Re: TWD: Clem & Isaac
"My daddy loves me real well," she reminded him. He was kin on her momma's side, but Isaac could be a Murphy sure as the sun rose in the mornings. She watched him scoot on back on that bed, as if he'd been born to rich and the bed had become gold on account of him sitting on it. She knew her daddy had paid him real well to go away, just like he'd paid the problem real well to go away. But her daddy didn't have much weight here, did he? Not with the undead things that kept her up nights, not with her murdering siblings, and not with this man and the memories he dredged up.
She let him look her over, as if she was the same girl not yet seventeen that had loved his attention on her when it ought not have been. She'd made a scene for him, and she'd loved how he ate her up without talking none, and that had just dug a real deep hole that had been hard to climb out of. She watched him pat the bed now, like time hadn't moved a lick, and she didn't want some folks thinking she was that girl she'd been. But that was plain silly. She didn't care what folks thought, and she moved forward and crawled onto the bed like a cat being called to cream.
She'd always feared him some. She wasn't scared, but she'd always feared him some, and that maybe only made sense in her head. She liked fire, but she didn't like hurt, and she didn't want dying. He was always a wordless threat of the latter, was Isaac.