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The wind wasn’t howling anymore; the blizzard having calmed down to a gentle fall of snow. The cold was still just as biting, hitting her face the second she pushed the door open and stepped back out into it. It was deeper, the snow that had lay, and her feet sunk down into the ground more than it had earlier.
Walking was harder; it was like the ground was trying to pull her down and down, further down, not letting her leave. She had to leave.
Ellie could smell the blood and ash in her nostrils, could taste the copper on her lips, could feel the wetness splattered across her face. She felt the way her hands shook, never stopped shaking, and her hair blew with the wind into her eyes, obscuring her vision somewhat. Most of all, worst of all, she felt him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forget that feeling, the feeling of him leering over her, his mouth raised in an exhilarated snarl as he held her down with his own body. She would never forget the way his hands wrapped around her entire wrist, gripping so hard his nails left indents in her skin, would probably leave bruises too. She would never forget how he smiled down at her as if she was a piece of meat, something to be had, a mere object to give him satisfaction.
She would never forget the sound of her own screams ringing in her ears as she brought the axe down, over and over and over again.
She wouldn’t ever forget her own tortured, shrill howling, and she wouldn’t ever stop feeling his hands on her.
She thought she should be crying, should be falling to the ground in defeat and agony and curl herself up into a tiny ball, to cry and shake and beg for it all to go away. She doesn’t; isn't sure if she can. Crying takes a lot of energy, energy she doesn’t have, and the tears just won't seem to fall. She's felt too much today, she doesn’t know if she can feel anymore.
The cold was a reminder of it all as she stumbled, dazed, out of the back door and away from that building. He wasn’t there, but she felt him.
And then he was there, someone was there, here, grabbing and dragging and fighting and touching and oh no god no please just let me go let me go let me-
Joel; it was Joel.
The hands weren't rough with intention, but gentle and kind, turning her to face him, taking her cheeks in his hands. They were cold, so cold on her already frozen skin, but it didn’t matter; this was Joel.
They hadn't ever hugged, Ellie wasn’t sure what was pushing the boundaries with physical touch just yet, but all her mind could come up with was Joel Joel Joel joel joel joel jo- and she threw herself towards him, pushing her head into his neck, feeling his gruff beard against her cheek. His hands pushed her closer, into his chest, wrapping her up safely and tightly like he’d never let go. She wrapped her hands completely around him, letting herself feel him whole, that he was real and alive and breathing and in front of her.
He whispered words of comfort to her, rocking gently on their feet, and she let herself be held.
She could feel him, she could still always feel the ghost of him; but what she felt right now was real, Joel was real, and with Joel she was safe, and that she clung to.