"Open this door or I'll break the door down with my combat boots."

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       It had been two weeks since Clementine was admitted to the hospital, along with her friend Alison. Today marked the day Clementine was finally being discharged, but Alison still had another three weeks to go. During her stay, Clementine had undergone several therapy sessions, and the upcoming holidays meant her next session with her new therapist, Dr. Alexandria Chavez, wouldn't be until January.

       As Clementine was wheeled out of the hospital by a volunteer medical staff member, she noticed the girl looked to be about her age. They didn't exchange words, the silence between them underscored by Clementine's zombie-like state induced by her new antidepressants. Her mind felt numb and disconnected, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions she'd experienced before her hospital stay.

       Her father, Caleb, pulled the car around to the hospital entrance and got out to help her. He opened the car door, and Clementine, with some effort, pushed herself up from the wheelchair and slid into the passenger seat. The drive home was quiet, the air thick with unspoken concerns and the hum of the car engine.

       Caleb kept glancing over at his daughter, worry etched on his face. He was desperate to find a way to reach her, to help her feel better, but he was at a loss for words. Clementine, meanwhile, stared out the window, her mind adrift in a fog of medication and lingering sadness.

       The silence was broken by the ping of Clementine's phone. She glanced down and saw a message from Miguel, her heart giving a small, involuntary leap at the sight of his name. The message read:

"Hey Clem, just checking in. How are you feeling? Miss you."

       She stared at the screen for a moment, the words blurring slightly before she typed a slow, deliberate response:

"Hey Miguel, I'm out of the hospital now. Still feeling pretty out of it. Miss you too."

       As she hit send, a small sigh escaped her lips. It was a tiny connection to the outside world, a reminder that there were people who cared about her, even if she felt disconnected from herself and everything around her. Caleb noticed her texting and gave her a gentle, hopeful smile.

       "Who's that?" he asked, his tone casual but infused with concern.

        "Miguel," she replied softly, still staring at her phone.

         "How's Miguel?" he asked gently, trying to steer the conversation toward something familiar and comforting.

        Clementine shrugged, still looking out the window. "He's okay. Just checking in on me."

        Caleb nodded, keeping his eyes on the road but sneaking glances at her reflection in the side mirror. "It's good to have friends who care. You'll be seeing Dr. Chavez soon, too. I've heard she's excellent."

        Clementine didn't respond immediately. The thought of more therapy sessions brought a mix of hope and dread. She knew she needed help, but the process seemed endless and exhausting. After a long pause, she muttered, "Yeah, I guess."

        The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived at their house, Caleb parked the car and quickly came around to help Clementine out. She accepted his help reluctantly, her movements sluggish and her body still adjusting to the medication.

       Inside, the house felt unusually quiet. The holiday decorations were already up, casting a warm glow, but they only seemed to highlight Clementine's sense of detachment. She trudged to her room, dropping her bag on the floor and collapsing onto her bed.

        Her phone pinged again. Another message from Miguel: "Do you want to talk later? Or maybe I can come by and visit? Johnny's trying to get me to walk."

        Clementine stared at the message, contemplating her response. She wanted to see him, to feel a semblance of normalcy, but she also felt overwhelmed by the thought of social interaction. After a few moments, she typed back: "That's cool that he's trying to help... Maybe later. I'm really tired right now."

        Miguel replied quickly: "Okay, no pressure. Just let me know. Take care, Clem."

        Clementine put her phone down and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the world. She knew there were people who cared about her, who wanted to help, but the path to feeling better seemed daunting and uncertain. As she drifted off into a restless sleep, she clung to a small hope that things would eventually improve, even if it seemed impossible right now.

Clementine lay in her bed, her eyes fixed on a small, inconspicuous spot on the wall. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the house. She felt enveloped in a cocoon of numbness, the antidepressants dulling her emotions and making everything seem distant and unreal.

A soft knock on the doorframe drew her attention. Her Aunt Anastasia stood there, a warm but concerned smile on her face. She gently tapped on the wall to announce her presence, then entered the room and sat down on the beanbag chair in the corner.

"Clem, I'm really glad you're home," Anastasia began, her voice tender and filled with emotion. "I know I haven't been around a lot lately... I feel like this is partly my fault. I didn't see the signs. I was so focused on my boyfriend—that you guys haven't met. I broke it off with him. He was consuming all my time. I'm really sorry, honey."

Anastasia reached out and took Clementine's hand, squeezing it gently. The gesture was meant to comfort, but Clementine felt only a distant warmth, the emotional connection muted by her medication. Anastasia's words hung in the air, mingling with the unspoken guilt and regret that seemed to permeate the room.

Clementine wanted to respond, to reassure her aunt that it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't have known. She wanted to explain that the darkness she had been battling was internal and deeply personal. But the words wouldn't come. Her mouth felt heavy, her mind sluggish. Instead, she simply squeezed Anastasia's hand in return, hoping the gesture would convey her understanding and forgiveness.

Anastasia stayed for a few more moments, her eyes searching Clementine's for any sign of emotion. When it became clear that Clementine wasn't ready to talk, she gave her niece's hand one last squeeze and stood up. "I'm here for you, Clem. Whenever you're ready to talk, about anything, I'll be here," she said softly before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her.

As the door clicked shut, Clementine turned back to her spot on the wall. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, filled with moments like this—times when she wanted to reach out but couldn't find the strength. The antidepressants made her feel like a zombie, and she knew it would take time to adjust. For now, all she could do was take things one day at a time, holding on to the small hope that eventually, the fog would lift and she would feel like herself again.

A few more hours went by in a haze of silence and stillness. The house was eerily quiet, each tick of the clock marking the slow passage of time. Clementine lay on her bed, her eyes still fixated on that same spot on the wall, her thoughts a murky swirl of emotions dulled by her medication.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled her from her trance. Her dad, Caleb, stood there, a plate of food in his hands. He placed it gently on her bed and gave her a pleading look. "Please eat, Clem," he said, his voice filled with concern and a hint of desperation. He lingered for a moment, hoping for a response, but when none came, he turned and quietly left the room.

Clementine didn't move her head, only her eyes, which flickered to the plate of food. It was filled with all her favorites: sweet and sour onion chips, bologna, strawberries, and a cup of sweet tea. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten much recently. She hesitated, the effort to move seeming monumental, but the hunger pangs pushed her to act.

Slowly, she reached out and picked up a chip, the familiar taste bringing a small sense of comfort. Bite by bite, she ate, each morsel and sip of sweet tea gradually reviving a bit of her strength. The food, a small gesture of love from her dad, felt like a lifeline in the midst of her emotional fog.

Caleb, unable to stay away, peeked into her room from the hallway. He saw her eating and felt a wave of relief wash over him. Smiling to himself, he walked back to the kitchen, where his sister Anastasia and Clementine's brother Tyler were waiting anxiously.

"She's eating and drinking," Caleb informed them, his voice a mix of relief and cautious optimism.

Anastasia's face lit up with a hopeful smile. "Oh, good," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine relief.

Tyler, who had been standing by the counter with a tense expression, nodded and forced a smile. "I'm glad she's finally eating," he breathed out, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I've been so worried."

Anastasia placed a comforting hand on Tyler's shoulder. "We all have," she said softly. "But this is a good sign. She's taking small steps, and that's what matters."

    Caleb nodded, his heart lighter than it had been in days. "Yeah, small steps," he echoed, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time since Clementine's hospitalization.

    Back in her room, Clementine continued to eat, her mind still clouded but a small part of her acknowledging the care and love her family was showing her. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and for now, that was enough.

         After finishing her food, Clementine felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She set the plate aside and slipped under her bed sheets, feeling the comforting embrace of the soft fabric. She rolled over, her body seeking a position of rest, and closed her eyes. The familiar sounds of the house, the ticking clock, and the distant murmurs of her family in the kitchen, lulled her into a state of relaxation.

         As she lay there, the weight of the day slowly melted away. Her mind, though still foggy from the medication, began to quiet down. The comfort of being home, combined with the warmth and support of her family, provided a small but significant sense of security.

        Within minutes, Clementine drifted off to sleep. Her breathing became slow and steady, her body finally giving in to the rest it desperately needed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she found a moment of peace in the embrace of sleep, the world outside her room fading into a distant echo.

The next day rolled by, and Clementine slept a full twelve hours. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across her room. She fluttered her eyes open and smiled to herself, realizing she had slept through the night without nightmares. Though she still felt groggy, there was a new sense of calm within her.

Pushing herself up, Clementine headed to the bathroom. She stripped off her clothes and turned on the hot shower, stepping in and letting the warm water cascade over her skin. The sensation was rejuvenating, washing away the remnants of her hospital stay. She felt less weak than she did the day before, the hot water soothing her tired muscles and refreshing her spirit.

After a thorough shower, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and looked at herself in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes were less noticeable, and for the first time in a while, she felt a flicker of self-acceptance. She smiled softly and reached for her toothbrush, dabbing mint toothpaste on it before brushing her teeth. The fresh, minty taste was invigorating, further lifting her spirits.

Once she was done, she spat out the toothpaste and brushed her long brunette hair, detangling the knots with methodical strokes. Feeling more like herself, she walked over to her closet and selected an AC/DC band t-shirt and a pair of black ripped jeans. She changed into the clothes, appreciating the familiar comfort they provided.

Stepping out of her room, Clementine made her way to the kitchen. Her dad, Caleb, was sitting at the table with a coffee mug in hand. His eyes widened in pleasant surprise at the sight of his daughter up and about. Clementine began rummaging through the cabinets, searching for her favorite sweet and sour onion chips.

She remembered she needed to take her medication and walked over to the counter where her pill bottle was. She swallowed her antidepressants with a glass of water, grimacing slightly at the taste.

Feeling a bit more at ease, Clementine turned to her dad with a playful smile. "Where's my chips?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

Caleb pointed slowly to one of the cabinets, still processing the sight of Clementine looking more like her old self. "In there," he said, a smile forming on his face.

"Thanks, Dad," Clementine replied, grabbing the bag of chips and pouring some into a bowl. She filled a glass with water and joined Caleb at the table.

Caleb watched her with a mixture of relief and joy. "It's good to see you up and about, Clem," he said softly.

Clementine nodded, munching on her chips. "I feel a little better today," she admitted, taking a sip of her water.

They sat together in comfortable silence, the simple act of sharing a meal bringing a sense of normalcy and connection. For the first time in weeks, there was a glimmer of hope in their hearts, a belief that things could slowly start to get better.

Clementine finished eating and placed her bowl in the sink. She realized she hadn't seen her brother, Tyler, all morning. She looked around the kitchen and then turned to her dad, who was engrossed in a newspaper like an old man from a bygone era.

"Where's Ty?" Clementine asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Caleb cleared his throat and shrugged, glancing up from his newspaper. "I think he's in his room... he's been kind of down lately," he told her.

Clementine nodded and made her way downstairs to the basement, where Tyler had moved his room. Since Caleb's return, Tyler had given their dad the bedroom and taken up residence in the basement, despite Caleb's repeated refusals. Clementine knew this arrangement was Tyler's way of helping their dad, and it showed how much he cared for the family.

She reached the basement door and knocked. "Tyler?" Clementine called out, her voice gentle yet firm.

A muffled sniffle came from behind the door. "Go away, Clem," Tyler responded, his voice strained with emotion.

Clementine glared at the door, her protective instincts kicking in. "Open this door or I'm gonna break it down with my combat boots," she threatened, her tone leaving no room for argument.

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Tyler with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Clementine crossed her arms and gave him a concerned look. "What's wrong, Ty?" she asked softly.

Tyler sniffled and looked down, trying to compose himself. "Me and Sierra were seeing each other, but we broke it off since what happened to you and Alison. I— I didn't want to say anything to you because you just got back, and I didn't want to make it about me," he explained, his voice breaking.

Clementine's expression softened as she stepped closer, her heart aching for her brother. "Tyler, I'm so sorry," she said, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug.

Tyler clung to her, tears streaming down his face. "I just didn't want to burden you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Clementine held him tighter, her own eyes welling up. "You're not a burden, Ty. We're family. We're supposed to support each other, no matter what," she said, her voice filled with love and conviction.

They stood there for a while, finding solace in each other's presence. For the first time in weeks, the siblings shared a moment of genuine connection, a reminder that despite everything, they still had each other.

Clementine sat on the porch, soaking up the sunlight and enjoying the warmth on her skin. The quiet moments gave her a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a while. Her phone pinged, breaking the silence. She looked down and saw a message from Miguel. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the message, revealing a video attachment.

With a mix of curiosity and excitement, Clementine clicked on the video. She watched in awe as Miguel stood up, his face beaming with pride and determination. Clementine gasped, her eyes widening in surprise and delight. A wide grin spread across her face, and she felt an overwhelming sense of joy for her friend.

Her fingers flew across the screen as she quickly typed a response. "You're standing again?! Yay!! 🎉🎊" she wrote, adding celebratory emojis to express her happiness.

As she sent the message, she felt a surge of positivity. Seeing Miguel's progress was not only uplifting but also a reminder of the resilience and strength they both shared. Clementine leaned back on the porch, feeling the sun's rays on her face and the warmth of hope in her heart.

ASH SPEAKS!

this chapter is in the storyline around season 3 episode 6. originally, i was gonna have her help johnny and miguel, but i felt like i needed to do a chapter, just clementine getting back to her life and trying to involve her new situation with trying to get better with her depression.