Walking Dead Writing Challenge Day One started by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale! Fuck yeah, let’s go! This ended up being a lot more than 100 words, but I’m going to count the words as I go along so I know how much I wrote by the end of the challenge! Also Marlontine content is always good.
“Clem?” Marlon opened the door to her office. It’s been hers since she took down Delta. He found her sitting on the desk, staring out the window. “Hey, there you are.”
Clementine turned to him, his letterman jacket gone along with his long sleeves, leaving him in a tank top and jeans. It was summer and as it got hotter, the thick layers that kept everyone warm were stripped off. Jeans were replaced with leggings, long sleeves were replaced with tank tops and short sleeves, jackets were tied around waists or removed completely.
Everyone’s changed their clothes or made some sort of adjustment to deal with the weather… Everyone except for Clementine. Marlon knows she’s dying in all those layers, it’s hot outside, the room was boiling. A couple times she’s nearly passed out from overheating.
He shut the door behind him and walked over to her. “You really need to take off your clothes, Clem.”
“You want me to strip?” she asked teasingly.
“Yes. No! NO! That’s not-”
“I know…” There was a smile on her face from making him flustered, but it soon faded.
Marlon sat down on the desk next to her. He took ahold of her hand. “Well, what’s wrong? You know you’re going to have a heat stroke if you don’t take some layers off. We have extra clothes you can use.”
Her hand squeezed his. She turned to face him and took a hold of his other hand. “You need to feel my arm.”
“Just close your eyes and do it. You’ll understand…”
He listened. Marlon closed his eyes and slowly guided his fingers up her left arm. He felt the dog bite scar on her arm, it only made him proud of her for being able to sew it up herself. Reminded him that she’s tougher than all of them.
His fingers made it to her sleeve and Clementine felt his fingers slide under the fabric that hugged her skin. She watched the expression on his face morph the moment he touched that stupid mark on her arm. Confusion, shock, worry. The soft skin that was under his fingertips became rough, dry, words couldn’t describe what he was feeling.
Marlon opened his eyes and shoved her multi-layered sleeves up her arm so he could see what he was feeling and he was speechless. A circle with some design in it burnt into her skin.
“What the fuck?” This isn’t an accidental cut, someone did that to her. “Who the fuck-?” The look on Clem’s face cut him off. She was ashamed.
“You all know each other’s scars. All of you have scars from broken bones, getting cut, and scraping skin, and you all just joke about them, you were all there for those…” She shook her head to herself. “None of you were there for mine, none of you know mine. Mine aren’t funny, each one reminds me of something traumatic. I can’t… I can’t deal with them asking about my scars and I can’t even look at them without feeling like shit.”
Everyone at Ericson’s has a scar of some kind, either from before it all started or after. They’ve all been relatively safe from the horrors outside the walls of the boarding school. But Clem… Half of her life was spent fighting in that world. If the Delta was any indicator of what it’s like out there, then hell knows how many scars she’s kept hidden from them. Hidden from him. So she keeps them covered to avoid questions she doesn’t want to answer.
Marlon pulled her sleeve down. “Still, can’t you just take off the jackets and just wear your shirt?”
“I’ve had this shirt since I was thirteen. The sleeves aren’t long enough anymore, it doesn’t keep “it” covered.”
She despised her scars. AJ probably knows the most about her scars, but he knows that Clementine doesn’t like to talk about them. The only thing she’s mentioned to the group was the missing finger from the car door slamming on it and the dog bite scar. But now that he thought about it, she never went into detail with the group about how she stitched that wound up herself. She only told him that.
Clementine didn’t like to talk about her past and he doesn’t blame her, however Marlon knows that she’ll tell him when she’s ready. She showed him what was on her arm, and hopefully he can soon hear the story behind it.
“I do have old clothes that’ll probably fit you. You’re more than welcome to go through my closet to find something that won’t make you overheat.”
She sighed. Clementine wasn’t sure.
“My arms are very long if you couldn’t tell. You’ll have plenty of sleeves to cover whatever you need to cover.”
Clementine’s hand went to the sleeve that covered her brand and squeezed. She desperately wanted to wear something that wasn’t overheating her, but she didn’t want to talk about the brand on her arm or the bullet wound on her shoulder. She hated each and every one of her scars, they disgusted her.
“You know, I’m sure not all of your scars are bad.”
“You haven’t even seen all my scars.”
“No, but I do have a favorite.”
Marlon guided one of her hands to her head. He placed her fingers on a spot hidden under her hair.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You don’t know what that is?”
“No, I didn’t even know it was there.”
“How do you know what it is?”
“Because that’s how I found you,” Marlon told her. “When you crashed the car, you had a gash right there. Little did we know that us saving you would have meant you saving all of us. It reminds me that we’re safe, that you’re safe. That’s why it’s my favorite.” He planted a kiss on her scar. “See? Not all of them are bad.”
Clementine smiled at him before wrapping her arms around him. Every scar she had on her body made her sick, but the one on her head may just be the first scar she smiles about. She doesn’t have to run anymore, she doesn’t have to worry about AJ, they’re both safe here, she’s safe here. She has friends, someone who loves her. A place she can call home. That’s what that scar meant.
“So...” She started as she pulled away. “How big are your clothes?”
Marlon smiled. “They’re my old clothes, so they should fit you.”
“I’ll try to find something. No promises.” Clementine told him.
Marlon nodded and brought her to his closet so she can find something to wear. She came out fifteen minutes later in a short-sleeve Ericson shirt, a bandana tied around the brand on her arm, and an old flannel around her waist. Marlon smiled at her as they walked out to the courtyard together, Clementine smiled at not being unbearably hot.
