Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just pulling the strings a wee bit.
WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL THEMES
A week had passed and the weather was perfect. It had rained a few days ago, but right now was golden. Clara had used her time wisely to talk to Susan, the old woman who always cooked. There had been more than what meets the eye with the gray haired woman. Clara had struck up an unexpected alliance, and in doing so got the allegiance of other members too. The number and identity of those members were unknown though.
But she didn't care how many people were planning on siding with her, today she'd get her freedom and start back home. Or end up dead, which was still freedom. The blonde had woken up early and fetched Thomas breakfast first thing. When she retrieved his breakfast plate, Susan had snuck a knife to her under the plate. It was serrated too. Clara wasn't taking any chances, she wanted all wounds to be beyond repairable.
Oddly enough, she was very calm. An odd sense of peace had settled in her bones, even with knowing how badly she could screw this up. The blonde tucked the knife into her boot and walked into their tent. He was waking up now, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Here's breakfast, baby." Clara said sweetly, adding a smile. Thomas eyed her and then the plate of food in her hands. He grunted his approval and she approached. Clara crouched down and placed it in his lap above the blanket. He took a smell and began to dig in. She eyed him, realizing he'd be dead in a few minuets. Something inside her head opened and she smiled brightly. Thomas seen this and stopped eating.
"What are you so fucking happy about?" The man wasn't amused totally, but very curious. His dark brownish black eyes studied her face.
"Nothing really, I just think I'm finally getting it." Her feline smile softened and she let her eyelids seem heavy. Thomas wasn't buying it, so she upped her game.
"Well, I've been trying to behave lately...I just woke up this morning with a need to make you happy." Her hazel eyes shyly scanned his face, but her stomach churned. He didn't have much to say, still trying to figure her out. "Ya know what they say, can't beat em..join em."
Not to piss him off yet, Clara gently took his unfinished plate from him and jerked the blankets down. He was naked from last night, but she didn't care. He disgusted her. She could also deal with it one more last time. Thomas shivered as the air hit his skin. Clara smiled and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Her small hands running over the planes of his muscular chest.
Thomas grabbed her wrists painfully and put some distance between them.
"What are you up to?"
Fear hit her for a second but she kept her poker face.
"Thomas...really?" She made herself sound exasperated. "I know you enjoy being rough but...wouldn't you like to have me willing and wet.." When his grip eased a bit, she leaned into him some more and let her lips brush his ear. "Moaning and shaking below you..."
She smiled as she felt him twitch below her. Stupid asshole. Clara put her game face on and ground into him. Thomas sucked in a breath and moved his hands to her hips, rocking her. Clara's jean shorts protected her luckily.
"So you want to play along?" His voice was deep and husky. The blonde leaned back and nodded, punctuating her act with another grind to his member. Thomas didn't hesitate and brought her in, kissing her hard. She ignored the bile rising in her throat and kissed him back for once. He groaned and fisted her hair.
Clara was thinking. She needed him to drop his arms, his neck needed to be open for attack. So she got creative and untangled herself from his hands. Thomas looked upset but she swooped in and latched onto his neck. The man shivered as she sucked and bit him roughly.
In the shadows of the tent she felt herself slip away. The young woman she was took a backseat and let the killer take the wheel. She thought of Manny. Her best friend being tortured and murdered because he was close to her. Clara thought of Zach. The tears Beth had cried over her young love being taken away from her. The whole Greene family, the prison...Daryl. her body was shaking with pent up rage Thomas was mistaking for want.
Carefully she allowed his mouth to assault her as he flipped them over and ripped her thin shirt open, exposing her white bra. He stopped for a moment when he looked into her eyes. Thomas smiled.
"You really are an animal, look at you." The satisfied smirk on his face made her grin. When he began placing bites over her collar bone she wrapped her legs around his waist. He smiled once more against her skin and ground into her like a horny teenager.
Inside she was a volcano, wanting burn it all down. Smooth enough for him not to notice she reached into her boot and withdrew the knife. Her heart began pounding. The handle of the blade felt like redemption. Clara opened her eyes and used her free hand to grab his jaw and bring his eyes level with hers.
"Baby, you have no idea." In one swift motion she drug the knife across his throat. His eyes were wide in shock. Satisfaction written all over Clara's face as his blood gushed onto her. His empty gasp made her writhe in pleasure as his windpipe was torn open.
"Before you die I want you to know you are a piece of shit and I really wanted to draw this out... this is the only mercy you'll know because you are going to rot in hell." Her voice was a growl as she watched his face drain of color and the life fade from his eyes. Clara snarled and pushed him off, laying there covered in his blood. She didn't care.
After a second she took the knife and drove it through his eye, making sure to hit the brain. The blond stood and admired her work for a moment before getting her plan back on track. Despite the humming of adrenaline in her veins she had to get some stuff together. Quickly the girl piled a few pistols and MREs into a black duffel bag. She found her machete and grabbed the maps which shown their location and where they had been camped when she joined up months ago.
As she fumbled around she realized she'd done it. Her captor was dead and she was going home. Nobody would mourn Thomas. He had been a tyrant. Clara grabbed a few articles of her clothing and stuffed them in the bag as well. Her instincts were on high alert as she shuffled around in the tent looking for anything to grab in a hurry. Once she was satisfied, Clara took a deep breath and walked out as if it were another day. She wasn't stupid though, she had one of the pistols in her right hand. But her arm dangled at her side casually. Nobody else here posed a threat to her.
When the sunlight hit her, gasps and all movement stopped. The short blonde looked around and took a deep breath. Ernest, her babysitter, gawked and she smiled.
"Yeah he's dead." She wiped at her face and remembered she was covered in blood. She giggled, she must look like Carrie. But then she got very serious and shouted her peace to everyone. "I killed that piece of shit. I intend no harm on everyone else. I just would like to take a car and get out of here."
All the members looked to one another and remained quiet. Clara found Susan staring at her, nodding her approval.
"I'm going home." Clara shouted and began making her way to Susan. The old woman looked at her and stood, motioning to the blue Focus on the road.
"I got you the keys from Ernest. He's really a good guy."
Clara looked back to the huge man, and he smiled. She felt her chest squeeze and then she gave her attention back to the older woman.
"Would you wanna go with me? It's a great group of people, nobody would hit you or push you aside. There's shelter and safety." The young woman's whispered pleas sounded desperate. But Susan shook her head and wrapped Claras hands with her frail ones.
"I'm too old, sweetheart. I'd hold you back. Go home and be careful." Susan smiled and Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. With a final glance and a wave to Ernest, she ran to the car.
It was full on gas and she started it up. The duffel bag sat shot gun, and she spread the map out on top. Clara knew it would still yet be a few days before she was home, but she would get home. She would see her Greene family. She would wake up in a cell surrounded by concrete walls, and she would be close to Daryl again.
Daryl. Her eyes prickled with tears as she let a few fall. The car reversed and she headed out. Would he still miss her? Would he hate her? Then a large stone settled in her stomach...would he still be alive? Clara shook the thought off. Of course he would, he was too stubborn to die. She gave a small smile watching the scenery rush by.
Day gave way into night, but she was still on half a tank. She got a few hours of sleep and then hit the asphalt again. By the map, she only had about 100 miles to go roughly. With every mile she felt her stomach knotting. When she passed the Georgia state line she allowed herself a deep breath. But still yet, Clara was in the far recesses of her mind. The hunter in her still maintained the wheel. She still wasn't safe yet. The killer would let go once she was within the gates of the prison. Safe.
As the morning came and she was a few miles away from the place where the LOs had the map marked with their old location, the car sputtered to a stop. Empty. Clara growled but didn't hesitate with hopping out and gathering her things. The dried blood still clung to her in the cool morning air, flaking off in bits and pieces. The blonde didn't care. It was a badge of honor. Victory. The animalistic joy from a successful kill. Her shirt was still torn open and her bra still exposed, she didn't wanna scare everyone when she got back.
Clara rooted around in her bag and drew out a much too large long sleeve flannel and put it on. She tied it tightly at the bottom below her breasts and put her machete on her belt. The pistol was tucked into the back if her jean shorts and she started making her way through the woods.
Clara's hazel eyes scanned the woods around her, ears tuned in for anything that wasn't natural. A few hours passed when she finally found the old encampment. Her stomach fluttered. She'd be home by night fall. Her boots were quiet as she put the map away and knew by heart where she was. As she rounded a small hill that hid old deer trails, the tell tale noises of walkers put her on high alert.
About 20 yards ahead stood a walker, so she laid her bag down and moved forward. Her steady fingers unsnapped the button which held her machete to her. The girl raised it ready to strike.
The blade was duller than normal so it took a second swipe, but the body hit the ground with a thud. She doubled back and grabbed her bag, moving forward once more.
The sun was starting to hang a little lower in the sky when she reached the graveled road that lead to the prison's front gates. Just another mile or two she told herself as she ignored the physical exhaustion that had started settling into her bones.
I really hope this translates well.
I was a bit unsure but figured I needed to be a little raw with this.
Thanks for reading and PLEASE give me some feedback.
I love reading what you guys have to say and what you think. 3