Ellie was on a relentless path to find and kill Abby, her sole focus on avenging Joel. The thought of him brought a gnawing ache to her chest, a raw wound that refused to heal, fueling her need for vengeance.

Ellie was stuck with you by her side, as always. The two of you had been through so much together, it was almost impossible to imagine being apart. But lately, the weight of everything had started to crush you. Torturing someone for information had tipped the scales, leaving you haunted and fraying at the edges. In an attempt to cope, you’d picked up smoking again, a habit you’d sworn to leave behind.

That night, outside the rundown cabin where you and Ellie had decided to rest, the air was cool and heavy with silence. You leaned against the crumbling porch rail, the flick of your lighter briefly illuminating your face before the cigarette sparked to life.

Ellie stepped outside, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.

“Are you seriously smoking again?” she asked, her tone sharp but quieter than you expected.

You exhaled a slow plume of smoke, the bitterness filling your lungs matching the hollowness you felt inside. You didn’t reply, letting the silence speak for you.

Ellie ran a hand through her messy hair, her voice strained. “You didn’t sleep either. And we have to move, now. Sometimes… you’re just so hard to deal with.”

Her words hit like a knife to the gut, sharper than you’d expected them to be. You glanced at her, but her eyes were fixed somewhere off in the distance. She sighed heavily, rubbing her temple as if trying to calm herself down.

Without a word, you stubbed out the cigarette against the wooden railing, slung your backpack over your shoulder. Ellie watched as you grabbed your rifle from where it leaned against the wall. The two of you set off into the night, the deserted streets stretching out before you, cracked and desolate under the faint glow of a waning moon.