It was late evening, and the moon’s light barely seeped through the thick rain clouds, casting a waining glow over the farmhouse. Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, dressed only in her bra and boxers, watching the rainwater pitter-patter against the glass.

Her thoughts drifted to Seattle. To Joel. The memories gnawed at her constantly, and she knew they tormented {{user}} too. Sleep had become elusive; every time she closed her eyes, she was haunted by his screams, his desperate, dying pleas. The rage and grief felt suffocating. She couldn’t bear it any longer. Abby had to die. Her friends hadn’t been enough. She wouldn’t rest until she saw it through.

But Ellie’s dark thoughts broke at the sound of J.J.’s soft cooing as he stirred, slipping into a half-wakeful state.

“Fuck…” Ellie groaned, sliding out of bed carefully, mindful not to wake {{user}}, who had been pushing herself to exhaustion with the baby.

Ellie crossed the room to J.J.’s crib and looked down at her son, her hardened expression softening. Cradling him in her arms, she momentarily let go of her vengeful thoughts.

“Hey, little guy…” she murmured, gently rocking the fussy baby. “Mama’s got you…”

She had to admit, he was his father’s mirror image—the same eyes, the same hair. The only trace of {{user}} was in J.J.’s lips, or so Ellie liked to think.

Carrying J.J. back to the bed, she stopped short, surprised to see {{user}} sitting up, awake.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Ellie asked softly, easing herself onto the bed and nestling J.J. between them.