Young and Young at Heart (The Rewrite of The Walking Dead Game: S2) [TWDG/TWD]

8. Do It Yourself Surgery

"I won't lie, this will hurt." Christa finished tying the fishing line to the needle and cut the line with a small pair of clippers.

"A lot?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah..." Christa looked at the frightened girl with a sense of pity. "In fact, you're probably gonna make a lot of noise when I do it, and if they hear that, they'll know you're here and come running."

"I'll... I won't make any noise," promised a nervous Clementine.

"You might not be able to help it." Christa looked at the banged up chair she had used as a club earlier. "But I think I know what can." She stomped on one of the wooden rods connecting the chairs legs, snapping it. Christa collected the piece of wood and offered it to Clem.

"Here, put this in your mouth and bite down on it."

"Why?"

"It'll help with the pain. Or at very least, it'll muffle your screams." Clem looked nervously at the wooden rod, deeply dreading what was coming next. "You don't have to be quiet the whole time. Just try not to yell for as long as you can. They spent a long time nailing the door shut, so they won't be able to get back in right away. But the longer they don't hear you, the more time I'll have to finish sewing up your arm before they can stop me." Clementine reluctantly took the stick from Christa and clenched it between her teeth.

"Okay, let's get started." Christa slowly unwrapped Clem's bandage. They both were disturbed by the deep red gash running across the length of Clem's forearm, dried blood smeared in every direction around it, as if a bloody canyon had formed on Clem's arm. "I've got to clean the wound first." Christa took a nearly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed a small rag with it. "It's gonna sting. Like I said, just do your best not to yell. It's okay if you can't make it the whole time. Just try not to yell for as long as possible. Okay?" Clem nodded in response while Christa firmly gripped Clem's wrist. "Ready?" Clem nodded again.

Christa rubbed the alcohol soaked rag across Clem's wound. It stung a little at first, then burned like hell shortly after that. Clem whimpered in pain, biting down on the stick as it felt like salt was being rubbed in her wound. "It's just a bit more," whispered an apologetic Christa. Clem continued to make muffled cries of pain as the searing pain continued. Christa set the rag down and reached for the needle next. She quickly wiped it with the rag coated in alcohol then turned to Clementine.

"Now, here comes the hard part." Clem was still waiting for the pain from the alcohol to subside when Christa aimed the needle at the edge of the wound. "Don't watch, it's easier if you don't." Clem closed her eyes and bit down on the stick. "Now, brace yourself." The girl squealed in agony as the needle pierced her flesh. She could actually feel it being pushed into her skin. Just when it felt like the worst was over, Clem felt the needle pierce her arm again, leading to even more garbled cries of pain. Christa pulled the thread through, snipped the line, then tied a tight knot, prompting more agonized moans from Clem.

"You're doing good Clem," encouraged Christa. "Now—"

Clem spat out the stick. "Are we done yet?" she asked, desperate for the answer to be yes.

"No, that was just the first one."

"Wuh... what?" stammered a bewildered Clementine. "How many more times do you have to do that?"

Christa examined the wound. "I'd say you need at least five more stitches."

"Five?" asked a horrified Clementine.

"At least." Panic washed over Clem's body. "I'm gonna go as fast I can." Christa picked up the stick. "I know it's hard, but it won't be for very long." Clem reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing Christa to place the stick in it. "Just hang in there. You'll feel a lot better when it's over." Clem bit down and looked away as Christa readied the needle again.

Again Clem had to endure a series of painful stabs around her already incredibly sore wound. The second stitch seemed to hurt even more than the first. The needle somehow felt bigger each time it pierced Clem's skin, with the third stitch feeling like an entire railroad spike was being stabbed into her arm.

Clem was biting the stick so hard she was afraid she was going to snap it. Her gums were sore from clenching her teeth so tightly and she could actually taste the wood in her mouth. As Christa started the fourth stitch, Clem finally found the pain unbearable. She didn't care about infection anymore, she just wanted to stop the overwhelming agony shooting up her arm like a rush of acid flowing through her veins.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" begged a hysterical Clem as the stick fell out of her mouth.

"It's just two more," informed a repentant Christa. "It won't take—" Muffled shouts sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a loud bang. "Shit, they heard you."

"Just stop! Please!" sobbed an anguished Clementine. "Please, just—" Christa started another stitch. Tears rolled down Clem's face as she struggled to escape Christa's iron grip. She kept screaming for mercy while the needle punctured her skin yet again. She struggled against Christa with whatever strength she had left. Clementine shrieked in pain as she felt Christa start yet another stitch. She pulled with all her might, even pushing against the floor with her legs to try to escape the torment. She felt the needle yet again and hollered as loud as she could. Clem kept pulling as hard as she could until finally, her arm was free.

Clementine scrambled into the corner and curled her arm up to her chest, desperate to keep it away from Christa. She started gasping for air in one breath and sobbing in the next as she rubbed her arm for some small token of comfort. As the pain dulled slightly and her breathing slowed, she could see Christa approaching her.

"No! No!" insisted a hysterical Clementine.

"It's over!"

"What?" asked Clementine between breaths.

"I said it's over." Christa's voice carried a mixture of guilt and relief. "You're all done. See?" Christa gently pried Clem's arm away from the rest of her body, revealing the six stitches across her wound. Clem couldn't help notice how small they were compared to how much pain they had caused her, but seeing the gash reduced to a narrow cut did provide her with a small tinge of relief. "You did good Clem. You did so good." Christa put her arm around Clem and gently rubbed her back. "All I got to do is clean it up a little and wrap a bandage around it, okay? It'll be easy. The worst part is over."

The door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang. Standing at the threshold was Carlos, Nick, and an older man wearing dark green with a receding hairline and a patchy beard. The gray-haired man looked down and found himself bewildered by the sight of the trembling little girl in a muddy dress and the severely pissed pregnant woman angrily staring back at him.