Scars | ✔

Chapter 10

Ever since that day of being whipped on the arm by Tayla, Clem knew that it was going to be hard. But she didn't know that she'd be beaten everyday. Starved for long periods of time. Told things that broke her down. She didn't know that Marshall would risk everything for her. She didn't know that he'd get hurt to protect her, even if it didn't really. No matter how much Marshall tried to stop it, Clem always got hurt in the end, as did Marshall. They were never safe from the torture they'd endure each and every day.

Each and every day for three years.

That's how long Clem has been here so far. Ever since that day, things have only gotten worse. The window's have been boarded up completely, so no light shines in anymore. All means of furniture as been removed. The dust that filled the room more often than times made it hard to breathe. Timothy, Tayla, and the others despised her.

All except for Marshall.

If Marshall would stay out of this all, he wouldn't get hurt. He would be able to eat everyday, sleep in a bed everyday, and go through each day without a scratch. Instead, he tries his hardest to protect Clementine. Then, he gets hurt, starved, and made to stay in that old dusty room with Clem.

Though, he didn't mind it. As long as he was by Clem's side; making sure she didn't stop breathing after a severe beating; then he was okay. All he wanted was for Clem to be okay.

And all Clem wanted was for him to stop. She hated how much pain he went through for her. None of this would have started if it wasn't for her, anyway. That day they tried to run away was the day everything went downhill. It was all her fault. She begged for them to runaway, and it was all for this.

To be tormented and beat every. single. day.

. . .

Clem played with her wrist nervously. It was a habit she had started as a kid, and never stopped. Marshall sighed and rubbed the eleven year old's arm.

"It's alright, Clem.. They won't hurt you." Marshall tried to say, only to earn a sad look from Clem.

"You can't say that. You know them. Both of us have lifelong scars all over us because of them. Nothing will ever change. They're taking me out to kill me later and I know it." Clem said, taking off her hat as she looked at all the blood streaks.

"Clem. They won't-"

"If I die.. will you keep my hat for me? Wear it and don't.. let them take it?"

"Clem, you aren't going to-"

"Please?"

"Fine." Marshall said in a sigh, taking Clem's hat and placing it on his head, giving her a faint smile.

"Thank you."

"You do know though.. you won't die."

"But if I do?"

"You won't."

"What if, Marshall?"

"Then I'll always remember you. I'd never forget you, Clementine. But that's not going to happen." Marshall frowned as he studied Clem's face. Clem threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"I love you, Marshall."

"I love you too, Clementine."

Just then, the door slammed open, revealing the blinding light.

"Alright, girl. Get up." Timothy said angrily.

"Timothy, why can't you just leave her alone?!" Marshall asked, standing next to Clem.

"How many times do I have to tell ye? You call me Pa. You have since you were little, you do it now."

"You don't deserve that title." Marshall spoke, spitting at Timothy's feet. Timothy gritted his teeth and grabbed Clem's arm, yanking her out of the room. Marshall yelled, but Timothy slammed the door shut and left with Clementine.

. . .

"What are we doing out here?" Clem asked nervously as she eyes the shiny gun in Timothy's hand.

"Just playin a game, darlin." Timothy said through a dark voice.

"You aren't going to kill me.. are you?" Clem asked.

"No. Much better." Timothy said, pushing Clem onto the forest floor and aiming the gun at her. Clem closed her eyes as a gunshot rang through the air.

Clem felt a piercing pain in her shoulder, but she didn't scream. She knew that it would only cause her more pain if she did.

She held her shoulder as she watched the crimson colored liquid ooze from her arm, onto the dirt ground, and all over her clothes. She closed her eyes a bit, feeling dizzy from the shock. She could hear Timothy yelling, but she couldn't depict was he was saying. She closed her eyes as her vision grew more blurry, and she blacked out.

. . .

Marshall paced around the room as he waited for Clem to come back. She would come back. She had to.

Suddenly, Marshall was brought out of his worries as he heard the bedroom door slam open. Timothy was standing in the doorway, and he threw a unconscious Clem in the room. Her body hit the ground, and Clem fell on her shoulder. Marshall watched as the blood leaked out, and in horror, ran to her aid.

"What did you do?!" Marshall asked in a worry yell. Timothy spat at the two, and left the room.

"Clem.. oh god, Clem.. wake up.." Marshall whined, already looking at her shoulder. He began to examine her shoulder, looking for anything lodged inside. He was right to, since he found the bullet stuck in her shoulder still. He carefully removed it as his father had taught him. He tore a piece of his shirt off; not like it could get any more worse anyway. It was ridden with both blood and tears. He wrapped it around Clem's shoulder to stop the bleeding, and put his index and middle finger to her neck.

Marshall sighed a breath of relief, and relaxed a bit.

"There ya go, Clem. It's alright." Marshall whispered to his 'sister'. He took her hat off of himself, and placed it on her head.

"It's okay. It'll all be okay."

. . .

Clem drowsily opened her eyes, groaning a bit and holding her shoulder. She glanced down at it and noticed the pale blue fabric with red splotches all over. She knew right away that it was Marshall's shirt. She sat up as quickly as she could, and looked around.

"Marsh?" Clem asked, her voice cutting through the silent room like a knife.

"Clem? Oh thank god, Clem." Marshall said, stumbling running towards Clem from the opposite side of the room.

"I'm so glad you're okay." Clem muttered, hugging Marshall in the darkness.

"Pfft. I should be the one saying that." Marshall joked with a small laugh. Clem laughed, bumping Marshall on the shoulder.