A/N: I'm back with the walking dead! Well, for now. This is something that was already half written and I finally decided to finish it after like almost a year of not writing. Also, if any of y'all are up to date with my other stories, my plan is to continue writing for Take Me Far Away From Here very soon!

Anyways, this is just an idea I had. One of those 'what-ifs'.

Summary: Her head and face are throbbing with pain, and it feels like her nose is on fire. She doesn't even know what she looks like right now, or how bad the bruises are. There may be some dried blood around her nostrils, but she decides not to pay much attention to it. It's not a big deal.

*This is a modern AU story. Also Clementine is 12 years old here.


Runaway


One hand grips the strap of her backpack and the other holds her skateboard tucked underneath her arm. She's wearing a dark over-sized jacket that nearly lengthens down to her knees, but she'd rolled the sleeves up so they don't completely cover her small hands. It clearly wasn't meant for someone her size, or meant to be worn by a girl either, but she'd never preferred 'girls' clothing much, anyway.

The line shifts as she waits, shuffling another step forward when the person in front of her moves up. She anxiously glances around in her spot.

It's early morning, and the city of Atlanta is bustling with the sounds of chatter, barking dogs, and honking cars. She couldn't be more used to the active atmosphere though, of which she had only expected to be even more chaotic on a weekend, and she suddenly wishes it were a different day.

The young girl faces forward again, glancing past the tall line of people in front of her and towards the driver that sits at the front of the bus. She bites her lip, hoping he won't recognize her.

Eventually, she reaches the front and the person before her disappears onto the rumbling vehicle. She flashes her bus pass at the man after rising onto the steps, merely holding it up to her face in between two fingers then down and away from sight again.

Avoiding eye contact, she attempts to quickly brush by without a word, but a burly hand suddenly extends out in front of her before she's even able to reach the top of the stairs.

"Uh-uh, no way," interjects the driver, shaking his head at her.

She freezes in her tracks, exhaling slowly in defeat. Then she spins on her heel as if the motion alone is exhausting, making an effort to roll her eyes before completely facing him.

"I ain't givin' no rides to runaways," he continues in a gruff voice before she's even able to ask.

For a moment, she only stares back at him. He has a dark mustache, head nearly free of hair and is especially overweight. There's no amusement in his vacant expression as he sits with his knees spread wide behind the wheel.

He looks as if he couldn't give a shit about his job, and the girl wonders why he had bothered to stop her when everyone else had been let on with hardly even a glance their way. "Are you serious?" jeers Clementine in disbelief.

"You heard me," states the driver. "Off," he nods his head towards the doorway she stands stuck in front of.

"Wh—you can't do that!" she exclaims, frustration rising in her tone.

She considers denying his accusation, then realizes that the overflowing backpack she wears and the fact that she's nearly half the size of everyone else here makes her stick out like a sore thumb. Not that a kid her age riding alone on a bus isn't unusual, but the unfortunate hold up that's now catching eyes only enforces that fact even more.

"Come on, now. I ain't gonna encourage that shit," he says, "And your mother sure as hell ain't gonna be worried sick about you this time. Not if I can help it."

"That's not fair! I have a right to ride this bus, just like everyone else!" defends Clementine, her voice tiny compared to his. "Look, I even have a real bus pass this time, see?" she reminds, scrambling to hold it up to his face once more with pride, but the man is hardly even looking her way.

"Look, little missy, don't make me tell you again," the driver warns, far from convinced. "My bus, my rules."

"Come on, man, this doesn't even affect you," Clementine groans, practically whining as her shoulders fall in disappointment. "Just let me on today and—and after that, I swear, you'll never have to see me again."

He sighs heavily with a roll of his eyes, and a few moments pass by where he remains unresponsive, as if he doesn't know what else to tell her.

Clementine glances to the group of people already sitting on the bus, realizing that nearly all their lingering eyes are now fixed on her. All that can be heard now is the loud grumbling of the bus, and she's suddenly conscious of the line of people also waiting behind her.

He shoots her a final glance before tiredly peering through the front window instead, indicating that the conversation is over. "Go home, kid."

Clementine stares after him, her jaw slightly open. What home, she wonders?

There's a faint chuckle from somewhere at the back of the vehicle, and the embarrassment of the situation is suddenly evident in the color of her cheeks.

Her lips are then pressed together, blinking out of her bewilderment. She briefly glares at the rest of the bus, then without another word, she huffs in annoyance before quickly turning back the way she came.

His reasoning is obviously unfair. It shouldn't be any of his business where people are going or where they've been, but Clementine is fully aware it had been completely personal. She doesn't doubt it considering it isn't the first time the two have run into each other over similar issues.

The girl keeps her head low, her small form nearly swallowed by the crowd of people as she pushes her way off the bus. She's so angry she doesn't bother to say 'excuse me', and no one acknowledges her as they all move forward in line.

The ambiance of assorted chatter reaches her ears again as Clementine begins to pace down the sidewalk. The large screeching doors close shut somewhere behind her, and she slows at the sound.

She peers over her shoulder as the bus takes off down the road, watching it drive farther away. She faces forward again while muttering under her breath, "Asshole."

Briefly adjusting her baseball cap, Clementine chucks her skateboard onto the pavement and hops onto it just as it hits the ground. She accelerates down the sidewalk while swerving around multiple pedestrians, firmly holding onto the straps of her backpack.

As part of her had predicted, the bus had been a no-go. It wouldn't be the first time she's been kicked off or out of somewhere, but Clementine decides she'll just have to take the train. The station is nearly half way across the city, but it'll have to do.

Eventually, she swerves around the corner of a building and into a familiar alleyway numerous blocks down. Hopefully it'll be a shortcut around the busy sidewalks. The moment she enters is when all the noises around her instantly die down.

She skids to a stop, stepping onto the end of her skateboard and kicking it upwards, catching it in her hand without a glance. She appreciates the quiet of the empty alley, the shadows of the buildings on either side cascading down as she walks.

The gravel crunches underneath her boots, and she keeps a hand buried within her pocket as her gaze remains fixed on her own shoes.

When she nears the opposite end of the alley where the sunlight reaches the pavement again, she begins to hear faint laughter from the main sidewalk, gradually growing louder by the second. She tilts her chin up, her eyes meeting the source of the noise just as a group of middle-schoolers round the corner into the alley.

"Ahh, shit," Clementine groans to herself, instantly recognizing who she now has no choice but to confront.

She sees them before they do, the group too caught up in their own shouting and obnoxious laughter to notice her standing a distance away. There's four of them, and they're all boys – boys from Clementine's school that she'd never consider herself friends with. They're the same age as her. Taller, but in the same grade. Yet, they think they're twice as old as they really are.

The thought of turning around had crossed her mind, but there's no way they won't stop her if she did. So Clementine slows, facing them just as they finally notice her.

"Oh, shit! Check it out, guys," the boy in the front, Noah – raises his hand up, halting the rest of them in their tracks once he finally lays eyes on the girl.

His hair is short, dark blonde with blue eyes and has a slim figure. He wears a denim jacket with his hands stuffed into both pockets, and a cigarette limply hanging between his lips. He's holding back a snicker, his grin far from friendly as the rest of them don't bother hiding their pleased expressions.

Clementine brushes her tongue across her teeth, resisting the roll in her eyes. Already far from amused and fully aware of their intentions, she wishes they would just cut the theatrics.

"If it isn't our favorite little ray of sunshine," slyly remarks another one of the boys, Sam, as they eventually saunter to a stop in front of her.

"How you doin', Clem?" smirks Noah with false kindness. "Life still treating you well?"

"Incredibly," Clementine glares dangerously at him, already fed up with their ill-indented greeting.

"Back for more?" asks Sam. "You didn't smoke it all already, did you?"

"Yeah, speaking of, where's that money owe me?" Noah suspiciously squints at her as he takes a drag of his cigarette, his other hand buried in his jacket pocket.

"I don't have it," she says, her voice neutral.

"Uh, oh," she faintly hears from one of the boys that shadow their leader.

"Hey, where you going, anyway?" he changes the subject with a raised chin, attempting to mask his un-satisfaction with her answer. "You're saying you packed a bag that big and you don't have any cash?" He snatches for the backpack she wears, but Clementine is quick to jolt away, avoiding his hand.

"I said I don't have it," the girl insists, anger rising in her tone.

Noah's eyes scale her up and down for a moment, taking note of her skateboard and how rushed she clearly is to leave. "What, you running away or some shit?" His eyes widen in realization. "Oh, I see, you were gonna leave without paying me what you owe me." It's more of an accusation than a question.

"What? No—that's not… it's not like that," she defends, but she can tell by the looks on their faces that they're unconvinced. "Look, I couldn't give two shits about you or your money."

"Right, but you didn't give a shit about that weed I sold you, is that it?" His tongue twirls around his cigarette, the strong smell reaching her nostrils.

"Just give it to him, Clem, you know you can't run away from this one," one of them advises, a taunting chuckle hidden underneath his words.

"That's what kids like you do, isn't it?" Noah presses upon noticing how she avoids eye contact with them all. He gives her a chance to respond, but she doesn't say anything. "You're just a sad little orphan girl, aren't you?"

Clementine closes her eyes in annoyance and inhales sharply, physically feeling those words pierce her soul. "Don't." Her voice is barely audible, yet dangerous as ever.

"That is what you are, isn't it? Who doesn't have anything better to do but run away from her problems," he's unfazed by her warning.

"Fuck you, Noah," bites Clem, glaring at him from underneath her heavy eyebrows.

"Oh, shit!" gasps one of the boys, excited giggles emanating among the three of them.

Clementine ignores their reaction. "How about you mind your own goddamn business and go back home to your deadbeat dad?" she nags without hesitance, her voice rising so everyone can hear.

"Hey, you better watch your fucking mouth!" Stepping forward, her jabs a threatening finger in her direction. "Don't think I won't hit you just 'cause you're a girl." He approaches her, their bodies now inches apart. Clementine's stern expression doesn't falter when his tall figure looms over her, fully aware of how short she is compared to him. The boy shoves her in the shoulders, making her stumble backwards. "You think you're so special, don't you? Well, guess what? You're not," he hisses at her. "You're nothing."

"Shut up!" shouts Clem, steam rising within her.

"Or what? You gonna cry, orphan girl?" he challenges, clearly enjoying himself. "You don't got no one to go home and cry to! Your parents aren't—"

Clementine jabs a fist into his face, his sentence immediately cutting off when his head is swung to the side. He doesn't fall, only stumbles a few steps away.

"Oh, fuck," gasps one of the boys. Clem can hear the three of them reacting in shock to what just happened, but she ignores them completely.

Before she knows it, Noah's fist is being launched back at her and Clementine whimpers from the impact. She's hardly able to react before she finds herself forcefully being shoved onto the hood of a nearby parked car. Her back slams into it with a thud, but her arms are fighting against his. They struggle against each other, grunting, and his friends are cheering and shouting somewhere nearby, causing a riot.

"Yeah! Come on, Noah, fuckin' get her!"

With strained effort, Clementine manages to push him off her but they both fall to the hard ground as a result. She straddles him with a leg on each side, wasting no time in continuously striking her fists at him, finally having him pinned.

She doesn't know how long she pummels him and is hardly even listening to the shouting around her. She's so focused on making him pay for what he said that she almost doesn't even realize when Sam shouts under his breath. "Shit, cops!"

It isn't until then that the distant sirens fade into her ears, but neither her nor Noah do anything to stop their previous doing. Clementine grunts when the boy pulls her by the hair, fighting to push her off him.

"Noah, knock it off!"

"Forget it, man, we gotta go!" exclaims one of the boys with panic in his voice. The sirens are getting louder, becoming painful to the ears.

Noah flips her over onto her back, Clem's head slamming onto the gravelly pavement. She grunts.

"Hey, hey, break it up!" shouts a deep and demanding voice from somewhere to her right, getting closer by the second.

Clementine's vision goes black for a moment and all she can hear is a series of shuffling footsteps, realizing that the weight of Noah had somehow been pulled off her. "Go, go, go!" she hears one of the boys mutter frantically.

"Hey, get back here!" yells another burly voice nearby, and heavy footsteps run in the opposite direction, fading away from her.

For a few moments, all becomes quiet around her, and she realizes she's been left alone. When Clementine slowly opens her eyes again, her blurry vision is met with a tall, dark figure looming over her. His hands are planted on his hips, his head shaking in disappointment. She moans in pain.

"Ah, shit…" the man mutters once identifying the girl at his feet. "What in God's name have you gotten yourself into this time, Clementine?"

With Clem's eyes squinted and her mind a haze, she finally registers the situation and recognizes the familiar face peering down at her; Officer Pete. She wouldn't say she's entirely pleased to see him.

"All right. Up you go, little darlin'," he sighs exasperatedly and offers a helping hand. "I hate to be the one to have to do this, but… it's off to the station with you, kid."

Dropping her head back onto the pavement, Clementine groans in annoyance.