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minty-mumbles · 2 years ago

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Febuwhump Day 13: Forced to Harm a Loved One

Read the full collection of my febuwhump ficlets on AO3

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“N-no, no!”

Warriors cringed internally as he heard Wild’s cries. It was terrible having to listen to the sound of his pleading and know that it was he who was causing Wild so much pain. He was the one responsible for this, he was the one choosing to do this to Wild. He was-

Warriors did his best to shake off those thoughts. It wouldn’t help anyone if he fell into a downward spiral of horrible thoughts. Wild needed him to be present and aware. And really, Warriors wasn’t the one who was hurting him. Not that he would ever say it- and certainly not now- but it was Four who was the one causing Wild’s pain.

Warriors was just the one holding him down, not letting him get away or buck Four off of him where the smithy was straddling Wild’s weakly kicking legs.

Warriors was just the one holding him down, and that was almost worse.

Wild was a free spirit. Warriors had known from the day he’d met the champion that he was a hard one to pin down, figuratively and literally. He was always moving and didn’t like being told to stay still. (One time Legend had snapped irritably at Wild about his habit of rocking back and forth on his feet, and the look WIld had shot the veteran had been absolutely scathing. No one ever mentioned that particular habit of his again.)

Being told not to wander off was also irritating to the champion, but at least he’d finally gotten in the habit of letting them know when he was planning on disappearing. Warriors thanked the stars for that, as it had saved them more than one headache in the past few months.

All of this put together signaled a very free-spirited hero.

Warriors had always suspected that Wild had some sort of issue with being restrained or confined. For a split second of selfishness, Warriors wishes he was not having that suspicion confirmed.

But the life of a hero wasn’t easy. The battlefield was a dangerous place, and even if a delirious hero pleaded and begged, his blood-soaked bandages needed to be changed. Warriors wished that they hadn’t let Wild put his tunics back on after dressing his wound in the first place. But they couldn’t’ve known that the wound would end up becoming infected.

Warriors looked up to check the process, trying to gauge how much longer this was going to go on and how much longer he would need to listen to his brother cry. The smithy’s eyes were frantically cycling through nearly all the colors of the rainbow, but he kept as steady a hand as possible in this scenario.

It took a great deal of careful maneuvering to get Wild out of his Champions’ tunic. They persisted though, even as Wild cried out in pain and panic.

If it had been anyone else, they would have simply cut the tunic off and spared themself the trouble. But they both knew that Wild would kill them later if they destroyed the tunic his Zelda had made for him. They didn’t bother to be so careful with his undertunic, simply using Warriors knife to cut it off of Wild. He would be able to borrow one of the others' spare tunics until the group reached the next town.

The entire process of removing his clothes so they could get at his bandages seemed to be agony for Wild. Warriors knew from experience that lifting your arms when you had an injury on your side hurt. But it wasn’t only that.

“No, stop, I don’ wan- I don’ wanna take m’ clothes off. Sto’ it- Four, stop.”

Wild’s words were slurred but still understandable. Warriors risked a glance up at Four, and found that the smithy looked like he wanted to cry to. He visibly steeled himself, took a deep breath, and continued. His eyes had settled on purple and green, the blue and red retreating from his gaze.

Warriors tried to follow his example, taking a steadying breath and trying to ignore Wild’s wails.

Wild may be confused and combative- as evidenced by the bruise forming on Four’s cheek- and more than a little out of touch with the situation, but he was obviously still present enough to recognize the two of them. It only made the situation worse, that Wild was able to call out their names when he begged for them to stop.

Wild had taken his shirt off in front of the rest of the group plenty of times, not to mention the time he had shown them all his cars. But there was a difference between removing clothing consensually when you were lucid enough to understand what was happening, and having your clothing removed and cut off when you were only partially present in your own mind.

Warriors felt sick.

Maybe Wild had no reason to be this defensive. Maybe he was just delirious and confused. That still wouldn’t make it okay, but it would make the whole situation easier to smooth over when Wild comes back to himself. But Warriors had a sinking suspicion that the issue ran deeper than that.

Maybe, Warriors hoped, Wild simply didn’t want to show off his scars. The champion acted rather nonchalant about them, but that didn’t mean he was obligated to show them off.

But maybe, Warriors shuddered, maybe Wild was afraid of something, something that Warriors himself had been through and would never wish on anyone. There were very few reasons someone would try to forcibly remove someone else’s clothes, and none of them were good.

To Wild’s hazy mind, which obviously didn‘t recognize that he needed to change his bandages, there would be only one option left. Being held down and stipped out of his tunic…

Warriors’ next breath came out as a shuddering gust of air, and he had to resist the urge to gag.

The cries of their names made it obvious that Wild knew who was trying to get his clothes off. Warriors and Four were only trying to help, but from Wild’s point of view?

Warriors wished the other heroes were here. Twilight, at least, would be able to help soothe the panicked champion. The ranch hand had a way with the wild hero, and always managed to calm him. Maybe restraining Wild wouldn’t’ve even been necessary in the first place.

Anyone else would have been a help too. Just having someone there to reassure Wild who was actively trying to disrobe him or holding him down would have made their task easier.

But there was no one else here. It was only Four, Warriors, and Wild, alone in a strange era. The other heroes were Hylia-knows-where, separated from the three of them by the very fight that had injured the champion.

Leadership now fell to Warriors. He was the oldest, and the highest up in the pecking order the heroes had seemed to naturally fall into, back when they had first met. He was the one in charge.

Normally, Warriors would not flinch at this. He was one of the finest captains in the Hyrulean military. He was more than used to leading, even if he had to make a hard decision that might hurt some of the people under his commands.

But selfishly, Warriors wished that just this once, the burden of making hard decisions did not rest on his shoulders.

#TW mentions of rape #vaguely implied past non-con #Whether Wild is afriad because of past non-con like Warriors thinks or if Warriors is just projecting is up to the reader #mint's fanfiction #linked universe #lu warriors #lu wild #lu four #lu warriors angst #lu wild angst #febuwhump #whump

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ex0rin · 2 years ago

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@febuwhump Day23: "You'll have to go through me" (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3015 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, shower masturbation, betrayal, violence, whump

Part SIX of 'Til the End of the Line

The first time Bucky sees him again is when he's out for an early morning run with Steve - he usually sticks to jogging in the evenings when there's less people to look at him but Steve's been weird lately, distant and quiet, and spending more time with him is the least Bucky can do when he's already feeling so horrible and guilty for watching the videos.

For saving them and listening to them over and over.

READ ON AO3 HERE: You'll Have To Go Through Me

#cara writes #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump day23 #bucky tag #steve rogers tag #guess who's not tagging stucky #it's me #winterbones #winter soldier tag #rumlow tag #past rape/non con #past abuse #this is not stucky endgame #aaaaaand we're caught up again!

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walkthemoonshadow · 5 months ago

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God fucking DAMN IT. I was enjoying the HELL out of Meet You at the Blossom, BEYOND excited when I discovered it—an UNCENSORED WUXIA BL??? As someone who only likes the stuff set in Ancient China and not modern times, it was a dream. And I was hooked from the beginning; I love all of the characters, and the main romance was so cute. I did pick up on some of Huaien’s possessiveness etc but it wasn’t too bad so I was just hoping it was part of his cold, never-known-love demeanor (which, I mean, it kinda is? but in this case surpasses a simple variability in personality and reaches troubling territory). Then he went unhinged in episode 5/6 and r*ped Xiabao??? Is this what happens in the book too?

And I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s still a really interesting show and Huaien is a captivating character, but damn. Sometimes I just don’t have the energy.

That being said though I am gonna keep watching it lmao.

#not here to start discourse either i consider it r*pe but if you don’t whatever it’s fictional either way #I suppose it really doesn’t help that r*pe is like my one trigger #though I feel like I handled it better this time than in the past like even the non-con kiss in mdzs set me off more than this #rape tw #meet you at the blossom #meet you at the blossom spoilers #blooming flowers silent sorrow

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nade2308 · 3 months ago

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This fic needs a few pointers before reading:

1. When we watched Crossing Lines, me and Thistle started brainstorming a version where there is an additional team member that will bond with Carl.

2. Thus Mac was born. We needed another European imp, and given I live in Europe just not in the EU zone, was the perfect excuse to mold a character based on someone outside of the EU that got a chance to work with them, thanks to the similarities of the serial killer cases with a case from her country.

3. Her name is Makedonka Jankovska and she goes by "Mac" to be easily remembered and pronounced. More background will follow in the fics I have written for them both that are alternative versions of some of the episodes, and they will be put in a series (the order will be determined once I post all fics).

4. The non-con is implied, nothing is explicit, and it is also something we came up based on how skittish Carl was when Genovese was around.

5. I had so much fun building this world around Mac and Carl (and for the sake of the plot and implications, some events were/will be altered to accommodate that).

Happy reading!

@thethistlegirl

#whumptober2024 #no.2 #amusement park #crossing lines #fic #past rape/non-con #carl hickman #OC #makedonka jankovska #my fic #my writing #my edit

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serena-ish · 10 months ago

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Bloodweave fic I've been working on. Please note the trigger warning prior to each chapter❤️

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #bg3 #hurt/comfort #tw; past rape/non-con #tw; cazador #tw; blood

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sapphireginger · 1 year ago

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Peter & the Sunflower: Chapter #1 | 1900 - London, England

Summary:

Little Panteleimon slowly sat up and stretched, his ruby red and obsidian black wings unfurling much like the petals of the Helianthus had. His chestnut brown hair, shimmered with obsidian and ruby sparks and his eyes faded from their pre-birth obsidian to a warm amber color, one akin to melted gold and liquid honey. His body was bare, his height no taller than that of a mouse on its hind legs and he bore no shame or self consciousness for his nakedness. His skin was cream colored, like milk mixed with drops of the sun itself and from head to toe he was adorned with a smattering of light brown spots, known as moles or freckles to most that looked as though they had been painstakingly placed one by one.

AO3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Self-Harm

1900 — London, England

In the early hours of the year 1900, just as spring began to fade into summer, a Helianthus, more commonly known as a sunflower, began to unfurl. Its long petals, golden and bright in the sunlight, were ready to reveal their precious cargo, worth more than any jewel or wealth known to man, woman or beast.

Helianthus Fields was a valley of flora just south of the grand city of London, England. It was a valley that stretched as far as the eye could see, especially if you were standing at the crest of the hill to the north of its center. Many knew of the field but very few, almost none, would ever be able to find the grove within the valley where this brand new Helianthus, this brand new sunflower, was blooming. It was a sacred grove, one that housed, one that possessed many secrets and protected its inhabitants.

That day, May 7th of 1900, just after the turn of the century, as the Helianthus fully stretched its petals, a small being got its first glimpse of the world. This little being was known as a Sióg, or a Fá. In the tongue of those that dwelled in London, the species was known as the fae or fairy.

Now, these weren’t fairies like those in fairy tales or legends so much as those stories were the ones that had been told by the Siógs themselves to lead the focus away from their people. They were a private and secret race of supernatural beings, and it was imperative that no one ever learned of the truth behind their existence.

The little Sióg born that evening just as the moon took its place amongst the stars, was named Panteleimon. He was known as a hatchling Sióg as that was what they called the newest members of their clan.

Panteleimon’s lithe little body was smooth. The only hair he possessed was that which covered his head, and he was, in a word, breathtaking. There was a reason many did not know about the existence of Siógs and one of them was the allure they held, their beauty far beyond mortal comprehension or witness.

Ready to take a look at the world for the first time, and ready to meet his fellow hatchlings, Panteleimon quickly stood on the Helianthus’s center and peeked to his left. What he saw, what he scented, quickly stole the fresh pink flush from his cheeks, dampened the fire of life in his chest, and stole his strength to remain standing. He collapsed, dropping to his knees as he began to sob.

As far as the eye could see, which was pretty far for a Sióg like him, there was nothing but ash, smoke and the overwhelming scent of death. The only color that remained in the valley was the lone Helianthus that Pan had just hatched from mere minutes before. Though he could see the golden petals of the Helianthus, it somehow seemed muted when cast alongside the gray, black and barren landscape.

He shut his eyes, his small body shaking with agony, grief and horror. His small fingers gripped the Disc florets, tightly, praying to the goddess that it was all a nightmare, that he would wake up and see his parents, and his fellow Sióg hatchlings. Alas, when he opened his eyes, the scene had not changed, and he could not help the drooping of his wings or the way their shine began to dull.

Pan remembered the sounds of his parents laughing as he grew closer to his hatching day. They sounded so happy, and he couldn't wait to meet them. He loved hearing their voices and could so clearly recall them even now. They would talk to him every day and he remembered listening to every word even if he didn’t yet understand what they were saying. He remembered the sound of their voices, his mother’s soft cooing and his father’s protective cadence and then he remembered the silence.

At the time, he did not know why they were silent but now he knew, now he understood, for when he hatched from his sunflower, he saw the husks of a thousand flora that never bloomed. Those husks, thousands of them, husks that had held other Sióg hatchlings, were nothing but ash now. The destruction nearly eradicated an entire species and only one sole Helianthus survived the flames. As Panteleimon shed his tears of pain and grief he saw how the charred remains of the other Helianthus blossoms had become tombs for the other small Siógs, his brothers, his sisters, his friends, his family, all now nothing but ash and dust. He ached and part of him wanted to fade away to ashes and dust himself. His wings began to dull as he considered his pale skin and the crimson waves beneath it. Siógs had claws, thin and needle like, that he could use. It would be quick and then he’d be with his family, his friends, his brothers and sisters, with his kin again.

The lack of support, lack of fellow hatchlings was why Pantelimon was so much weaker. Siógs were not meant to be alone after their birth. The new hatchlings were supposed to group together and only break off when they felt a pull toward their new home. Death sounded like freedom, but he didn’t think he could actually do such a thing. It would be dishonorable and cowardly. It was just that now, Panteleimon didn’t know what would become of him, nor what his fate would be. Siógs weren’t meant to live in isolation or solitude, but what choice did he have?

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

It took nearly a fortnight for him to gather enough strength to start his journey. He couldn’t stay no matter how much he wished he could. As soon as he was able to stand, he tried to fly and when he finally began to hover, he began his search for a forever home. Ever since rising high above the Helianthus field, his wings fluttering and buzzing faster than a hummingbird’s wings, he had tried to feel the goddesses’s magic, praying that it would guide him to his new home. His search lasted much too long, using too much of his strength but he pressed on. He could rest later and without knowing whether or not the world held other Siógs out there, he realized he may very well be the last of his kind. He had to find someplace safe to call home, someplace he would be safe.

As the week grew to a close, the crisp midnight air, chilling his unnaturally cool body, he was almost numb with exhaustion, hunger and his energy was nearly depleted. His eyes began to droop by the time he came to the first star to the right. His light was nearly snuffed out, his wings barely shimmering or fluttering anymore as the magic used up the last of its reserve.

If a Sióg’s laughter was like bells, then their cries were like a snare drum bang, though softer coming from such a small being. Panteleimon didn’t want to die. He hadn’t truly lived yet. Still, amber eyes were drifting shut as his wings stilled and he began to fall. Perhaps, it was meant to be this way, for him to try and to fail. Perhaps the goddess had deemed it time for the Sióg species to end. Why Panteleimon alone survived, he did not know but he surrendered to the endless sleep and welcomed death with open arms.

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the-delta-42 · 2 years ago

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Firsts Part 3: Fight

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Firsts Part 3: Fight

Kenley hummed as she scribbled on a piece of paper, Jamie splattered paint onto a table and AJ stared out the window.

“AJ,” Said Sarita, crouching next to him, “is everything alright?”

“Clem’s angry.” Mumbled AJ, “Mommy said that Clem’s birth parents wanted her.”

Sarita frowned, she’d heard about Clementine’s birth parents in passing from Kenny and, sometimes, Clementine herself. She looked up and spotted Molly and Christa talking to each other, Sarita turned her eyes back to AJ.

“How about you draw something for her to make her feel better?” Suggested Sarita, as she gently led AJ to the table.

Clementine stalked around the room, the rest of her friend group watching her. She hadn’t told them about her ‘parents’ phone call. Duck frowned as he watched Clementine pace.

“I’ve never seen Clem this angry.”

Sarah hummed, frowning as Clementine threw a rock-melting glare at the door. Gabe sighed through his nose, before getting up and walking over to Clementine.

“Hey, Clem.” Said Gabe, making Clementine stop and look up at him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Scoffed Clementine, through gritted teeth, “everything’s perfect.”

“No, it isn’t.” Stated Gabe, frowning, “You��re angry at something, and you’re bottling it up.”

“So?” Demanded Clementine, fixing him with a glare, “What’s it to you?”

“I’m worried about you,” Said Gabe, “you’ve been glaring at everything in front of you.”

“As if anyone actually cares.” Scoffed Clementine, turning away from him, “You all say you care, that you’ll always be around, but you all swan off and fucking leave.”

“Really?” Snapped Gabe, glaring at Clementine.

“Yeah.” Snarled Clementine, her face getting red, “But, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve practically lived with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You still have your parents.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“You never had to worry about anyone dropping you and leaving you behind.”

“I lost my mom.”

“Yeah, and the replacement ran off with your uncle, how long do you think the thing with Ava will last?”

“You know what, I can see why your parents abandoned you.” Snapped Gabe, making Clementine physically flinch.

Clementine breathed heavily, before spinning on her heel and running out of the room.

“Great job.” Snarked Becca, chasing after Clementine, with Duck following her.

“Do you want me to tell you what went wrong, or do you want to figure it out for yourself?” Asked Gill, as Sarah, chewed on her bottom lip.

Gabe huffed, before following after Becca and Duck.

Clementine’s leg and chest burned. She’d used the gun that bad man had used on her parents. He’d kept her with him for two weeks. Clementine came to a sudden halt when she tripped over something. She looked back, and saw a strange looking lump, she let out a scream when it stood up.

A scruffy looking, old man rubbed the back of his head and looked around, confused, before spotting Clementine.

“Howdy.” Greeted the man, waving and Clementine, before she pointed the bad man’s gun at him, “Okay, not how I expected to wake up. What’s your name, darlin’?”

Clementine’s hands shook, she said nothing.

“My name’s Chuck,” Said Chuck, before pausing, “Charles if you’re fancy.”

Clementine swallowed, her eyes burned, and she dropped the gun. Chuck watched her as she dissolved into tears, before gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Murmured Chuck, gently. He frowned as the little girl blubbered out something about being hungry and tired and cold and that she wanted her parents. Chuck sighed through his nose, before looking at a tin in his sleeping bag. The girl gripped his hand, making him sigh again, “Well, it ain’t clean, but you can have this.”

Chuck took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders. He gently guided her to his sleeping bag and he grabbed his tin and let her lie down. Within seconds, she was asleep. Keeping an eye on her, Chuck walked up to a nearby payphone.

After putting in 9-1-1, he spoke, “Hey, I have a little girl who wandered into me carrying a gun, she looks like she’s been abused.”

Chuck was quiet as the dispatcher spoke.

“I’m on Augusta Avenue, no, I won’t go anywhere.” Chuck hung up the phone. He watched over the girl until the police officer arrived.

Chuck was jerked from his memories, when a young woman tripped over his bag. He frowned, she was clearly upset, but she looked familiar.

“Howdy.” Greeted Chuck, making the woman freeze.

After hastily wiping her eyes, she looked at him, “Chuck?”

Chuck squinting at her, before recognising her, “Clementine?”

The two stared at each other, before Clementine threw her arms around him.

“Clementine!” Yelled someone, Chuck looked over and spotted a tall man and an average height woman running up to them. The man slowed down, before frowning at him, “Chuck?”

“You’re in better spirits.” Said Chuck, smiling up at Duck.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Laughed Becca, as Duck’s face went red, “She managed to get you to eat a beetle?”

Chuck chuckled as Duck spluttered out an excuse. He’d learnt that Clementine had ran all the way from a friends house on the other side of town after a fight with her boyfriend. He’d decided to walk them back to said friend’s house, entertaining them with stories of his travels and the last few times he saw Duck and Clementine.

“You doin’ alright?” Asked Chuck, glancing at Clementine.

“I’m fine.” Muttered Clementine, looking at the ground.

“I might not know much about this fight you had,” Said Chuck, looking a head of them, “but bottling it up, it ain’t goin’ to make your relationship last long.”

“If I tell him, he’ll want nothing to do with me.” Murmured Clementine, carefully making sure that Duck and Becca couldn’t hear her.

“Then that’s his problem.” Said Chuck, bluntly, “If he can’t accept you for who you are, then he ain’t worth your time.”

Clementine swallowed, and nodded. She looked up and searched of a sign that had the street name written on it. She mentally noted that they were near Gabe’s home.

“I,” Clementine swallowed, as Duck and Becca turn back to look at her, “I’m going to talk to Gabe.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Asked Duck, frowning at her.

“No, I, I need to do this alone.” Declined Clementine, before taking a deep breath and walking towards Gabe’s house.

“Good luck.” Said Chuck, before he turned around, “I should’ve come to this side of town sooner, they have a shelter.”

Clementine swallowed nervously, as she knocked on the front door of Gabe’s home. She heard a pair of feet rushing towards the door, before it was flung open and Gabe stared at her. Before she could open her mouth, Gabe grabbed her arms and pulled her close to him.

“I’m sorry.” Mumbled Gabe, into the top of Clementine’s head, “I shouldn’t’ve said that, I’m so sorry.”

Clementine swallowed, “We, er, we need to talk about something, privately.”

Gabe frowned and swallowed, before he led her up to his room. After closing the door and looking at Clementine, “Is it about the fight?”

“Kinda,” Clementine winced and swallowed, “You, you know that my birth parents abandoned me on the side of the freeway and I was hit by a car, right? I was four, almost five at the time, and a couple of months after they abandoned me, I was fostered by a couple, their names were Lee and Carley. I was with them for two years, be-before,” Clementine swallowed thickly, “before some stranger forced his way in and killed them in front of me.”

Gabe swallowed, as Clementine continued, “He, he shot Carley and slit Lee throat. T-those dark patches on my hat… those, those are from Lee and Carley. I, I haven’t washed it because it’s the last thing I have to them a-and,” Gabe reached out and grabbed Clementine’s hand, “i-if those are gone, t-then it’ll be like I lose them all over again.”

“It’s okay.” Murmured Gabe, moving close to Clementine.

Clementine sniffled and wiped at her eyes, “A-after that stranger took me, he, he would beat, starve a-and touch me, for t-two weeks. I was seven and I was raped by some sick fuck.” Clementine took a deep breath, “I-I m-managed t-to t-take his gun from his bag. I shot him.”

“You mean, like, through the legs?” Asked Gabe, making Clementine shake her head.

“As, as in, through the head.” Clementine stared at the floor, “I ran out of the place he was keeping me and I just ran, Kenny thought I must’ve run the length of Savannah, before I tripped over Chuck. He’s a homeless guy that helped me get back to Kenny.”

Gabe nodded and wrapped an arm around her.

“T-then Katjaa committed suicide and I was place with Omid and Christa, they gave me up after a couple of months, I-I don’t know the specifics. I got placed with Mom and Dad for the first time, I, I was a terror to them, I stole their car and crashed it into a tree and got hit by another car while trying to get away from the wreck.”

Gabe tightened his grip of Clementine, “I was then placed with a couple, called Leland and Dee, I was with them for three weeks, before I was abandoned again. I then went to Lilly and Mark, at the start they were great, it was like we were almost a family and I fucked it up by asking them to take me to see a nearby dairy farm.”

“You, you mean the St. John cannibals?” Asked Gabe, getting a nod from Clementine.

“They, they killed Mark and fed him to us, Larry, Lilly’s dad, had a heart attack and Lilly tried to kill me, she’s the reason I only have half a finger on my right hand. I was beaten, starved and raped, again. Then Daryl found me, he came looking for a friend of his, he had a police officer with him. I don’t know what they did, but they rescued me from them. I was with Daryl for three weeks, before he was forced to return me to social care because he didn’t have a job. I then was placed with Daryl’s friend, Rick. He returned me to social care because he was moving and was divorcing his wife.”

“I think I’ve met him.” Murmured Gabe, pulling Clementine close to him.

“I was placed with Jane, who abandoned me during that dog incident,” Clementine forced herself to speak, “I was then handed over to a guy named Troy, I was beaten, starved, shot, stabbed, raped and forced to test drugs for him and his group.”

“How were you placed with him?” Asked Gabe, staring down at Clementine, who shrugged.

“Troy’s got nothing on Carver,” Warned Clementine, her throat tight, “He did all the things that Troy did, I saw him cave a guy’s head in, Wyatt I think his name was, with a salt lick. He had me hauling car parts and all that shit. When I was with Daryl, he had me start building my strength up, he’s the one that introduced me to Ava. I kept in contact with her while I was being thrown around by Troy and Carver. I tried to get away from Carver by stealing his truck. I ran him over and called Ava, a couple months later and I was back with Mom and Dad.”

Clementine worriedly gazed up at Gabe, before he pulled her into a tight hug.

“You’re, you’re not angry or, or disgusted?” Asked Clementine, after Gabe pulled away.

“I am at them, not you.” Said Gabe, quietly, “You’re strong, you survived all that. I guess that’s why I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I love you, Clementine.” Repeated Gabe, “It’d take a lot more to change that.”

Clementine gave a wobbly smile. The two rested their foreheads together, before Gabe spoke, “Not to, erm, not to seem rude or anything, but why are you telling me all this?”

“If I didn’t now, I probably never would.” Answered Clementine, before glancing to the side, “Last week, Mom and Dad received a phone call. They, they said they were my birth parents.”

Gabe swallowed, “Oh shit.”

Rebecca looked at her phone after it pinged, she’d received a text from Clementine.

Staying over @ Gabe’s.

Rebecca frowned, before looking back at email Bonnie had sent her. A list of lawyers that could take on the Marshes, should they try and legally attempt to get custody of Clementine. She’d been with them for nearly six years, they weren’t going to give her up.

Rebecca eyed a name on the list, she and Alvin would make an appointment to speak with Ms. Hawthorn next week.

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