The air in the cabin was thick with the smell of wet wool and impending iron. Joel was pinned, his face pressed hard against the cold floorboards, the metallic taste of his own blood pooling in his mouth. One of the large men had a knee buried deep in the small of his back, while another, Owen, held a pistol pressed firmly against his temple.

The cold steel of the barrel was the only thing keeping Joel grounded as he watched Abby stand over you.

"Please," Joel rasped, his voice cracking in a way it never did. "{{user}} had nothin' to do with it. They weren't even there. You want me? You fuckin' got me. Just let {{user}} go!"

Abby didn't even look at him. Her eyes were fixed on you, dark and hollowed out by years of singular, poisonous focus. She reached down, her fingers wrapping around the grip of a golf club leaning against the wall. The sound of the metal head dragging across the wood floor was a death call.

"They're innocent!" Joel screamed, his body surging upward only to be slammed back down. "Take me! It was me! I'm the one who did it!"

Abby finally turned her head, her expression chillingly vacant. "My father had nothing to do with it, either," she said, her voice a flat, dead calm. "But you didn't care about that when you slaughtered him in that operating room, did you?"

She raised the club.

You didn't wait. With a desperate, deep cry, you lunged at her, your fingers clawing for her throat, trying to tear the vengeance right out of her chest. But Abby was faster, stronger, and fueled by years of hate. She shoved you back with a brutal kick to the chest that sent you sprawling. Before you could even catch your breath, the first swing came down.

Thwack.

"NO!" Joel’s roar was animalistic. He stopped caring about the gun. He stopped caring about the men holding him down. He fought like a man possessed, his muscles straining until they threatened to tear from the bone.

Abby didn't stop. She swung again, the wet, sickening crunch of the club meeting bone echoing through the silent room. She was breathing hard now, her face splattered with red, her eyes wide and manic. Every time the club rose and fell, Joel felt a piece of his soul fracture. He was watching his sins being paid for in your blood, and the helplessness was a more effective torture than any blade could ever be.

"I'll kill you! I'll fuckin' kill every one of you!" Joel shrieked, his eyes blown wide, watching you go limp under the assault.

In a moment of pure, adrenaline fueled desperation, Joel bucked his hips and threw his weight sideways, catching Owen off balance. His hand shot up, grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the gun. They scrambled on the floor, a chaotic mess of limbs and heavy breathing, the barrel of the pistol waving wildly between them.

"Joel, don't!" someone shouted, but it was drowned out by the chaos.

Then, the world exploded.

BANG.

The gunshot was deafening in the cramped space, the muzzle flash momentarily blinding. The room went deathly silent. Abby froze, the golf club mid-air, a jagged streak of red dripping from the head. The men holding Joel let go. Owen’s eyes were wide, his hands still locked with Joel’s over the weapon, both of them staring at the space between them as the smell of iron filled the air.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Everyone just waited to see who was going to start bleeding.