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"You hanging in ok there kid?" Joel's voice cracks through the heavy blanket of dizziness and emptiness that had settled on Ellie ever since the start of their walk to who knows where. She blinks, her vision a blur and she rips her eyes’ gaze from off her boots and into their surroundings, wood and snow, what else did she expect. She goes to answer him but finds her voice stuck in her throat, a large lump of mucus and saliva built up, so instead she lets out a simple hum of recognition. She's tired. Her feet trudge on in a constant and repetitive rhythm, she's been moving autonomously, letting her boots guide her in any direction they take her, where Joel takes her.
"We'll be stopping soon, alright? Wind’s picking up and that storm cloud ain't looking good for us." He informs her, his voice is gruff, exhausted but ever so grounding for her, just like the weight of his hand pressed against her shoulder. She lets the comfort return her back into her mind, slipping into the dark crevices of her brain again, like she's in a dream. Her body trudges on automatically and her eyes fall back to her heavy boots. She's barely walking, it's more of a drag.
The weight that rested on her shoulder disappears and her body suddenly shakes, nerves resparking, the feeling that she's been harshly awoken from a deep sleep. "Wha-" Her voice sounds so quiet and so feeble for a moment that she couldn’t recognise it, it scared her. She looks up again, dragging her eyes off her boots once more to Joel. "I think this'll do," he speaks more to himself than her, but still looks at her as if to get a second opinion.
She looks at the cabin in front of her, it's decent, small but in a quaint way. Most of the windows are intact and the door is still firmly on the latches so it's better than most places. She looks behind her, taking in the rest of the area, a myriad of trees and snow left in their wake, it's the only house out here for miles.
She wonders how far have they made it? How long had they been going? What if they had been followed? Was it really safe to stop now? She didn't notice how tight her hand wrapped around the strap of her bag, how her knuckles whitened and how her fingers shook until Joel laid his hand on top of hers. "It's alright, we're a long way out, they'd have a death wish to follow us this far." She wished she believed him, trusted him, but her heart still panged and all of sudden she felt lost. "Alright I'm going check inside kiddo, you stay here, I won't take long,"
Joel stared at the back of her head. Her eyes were still not quite yet focused on the landscape ahead of her.
"I promise."
She could feel the worry permeating off of him, a pang of guilt flooded through her and then anger, she needed to get it together.
She let out a shaky breath, turned her face towards his and nodded her head firmly, someone needed to keep watch outside and she wasn't going to screw it up. She let her gaze settle back on the trees ahead. She heard Joel linger a bit, waiting for… something? She wasn’t quite sure. She hears him shuffle up to the front door and knock it in, then it was quiet.
She's focused on their footprints in the snow, they travel far back into the woods past the rows and rows of trees. They mock her, the tall, thin branches contorted and shriveled in ways that wouldn’t let her see what lay beyond them. "No one followed us." She whispers to herself, she didn't mean to but, some self reassurance was due.
The snow fell lightly on their tracks, it was nearly comforting, the way each snowflake sank gently into each other as they met on the ground, but she knew it wasn’t going to last long. The sky was already a blend of pinks and yellows as the sun set quietly behind the heads of the trees, while large domes of black clouds travelled towards the cabin from the distance, a sure warning this night won’t be easy. She shivered.
She didn't mean to yelp so loud nor fall over her legs like a newborn deer when a large hand tapped on her shoulder.
"Fuck you," she exasperated, breath barely making it to her lungs, Joel reached a hand down for her to take. "Sorry I didn't mean to.." Taking his hand and looking up into his eyes, she hated to say it, but he looked so old, every crease and wrinkle in his face was full of anxiety and sadness, and a certain anger. For some reason it made her the slightest bit happier. A quick spark of pride flickered in her chest, the thought that someone would feel that all those things all because of her, it died quick when he clutched his side, wincing slightly in pain as he dragged her up. "It's all clear," he mumbled.
"Are you- is it ok? Your wound I mean," she questioned him, (not noticing this is the first full sentence she spoke in the last 3 hours). She examined his side through his shirt as they walked into the old cabin, there was a slight blood patch forming.
"It's alright, nothing for you to worry about." She couldn't help but take offence to that, her mind racing with all sorts of insults and remarks, did you forget I had to look after you? Who was the one who had to nurse you back to health, old man? I spent 2 days in that dingy basement worrying about you, you expect me just to get over it?
"I- you-" she tried to fuel the temporary rage into words but it all fell flat. She couldn't find the strength nor the means, it all just mustered into nothing, as if a switch had been flipped in her brain signaling her to just stop. Shut the fuck up and move on. It was a hollow feeling.
He simply looked at her and gently guided her inside to sit on the rotting sofa in the large open space of the living room. The place was.. well not as fucked as other places they’ve been.
The room was sparsely decorated, one large double sofa eaten away by termites and two armchairs which suffered the same fate, a large carpet floods the wooden floor, it’s an ugly brown probably far from its original colour and ferns and sprouts are sticking out from any corner they can squeeze through. It was just as freezing as the outside but there was a large hearth seated in the farthest wall waiting to be lit to warm the frostbite away.
Joel took a moment to think, planning the next best course of action, his eyes flitting between Ellie and the door back out to the hall. He turned towards her. "I won't be gone long." Ellie could feel the protests already starting to form in her throat.
"I'm just going to get some things to help you clean up and start a fire, alright?" He stared at her, examining every part of her face waiting for a reaction.
She had nearly forgotten about the blood that caked her hands and stained her face, she looked away and nodded. He stayed there in that position for a beat longer, just looking, she kind of wanted to laugh, it was like back when they first met, him waiting for her to turn into some infected, now she wasn't so sure what he was looking for.
He made his way out of the room and she heard the front door open, wind howling, a bang and then quiet once again. She sat there a bit lifeless, numb, her heart beat was still fast, like the adrenaline had never worn away, her nerves constantly sending rushes of shakes and twitches through her limbs. It felt horrible, she felt horrible and ever so slightly scared as to when she would have to deal with pain that lingered underneath every bruise, dent and cut on her body. Her head panged.
Fuck is all she can think, fuck this, tears try to form but she blinks them away. She feels so fucking weak and so small and so so fucking pathetic. It was like she was hollowed out, just a shell, her guts and intestines carved out and left on the floor of that steakhouse. God she wanted to scream, but she had already done enough today and she thinks she’ll lose her voice if she ever did again.
She stands up trying to break free from her thoughts, from the haze but her hands can’t stop shaking, her body doesn't feel like her own. Her eyes fixed on a point ahead: the corner of a window sill. It is covered in flakes of cracking white paint and tendrils of shoots from ivy which creeped along and down through each fracture in the glass above. Every second blink it reset, like she was taking in the image for the first time.
She moved her eyes from the window sill to every corner of the room in front of her and back again and again and again, and every time she looked it was a new place, unfamiliar and rotten.
A twig snapped outside, her legs were still rooted in the floor, immovable as a trunk of a tree, but her mind rushed with one word: Joel. So she practically throws herself on the floor, rummaging in a panic through her bag rested against the couch leg and pulls out her switchblade.
She had planned to grab it and run out the door to find and protect Joel from whatever monsters could be lurking outside, but she just found herself staring at it, letting the weight of it ground her back to reality.
She examined every familiar curve and scratch on it and let the blade pop out. She ran her fingers over the cold metal, her switchblade, all hers, no one else's. She flicked it in and out in the familiar way it always does and she could feel it, her body connecting back together with her mind. One ugly thought ran through her brain. I wish I could've carved him out with this.
The blade glimmers.
you have a violent heart
No. It flips back into itself with a flick.
Joel comes back into the cabin bringing the cold with him and shit ton of branches which he drops on the floor and Ellie is quickly brought out of her trance, standing up to meet his eyes. "You should sit down Ellie, get some rest," he goes to move outside again but this time she follows, switchblade safely tucked in the back pocket of her jeans. "I can help, y’know," she looks at him, she didn't mean to sound like a fucking 8 year old but it came out that way, whining and pathetic, she slightly cringes.
"No, Ellie." There's no sternness in his voice, it's unusual. "I'm nearly done and you need to sit down, you're injured." She wonders for second how he knows, but she's sure her face is littered with bruises by the way it throbs. She gets angry again cause she's not the only one injured, that's not fair.
"You're injured too, hypocrite." She feels small.
"Yeah, well I'm doing just fine, sit down." There it was, the sternness. She feels tiny.
She looks down to the ground, back to her boots, there's blood on them she never noticed before. "Fine," she goes to walk away but then he gently rests a hand on her shoulder. She looks up again, he looks unsure, not knowing what to do, she's glad she isn't alone in the feeling.
"I.. you can stand at the door if you like.." he starts, "but you can't come out, ‘is too cold." She realises she's still wearing his coat. "Only if you'd like to of course, but I really would prefer it if you sat down," he let out a breath after and stood up straight again.
Ellie doesn't respond but walks to the door herself, examining the outside before Joel leaves, their footprints are still there but not so obvious as the snow is making quick work to cover them. She looks back to Joel, almost to tell him the coast is clear but he already gets the idea and picks up two chipped bowls he had left by the door. She watches every move he makes, only sometimes letting her eyes flicker to the tree line. He really didn’t take long like he said, not even a minute and he was back inside the house with the snow filled bowls.
She sticks close to him as he throws the branches in the hearth and attempts to light a spark. She sits on the floor hoping that if she focused on him so much she won’t feel the aching that was surfacing up on her body. Her ribs were the worst, every breath she took the worse they got, she held her hand slightly over them, pressing down and a hot spike of pain pulsed through her. She had to swallow down a groan.
Her head was still throbbing but now it was laced with sharp pain and a feeling of nausea. It was hard to keep her eyes open but the overall ache of her body wouldn't let her succumb to any exhaustion. Her back still fucking stung from being slammed down on that meat block and she could feel her nose pulsate, trying to get blood to fix every broken vein and artery from them being smashed into a fucking fence and the floor.
The crackling of the fire broke her away from the pain for a moment, embers flickering and she focuses on Joel, he places the bowls close to it, hoping to melt the snow.
All of a sudden the ash violently meets her senses and memories come flooding back all too soon, her body not getting time to properly react. She coughs harshly as if the smoke is filling her lungs and starts to shuffle away from the fire. She can't help it, she’s suffocating in it, she's back in that steakhouse and he's there, he’s smiling sickly above her.
there’s no fear in love.
She can see the beam above them being engulfed by the flames and she remembers in that moment hoping it would fall and crush them both.
Two hands are planted either side of her face and staring into her widely, she wants to fight but she's stuck, dragging in quick shallow breaths. "Hey, look at me Ellie." It's Joel “You're safe, look we're safe." Oh, it's Joel. Her breath evens out and all she can say is "Sorry," she wants to promise it won't happen again but she can't, fuck she's going to cry again.
"It's alright, what-" he stops himself, not sure where to go with his words, "Is it the fire?" She feels caught out, "No, no it's- it's fine, I just.." she doesn't really know how to explain, she is confused at herself for reacting that way, how does she explain something so stupid like the smell of fire reminding her of… of him.
"It won't happen again, I'm fine." She settles on that, a lie. He doesn't seem happy with the answer but moves to his bag and rummages through, picking out a t-shirt she's never seen before and then he rips it, producing a makeshift cloth. He drags over a bowl. "Here," he says, handing it to her. She takes it, slightly lost, her back against the sofa, it clicks: she needs to clean herself. She dips the cloth into the bowl.
The snow is not entirely melted but it's a start. She looks to Joel again before bringing it up to her face, he's taken out a can of a mystery food, he must have got it while searching the house, and he begins to pry at it to open. She starts to scrub away weakly, she's not sure what she's doing with herself, there's this indescribable empty feeling as she tries to wipe away the grime, she feels too weak and has a deep want to curl up into a ball and disappear, forever. Her hands drop to her sides and she drags her legs up to her chest, letting her forehand rest against her knees. There's one thought floating around in her mind, I want to go home. She nearly laughs, where would that be she wonders.
Joel takes notice quickly moving in front of her, ducking down to her level on one of his knees, "Ellie?" She doesn't look up at first, her head is too heavy. "Ellie, let me have a look at you." She tilts her head up and he looks so shattered by her and she feels so guilty. "Will I clean you up?'' She can tell he's trying not to sound like he's talking to a little kid, as if to spare her feelings, she hates it... kind of. It’s stupid.
She nods sheepishly. He takes up the cloth fallen beside her and dips into the basin, cupping her face in his hand and ever so gently rubbing her face. For a moment the closeness scares her, but she reminds herself it's Joel, it's Joel, it's Joel . She lets herself be engrossed in the coolness of the water on her skin. When he gets to her nose she hisses a little, the skin is still tender and she looks at Joel a little embarrassed and one question is written all over his face: what did they do to you? She quickly looks away.
He moves on to her hands shortly after, scrubbing hard, the bloods a little more denser there and she can't bring herself to look, the gore of it too much. "I think you're concussed,” he starts “and your nose is banged up bad but not broken." He states still rubbing her hands, trying to get it all out from under her fingernails, he sounds pained. "Anywhere else you're hurting that we need to check out?" He looks up to her eyes, blocking her view of the fire she's been staring at.
Her mind is split in half, one side saying to tell him about her ribs, the other telling her to shut up and deal with it herself. She obviously has been quiet for too long because Joel starts again "Ellie, I need to know.. did they hurt anywhere else?" Fuck, her words are stuck in her chest and her lungs tighten, she wants to say it but she knows when she speaks nothing will come out but tears. She takes a few shaky breaths and Joel just gets more anxious by the minute, clearly not sure whether to push it or leave it, "Ellie-"
"I'm fine," she chokes, "Just sore like.. everywhere. It's ok." She's trying to steady herself but it's not really working. Why is she so scared? He looks defeated because she knows he knows she's lying but he doesn't want to push too hard. A part of her wishes he would, like ripping off a band aid, she wants to get it over with.
He reaches for the open can behind him and its contents look to be some kind of soup or such and he pushes it towards her, "You need to eat." She looks down into it and even though her stomach aches in hunger she can't bring herself to touch it. She shakes her head, thoughts of the bloody ear coming to mind. "Ellie.. I know that..'' He pauses every time he speaks to her, like every thought is mulled over and questioned, she hates it. "That those were some bad, horrible people back there, but this is regular old soup alright." She kind of wants to laugh again because that’s a funny way to describe cannibals and of course it's soup, she knows that but her body groans in the thought of eating right now.
"Look at the contents in the back." He kind of smiles trying to look friendly, a bit playful, she plays along, picking it out of his hands and reading its contents, he’s right, no human meat in sight.
She sighs, fuck what my brain thinks I need this. She brings the container up to her lips and savours the taste. It's slightly warm from being by the fire and she appreciates that, she hopes her body will. She takes small sips, not wanting to eat it too fast, the third sip in she stops, feeling slightly dizzy and a pain shoots through her head again. She looks to Joel who's been staring at her the whole time. She sticks her hand out to give it back to him, he needs it too, he barely ate down in that basement. "I'm alright kiddo, it's all yours.”
“No," she ushers him to take it. "You haven't eaten anything in the past 2 days, have some.'' She goes to place it down in front of him, leaning too far forward causing her ribs to explode in pain, she clutches onto them letting out a groan.
"Woah, woah, you alright?"
Of course she's fucking not.
"Yeah."
She sucks in a breath and grips at her top, trying a little too hard to not look incredibly in pain. "It’s ok, it's ok." She hastily mutters to him, but mostly to herself.
He's not buying it though, inching closer to her.
"Ellie, I can clearly see you're hurting, let me have a look, is it your stomach?"
She nods no.
"Your ribs?"
She doesn't move.
"Your ribs." He sighs, coming closer.
"I have to check Ellie, something could be broken." He informs, trying to keep a distance so as to not scare her. She shifts slightly uncomfortable. "I need you to lie down so I can get a look and feel around a bit, alright?" That makes her tense, again she's back to the mantra, it's Joel, it's Joel, it's Joel.
Her eyes dart around for a moment. She's not sure what to do, her heart is beating fast, she wants to be checked but all at the same time her mind screams at her not to move. Joel is still seated beside, ever so patient with everything, "It'll only take 1 minute, I promise".
So she does it, she tries not to think about it, moving slowly, he helps her up to the couch and she lies down on her back and she feels vulnerable again. Her heart is pounding and she can't stop her legs from shaking but she lifts up her jumper just far enough to let him see.
it's Joel, it's Joel, it's Joel.
She feels his cold hands lightly touch and prod at the bruised skin. She hears a sharp breath and she feels his hands harshly pull back all of a sudden. She culmisly moves up on her elbows to see what's wrong, does his wound hurt again? His eyes are steadily focused ahead, but not on her ribs and his hand makes its way to his chest, clutching his top ever so slightly trying to calm himself and now she begins to panic as she follows his eyes line of sight.
Her jean button was torn off and her zipper had been dragged all the way down.
"Ellie-" Joel starts but his voice is quickly drowned out by the sound of blood rushing to her head. She quickly pulls her top back down and tries to sit up but she feels him, his weight still on top of her, locking her in place. She chokes out for air, finding it impossibly hard to breathe. She's clutching to the side of the couch dragging herself up, waves of nausea hitting over her constantly. She hears Joel shuffling up to his feet behind her.
It's like all her senses are attacking her at once, there's a ringing in her ears, only hearing those sick calls to her, Ellie, Ellie. She paces away, fingers reaching to her back pocket searching for her switchblade, her eyes are a blur, black dots covering her vision. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she smells the ashy flames again but this time it’s accompanied by the smell of flesh.
Her mind flashes pictures of his skull, cracked open like a fucking egg, his brains mushed up together with broken off pieces bone. One eyeball protruding like it's about to pop out from its confines, the other lost in the gore and blood, squashed like a grape. She gags, holding her mouth, no, no, no, stop, she hits her head with the end of her switchblade trying to shove the memories out. Her eyes fall to her boots again, the sight of the blood stuck to the toes sucking her in, she stares long and hard trying to grip herself back to reality. He’s dead, he’s fucking dead. She sobs and then she tastes it.
Copper, in her mouth.
She screams, holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, she’s gagging again. It’s him, she tastes him, his blood.
She keels over, involuntarily, emptying her stomach of the very little amount of food in it out into the corner of the room. It's violent and painful and tears prick over her eyes. She’s on her knees, one hand clutching her stomach, the other placed on the ground barely keeping her upright. She feels a hand gently rub her back and another one holding her hair back, for a moment it soothes her as she stops but then a next wave of nausea rolls over and now she’s puking up nothing. Her stomach contorts horribly, trying to rid every piece of him out of her, leaving her coughing and gagging up strings of yellow pale liquid.
She can’t see with the amount of tears spilling out but she knows Joel is still planted firmly at her side trying to calm her but to no avail. Once she’s done retching, she tries to stand again, wiping the tears and puke off on her sleeves. Joel is trying to help, speaking to her but she can’t hear, she pushes him away, “Get off!” She shouts, she’s looking for the switchblade again but can’t find it. “Get off! Get off! Get off!” His hands are held up towards her, palms facing out.
The fighting is the part I like most.
The ghost of a hand is on hers, she scratches at until the it moves down to wrists and then to her abdomen, where his fingers lingered at her waistband, she feels so fucking filthy.
She trashes out of Joel's coat, it’s weakly done and she gets stuck more than once but she rips off her jumper, wiggling out through the head and throws it across the ground. Her breaths are so shallow, she's sure she’s going to pass out due to the lack of oxygen.
She’s shivering but as she looks down at her jeans she thinks of only one thing, get it off. Get him off. She stumbles around trying to pull them down but in her rush and haste, she falls to the ground and she doesn’t go down gracefully. Her head hits the wood floor and she feels the air knock out of her lungs.
There’s a quiet now, the knock of her head silencing the ringing of memories and she moves herself to her side, trying to get breaths in. She’s sobbing she realises and her jeans are pulled halfway down her legs resting on her knees and she feels so fucking stupid, she can’t even bring herself to look up to Joel’s face, fearing his reaction because she’s sure he would be laughing at how pathetic she is.
Now she’s laughing, short bursts of quiet laughter in between the sobs. She wipes her snot on her skin, laughs again. Fucking half naked on the ground sobbing like a baby. It’s so laughable she fucking hates it. Her laughs turn into small grunts of pain and anger as she kicks at her boots, pushing them off her feet. He did this, that fucking bastard, fucking bitch, fucking human-eating freak, fucking- fucking cunt, fucking David , fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
She doesn’t know what she had said out loud and what was all in her head but now she’s resting against the wall, naked apart from her sports bra, boxers for 8 year old boys and socks. Fucking David.
She’s so cold, she curls in on herself and allows herself to breathe. Even lying here stripped off of every item he's touched she still feels dirty. Her breath evens out. Tears silently going down her cheeks, it's not enough. She thinks for a second, about peeling away at the skin he touched; her hand, her wrists, her abdomen. She knows it useless though and it sets in stone, the realisation that she’s fucked, for life. Fucking David.
A blanket is settled on her, an attempt on Joel’s behalf to give her warmth and some decency. She hears again, properly “Ellie…” his voice is thick, like he had been crying. “Can I…” She looks at him meekly, his arms are open and he doesn’t know how to say it, can I help you? Can I hold you? Can I ever make it up to you for letting this happen?
She scoots over into his arms letting her head fall into his chest, his heartbeat sounds so familiar. He scoops her up into a warm and broken hug, and brings her over to the couch letting her stay close to him, he sits with her. She’s so quiet now, her breath so small and her tears drying over her face.
He hums a tune, it's low and gruff but comforting and so she lets her eyes flutter shut, she’s so tired. Within her haze she mumbles a sorry, in her head she thinks about how badly she must have scared him. “You got nothing to be sorry for.” He whispers. Being offered this tenderness feels like the very proof that she’s been ruined.
Her eyes open again, cold seeping into her bones, she stares at the dying embers. “He didn’t-” she stops, feeling a lump in her throat. “I got him.” She settles on, “I got him, Joel.” She doesn’t know what else to say or how to say it, she wants to say that she’s scared of herself, of others, she wants to tell him it felt good to slaughter someone, she wants to tell him every little detail of what happened, she wants to tell him to never let her go, but it's all too painful.
“Atta girl.” He replies with a certain venom in his voice, she can hear he’s proud, for a moment she smiles, but then shame rises in her.
“Joel.” She’s not sure why she says his name, she guesses it's some sort of plea, help me, fix me. “It’s alright babygirl, it’s alright.” He coos slightly, a thumb gently rubbing back and forth on her back. She lets her eyelids fall again, the cold is numbing, but she can’t move, tiredness has made its home in all the muscles of her body.
She feels her body being set down and her head dragging away from his chest and she wants to protest but all she lets out is a grunt, “I gotta get you some more blankets…and clothes, I’ll be back.” He whispers and settles his coat over the blanket on top of her. He trudges away lightly and she peels her eyes open ever so slightly, the fire is all burnt out and the window outside is pitch black, she can hear the howling and moaning of the night's storm, the wind hitting the cabin walls with a might, its calming.
She lets her eyes rest again and she hears Joel returning with a small bundle of blankets and all sorts of cloth, they fall around her. He tucks them in tight beneath her hoping to trap the heat in and then moves to sit below her. His back against the sofa leg and his head right beside hers, he listens to every breath she takes and she listens to his back. He hums once again and he lets himself hold her tiny hand peeking out beneath the layers of cloth. For this moment, Ellie lets herself feel at peace.