A/N: feel free to skip this! Hello! New fanfic up! I'm really into the walking dead video game at the moment and I've been exploring different headcanons, confessions from fans and ships and shit like that. I must say, after Omid's death, I think Clementine would start to develop depressive tendencies, not like Ben, but very similar. This is a story of what would happen if she started to self-harm after Omid's death. I know it may seem OOC but I really wanted to explore this idea more. Any feedback is appreciated although any unnecessary hate will be deleted, I don't need you to be rude, constructive criticism is what I would like. I hope you enjoy this one-shot. Let me know if I hit your feels. I probably won't but still...enjoy it. It's probably going to start pretty slow then build up to the self-harm. I did hastily edit this before uploading, so grammar and spelling mistakes may be there. Let me know if you spot any. Also, let me know if the pacing of the events is alright, I sort of seem to always write in a fast pace.

I'm kind of new here, so sorry if it sucks balls, I really tried to make this as good for you as I could. Have a great day and enjoy!

WARNINGS: DERESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND LANGUAGE! Please do not read if any of this will upset you in any way.

Christa sobbed as she clutched her boyfriend's body close to her. She couldn't believe this happened. Why Omid? Why did he have to die? She looked up at Clementine, who was hunched over and sobbing openly. The pregnant lady looked at the floor, at the gun. This was Clementine's. Why did she leave it? This was her fault.

Inside her head, she knew it was stupid, but she just wanted to blame losing the love of her life on somebody. She glared dangerously at Clementine.

The young girl knew that she was to blame, and shamefully bowed her head to avoid looking anymore at the harsh glare being sent her way. The girl knew this was her fault, she knew Christa would never forgive her. Clementine tentatively walked up to the girl sprawled on the floor, her head lolling against the wall. She searched her pockets for anything valuable. Up close, Clementine spotted a small penknife in her hoodie pocket. She quickly stabbed the girl in the head and wiped the knife on her dress.

The child spared a glance at Christa, but she had gone back to cradling her boyfriend, still sobbing loudly. Clementine allowed her to grieve, it was the least she could do.

She picked the knife up and placed it in her backpack. Christa looked up to her.

"I'm going to shoot him, bury him if I can, then we leave." She said tersely and didn't give the child time to respond as she used her rifle to shoot her loved one in the head to avoid reanimation. The noise made Clementine flinch.

It was quiet as Christa dragged her boyfriend out the bathroom door, after refusing Clem's help to carry him, and placed him on the grass. There was no option to bury him; there just wasn't time. Not anymore.

Clementine desperately wanted to hold Christa's hand, just to show her that despite what happened she was sorry for what she did. She longed for some maternal comfort that she knew she wouldn't be getting. She looked up at the sky. The afternoon sky was cloudless, just the warm sun heating them up. There was a light breeze that rustled the trees in the distance.

Christa looked down at the child. Her anger was gone, but it was replaced by deep emptiness. She lost her anchor, the one thing that kept her wanting to survive. Then she looked down at her protruding stomach. That wasn't fair; she had his baby growing inside of her. Her shirt was stretched over her stomach and she lightly rubbed her bump. I love you Omid.

"Come on. We've wasted enough time here as it is."

"Okay." Clem's throat felt sore from not using her voice for so long. She didn't say anything else; she didn't want Christa to shout at her.

They continued through the woods for weeks. They were both getting thinner from the lack of food and with the baby coming soon; things were tense between the duo. They were currently hunting for a wild animal to eat. Their eyes were set on a raccoon that was lazing on a log.

Christa crouched with difficulty and slowly moved forward and stabbed the animal before it had any time to react. Clem sighed sadly. She hated hunting animals, what if they had a family? But what about Omid, he was Christa's family and you had no worries killing him, a little voice nagged in the back of her mind. She shook her head; she didn't want to think about Omid anymore. But it was another name to add to the list of people that she had killed. Maybe her suffering now is her punishment for getting Lee killed. Clem shook her head again, trying to get rid of such a thought.

"Did you get it?" Clem asked, already knowing the answer but wanted to strike up some conversation. Christa hadn't spoken much to her since the event at the diner.

"Yes. We got a meal for tonight. Maybe some spare for tomorrow. I don't know." Christa said. The woman held the raccoon in her lap. She was just looking at it with a burning rage. Ever since Omid, the caring and nurturing woman Clementine used to know was gone, and Christa had become a hard shell and she barely talked to the young child, only to instruct her to do things that wouldn't put either of them in danger. Clem was angry that Christa no longer trusted her but she understood why her guardian was apprehensive to trust Clementine with a gun.

Clem looked down at the floor. She caught sight of her dress. It was hanging loosely off her and was still coated in the walker guts. The guts had begun to fester and the smell was nauseating. Mostly, the dress reminded her of the day Lee saved her. That's what she hated most. The memories of Lee saving her from the Marsh House, from the stranger. Only for her guardian to have been bitten trying to get her back. No. Clem blinked her tears away. I will not think about Lee. I know I killed him but what's done is done. I need to focus on surviving now. This meant possibly trying to find new clothes. Her dress was no longer safe. Walkers could grab it and drag her to her death. She needed something more tight-fitting and safer.

"Christa?" She asked shyly. She twiddled her thumbs and continued to stare at the ground, finding an interesting patch of grass.

"Get a fire started, then we'll talk." Christa replied shortly. The woman was waiting on the log, still holding the animal tightly.

Without any other option, she knelt on the floor and gathered the sticks that they found and placed them in the center of their little campsite. Clementine held her hand out toward Christa to give her something to light the fire. The pregnant lady reluctantly handed her a cigarette lighter. Clem took it and ripped off a spare sheet of paper from her notebook. She kept it purely to help start a fire. She lit the paper and threw it into the logs. It took a few moments but a fire was started.

"I've done it." She said looking expectantly over at Christa. The older woman looked at the fire and faintly smiled. She took a large stick and shoved it through the skull of the raccoon and the end poked out of its backside. Clem winced at the squelching sound as she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She felt her stomach churn. She forced her hand on her mouth to keep everything down, but it was futile.

She quickly got up and walked away from the fire, uncovered her mouth and coughed as she retched. Only bile escaped as she hadn't eaten in a while. She wished Christa would tell her she was going to be okay, but the woman was preoccupied with building a vice to keep the raccoon upright so it could cook. Hot tears escaped as she threw up again and fell to her knees.

When she was done, she wiped her mouth and walked back over to Christa and sat silently on the log, looking down at the floor.

"Hand me the lighter, Clementine." Were the first words out of Christa's mouth. There was no concern for the girl who just threw up. There was nothing but a cold woman staring intensely at a roasting raccoon. Clementine didn't want to hand the lighter over, it was the only thing that could potentially save her life and Christa wanted it. It was like she was trying to kill the girl in vengeance for killing her boyfriend. Clem couldn't blame her.

"Can I just hold it for a while, please?" the girl tried pleading, but when she saw the glare on Christa's face, she knew this was the wrong approach.

"No, you'll just get us killed. Hand. It. Over." She enunciated each word in her command and Clem almost caved in and just handed her the lighter. But Clem was getting angry at the lady now.

"I'm not going to use it. I'll just keep it in my bag and not get it out."

"Clementine! Hand me the Goddamn lighter!" She stretched out her hand to the girl. Clem knew she was testing her luck but she didn't care, she just wanted something that could protect her.

"No!" Clem shouted "Just let me hold this, just for a while. I'll give it back later, I promise."

"Fine. If you get killed, it will be your own fault." Christa admitted and turned away from Clementine and checked on their meal.

The girl sniffed and lowered her head. This was their first real conversation in weeks and it turned into yet another argument, and for what? Over a stupid lighter. Clem stood up and carefully took the penknife out of her bag and put it in the pocket of her dress. Thankfully Christa didn't see. She started to walk into the woods when Christa called her back.

"Clementine, where are you going? It's cooked, you need to eat." Clem smiled just a little bit. This was the first sign of Christa showing concern for her in a while. Nevertheless, Clementine didn't have much of an appetite.

"I'm going to try and find some wood. I'll be back soon."

"Clementine, you need some food-" Christa started but Clementine cut her off sharply.

"I don't want any fucking food Christa!" She stood with her mouth agape. She just swore in anger. Christa looked at her in shock. Clementine always called Lee out on his swearing, now she was doing what she always berated him for. He would be so disappointed in her.

"Clementine!" Clementine hastily apologized and walked away into the woods, leaving a confused Christa to eat her share of the raccoon alone.

She continued walking as fresh tears spilled over her cheeks. Everything from the past few months coming up in her memory. She thought of all the amazing and wonderful people who died for no good reason; Katjaa, Duck, Mark, Lilly, Carley, Doug, Chuck, Ben, Kenny, Omid, Lee...Thinking back, she realised that she had killed these people in some way. More tears made their way down her face, blurring her vision.

Her knees felt weak and she slid onto the floor and wept. She didn't care about the walkers anymore. She was tired, she wanted to sleep. The young girl wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. She wanted to go back to her parents, back to Lee. She'd give anything to see them again.

She pulled out the knife. She rolled up her sleeves and looked down at her skinny arms. She knew one way to go. She could slowly make herself bleed out or stab herself in the brain to prevent coming back as one of them. Her tears ceased and she looked at her arms a last time before clutching the knife tightly in her right hand and slowly gliding the blade across her dainty wrist.

The pain was immediate. She whimpered as she made the first cut. The pain was oddly comforting as she moved the knife and made another cut across her wrist. There wasn't much blood, she wasn't pressing down too hard, but the pain was what she wanted. She wanted to punish herself for being selfish. For killing innocent people who didn't deserve death. She repeated this three more times on her left wrist and moved to do the same on her right wrist. Blood slowly leaked out of her cuts and dribbled down her arm and onto the forest floor.

She panted when she finished and looked at the damage. She dropped her knife and looked at her arms. There were ten lines of red on her arms. She smiled as she rolled her sleeves down, wincing as the cloth rubbed against her arms. She picked the knife up and wiped it on her tights. Her dress had walker blood on and if she was to do this again, she didn't want to risk getting an infection.

With a resigned sigh, she walked back to Christa. Hopefully the woman wouldn't be too angry at her. She decided to keep the cuts to herself. Christa didn't care anyway.

Christa sighed in relief as she saw the girl stumble back into view. Something seemed off about her. She decided to ask the question pricking her mind.

"You didn't get bit did you?"

"No." Was the short reply. With nothing more to say, Clementine walked over to where her pack was and laid her head on it and turned away from Christa.

"What did you want to tell me before?" The older woman wanted to know. She decided to start a conversation. The pregnant lady was feeling terrible for snapping at Clementine and wanted to try and make it up to her.

"What?"

"Before I asked you to start the fire, what did you want to ask me?"

"Oh. I need new clothes." Still the short answers, better than nothing. Clem turned over and saw Christa smile at her.

"Tomorrow, we can try and find some clothes for you. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks Christa." Clem smiled back. Maybe they could patch this up and work together to survive. Clem turned over and closed her eyes, thinking of what tomorrow would bring.

The next morning, Clem awoke to wetness. She groggily opened her eyes and sat up. It was raining. Wonderful. The girl looked towards Christa and noticed she was sat on the log, waiting for Clem to wake up.

"Come on, time to get going."

The duo packed everything away and started trekking through the forest. Clem's feet were aching and she felt a little lightheaded but other than that, she was determined to find somewhere that has clothes. She didn't want to spend another day in her dress.

After what felt like hours of walking, they finally exited the never-ending forest into what seemed like a town.

The town was completely abandoned. Cars were piled onto the road. Litter was everywhere. The buildings stood tall and desolate, some had broken windows and others had doors that seemed to have been blown off their hinges.

Clementine seemed apprehensive about checking these places. What if there were walkers? Or even people who were hiding in them?

"Clem, look," Christa pointed to a large building in front of them that appeared to be a clothing store. Clem smiled widely, she could get rid of the dress finally, "Let's go, but be careful. There could be walkers."

Clem nodded at the woman and the two made their way into the store. After a once over, the store appeared to be safe but decided to leave as soon as that was done.

"Alright. What kind of clothes are we looking for here?"

"Not a dress. Maybe a top and trousers." She was unsure of what to get.

"Well, look around and show me what you try on. I'm going to be over there in the maternity section. Take a few changes of clothes, just in case." Clem watched as the heavily pregnant woman slowly ambled over piles of discarded clothes and over to a large section labelled 'MATERNITY'.

The girl looked around the clothes in the children's section. Nothing looked appealing. Not until she came across a blue button down shirt. The sleeves were short, it was a lovely navy blue, it was nice and plain and it looked about her size. Without much regard to safety, she threw her dress off and threw it angrily across the floor and put the shirt on. It fit just right and wasn't uncomfortable. She completely forgot her scars were visible. Next, she decided to find some trousers. It was getting awkward standing in tights and nothing else.

She looked around a bit more. Nothing but skirts and dresses and shorts. Finally her eyes rested on a pair of grey jeans. Perfect. Clem yanked her tights off and threw them too. Before she put the jeans on, she looked around for some clean underwear.

Luckily she found some, threw her old ones away, and put the new ones on and hastily pulled up her jeans. They fit nicely. She put several pairs of underwear in her bag and closed it. Clem was thankful she had a bag that was quite big. The design was a little too pink and girly for her taste, but that didn't seem to matter anymore.

The child picked her back pack up and ran over to where Christa was stood. When she saw the pregnant lady stood holding a baby outfit close to her chest and looking close to tears, Clem knew to give the woman some space.

She turned back and tried to find another set of clothes. After finding another top, it was purple and long sleeved, and pair of jeans, she stuffed them in her bag and went back over to Christa. This time, she was looking for a jumper that would cover her large stomach.

"C-Christa?" Clem quietly spoke. Christa jumped a little and turned to look at the child. Said child held out her arms and gestured to the outfit. Christa noticed the red lines on Clem's arms that definitely weren't there before. Thankfully they didn't look like scratches from walkers, but Christa had a faint idea of what they were. Clementine noticed Christa gazing at her arms and she quickly lowered them and put them behind her back.

"Nice, Clementine. Try to find a jacket too. The way we're heading, it's going to get cold, and fast. You need to stay warm." The older woman decided she would press Clementine about the marks later.

"Okay." The girl walked off to do as she was told. In her head, she knew that Christa saw her marks. What would she do? Maybe she doesn't care. It was punishment for being a murderer. You killed people. Clem shook her head as she tried to focus on finding a jacket. She saw a navy blue one and slipped it on. It was a nice fit.

"Nice. Okay. We need to find as much food as we can, and get the hell out of this place and up North." Christa demanded as she strode past Clem and out the shop.

Looking around, they noticed that the shops appeared to have been looted before they arrived, but that wasn't going to stop them. They needed food, especially if Christa wanted Omid's unborn child to survive. Thinking of Omid brought tears to Clem's eyes and they burned as she carried on walking behind her guardian.

Christa took out her gun and slowly crept into the shop next door. It was a supermarket. Cans, papers and bodies littered the tiled floor. The stench of death was so stagnant that the pair had to plug their noses to prevent retching. It was a smell that was difficult to grow used to.

"What should I look for?" Christa looked down at the child. She thought for a moment and answered her.

"Cans. Find any cans that are sealed. They may still be edible. Also, look for water and formula, we're going to need it." Clem nodded and started her search.

In her search she got lucky and found several cans at the back of a shelf. After dragging them out, she saw they were foods like pea soup, beef stew, vegetable stew. Without thinking twice she put them in her bag and took out her knife. Hopefully no walkers would show up. She didn't want the knife to get tainted.

No walkers showed up. After double checking the store, she went back to Christa to report her findings. Apparently Christa had a little more luck and had found a couple bottles of water and a few tins of baby formula. With that and Clem's food, they could be okay for a few days at least, depending if the other shops still had stuff in there.

After picking each shop apart, they had found several more cans of food, more water, a few paper bags worth of medicine and only one more tin of formula. Satisfied with their haul, the pair set off down the road, with no idea of what lied ahead.

Eventually they found a relatively safe, boarded up house in a small neighbourhood. The streets were lined with cars, bodies and that familiar stench of death. The houses looked picked apart, windows smashed and doors broken in. It was lucky that they found one at the end of the street that did look looted, but wasn't completely destroyed.

"I fucking hate scavengers." Christa muttered under her breath as she raised her gun, alert and ready for attack. Clementine agreed silently and stayed behind Christa.

They entered the house. Papers were scattered everywhere. Blood was oozed all over the floor, some dry, some fresh. Christa gestured for Clem to search upstairs. The girl was glad that Christa finally trusted her again and cherished every moment she gave Clem a job.

The upstairs was relatively clean, save for the blood and photos that law askew. She picked one up and looked at it closely. It depicted a man and woman stood with their arms interlinked and in the middle stood a child, a boy. They looked happy. She wondered where they were now and sent a silent prayer to them, hoping they were alive.

She put the photo down and shouted to Christa it was safe. She opened the bedroom that clearly belonged to the boy. On the door it had his name on it; Declan. She sighed sadly, it sounded a lot like Duck.

Inside the room, the bed was still intact as was most of the furniture. There was obviously not much worth scavenging in a child's bedroom.

Christa slowly came upstairs and looked for a bedroom to rest. When she saw the perfect room, she turned to Clem who was stood in the doorway to the bedroom that looked like it belonged to a child.

"We've got canned peaches for tonight. Then we need to have a chat young lady." Clementine gulped as Christa ominously entered the master bedroom and beckoned the girl after her. Without much choice, she followed.

The meal that night was awkward and tense. Clem sat in the corner, eating her share of the canned peaches while Christa was sat propped up on the bed eating hers. She could feel the effects of the baby pushing down on her insides and knew that it would soon be time. She kept glancing over at Clementine; she was huddled up in the corner and looked frightened. Christa sighed, she didn't want to scare the girl, she just wanted to talk to her.

They finished their meal in silence. When they were done, before Clementine had the chance to sneak away to go sleep elsewhere, Christa cleared her throat.

"I'm tired, Christa. Can we please talk tomorrow?" The girl pleaded. She felt nauseas just thinking about what Christa wanted to talk to her about. Christa shook her head.

"Come sit on the bed, Clementine," She did as asked, but scooted to sit on the edge. "We need to have a serious talk. Do you know what about?" Clementine faked ignorance and shook her head.

"N-No."

"Roll up your sleeves."

"Why?"

"I'm not in the mood for any stupid shit, Clementine. Roll up your sleeves." Clem sighed and pulled up her jacket sleeves, exposing the red lines on her arms.

"I-I...I-" She looked up at Christa and saw a flash of anger, then concern, on her guardian's face.

"Do you know how dangerous this is?" She said tersely. Clem tensed. She just wanted to go to bed now.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you understand how dangerous it is to do this, Clementine?" She repeated, her voice remained calm, but the woman was becoming more concerned for the child, why would she do something so horrible to herself? Her arms could get infected for a start, and what she was doing can become addictive.

"N-No. I won't do it again! I p-promise!" Clem exclaimed as she let herself cry in front of Christa. The pregnant woman pulled the child to her, being careful of her bump, and slowly rubbed her back.

"You shouldn't do this, Clementine. Harming yourself is not the answer. I don't care how upset you are, this behaviour can become addictive. What would happen if any of them got infected?" Christa scolded gently as she rocked the crying child, hoping her words would help Clem understand the dangers of her actions.

"I-I'm sorry! I killed everyone. I deserve to be p-punished!" Clem let how she felt spill out. She was tired of trying to keep strong. She wanted this horrible painful feeling in her heart to go away.

"You should not have to be punished. You didn't kill anyone. You hear me?"

"B-b-but I did! I killed Lee...Omid...I deserve to die too." She said it quietly and continued to weep. Thinking of Omid made Christa feel pained but she put this aside to comfort the child. They hadn't been getting along as of late, she hoped this talk would at least start to heal the broken relationship. And how could such a young child wish death on herself. It broke her a little.

"What did you use?"

"A penknife..."

"Where did you get it?"

"I found it...on the girl who shot..." She trailed off, not wanting to say his name anymore. Christa was shocked she hadn't noticed Clem had the knife before. She needed to take it away before she could do anymore.

"Can I have it please?"

"No." Clem whined and sniffed.

"Please, I-I don't want you to cut yourself anymore. You have no reason to." The girl shook her head and curled into herself. She needed the knife, she needed it so much.

"No. I found it. It's mine."

"For fuck sake, Clementine, you are going to give me the knife right now, or I will get it from you myself!" Christa didn't have energy to deal with arguing right now. She was stressed enough as it was with the baby. Now with Clementine becoming so fragile, she was losing her patience and energy at a fast pace.

The girl was stubborn, but she needed the knife. She didn't want Christa to be mad at her, but it made her feel better, knowing it was there.

"I don't want to." She wiggled out of Christa's grasp and walked to the bedroom door.

"God, I wish that stupid girl had shot you instead of Omid!" Clem stopped when she heard that. So she wants me dead. I want to be dead too, Christa. I'm sorry I've caused you so much pain. She looked back at Christa with fearful eyes, her amber orbs glowing with sadness.

"So do I." And she left the room.

Christa exhaled deeply as she let what Clementine had just said to her sink in. Realising the mental state of the young child, wishing her dead probably wasn't the smartest idea the older woman had. She tried to stand up, with much difficulty. After getting on her feet, she slowly waddled out the door and tried to find the girl before she did anything dangerous.

"Clementine!" Christa shouted. She wasn't expecting a response, but every second the house was silent, the higher her anxiety rose. She carefully went down the stairs and searched the entirety of the house. Nothing. She wasn't there. The African-American woman could barely breathe as she tried to find the girl.

Leaving the house through the back door, she saw Clem sat hunched over. She was sobbing open and loud. Christa approached her slowly. She saw a torn photo of Lee, the man who cared for this little girl as though she were his own. The same man who died fighting to protect the group. That man was a Hero. What Clem said next broke her heart.

"I'm sorry, Lee. I've let you down."

The woman was also saddened to see splatters of blood on the floor. She knelt down carefully and wrapped her arms around the sobbing child.

"G-Get off me! HELP! CHRISTA!" She exclaimed. She was tired of running, of hiding. Clementine wanted to go to Lee and see her parents again. She was being attacked and this was how she was going to die, bleeding out at the hands of some stranger. Maybe this was fate's way of saying that she would die at the hands of a stranger.

"Clementine. It's okay. I'm not letting go. I'm so sorry." Clem recognised the voice to be Christa. She wasn't be hurt, she was being comforted, she turned in Christa's arms and returned the embrace; both of them let their tears fall. They clung desperately to each other as tears for their loved ones and for Clementine were shed.

"I'm so-sorry Christa! I won't do it again!" Clem promised. She was ashamed that she made Christa mad; she didn't want to lose her too. She'd caused so many people to die because of her stupid mistakes, Christa wouldn't be next.

"It's okay. I'm not upset. I wish you would stop, sweetie," They stayed there for a while until Christa held Clem out at arm's length. "Can I please clean your arms? I don't want you to get an infection." The African-American woman asked gently.

Clementine could only nod. She sniffed as her tears ceased and she looked down to not see the disappointment on Christa's face.

Christa placed an arm around Clem's shoulders and led her inside, the girl had her photo of Lee clutched tightly in her hand. Not wanting to waste time, Christa began cleaning the wound with some hydrogen peroxide and wrapped them in clean bandages. Clem was silent throughout and kept her eyes averted to the floor.

"There you go sweetie. I'm so sorry for saying that about you. I don't wish you were dead. That was awful of me to say and I did not mean it."

"O-okay. Can we just go to bed?"

"Of course, would you like to stay with me tonight?"

"Please." Christa took Clem's hand and they went to bed. Clementine curled up next to Christa's bump and fell asleep almost instantly. Christa soothingly stroked the child's unruly hair as she too was lulled to sleep by Clem's rhythmic breathing. Christa went to sleep hoping tomorrow the pair could work on fixing their strained relationship.

A/N: Should I do a sequel? I have some ideas planned but I want to hear what you think.

Hope you enjoyed it. Leave a review and let me know what you thought!

This was hastily edited and I went through this several times and changed a few things, hopefully the story was consistent and the characters weren't OOC. I apologise for the rubbish editing but again, I hope you enjoyed it.