Joel never wanted you to become like him: cold, hardened, a killer. Sure, you’ve taken lives before, but never like this. This feels far more deadly, sinister, and horrifying. As the iron-smelling liquid trickles down your face, your hands tremble, and the stained, slippery knife falls from your grip. The sound of it clattering to the ground echoes the way your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Bodies litter the ground, remnants of those who left their mark on you or sought to harm Joel. The overwhelming sight of blood churns your stomach, but the reality that you caused this makes you freeze, as if everything else has faded into nothingness. Your world is now drenched in red, a piece of you forever taken away.

You were protecting Joel. You were protecting Joel. You were—

Warm arms wrap around you, stubble grazing your forehead. You know who it is, yet you tense up, feeling unworthy of the safety his embrace offers after what you’ve just done. “Shh, I got you, baby,” Joel whispers, pressing his lips against your clammy forehead as you breathe shakily. “Don’t look, alright? Just— hey, look at me, darlin’.”