Scars | ✔

Chapter 2

"Alright, Clementine, darling. Your pa here is going to take you huntin. You may be a lady, but knowing how to use a gun will come in handy." Tayla said as she swept at the floor. Clem watched intently as she swept, not saying a word.

"Don't mind me, honey. I'm a bit of a clean freak. Now, go get ready. You have fresh clothes in the dresser. Don't keep pa and the boys waiting."

"B-but.." Clem tried to speak, but remembering what Marshall told her last night, bit her tongue.

"What is it, darling?"

"Uhm.. nothing. I just wanted to ask.. if.. uhm. I could keep my hat?" Clem asked, trying to think of an excuse. Tayla glanced up suspiciously, but gave a warm smile afterwards.

"Of course.. sweetie. Just.. please try not to get dirty. It's not lady like."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Call me ma. Or mama if you're more comfortable with it." Clem slightly cringed at the thought. No way was she going to call this kidnapper 'ma'.

"But-"

"What am I to you?" Tayla asked, cutting Clem off.

"You-"

"What am I to you?" Tayla asked again, more firmly than before.

"You are.. my mom.." Clem said in almost a whisper. It hurt her to say that, especially since she had just watched her real mom be killed.

"Yes, sweetheart. That's correct, good job, dear. Now, please go get ready."

"I-"

"Please. Go get ready." Something in Tayla's voice scared Clem. She hadn't been this intimidated by the woman before; but something told Clem that she was being serious.

"Okay." Clem said sadly, sliding off the bed. Tayla glared at Clem as she walked by. Clem could even feel her stare when her back was turned. It, no doubt, sent chills down her spin.

. . .

"Alright, girly. You ready?" Timothy asked Clem. Clem nervously nodded while playing with her wrists. It was a thing she's done since she was little; it just turned into a habit for when she was overly stressed.

Timothy gave a slight nod of confirmation, and handed the small girl a pistol. She shakily held it and looked up at him.

"Just hold it until we get there." Timothy said, propping his rifle on his shoulder and turning his back towards her. Clem slowly followed. She didn't want to go with him alone. As if some angel was listening to her thoughts, Marshall ran up, holding a small pistol as well.

"Don't worry. I'm here." Marshall said, giving her a comforting smile. Clem gave a weak smile as well, and set forward following Timothy.

"How old are you?" Clem finally asked after a bit of silence. Though, it came out as a mere whisper only Marshall could hear.

"Nine. Almost ten." Marshall told her, giving another smile.

"I thought you were the same age as me." Clem mumbled.

"How old are you?"

"Eight."

"I've gotta protect you, then." Marshall said, giving a smile to the younger girl. Clem smiled back. Her smile was quickly cut short when she bumped into Timothy, whom of which had a finger to his lips shushing the kids. He pointed to some bushes which laid close off the path. Clem watched as she trembled. Suddenly, she felt an arm around her neck. She looked up to see Marshall with an arm around her, staring at the bushes.