There was a chill in the night that was creeping across her exposed skin, even the small fire they had started in the cabin had done nothing to loosen Jack Frost's mighty grip. When she had first come across the snow, it had been new and exciting, lighting a smile on her face that she hadn't felt since Lee, but now, it had become another obstacle, an obstacle that had taken Rebecca's baby. Her hands rubbed together in front of the fire, keeping her face hidden underneath the large scarf.
Death had become the norm. She felt numb to its unbiased touch. It took who it pleased when it pleased. Her heart cringed as the image of Lee's head hitting the wall as the gun shoot rang in her ear passed through her thoughts. Her lip formed a serious straight line. He wouldn't have wanted her to stop and mourn. There is no time to mourn in this world, but she couldn't deny the pang of regret over the fact that her picture of him had been left in her backpack at the lodge when Carver had taken them.
It was late in the house and the fire was dwindling. Rebecca had gone to bed. It was all she did these days. Sleep. Luke and Mike were scouting for a nearby town that was a day's walk from the cabin. They all had decided to wait out the next couple month here to make it through the winter. The rumors were true about the snow. Walkers moved slower and some even froze into ice sculptures, but while there were less walkers, it didn't make the current circumstances any safer. They were in the mountains of West Virginia in the middle of the winter and still had at least two months of walking to make it to Wellington. If they were to make it to Wellington, they needed supplies, and they couldn't be stuck outside in the below freezing temperatures for weeks on end, so they decided to wait.
Except for Jane who had left a long while back, not seeing the point of sticking around a group with Luke and Kenny arguing. If Clementine was honest, she missed the woman. She was far the most reasonable out of the group and understood how to survive.
She heard a loud sigh as Kenny sat down on the couch behind her. She could hear the swishing of liquid in a bottle and the large gulps from the man. Mike and Luke had left her with the two people mourning. It somewhat irritated her that they put her into another situation where she was required to be the responsible one, but when she glanced back at Kenny's sad defeated face as he chugged another gulp of whisky, she couldn't help and feel guilt.
She didn't regret cutting off Sarita's arm. It had been the right choice. It had saved her from the infection. How would Clementine know that Sarita would trip on ice on one of the trails, reach out for Kenny with her missing hand only to find air and fall back hard on a rock, piercing her skull.
The longer she lived in this world; she started to realize that death liked irony and never stopped chasing in the shadows. It always seemed like she would make a choice to save someone only to have that person die a few weeks later. Death never gave up.
"Kenny?" she ventured quietly, testing his mood. She trusted Kenny with her life. He had been there since the beginning. He had outsmarted death and returned to her. His stubborn never give up attitude had given her certainty in this always unsafe world. Yet times like these were fragile.
"Clem, why ya so far away?" he slurred, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking another swig, "Should play a game. They got'em chess board." He laughed at himself, "Shit, I'm not smart for that, bet ya are, Clem."
Clementine slowly pushed herself up from the floor and moved to the couch, shivering under her sweater. "You're drunk," she stated matter of fact, as she sat on the other end of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She didn't want to leave him alone to drink. He was still upset and people always did stupid things she noticed when they drank.
"Fuck ya, I am," he remarked, but it was followed by a sigh, "I'm so done with this shit. It's always the same thing. Katjaa…..Duck….." he swallowed thickly, "I'm done losing people."
She turned her eyes to him, locking them with his somber ones. "Everyone dies, it's just how it is," she said softly.
"It's not how its suppose to be!" he snapped, glaring at her, before his face relaxed and he took another swig. "I'm sorry, Clem. I'm just tired, tired of watchin' people, people I fucking care about, walk the plank. I'll I got is you now. Those two fucktards in the snow don't mean nothing and that lady in the bedroom is more like a corpse then livin'. It's just you. You and me."
She nodded in agreement, though she had grown close to the others as well, Kenny was her rock, and she supposed she was his rock. "I'm not going anywhere yet," she gave him a small smile, and she watched as he smiled as well.
He then handed her the bottle, "Why don't ya have some?"
Her eyes widened for the briefest of moments. She had seen what that stuff did. Her hand slowly reached out until she took the bottle from him. "Does it taste good?" she asked, tilting the bottle one direction then the other, seizing it up.
Kenny laughed, "You won't know if ya don't try."
She pouted and glared at the bottle. She hated being laughed at. She might be young, but she wasn't a kid. She put the bottle to her lips and took a huge chug. As soon as the sharp burning taste hit her tongue and the back of her throat, she pulled the bottle away and started to cough, holding it out to Kenny.
Kenny laughed and took it back. "You okay, kid?" he chuckled, as she covered her mouth as the sensation went to her stomach.
She shot him a glare. "I can handle it," she muttered. She saw the humor in his eyes as if he didn't believe her.
He whistled, "Oh of course, you're a big girl, I forgot." He kept looking at her, and she only met his glare with a fierce look of opposition. She didn't even notice how long they were stuck in their staring contest until Kenny pulled his eyes away and to the floor, scratching the top of his head underneath his cap. He didn't look at her when he spoke again, "Ya should probably get to bed."
Her brows turned to confusion not understanding the change in his mood, only to be disrupted by a yawn. She guessed he was right. She was feeling tired and the sun had set hours ago. "Night, Kenny," she slid off the couch, and shuffled towards her designated room.
There were three in the house, and since the two other men were off, it meant she didn't have to share with anyone tonight and would get a snore free sleep. She smiled to herself, not noticing Kenny's eyes on her.
She made it to the bedroom and shifted out of her layers of clothing, placing her baseball cap on the nightstand. Since the dead started walking, she didn't get to sleep in beds very often, and she had to admit, she was quite excited every evening she got to steal a bit of rest on the comfortable mattress. She left her big sweater on that was made for a fully grown woman and her wool socks to keep warm, then slipped underneath the covers. The liquid she had drank earlier was making her stomach feel warm and she snuggled up in the sheets.
As sleep started to take her, the door opened and someone stumbled in. She shoot up like a possible zombie had broken in, but her body relaxed as she saw the familiar figure. "Kenny?" she said through a yawn, "Is this your room?" She could have sworn that Luke said this was her room. There was no point in arguing with Kenny if he wanted it.
"Nah, it's just got the best bed. Can't ya share?" he said in a gruff voice, and she could hear the sound of him kicking off his shoes.
It only confused her more. Didn't he want to enjoy his own bed too? "There are three rooms…." she said, not knowing why trying to remind him of the other room might help, but it couldn't hurt either.
"I can count, kid," he said and walked around the bed, dropping down on the other side, his arm falling on top of his forehead as he sighed, "…I just need some company." His voice was low, she almost didn't hear it.
"Oh. Okay," she said softly in response, still glancing at him. She never felt comfortable with saying the right words to make people feel better about a lost one Lee was always so good of keeping spirits high. She tried to be like him. She just didn't quite know what to say. "It will be okay, Kenny. Tomorrow is another day," she said, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder before laying back in bed.
She heard his weak laugh. "You're always so mature. Don't know how ya do it. Ya more mature then some of the adults we run across," he remarks, and she could feel flush cross her face at the praise. She had noticed it too. Adults could be very stupid.
"I…." he paused, licking his lips before continuing as if the words were difficult, "I …I want to try something, even if it might make me a sick fuck."
She didn't even have time to answer his confusing statement because a moment later, his body was on top of her, his hand cupping her cheek and threading into her hair with a tight grip as he pressed his lips roughly against hers.
Her eyes widened in horror, her body tensing in uncertainty. Her mother and father had kissed her on the lips, but nothing like this. His beard tingled her skin and the next thing she knew his tongue was pushed into her mouth. Her mind was screaming at her to make him stop. She tried to pull her lips away, but it only caused their tongues to touch and a weird shock sensation shoot through her. She needed it to stop. Her hands pushed up against his chest as hard as she could.
Thankfully, he pulled away. Her breathing was off the charts as she looked at Kenny. "Kenny, what…" she didn't even know how to finish the sentence.
He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. "Don't you want to be a woman? I need the company of a woman," his voice sounded darker than normal, rough. She could smell the drink on him.
The sheets tightened on her as he gripped them hard in his hand. Her breathing had shot up to panic, as if she were facing a walker and not the man she saw as her friend. His words made it sound like there was more meaning behind them then what he was letting on and based on the way her skin tingled from his full beard and her lips felt raw from his, she suspected it was in that direction. "Kenny," she couldn't stop her voice from sounding like a whine. She scolded herself for it. She always had managed to keep calm in tough situations. Survival required it. This was different. "Kenny, no, get off of me," she said and tried to push him off.
"Come on, Clem. You'll enjoy it," his voice low, as his hand pulled the sheets aside, "Don't ya trust me?" His large hand touched her waist and slowly moved down to her bare thigh. She jolted at the feeling of his touch. It made her body hot even though it had felt cold all night long. She didn't know what this was.
"I do…but…" before her words finished, his mouth was on top of hers again. His hand slide to her butt and squeezed it. She yelped into his mouth at the touch, her body pressing forward against his to get away from his hand, only to feel an uncomfortable stiffness in his jeans. She felt like she was losing control of what was happening. Her body seemed to be on nails edges, uncertain if it was enjoying what was happening or it was reacting in fear. His mouth took control of hers, and it almost felt like there was no escape.
Without warning her hand slapped across his face.
His head jerked back and he looked down at her face. She hadn't realized it, but tears had started to slide down her cheeks. She saw his dark gaze widen to fear as he cursed to himself. "Shit, what did I do," he jumped off of her, falling partially off the bed, as he stumbled to get out.
"I'm sorry Clementine. I'm so sorry," he muttered as he ran out the room, shutting the door behind him.
A floodgate collapsed as the door shut, she curled into a ball, burying her face into her pillow. Her body felt on edge, she could stop her heighten breathing, and the tears kept coming. She was a big girl. She had learned to take care of herself. She could take of herself. Lee had taught her how. She just didn't understand what happened. Would Lee be mad at her? Did she do something wrong? Would Kenny be angry? She didn't want to lose Kenny too.
She had lost so many people. She thought she was numb to it. She thought she could handle it.
She cried softly into the pillow.