The Strangers

Chapter 32

Luke's P.O.V

I woke up, and she wasn't there. I thought nothing of it. We were the only ones home, as usual.

"Clem?"

No answer.

"Clem?"

I called out a little louder. I heard faint crying. It was coming from the bathroom.

"Clementine, you okay in there?"

I asked. No response. Just more crying. "Clem? Come on, open up."

I knocked on the door. Still no answer. "Clementine. Open up."

I heard glass shatter. Then I remembered what I found last night. The cuts.

"Clem! Clem, open up! Clem!"

I heard more glass shatter. "Clementine! Stop!"

I struggled to open the door. I rammed it twice with my shoulder. It eventually broke down. There she was. Blood dripping from her wrist. Standing in front of me. I put my hand over my mouth, not taking my eyes off her fresh cut.

"Come on, Clementine. Let's go get that... Get that stitched up.. Okay?"

She nodded. I walked her over to a first aid kit. I cleaned the blood off of her arm. I grabbed her arms, lightly. "Clem, don't ever do that again, okay? It hurts me to see you in such pain. From now on, if you want to cut, find me, take my arm, and cut me as many times you would cut yourself. Okay?"

She looked at me.

"No, Luke, I couldn't"

I continued cleaning the blood from her arm.

"How Long has this been going on?"

I asked her, not taking my eyes off the wound.

"A few months."

She said, voice cracking. I pushed the rag down on her cut a little too hard, and she whined and pushed my hand off of her.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."

I continued to clean the blood off. "There. All done. This will be our little secret, okay?"

She smiled, and nodded.

"Hey, Luke, what about my wrists? They're still purple..."

Clem's P.O.V

Luke tensed up. You could see the darkness in his eyes. I looked at him with a scared expression; Afraid to look away. He noticed I was scared and his eyes and muscles softened.

"Are you really that scared of me, Clementine?"

He asked me. I slowly nodded. Afraid of how he would react.

"I-it's okay. I won't hurt you."

He sounded hurt. He gave me a puppy dog face. He looked away.

"It's time I apologize. For everything." He grabbed my wrist, forgetting that I was hurt. I whined and tried to push him off.

"Luke. M-my wrist. Y-you're squeezing again."

He looked at me, and loosened his grip. "Sorry. Sorry."

He was barely holding my hand by now.

"Clem, look at me. Look at me. Straight in the eyes. I feel guilty. Everything I've ever said to you or done to you makes me feel terrible. I forget you're only 11. And I kind of have some anger issues. They aren't major ones, though. So, please, for future references, don't get mad at me if I do or say something to you that hurts you or your feelings. I don't mean it. I just say what ever comes to my brain."

"It's okay. I get it."

He sighed.

"Thank you. Thank you."

He hugged me, really tightly.

"Hey, don't squeeze."

I said playfully. He laughed.