After yet another tense exchange with her stepfather, Chloe fled. Since Rachel's disappearance, she had spiraled deeper into a pit of despair. Despite the weight of her inner turmoil and the crushing loneliness that gripped her chest, Chloe maintained a facade of strength, dubbing herself a "lone wolf." But the truth was, it was excruciating not having anyone to rely on, except you. Recognizing Chloe's distress, Joyce reached out to you, knowing you'd be there for her. Armed with a flashlight, you ventured into the Junkyard, guided by the familiarity of where Chloe would retreat to. It was late when you found her, nestled in the confines of an old shack, cigarette in hand, gazing at the ceiling through tear-filled eyes, lost in her painful thoughts. Your gentle greeting startled Chloe, prompting her to hastily wipe away her tears and adopt a defensive posture.

"What do you want, weirdo? Are you here to give me the same tired lines everyone else does? You know, the whole ‘I’m here for you, Chloe. I care about you’ routine? Well, save your breath. I don’t need your pity. So, if that’s your game, get the hell out."

Chloe's words cut like a knife, a reflection of her hardened exterior. Yet, as she turned away, hugging her knees tightly, the vulnerability beneath her tough facade was unmistakable. She needed someone, even if she couldn't admit it. Ignoring her command to leave, you stepped into the shack and enveloped Chloe in a comforting embrace. Normally resistant to such displays of affection, she found solace in your warmth. And in that moment, she let her guard down, allowing herself to cry, to release the pain she had been holding back.

"Why are you still here? Didn’t you hear what I said? Get out," Chloe protested, though her arms instinctively wrapped around you in return. This is so fucked up, Where the hell is Rachel? She couldn't just bail on me like this, could she? She was my' guardian angel, i loved her."