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Ellie could hear David’s taunts echoing in the burning hall. She tightened her grip around the knife as she slowly crept out to attack. She lunged at David with a cry as he turned and attempted to block her move. Throwing her to the ground, both knives flew from each others hands, out of reach.
Ellie pulled her head up from the floor, groaning. Her head was fucking pounding, her heart was ringing in her ears and she never felt more alone. She needed Joel. Goddamit she needed him.
Ellie’s gaze fell upon the cleaver once wielded by David. Finally, the splitting pounding in her head paused as she gathered her strength and crawled towards the blade. Suddenly, two hands grabbed her ankles.
Her mouth betrayed her mind as she fought, “No! No!” Two letters, one syllable, fear riddled in every inch of the words.
David’s grasp around her only seemed stronger as she protested. She had heard about the stories, the violent fucking stories of the girls who never came back whole. Not her, please, not her.
Then, David was on top of her. And she screamed.
The grin with which he responded to her cries ignited a fear that Ellie never wanted to feel. She tried so hard to push it down— ‘endure and survive, survive this, survive!!’ Ellie spit in his face, she pushed, she cried, she screamed.
And he laughed, “Oh I thought you knew,”
All the air was sucked out of Ellie’s lungs. She cried, again and again. She screamed, again and again. Her throat hurt, her face burned, her body ached.
“The fighting is the part I like most.”
And she screamed. God she screamed louder than she thought possible. The cries tore out of her chest, out of her soul. ‘No, not me, please not me,’ she pleaded and pleaded.
And David’s sinister grin— that shit eating grin that painted his face— seared its mark into Ellie’s mind. She felt fear, it consumed her as her hands were pinned above her head.
“‘There is no fear in love,’” the preacher teased.
But this was not love, Ellie knew it. There was nothing loving about this, nor the man who pinned her down to the carpeted floor. There was fear. Ellie drowned in the fear.
She wanted Joel. She screamed for him. She knew he was miles away, he couldn’t hear her, but she cried for him.
Somehow, amid the chaos and terror, Ellie wove her hand free. She grappled for the cleaver, it’s handle just barely touching her fingertips as David continued to hold her down.
This wasn’t love—she knew that. She wasn’t a victim and she sure as hell wasn’t about to be his.
She grabbed hold of the cleaver and with all her strength thrust it into the devilish flesh of David’s neck. She screamed as she hit him again, and again, and again. The man gurgled on the blood that clogged his throat. Choking on his own being he fell silent. With one final blow Ellie ran.
She ran as fast as she fucking could. It was as if she had new feet, new legs, a new purpose. And she ran.
Ellie burst through the door and into the cold. How welcoming it was on her burning skin. She felt as if every part of her body David had touched had suffered blisters and burns. The fear blistered on her skin, it burned and seared at the touch.
Her mind swarmed with the image of David above her and the fear settled back into her body. It festered beneath the skin, boiling from the heat of it all. The fire, the preacher, the fear.
She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her, deaf to the world she cried out as a hand gently touched her shoulder.
“No!” She pleaded. “Get off of me!”
And the arms wrapped around her, her blistering skin did not welcome the arms she knew. She wanted them off. It hurt, it burned, she couldn’t breathe.
“It’s me!” A voice cried.
Joel. It was Joel.
Her heart seemed to settle in her throat, her fear seemed to simmer down, and she stopped fighting.
“It’s me,” Joel said quietly. “Look, it’s me.”
And she looked.
It wasn’t the devilish grin of David. It wasn’t the terrorizing image of him above her. It was Joel— her Joel.
She shuddered a breath, she didn’t know where to start. “He…”
“It’s okay,” Joel told her, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s okay, baby girl.”
And Ellie let go. The fear turned to exhaustion, pain, guilt. The boils and burns seemed to vanish, like cool water had run over her skin. It was over.
She didn’t fight, letting Joel hold her. She held him back. Gently, he rocked her into him, letting Ellie bury her face into his shoulder.
No tear could come out. It wasn’t the type of fear that made one cry, it was the fear that made one crumble from the outside in. All sense of understanding and reassurance that you are yourself is broken. Your ability to exist in your body is taken, destroyed, disregarded. You fight, you plea, you beg. Your voice goes hoarse and you’ll loose it, just like yourself. Not misplaced, misused or misguided but carved out from you by another. It wasn’t theirs to take.
Joel didn’t ask, he understood the exhaustive silence that consumed Ellie. He knew she’d tell him in due course, and that was her course.
He watched her though, made sure she ate before she fell asleep after they’d made it far enough away from the resort. He stood watch, monitoring how she tossed and turned. Ellie used to tell him that he mumbled in his sleep, but he knew not to ask why she was screaming.
Every time Ellie woke herself up, he was there. He allowed her to push him away and fall into him just the same. He stayed near, stayed far, stayed loving and strong for her. Ellie clung to him, burying her face in his jacket, painful sobs betraying the stoicism she tried to keep.
As Joel comforted her for the fifth time that night, she attempted to speak about it through broken sobs.
“H-h-he… he tried…” Ellie shuddered through.
“Take your time, baby girl ,” Joel whispered, gently rubbing her back.
Ellie sniffled and pushed back her hair from her eyes. “He- why did he do that?” She finished the question with a sob, burying her face into his jacket once again.
Joel’s heart broke. Over and over again, it broke. He feared for the worst, for his Ellie.
“I killed him,” Ellie whispered into his jacket. “I fucking killed him, Joel.”
“I know,” he told her. And he did know. He had guessed it based on the flame eaten building and the blood on Ellie’s shirt.
Ellie sniffled, “He tried to… he got on me… took my hands…” her voice quavered. “He held them… above my head.” And she sobbed again. The images of the demented man burning themselves into her brain, her body.
Joel felt rage, then sadness, then fear. Ellie needed him. And he didn’t— he couldn’t— help her.
Ellie buried herself into his jacket further, “he wanted me to fight ‘im.”
Joel ground his teeth together, attempting to keep his rage and anger at bay. She didn’t need his anger, she needed his love, his support. So he sat there and listened.
And as Ellie told him through tears and open mouthed sobs, he listened. He held her close. And he listened.