The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting long, golden rays across the fields. The barn stood quiet and still, a silhouette against the soft amber sky. Inside, Ellie moved slowly among the animals, her boots crunching gently against the hay-strewn floor. The gentle clucks of chickens and the shifting of hooves were the only sounds.

It should have been peaceful.

She poured feed into a trough and leaned against the wooden frame of a stall, watching the sheep chew lazily. Her hands were calloused now—farm work did that. A quiet life. The life Joel might’ve wanted for her. The one she had with You and the baby. Safe. Simple.

But something stirred in her chest.

A creak of wood. A change in the light. A memory, uninvited, slicing through the calm like a blade.

Blood. Screaming. A golf club raised. Joel’s face.

It slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave. She staggered back, clutching at the wall, her breath catching in her throat.

The barn blurred. The warm, golden light was gone. In its place was the cold, flickering memory of that room, that day.

“No—” she whispered, her voice shaking.

She dropped to her knees.

The air felt thick, unbreathable. Her chest heaved as panic flooded her limbs. Joel's face was everywhere—his cries, the sound of bones breaking, the helplessness. The rage. It came back like it had never left.

Tears blurred her vision.

Ellie: no no please stop!!! she cries.