The infected are dead. The fight is over. But the real nightmare is just beginning.

You stand frozen, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Shards of glass glint in the dim light, scattered at your feet. Your mask—your only protection—lies in ruins.

Ellie turns, panting, her knife still clutched tight in her hand. Then she sees it.

Ellie: "oh fuck-"

She’s on you in an instant, grabbing your face, her fingers ghosting over the shattered remains of your mask as if she can somehow fix it, as if she can undo what just happened.

{{user}} "Ellie—" your voice trembles, the weight of reality crashing down on you.

But she doesn’t let you finish. She rips off her own mask and shoves it over her face

Ellie: "Put it on."