Clarke is the youngest Winchester sibling. Like every Winchester, her life was full of grief, sadness, pain, heartache and death.
What happens when the world crumbles and dead bodies start springing back to life? What happens when Clarke gains a gro...
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CLARKE stumbled to the corner of the room, and with each step her stomach tightened and ached all the more. She kept swallowing, and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what, she could not stop the warm feeling rising through her chest.
Then she could taste it at the back of her mouth. She buckled over. A warm, clouded, cream coloured liquid with red splots spilled from her mouth, and sizzled as it splashed over the cold stone floors.
She fell to the floor, groaning in disgust as she saw the vile on the floor.
Waves of heat coursed through her blood, a cold sweat glistened in her gaunt features. Her eyes sunken and skin sallow, everything ached, everything sagged. The glass of water stared at her from the small dresser, and she took a sip and plopped back onto her bed, running a hand over her aching stomach.
A loud cough then escaped her.
It was a barking cough. And at the end of each cough it had that whistling sound you get when the airways are closing up. They were coming thick and fast now and she was struggling to get enough air.
"Clarke!"
The voice was distant and it sounded suffocated.
"She's sick!"
Another voice echoed as her vision went in and out.
"No! She can't be sick."
"Dean!"
"Shut up, Sam! My baby sister is not sick! She will not die, I won't allow it."
"That doesn't mean you should go around punching the people that could help!"
A loud gasp escaped Clarke, and her ability to see and hear, came back to her, almost knocking her over, but she was grabbed.
"Wow. Steady." She leaned her head on the persons shoulder and closed her eyes, taking in small, calming breaths. "Clarke, you okay?"
"Mhmm." She nodded, not opening her eyes.
"You don't look fine..."
"She's not sick!"
"Dean..." Clarke whispered, looking over at her brothers to see them at the doorway, both frightened and worried. "I think I am sick."
"Clarke..." She looked over at Rick, the person she had her head on. "Your eyes..."
"What — what about my eyes?" She asked, reaching up, her finger tips coming in contact with some type of liquid. Lowering her hand, her eyes widened as she saw blood on her finger tips. "Blood?" Her eyes started to blur as tears started to pool into her eyes.
"Clarke?"
As a hand went out to touch her, Clarke bolted out of her cell. She ran down the stairs but due to the blurryness, she stumbled over her feet, and stumbled down the stairs, landing on her ankle awkwardly.
She cried out, gripping her ankle as everyone gathered around her. They all let out breaths before backing up, realizing that she was sick.
"Clarke!" Arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer to him. "Son of a bitch!" He cradled her, petting her hair as her painful cries turned into whimpers.
Clarke's head was pounding, her stomach was aching, her ankle was throbbing, and she thinks that she popped her shoulder out of place.
"Let me." She felt fingers touch her forehead, and some of the pain went away, but it didn't do any good. "It's not working. I'm too human."
"It's okay," Clarke grunted out. "Just let me die."
"No!" She flinched as Daryl's voice rung through the cell block. "That is not gonna happen." He bent down and grabbed her shoulder — the one that was popped out of place. "This is gonna hurt." She gritted her teeth as he jerked her shoulder back, a loud pop emitting from it.
"I'll get some pain medication and some wrap so that I can wrap your swollen ankle," Hershel stated before wobbling away, a firm look on his face.
"I'll get you some more water." Maggie wandered off, giving Clarke one last glance as she disappeared around the corner.
Seconds later, Hershel appeared again, handing her two pills. "Here."
As he started to wrap her foot up, Maggie came back with a cup of water. Clarke popped the pills into her mouth and took a drink of water, swallowing the pill.
"Clarke?" She looked to her right to see an upset Sophia as she looked her over. "Are you okay?" When she went to come towards her, Clarke held up a hand, stopping her.
"Don't come near me, you might end up sick." Clarke covered her mouth quickly as a cough threatened to escape her.
"Come on," Daryl grunted, picking her up off of the floor despite her protests. "We need to get you to your room."
"No, we need to get her to quarantine," Hershel spoke up, looking at her in concern.
"She's fine," Daryl grunted, "She can stay in her cell."
"She's sick, Daryl!"
"She's not sick!" Daryl shouted, his grip on Clarke tightening. She covered her mouth as best as she could as she started coughing again.
It felt like she was coughing up sand paper which was rubbing up against her throat.
She pushed herself off of Daryl and fell to the floor, coughing up blood.
"Oh, my god!"
"Son of a bitch!"
A loud banging noise filled her sensitive ears, making her flinch. At the sound of retreating foot steps, she weakly looked up, seeing Dean walk away with a concerned Sam behind him.
Clarke's arms started to shake violently seeing as she was holding herself up. The next thing she knew, she face planted onto the floor, her chin hitting the floor with a loud smack.
She cringed, rolling onto her back, looking up at everyone as everything started to swirl around her.
"Clarke?"
"Take..." Clarke coughed, trying to keep her eyes open. "Take me to quarantine. I'm sick. If I stay here, I am bound to get y'all sick."
Block dots started to cover her vision, and the last thing she remembered before she blacked out, was her body starting to violently shake.
