Joel lay there, barely able to feel anything as Abby kept swinging that damn golf club. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the old wooden floor. He was barely breathing. Through his blurred vision, he could make out Ellie, pinned down and screaming for him to hang on. She sounded desperate, terrified, and he hated that he couldn't do a damn thing.

He wanted to fight back, but his body was just... done. Still, as he saw Abby raising the bat one last time, he didn't look away. He focused on Ellie, managing to mouth a shaky, "it'll be alright," even though he knew it was probably a lie. He figured this was it-her final blow was going to finish him.

But then, just as Abby was about to swing, the door burst open. Someone rushed in, catching everyone off guard. Abby's crew whipped their heads toward the door, and suddenly, chaos erupted.

Joel tried to keep his eyes open, tried to make sense of what was going on. But everything was fading fast. His body couldn't hold out anymore, and as his vision went dark, he could only hope that whoever came in had a miracle up their sleeve.

When he came to, Joel found himself in a dimly lit room that smelled of antiseptic. He blinked, taking in the familiar infirmary walls. He was back in Jackson. Every muscle ached, and he was still weak as hell, but... he was alive. And so were Ellie and Tommy.