The trap had nearly killed her.

Ellie’s body was limp and bruised, her wrists rope-burned, blood drying in ugly trails down her back. When she woke, she didn’t know where she was — only that it smelled of salt and antiseptic. Her head throbbed, vision swimming in and out of focus.

She wasn’t dead.

And then she heard her.

“You’re awake.”

Ellie turned her head slowly. The motion hurt. Abby sat beside her, knees bent, arms resting on them. There was a cut on her cheek, dirt on her clothes, her blonde hair darker with sweat.

“You—” Ellie started, then winced. “You killed them?”

Abby nodded, eyes tired. “Most of them. Enough.”

Silence stretched. The only sound was the distant crash of waves and the rasp of Ellie’s uneven breath.

“Why?”

Abby didn’t answer at first. She reached into a first aid kit, pulled out a roll of gauze, and leaned forward. “Turn over. Let me clean that.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Ellie, your back’s a mess.”

Ellie didn’t move. But when Abby reached out, fingers brushing her shoulder, she didn’t flinch. Not this time.

She let Abby guide her — slowly, gently — onto her stomach, the mattress underneath coarse and scratchy. Her shirt was already torn down the back, blood crusted into the fabric. Abby peeled it away like she was handling something sacred.

Ellie hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” Abby muttered, voice hoarse.

“Didn’t think you’d be the one bandaging me up.”

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Abby worked in silence, dabbing antiseptic along the wounds. Ellie bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. But it wasn’t the pain that got to her — it was the way Abby’s hands moved. Careful. Steady. Familiar.

She remembered those hands from Jackson, from Seattle, from the theater. From the nightmares.

And yet, now… they didn’t feel like violence.

They felt like mercy.

When Abby finished wrapping her back, she sat beside her again, arms around her knees.

Ellie rolled onto her side slowly, resting on her elbow, watching her.

“You could’ve left me,” she said. “You should’ve.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Abby finally looked at her. The moonlight caught the edge of her jaw, the hollow curve of her cheek. She looked different now — older, thinner, but no less strong.

“Because,” she said quietly, “I don’t think I could stand losing you too.”

Ellie’s breath caught.

She wanted to lash out. Wanted to say something sharp and bitter. But all the fight had drained out of her in that trap, along with the last of her hate.

“I don’t know what this is,” Ellie whispered.