clementine instinctively took a step toward him, expecting him to do the same. Run into each other's arms the way the Grimes family just had ⎯⎯ but nothing.

"Dad?" She called out pleadingly, wanting nothing more than that hug to come from her father.

He gulped as he numbly gazed around at the people who managed to survive. "I remember my dream now." He muttered, his forehead slick with sweat, and his eyes wide. "Why I dug the holes."

Clementine remembered waking him up that morning. The distraught look on his face ⎯⎯ and before she thought it may have been because of how he acted against her ⎯⎯ but now she could see it was more than that. That same look was on his face, minus the spattered blood, flushed skin, and sweat. She knew what he had dreamt.

Because she'd already dreamt it.

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〈〈 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 〉〉

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Hope you liked it <3

On today's episode of El traumatizing herself and her OC's... 

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