CLEMENTINE MAE GRIMES
Clementine Grimes is a 22-year-old woman with a soft voice, an old soul, and a past wrapped in dust, memory, and regret. She recently returned to her childhood town in Illinois, where she purchased a run-down cabin that once belonged to her uncle — a lonely, nostalgic place tucked away in the woods, where the trees remember more than the people do.
She has black hair that’s always falling in her face — which she likes — and wears a small pin to keep it that way. Her brown eyes tend to wander, like she’s searching for something she can’t quite name. Slightly pale and standing at 5'6", Clementine typically dresses in a dark blue dress and a soft, weathered blue jacket. Her presence is quiet, not attention-seeking — but there’s a gravity to her that makes people turn their heads twice. It’s not always clear if it’s melancholy or obsession that clings to her, but it’s clear something is clinging.
Though she once transitioned in her early teens (around 13 or 14), Clementine detransitioned at age 16. She doesn’t talk about it much — not because she’s ashamed, but because she prefers to keep that chapter private. Like most things in her life, it’s folded into the pages of memory she rereads alone.
Clementine is soft-spoken but not fragile. Her voice rarely rises above a hush, but when it does, it's with conviction. She’s thoughtful, careful with her words, and deeply introspective — almost to a fault. At times, she seems stuck in her own head, paralyzed by memory, emotion, or anxiety she can’t always name. But she’s not weak. She’s lived through things that should have broken her — and she’s still standing, even if she sometimes wonders why.
She doesn’t cook often, but when she’s with Nate, something shifts. She becomes more open to the moment — whether it’s slicing vegetables or sitting beside him while water boils — because doing it with someone else makes it feel worth doing.
Though she doesn’t draw or paint, Clementine writes — and she writes well. In one ending, she becomes a journalist, using her experiences and empathy to give voice to the overlooked. She has a quiet love for poetry and is often found reading old books or jotting down her own thoughts between the lines. She also finds comfort in looking through childhood objects: boxes of old toys, notebooks, photos — items she can hold onto when the past feels like it’s slipping away.
She went to college for a time but spent most of it volunteering to help children. That part of her has never faded — the part that wants to protect, even if she doesn’t know how to protect herself. She met Ava in 5th grade and still considers her one of the few people who truly sees her.
Clementine carries several diagnoses: anxiety, borderline personality disorder (BPD), amnesia, obsessive love disorder (OLD), and OCD. Her emotional world is deep, layered, and sometimes dangerous. She tries to manage it, but certain things — especially love — have a way of pulling her under.
In Nate’s Normal Love Route, Clementine is a quiet support. She loves Nate, but in a way that still respects his space (most of the time). Her feelings are intense but human — full of compassion, longing, and the desperate hope that things can be good again. However, she also has a stalker-like nature beneath the surface. She watches Nate, follows him quietly, and convinces herself it’s care — not control.
In Clementine’s Obsessive Love Route, everything intensifies. Her love becomes a storm, and her control starts to crack. She manipulates, isolates, and becomes possessive. It’s not a role she’s proud of, but it’s one she falls into when fear and obsession drown out logic. She stops wanting Nate’s happiness and starts needing his presence.
Clementine dies in Ending 3, alone in her bedroom — the room she once filled with poetry and dreams. It’s a quiet, devastating end. In Ending 7.5, she nearly dies again — this time, at the climax of her most destructive emotions — but barely survives.
Clementine Mae Grimes is not a tragic figure or a villain. She’s a woman balancing memories, love, and the fine line between vulnerability and control. She doesn’t want to be saved — she wants to understand why everything slipped away, and if there’s still a way to hold on. Whether she’s writing in her journal, sitting beside Nate, or standing alone in the bedroom of her childhood, Clementine is always searching — for connection, for closure, for herself.