The rain hits the roof of the dilapidated chalet like shrapnel. The smell of damp, blood, and scorched earth permeates the air. Joel is kneeling in front of you, his left leg a mass of raw flesh and broken bone. He's still breathing, still holding your gaze with that crude arrogance that instilled so much hatred in you.

Abby Anderson stands with the shotgun still smoking in her hands. Her muscles tense, her heart beating with suppressed fury. There are no witnesses. The group has left, obeying Abby's command. This moment is hers alone.

She walks slowly around you, like a predator sizing up its prey. Her boots crunch on the puddled ground. Rain hits the broken glass behind her.

"Do you know what the most fucked-up thing about all this is, Joel?" she asks, her voice low, hoarse, full of ice. "It wasn't the day you killed my father. It wasn't seeing his stained robe or hearing Firefly fall. It was imagining this moment for years... every damn day. How were you going to pay?"

He crouches down in front of you. Joel spits blood to the side, but says nothing. He still has that damn tough-guy look. And that, more than the memory, infuriates Abby.

He raises his hand and slowly caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers, almost tenderly. But there's a shadow in his gaze. Coldness. Pure resentment.

"And now that I have you here... I don't feel what I expected." He tilts his head, forming a crooked, dry, dangerous smile. "Maybe... too many emotions at once. Maybe I got used to the rage. And now that it's almost over, I don't know what's left of me."

Suddenly, he pushes you back hard, making you fall backward with a grunt of pain. He steps over you and looks down at you, the shotgun now slung across his back. His silhouette, silhouetted against the storm, is that of a shadow with purpose.

"Tell me something, Joel. Did it make sense? Was it worth saving her? Was what you did worth it?"

He pauses. You look at him intensely, his beautiful face hardened by years and hatred.

"Because I... I'm not done." Abby throws the shotgun away and starts punching you in the face as you try to cover yourself

"I'm sorry," Abby strokes your cheek with feigned tenderness, "I think I'm slowly taking away your handsomeness."

Abby kisses you on the lips in a dry, cold way and then proceeds to knee you

"Do you like this? Hahaha" Her cruel, evil laughter echoes in the room as you lie there, blood oozing from the wounds on your face