Scars | ✔

Chapter 11

"Clem. You are NOT okay." Marshall said in a panic, holding Clementine close to him as she bled intensely.

"No.. I am okay.. Just a small scratch is all." Clem mumbled as Marshall tried his best to stop the bleeding.

"Clementine," Marshall started, having a serious tone. Clem jumped. Marshall didn't usually call her by her full name, so it caught her by surprise. "You have a busted lip, a slashed open arm, a second degree burn on your neck, a black eye, AND open cuts all over. That is the DEFINITION of not okay!" Marshall told her, feeling around her neck.

"I'm okay! I can even stand. Watch."

"Don't."

"I can!"

"Clem."

Clem stood up, holding her arm and stumbling a bit.

"See? Good." Clem spoke with a smile. Marshall sighed and shook his head, feeling his own scars, cuts, and bruises. Clem sat down next to him and smiled.

"Here. Let me help ye." Marshall scavenged through Clem's bag, trying to find what he needed.

Finally, Marshall found a needle and thread, as well as some antibiotics.

"Alright, Clem... This outta hurt, but ye gotta be strong, okay?" Marshall asked, watching Clem nod.

Marshall carefully started to stitch Clem's arm, making her yell in pain.

Clem banged her fist against her knee, hot tears running down her eyes as Marshall tried his best to help.

"Sorry! Sorry... Almost done." Marshall jumped when thunder went off outside; making him tear through Clem's skin a bit.

"Darn it!" Marshall yelled as Clem cried, gripping her shirt with her free hand.

"Done!" Marshall finally said, putting some rubbing alcohol on the wound, making Clem hiss in pain.

"There ye go. Good job, Clem. You're so strong." Marshall said, letting Clem scoot next to him and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks.."

"Anytime, Clementine."

Silence fell between the two as Clem tried to regain herself, taking a good look at her arm.

"Remember two years ago when Timothy shot you?" Marshall asked in a bit of a daze, breaking the long lasting silence. Clem nodded against Marshall's shoulder, sighing and closing her eyes.

"Yeah. I remember. Hurt like hell." Clem muttered.

"Clem-"

"Heck. Hurt like heck."

Marshall smiled. He never was the kind to like swearing. He wasn't exactly a christian, well, he might have been. He never got exposed to that type of stuff, so he didn't exactly understand religion. On the fair note, Clem didn't either. Besides, they were only about a year and half apart in age.

Marshall liked to remember back when he was only about three. Everything with his family was great back then. They used to live on a nice sized farm with all types of cattle and critters. A beautiful forest nearby, with lost of land for hunts and games. Marshall liked to play tag and hide and seek with TJ in those woods. That might have been where Marshall's love for forest's came from. He especially loved the forest back at the log cabin. He didn't love this one though. It might have been because he never got to know the land, or maybe because he knew that they only moved into this new forest for the purpose of hiding out from the police.

Marshall remembered that day. The day he left everything he loved behind. His three birds, the lake, and climbing stones him and his brothers would climb on all the time. At this point, he didn't even remember what his brothers looked like. The last time he saw Henry and Hector was when they were only six, and they've grown a lot. He couldn't ever hear them, so he only prayed that they were treated okay and still alive.

With Timothy being a heavy drunk, he got mad easily. Ever since Marshall and Clem had tried to run away that day, Timothy turned to drinking, and it only made everything much more worse.

Marshall remembered his mom's cooking. He used to love it. The way she perfectly blended the spices's and ingredients. She might have been crazy, but she was an excellent cook.

Marshall was snapped from his thoughts when he heard his stomach growling. Of course. They barely got fed anymore. They eat less and less every day, sometimes going at least a week without food. Luckily, if Timothy was feeling nice, he'd give them water. Marshall knew that you could only go three days without water before getting dehydrated. Timothy always taught his kids survival lessons, just in case something were to happen. Marshall was grateful for that at least, since there's been more than once that Marshall had to use his skills to help Clem's wounds.

There would be other days, however, where Timothy wouldn't bring them water at all. Marshall would sometimes resort to the only thing he could do without dying; drinking his own urine. Sure, it was gross, but Marshall had nothing more to do. Clementine, on the other hand, would refuse to drink her own pee. She would rather, 'Die of dehydration before I drink that.'

There were other days where Marshall would feel all alone. Clem would just get pushed back into the room, and sit in the darkest part of the room. She would keep her knees close to her chest, and just cry. Cry for hours on end, cry until she fell asleep from exhaustion. Marshall would feel horrible about it, but he didn't know what to say since he didn't know what had went on. Though, when Marshall would check her over in her sleep, she didn't have any physical injuries. Timothy must have just brought her down with saying mean things, which wasn't any better.

They would try to make each other feel better, but they both knew they were dying inside. They both knew that their lives were slowly fading away from them. They knew that any help coming now was hopeless. They had probably given up on Clem. The police were never going to come for her, or Marshall, or any other the other kids. If they were even still alive, that is.

Both of them had scars, both physical and mental, that would never go away. They had to live with them for the rest of their lives. Marshall knew that Clem was worse off than him, though. She had seen her parents be killed right in front of her and had been kidnapped that very same day. Every day, Clem would come back into the room, a bloody mess, and a wreck. She wouldn't say what happened, except that, 'Things Had Happened'.

Marshall didn't know what that meant. He only knew that Clem was broken. As was he. They both needed love. All that they were, were a couple of kids who needed love. Wanted love, but needed it more than anything. Except they never expected to get that. They'd die in that old dusty room together. Either by starvation, dehydration, a bad beating, or some type of medical problem, that was where they were to die.

They knew that if one of them died, the other wouldn't be able to live without them. They were each others comfort as much as they could be. They grew up together, and they're going to die together too.

They both knew it.