My eyes groggily open as the slight taps against my face become progressively firmer, sending numbness through my right cheek as the wound is disturbed. Vision blurred, breaths slow and forced… how am I not dead? That assault took its toll on my body for sure, and I'm honestly not sure how I have the strength to look at this menacing person kneeled down before me.

"Looks like you're up, good," Carver smirks, a wicked glint in his eye as he stares me down. His words are smooth and not rushed; each syllable pronounced as if he's got all the time in the world. "Sorry about Troy, by the way. He can be a bit hot-headed at times. Though, in your case, my little trespassing friend, I can see why he reacted the way he did."

Standing up with his hands behind his back, Carver strolls over to a window overlooking the rest of the warehouse. We must be sitting in some kind of office, as there's a big wooden desk with pens and some filing cabinets behind it. I guess he must've found it only fitting that a leader like himself should get the head room to watch over everybody.

Not even ten seconds into seeing this guy, and I can already tell he's dangerous.

"You wanna tell me where your pal Luke is, Clementine?"

"How…" I wheeze out, "…do you know my name…"

"Your old pal Ben filled me in on the little group you had before, if you could even call it that," he then chuckles mirthlessly, "Mentioned you and your partner in particular. Said that if anybody could survive out here, it'd be you two. So where's this Lee character now, anyway?"

"Shut up…"

"Struck a nerve, did we? My condolences to you then."

After he turns back around and we hold each other's stares for an uncomfortable amount of time, he chuckles slightly and shakes his head.

"You're a strong one, aren't you? I can tell. We need more people like you to lead in times like this."

"You don't know me," I hiss, wincing in pain as I move around too much.

"Actually, Clem, I do. You see," Carver pulls over a chair to sit right in front of me with a commanding presence. "We're essentially the same person inside. We try and keep our loved ones safe, and are willing to do the hard things that nobody else has the balls to do. We get shit done."

Before continuing, he bends forward with mere inches between our faces. His is cold and calculating, while mine probably looks like a pummeled mess. I certainly feel like a pummeled mess.

"You've got that same look on your face. Confidence – your whole body is radiating with it, even though you're scared on the outside. That's what we need if we're going to make it through this. Kids like you, raised the right way – the way my child will be raised."

My nerves are too shot to say that it's Alvin's and not his, so he sits back in the chair and folds his arms across his chest.

"That group you were with, Carlos, Luke and the lot of them, they wouldn't have lasted much longer out on their own. They needed real leadership, and a roof over their heads. I brought them back to contribute to the community, you see."

"You killed two of my friends… and forced the rest of them to work for you…" I retort, trying to find the strength to prove him wrong.

"They survived here before – and killing one in order to save many is a part of survival. It's one of the tough choices that a weaker person couldn't make. And it's why it's up to people like us to lead them to safety."

"I'm not like you! I don't kill people without giving them a chance!"

"They had their chances," Carver comments calmly, "But you've gotta remember, it was your man who fired on me first. I just happened to show your friend Kenny the error of his ways."

At that last sentence, my blood ran cold and goose bumps spread up my arm like wildfire. Instantly I imagined the worst possible outcomes, all of which ended with him lying face down in the dirt somewhere in this store.

But I had to believe that he was alright.

"What… did you do…"

"Last time I checked he was unconscious, but he should be set to move eventually. Kenny stepped out of line, and he paid the price. You have to keep people in order to run a setup like this."

"Are you… are you going to kill me?" I finally get the courage to ask, expecting that this whole thing would be a charade and that he was just toying with me until I broke. To my surprise, he chuckled and shook his head.

Did he just think this was all some sort of sick, twisted game we were playing?

"No, Clementine. Like I said before, we need people like you out here. Besides, I've talked to you for maybe five minutes, and I'm already starting to respect you."

To my dismay, he then pulls out the two radios that I had managed to snag earlier and holds them in front of me.

"What kid would be able to pull something like this off, huh? You've got guts, kid, but you just need to be able to move on to the next step. Take that fire inside of you – use it to your advantage, and people won't treat you like a little kid. They'll respect you, maybe even fear you."

"I've got friends. We help each other out no matter what," I say, clenching my fists so hard that my knuckles turn white.

Carver slams his fist on his own chair and swears under his breath. Clearly, he doesn't believe me at all.

"Those friends of yours are nothing but untrustworthy, disloyal, crippled fucks who don't give a damn about you! Let me ask you. When you met 'em," he then turns to me with a serious stare, "how much did they trust you?"

I want to say that they did, and that they took me in without prejudice or question, but that would be a lie. The only person who really trusted me was Luke, but I can't tell Carver that because I'd be giving away the fact that I know where he is.

Carver seems to notice my hesitation, and instantly he can tell that they did not in fact trust me at first.

"Let's say you get seriously hurt out there, or maybe even lost somewhere out in the woods. Do you honestly think they're going to help you out?"

"Yes," I respond, though my voice is shaky and I can slightly feel the doubt rising in my mind.

"It's a bad habit to start telling lies," he remarks, putting one of the radios on the wooden desk. "They're all gonna die, Clementine. Don't let them bring you down with them."

We both sit in silence for a moment as Carver returns to the window, no doubt observing his guards and whatnot. As for myself, I can't help but think about what he's been saying. My friends wouldn't abandon me, right? We're a family now, just like Luke said! Sure, they might not have liked me at the start, but we'd stick together no matter what this jerk said!

But deep down, he's planted a seed of doubt in the dark recesses of my mind, and I can't seem to shake it off.

What if he's right?

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and standing there with the same assault rifle is that jerk who caused me all this pain earlier. Troy, I think his name was? He gives me one hell of a glare before turning towards Carver and ignoring me completely.

"Bill, there's a problem downstairs."

"What is it this time?" Carver sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Obviously this isn't the first time that Troy has had to come get him for something.

"We caught the prisoners tryin' to escape," he explains, looking over at me menacingly, "They got that Luke asshole with 'em. Said that they'd start shit if we didn't bring her with us. Ben and Bonnie are with 'em too."

"Fucking ingrates," Carver swears with a pissed-off expression on his features. He gestures towards me as he starts up again. "Tie her up and meet me downstairs. We're going to settle this shit once and for all."

"Will do," Troy agrees lowly, and it creeps the hell out of me. As hard to believe as it is, I think if I had to choose between the two of them, I'd pick Carver. Troy seems too unpredictable.

Ordering me to stand up, I reluctantly oblige; my whole body shaking and pain riding up my system at the wounds. I feel light-headed and dizzy, which probably means that I have a concussion as well.

"And Troy?"

"Yeah, Bill?"

He points warningly at his henchman and stares at him straight in the eye.

"If you kill her, I swear to god I'll put you in the ground myself. Got that?"

"Uhh, yeah. No worries," Well, he certainly sounds worried to me. I don't think Carver was joking around either.

What the hell is going on?

Without as much as a word, Troy opens up one of the filing cabinets, pulls out a thick rope and proceeds to bind my hands behind my back. The ropes are rough and uncomfortable, and I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

I've only ever been a prisoner once, and that was back at the St. John's dairy when they stuffed us all in that scary meat locker. And I remember how frightened I had been back then, with Lee still not having woken up yet and the rest of them either really angry or spewing their guts out.

Flashback…

"OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW YOU FUCKERS!" Larry screamed. I swear his head looked like it was going to explode like a smashed pumpkin at any second.

…okay, maybe that did end up happening anyway, but you get the idea.

Lilly was too busy throwing up to pay him much notice, and Kenny was striding back and forth so much that I thought he was going to tear a hole in the floor.

As for me, I was huddled over near Lee, tears streaming down my face as I worried that they might have killed him.

"Please wake up… I need you, Lee! Please!" I whispered, clutching his hand tightly and shaking it back and forth.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the outside of the locker with a gravelly, country voice warning us to keep it down.

After that day, I never wanted to experience something like that again.

Now more than ever, I wish Lee was here with me. There wasn't even a chance for me to say goodbye, or to at least thank him for everything he did.

I just hope he understood that after I got dragged away by Lilly.

"Get movin', now!" Troy orders, pushing me forward with the barrel of his gun and bringing me back to reality.

We march downstairs, past the shocked faces of many residents that I don't care about. I see an Asian guy with long hair, a bearded man with glasses, a young teen and what looked like her older sister, and a short black guy that looked slightly sympathetic towards me.

Well screw your sympathy! If any of you wanted to help, you'd have done so already.

As we turn a corner, I can already see Carver lecturing and pacing back and forth. At this angle, I can't see anybody else, and for now Troy seems to want to keep it that way. He whispers harshly for me to stop, and so I stand there waiting for Carver to finish.

"You wanna throw away the life I'm trying to build for us all, then fucking fine! You wanna run off with this dogshit group of crippled fucks, then fine! Be my guest!"

Carver then makes eye contact with me before smirking and roughly taking my arm. I hear gasps coming from the rest of the group, though I can't really make out faces due to the bright light shining towards me.

I haven't checked in a mirror at all, but how badly did Troy beat me up?

"Here's how this is going down," Carver starts, clutching one arm around my body and the other one holding up a pistol to the side of my head. I don't know if he's bluffing or not, due to what he told me earlier, but I don't want to take the risk. I keep my eyes glued to the floor and pray that somebody just shoots him.

"You're all gonna cooperate, or I'm gonna put a bullet in her brain!"

"Fuck you! Let her go, damn it!" I'm certain that's Kenny due to the accent, and I can't help but wince as the memory of that night hits me. I feel a sudden urge in me to say something to him.

"I'm sorry Kenny," I say quietly, whimpering as the barrel of his weapon brushes against my skin. "I didn't mean any of it…"

There's a sharp intake of breath, and I can tell that Kenny's trying his hardest to maintain his strong composure. "No, darlin'. You were totally right, it was my fault."

"I hate to interrupt your little therapy session," Carver mentions, cutting him off. "But unless you lot get back into the pen, she won't see another –"

Suddenly, the loud groans of walkers start being heard from outside, and for once I'm actually relieved that they're coming this way. If this place gets overrun, then maybe we can escape!

Carver doesn't seem too pleased about this situation.

"So," he begins threateningly, "which one of you lowlifes opened the garage door? Ben, you traitorous fuck?! You want to fess up?!"

"Bill, stop it! Just let Clem go already! They're gonna be on us at any moment!"

"Too true, kid. That's why she's coming with me."

What?! NO! This can't be happening! He slowly brings me towards him as he orders Troy to get the truck started. What was this going to accomplish?! All Carver would be doing is starting a manhunt out for him!

…unless he's trying to prove to me that the group doesn't care…

No! They'll try! I can already see Kenny, Luke, Ben and Rebecca coming forward.

"Have fun lasting out there, ingrates," Carver hisses before bringing me back through a storage area and locking the door behind him. Some people are banging and twisting the doorknob as quickly as they can, but it won't be any use.

I'm in trouble now.

"Clementine! Just hold on!" I hear Luke yell through the steel door, "We'll get you out, I promise!"

"Doubt that," Carver murmurs, dragging me towards the truck that they had when taking the group to the hardware store in the first place. He quickly shoves me into the back and stands guard, giving me no chance of escape as he waits for Troy to come back with the keys.

Once he does, Carver places two hands on the shutters and prepares to close it, but not before he turns to me.

"Just remember what I said, Clementine."

With that, he pulls it shut, leaving me in complete darkness and anguish. I'm really on my own this time – nobody to help me but myself. My hands are bound, I don't have any weapons to use, and I'm eleven years old. That puts me at a massive disadvantage right off the bat.

What am I going to do?