Hopeless Wanderer (A TWDG Oneshot)

Like Water Off A Duck's Back

The skies above were an unholy mixture of shale-grey clouds and pasty streaks. He watched as little puffs of steam escaped his lips and trailed off into the cold, winter air. He slumped against the tall pine, sinking into the once untouched snow. In the distance, the hill leading to the tall metal gates he and his companion had gone to only moments before could faintly be seen. He let out a shaky sigh of relief and sadness, they were safe. He knew that. He also knew that even if anything were to happen, Clementine could protect herself and AJ, and that was good. It was good they were safe. Right?

His head lulled against the tree, facing the sky, now filled with smoke from the refuge his only family left had officially entered. Yes, his family. They were the last friends he had. That's why they had to go. He had to make sure he wasn't going to be left alone, the last man standing. Or the other way around for that poor girl. She had changed. Been exposed to far too much. He would have never had let his boy see half the stuff that poor girl had been through. He guessed that before he had either just not remembered or not cared she was only a child when he had killed Carv--

--he cringed at the thought, fuckin' bastard, he thought to himself. He made me do that. Made me kill him. That was somewhat true, but also not. He did want to kill that man, more than anything in the world in those moments, but he knew what he was doing wasn't himself, even while he was doing it. The night he killed Bill Carver was the night another part of him had changed. Broke. He lost Sarita too. He had taken it out on the girl. He had blamed Clementine for something that wasn't her fault in the slightest. He just needed to take his anger out on someone for the death of Sarita. God bless her soul. Weird thing about that thought was he hadn't really believed in the afterlife for a while. To him it was “a load of horseshit”, and that made pain of losing Sarita all the worse. He use to be a Christian. Looking back at it he almost laughed, but was too numb to bring himself to.

He let his eyelid drop, (he only had one due to that “fuckin' bastard”). He had to rest for a second, he hadn't slept in days, and when he did he had nightmares. Bad ones, but when he woke up he wouldn't remember what happened except that it was a terrible, terrible, dream.

After nearly a couple seconds he could feel himself drifting, going deeper and deeper into sleep. He must have fallen asleep for almost a minute before he shook himself awake. Only remembering one thing about what he had dreamt, Clementine's small, shrill, voice from when she was younger, the innocent voice she had when Lee was around. It sounded like the voice was far away, like an echo. It was shaky and scared, and it called to him, saying: “Y-You killed her Kenny! You killed Jane, you monster!”

After awaking he had looked ahead of him, staring intently at what was in front of him. It lay next to the two bags of supplies he had been tossed back at Wellington's camp. He had been pondering on using it or not for quite a while before that. Ever since the day Katjaa and Duck—he stopped himself. He tried not to think too hard on it. Even after they passed away there had always been something to stop him from using that thing lying next to the supplies, Sarita for instance, but now that she was gone and Clementine and AJ were safe, nothing else mattered. He didn't have much of a purpose anymore. They had been the ones keeping him alive. Mentally and psychically. He wasn't who he was before.

(YOU KILLED HER, KENNY)

he closed his one eye, letting the back of his head hit the tree. The bark rubbed against the back of his neck and hair.