misspeachesmcgee - Tumblr blog

misspeachesmcgee · 1 year ago

Text

Lingering Shadows

Platonic Ellie & Reader, One-sided antagonistic GN!Muscular!Reader & Joel

Summary: You can’t help but notice when Joel Miller comes to town with Ellie at his side. It was hard to miss the commotion his and Tommy’s reunion made. But the sight of a grown man traveling alone with a teenage girl leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Shadows linger, letting devils whisper in your ear.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavily implied sexual abuse/assault in Reader's past, though nothing is described. Reader assuming Ellie is being sexually abused by Joel (she's not though don't worry).

Masterlist

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after he showed up with that girl. A teenager, really, but still a girl. They could have been related, but they didn’t look enough alike. And it’s not like blood stops people.

They were only in Jackson for a day before spiriting themselves away early the next morning. You saw the man embrace Tommy Miller in the street when the patrol brought him and the girl in, and later, you heard through the rumor mill that the man was Tommy’s long-lost brother.

You never paid much attention to Tommy before. You know more about Maria, his wife, and that’s only because she’s a part of the council that runs Jackson. They both seem nice enough, but that doesn’t tell you anything about the brother they haven’t had contact with in however long.

Months went by, and the man and the girl never returned, but the solemn look on the girl’s face as the two brothers happily reunited that winter day was imprinted on your mind.

And then, just the other day, there was a commotion at the gates. You were busy with the butchering and weren’t around to notice. But by that night, the small-town gossip caught up with you.

The man and the girl returned.

You even saw them yourself while having dinner in the mess hall. They were sitting with Tommy and Maria. The man—Joel, someone whispered—looked lighter than he had all those months ago when he was bundled up against the winter chill and had a scowl for everyone except his brother. He still looks rough around the edges, but he smiles now or tries to anyway. It’s like his mouth hasn’t moved that way in years. The girl, though—Elsie, you thought you heard—she looked…haunted.

You knew that look, and you wondered if Joel Miller could feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his head.

Now, you’re in the building just behind the mess hall—a glorified shed, really—that serves as the town’s slaughterhouse. You work as one of the butchers, and you don’t mind it for the most part. The worst thing is smelling like blood after a long day and being among the first to know when meat stores are running low. You offhandedly wonder how two more mouths to feed will affect the food supply.

You weren’t sure about the job at first, but after everything you’ve been through, you’re comfortable with a blade in your hand. Not necessarily your first choice of job, but it was one of the few available when you arrived. For some reason, most of the residents found going on patrol and killing Infected an easier task than looking a sheep in the eye as you break its neck and slit its throat.

Usually, you weren’t too bad at the slaughter and haven’t had a bad day since the beginning of your training. Your cuts are clean, never nicking the intestines, the skin peeling off with ease. But today, you’re having trouble. It took two tries at the sheep to break its neck, the bleating ringing loudly in your ears as it cried out in pain on the failed first attempt.

You know why you’re off your game. You can’t shake the look on Elsie’s face that first night after they returned.

After you wrap up for the day, storing the now clean tools in their proper places and taking off your bloody apron, Mack, one of the other butchers, walks up to you.

“Maybe we’ll just have you chopping the meat tomorrow, yeah?” he says as the two of you walk out of the slaughterhouse.

You sigh. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Hopefully, by then, your head will be clear.

You could be overthinking things, you try to tell yourself. Seeing ghosts where there aren’t any. Who knows what happened to Elsie outside these walls. You can’t know for sure if anything happened to her—but something did, a voice whispers in the back of your mind.

And if something did, that doesn’t necessarily mean it happened at the hands of Joel Miller.

At least you thought about giving the man a chance until you’re comfortably waiting for the movie to start, and you spot him across the room.

Joel is with Tommy and Maria, already there when you arrived. Elsie walks in a few minutes later. Joel gestures her over when he spots her. She freezes in the doorway for a moment before slowly making her way to his side.

Joel touches her shoulder and says something, but Elsie flinches back, making Joel’s hand hover in the air before he drops it.

You can’t help but stare intently at his face as the lights go down and the projector turns on. He looks…angry, you decide. You’re not close and can only see his profile, but you just know he’s mad that Elsie didn’t let him touch her.

She’s safe here, though. For the next hour and forty minutes, that is. You know Joel’s kind. He won’t do anything to her now, not in a room full of people. No, the real danger will come after they go home.

You’re not sure what exactly he’s claiming they are to each other, but you know they live together. It makes your skin crawl knowing they’re alone together, even if they might be family. You also wonder if Joel insisted on their own home instead of sharing a place like some of the other residents in Jackson, like you do.

You’re unable to pay attention to the movie. Instead, you’re sitting on the edge of your seat, eyeing up Joel Miller, trying to find some familiar tick that will reveal his mood, his intentions. You don’t see anything, but it’s dark, and too many people are blocking your view. Regardless, the whole situation makes you nauseous, and you can’t help but catastrophize.

The lights come up all too soon, and everyone stands as the credits roll. You try to be inconspicuous as you linger, exchanging pleasant good nights with others as you wait for Joel and Elsie to leave.

Following behind them starts out easy; there’s a small crowd you can lose yourself in, and no one asks why you’re walking in the opposite direction from your house. As you continue, the others start to fall away, returning to their homes. You’re eventually left alone.

Joel was given a house near the edge of town, and you have to get creative with hiding places once all of the others are gone. They can’t know you’re following them. Jackson isn’t huge, though, and the walk isn’t long. Soon enough, the two are veering off to the side of the street and up the steps of a decently sized house, especially for two people.

Perks of being related to leadership, you suppose.

You quickly run to the side of the house once the front door is closed, trying to look through the windows while avoiding standing in the light. You can see Elsie walking through the house, and you try to keep up by moving to the next window. You can see Joel following behind her, saying something, but you can’t make out what.

Joel is standing near a flight of steps. If they go upstairs, you’re screwed. You won’t be able to see if Joel tries anything unless you feel like breaking in. But Elsie doesn’t follow the man to the steps. Instead, she keeps walking straight. She escapes your sight, but a second later, you hear a back door open and quickly slam shut.

Glancing at Joel through the window to make sure he’s not going to chase after her, you see he stopped following Elsie. He’s just standing there, staring after her. Then his shoulders slump as he drops his head, heading upstairs alone and turning off the light.

You quickly dart to the edge of the house and peer around the corner just in time to see Elsie enter the detached garage.

It makes you see red.

That whole house is big enough to comfortably fit at least five or six people, and Joel Miller is making that girl sleep in the fucking garage.

And no one is saying a goddamn thing about it.

You slam the meat cleaver down on the butcher’s block harder than necessary.

“That sheep look at you funny or something?” Mack asks, noticing your aggressive chopping.

“Or something,” you sigh, focusing on not being as forceful with the chopping.

You keep thinking about Joel Miller and Elsie. About her flinching away from him. About her sleeping in the garage.

You stayed, crouched by the corner of their house, for a while after the two presumably went to bed. You needed to make sure Joel didn’t come out. Once your nerves finally settled and after realizing you needed to head back to your own bed, you left.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You pause, looking at Mack out of the corner of your eye. He’s a good man, but at the same time, you’re sure he’d tell you that you’re being paranoid. There’s no proof anything untoward is going on, and maybe Elsie wants to sleep in a garage, wanting her own space, but is too young to be on her own.

No, you can’t tell him. People are hesitant to believe things like this right away. No one wants to believe those kinds of things.

“That’s okay,” you say, cutting the meat again. “Thank you, though.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, but he lets the topic drop, turning his focus back to the deer the hunting patrol brought in earlier this morning.

You steady your hand, calm your breathing, and start planning.

Considering the nature of the matter, you know you can’t ambush the girl right away. You know she needs to build up some sort of trust with you, and you need to establish a baseline to figure out what kind of danger she’s in. Though, to be honest, you’re not exactly sure how to relate to a teenager and get her to like you.

Thankfully, the way for conversation opens by pure coincidence the next day.

You’re checking on the sheep when you spot her in the barn, petting one through the bars of the gate.

“I hope you don’t get too attached to that one,” you say gently. Having stopped near the door, you’re far enough away that you thought you wouldn’t startle her, but Elsie still whips around to look at you like she got caught red-handed.

In a way, she did. She looks young enough that she could be off with the other kids in what passes for a school if she wanted, yet old enough to start working. Everyone does the best they can, but there’s no formal schooling in Jackson. Once the kids are old enough, they could enter into a sort of apprenticeship for one of the specialized positions if something is available.

You won’t scold her for not being where she’s supposed to be; you don’t want to scare her off. She hasn’t moved or said anything yet, so you take the chance to slowly walk over to her.

The sheep Elsie had been petting leaves her and moves on to you, sniffing your now outstretched hand in search of food. You pet it, waiting for Elsie to speak.

“Why?” she asks after another moment.

“Hmm?” You got lost in thought, the question only just bringing you back.

“Why shouldn’t I get attached to the sheep?”

“See this?” You tug on the scrap of an old red t-shirt tied around the sheep’s neck. “It means it’s in the next group to be slaughtered. Today’s its last day of life.”

“So that’s what that means,” Elsie comments more to herself than to you.

“Yep. It’s why these ones are in here instead of outside grazing. It’s to make sure they don’t get any food for a full day beforehand,” you say anyway as the sheep wanders away, realizing it’s not getting anything out of you.

“They’re not allowed to eat?” You can’t help but smile, happy to see that Elsie is okay enough to engage in a conversation. Some people aren’t in such a place.

“To put it politely, it’s so they’re cleaned out before I butcher them. Makes it easier.”

Elsie’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’re the butcher?” Her gaze moves to your arms, and the definition of muscle is visible through the sleeves of your shirt.

“Me and a few others, yeah.” You pause, looking at her. “That bother you?”

Elsie shakes her head. “No. Makes sense, though.”

“It does?” you ask, confused.

“You’re pretty buff.” Elsie shrugs, and you let out a surprised laugh.

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome,” she says with a satisfied smile.

“I should probably…” She trails off, awkwardly shuffling in that way that tells you she wants to leave but doesn’t know how.

“Yeah.” You nod, and she starts to walk toward the barn doors. “See you around, Elsie.”

She pauses and turns around, an amused look on her face. “My name’s Ellie.”

Heat rushes to your face. “Well, I guess that’s my own fault for listening to someone else instead of just asking you.”

“I’ll say.” Ellie—you make sure to correct yourself—hesitates for a moment before asking, “What’s your name?”

You haven’t thought this much about getting a teen girl to like you since you were that age. Not only that, there’s a line you have to toe. You want Ellie to like you, trust you, but you certainly don’t want her to think you’re…interested in her.

You’re scowling into your food at dinner a few days after you officially met Ellie, trying to figure out what to do. With you in the slaughterhouse all day, you can’t keep an eye on her or Joel. In fact, you haven’t seen her since you met her in the barn, and you can’t help beating yourself up over what could have happened to her in the days since.

You’re about to give up on your meal and head home when Ellie bursts through the door to the mess hall. No one throws more than a glance her way, but even across the room, you can see the distressed look on her face. You watch as she grabs a plate from the line and finds a spot at the first empty table she can find. As soon as she sits, she hunches over her plate, elbows on either side and starts eating like she hasn’t seen food in days.

For all you know, she hasn’t.

A frown pulls at your face, and you hesitate for only a moment before grabbing your pate and joining her.

“I don’t want company,” Ellie says without looking up. With the way she stormed in, you should have suspected she’d be aggressive, but it still catches you off guard. You don’t really know the girl, though, so you shouldn’t be surprised that her behavior isn’t predictable.

“And here I thought we had a nice moment with some sheep,” you say lightly, letting Ellie’s words roll off you as you make yourself comfortable.

Ellie looks up, brow furrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Are you disappointed?” you ask, unsure what you want the answer to be.

But Ellie doesn’t say anything, only looks down at her plate. She doesn’t take a bite, just stirs the meat and potatoes around.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear.

“I’m fine,” Ellie says before stabbing a piece of meat with her fork and quickly shoving it into her mouth.

“If you’re fine, then what happened?” Something obviously did if she’s acting like this.

Ellie throws her fork down and glares at you.

“Look, could you just piss off?”

You sit there shocked, the outburst unexpected. The Ellie you met the other day, afraid of getting in trouble for petting a sheep, was much different than the combative girl in front of you now.

“Alright,” you say, grabbing your plate and standing. “We’ll talk some other time then.”

You say it kindly, letting Ellie know you’re not upset with her. You want to leave the door open for her to talk to you again. But she ignores you, instead picking up her fork to eat her dinner as fast as possible. Without another word, you leave her by herself.

You’re upset, but not with Ellie. You’re upset at whoever put her in this state. And as you dump the scraps of your dinner into the slop bucket, you can’t help but feel you know exactly who it was.

Before you walk out the door, you look back at Ellie. Her back is to you, leaving you unable to see her expression. But she sits at the table, unmoving, shoulders around her ears.

You don’t have a plan as you leave, not really, but that doesn’t stop your feet from taking you toward Joel Miller’s house. You don’t want to say anything to him—can’t say anything to him, not without something more than a feeling to go off of. But you just have to see.

See what he’s doing after hurting Ellie, making her angry.

See if he isn’t bothered at all by the fact that a kid under his care ran off alone, even though, in Jackson, nothing bad typically happens.

But what you really want is to see if he even cares.

The light is fading, and everyone is either in the mess hall or already home for the day. There aren’t many people on the streets, and the ones you pass, you ignore. That is until someone calls out from the other side of the street halfway to Joel Miller’s house and jogs toward you.

“S’cuse me,” the man says, making you stop in your tracks.

Joel Miller, brow furrowed and breathy heavily like he had just been running.

Unease fills you. Does he somehow know you were coming for him? What you thought of him?

“Have you seen m—” he cuts himself off, rethinking his words. After a brief pause, he continues, “She’s a teenager. Brown hair, always tied back. Her name’s Ellie.”

You hold back the sigh of relief that threatens to escape when you realize he can’t, in fact, read your mind. Then you waffle on whether or not to tell him the truth.

You don’t know his intentions, and you certainly don’t know him well enough to decipher the expression on his face, but the man you see before you doesn’t seem dangerous.

Are you wrong? Does Joel Miller actually care about Ellie? Is he worried and desperate to find her?

But what if you’re not wrong and he’s angry his plaything ran away? You know how people can pretend to be something they’re not in front of others.

Eventually, you take a chance and nod.

“She just went into the mess hall as I was leaving.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he says, turning to leave.

Before you can think it through, you reach out and grab his arm in a vice grip, forcing him to stop.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” A threat or a warning, you’re not sure which. You’re still trying to sort through all the information you’ve been filtering through your mind.

Joel jerks his arm out of your grasp. “Excuse me?”

Whatever their situation, you don’t think Joel going to fetch Ellie to take her home back to the garage is the right move. And you have to watch yourself, too. The expression on Joel’s face is shifting toward offended, angry, and you don’t want to fight the man in the street.

Not yet, anyway.

“I just mean,” you start, holding up your hands, “that she about bit my head off when I talked to her. Probably best to leave her be for now.”

Joel looks away, anger fading from his face and replaced with…guilt?

What did he do?

“Jackson’s a safe place. She’ll be fine on her own for a while,” you continue, trying to push Joel to leave the girl alone, sure that he’s done something.

“S’pose you’re right,” Joel says quietly, looking in the direction of the mess hall. He looks back at you and nods. “Thank you for letting me know where she is.”

“No problem.”

With that, Joel turns on his heel and goes back the way he came, and you breathe a sigh of relief at having kept Joel from Ellie, at least for a little while.

Against your wishes, thoughts of Joel Miller continue to swirl in your head the following morning. You’re less angry, though, and you kill and clean your first sheep to perfection.

As soon as you had made up your mind about Joel, something happened that made you question if you were seeing things.

The man’s actions last night when looking for Ellie could easily have been of a concerned guardian. And weren’t you searching for him to see if he even cared about Ellie in the first place?

But Ellie’s anger has you confused. It could just be normal teenage rebellion and acting out. Yet something in the back of your mind tells you there’s a chance it might not be.

Shaking your head, you’re about to move on and take the carcass down from the meathook when you hear Mack speak.

“You probably shouldn’t be in here.”

When you turn to look, you see Ellie hovering by the door. It’s constantly left open to keep the smell of blood and offal from overpowering the small space. Anyone could walk in, but no one besides the butchers actually does.

“I got it, Mack,” you say, waving him off. He shrugs, letting you go.

You quickly remove your apron and wipe your hands as best you can. Stepping up to Ellie, you gesture for her to follow you and lead her around the side of the building.

“What’s up?” You’re surprised Ellie is here. You can’t think of why she would seek you out first thing in the morning; the two of you aren’t exactly friends.

“I’m sorry. For last night.” Her tone is flat, and her eyes look everywhere except you. The longer you observe her, the longer you take to say something, the more Ellie fidgets.

“Is someone making you apologize?” you tease. Ellie freezes before finally looking you in the eye.

“No,” she says quickly, and you let out a light laugh.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Ellie sighs, defeated. “Joel said I had to. Something about needing to learn some manners,” she says, punctuating the end with an eye roll.

The last phrase makes you tense, but you force yourself to relax before Ellie can notice.

“Is Joel…the reason you were so upset last night?” you ask gently, quietly. You need to know if your hunch is correct.

She looks away again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That’s a yes if you ever heard one. But Ellie’s shoulders are tense, and she looks ready to leave. You can’t push the topic, but something is going on if Joel’s the one who upset her and is the same person making her come here to apologize.

“Okay, but Ellie?” You wait until she looks at you, her expression guarded. “I know we don’t know each other. Hell, I can’t even tell if you like me or not. But if you ever need to talk to someone who’s been through a thing or too, like I suspect you might have been, then you know where to find me.”

You don’t give her the chance to respond. You don’t even stick around long enough to see the expression on her face. You said what you hoped would be enough to at least get her thinking, to get her talking to you again.

You go back inside the slaughterhouse and get back to work.

Later that day, you’re in the mess hall having dinner. You sitting with a few others, occasionally joining in on the conversation but more lost in thought than not. A sudden clattering of dishes on your right side startles you.

When you turn, you see Ellie. You raise an eyebrow, but neither of you says a word as she sits beside you.

You both eat in silence, with you unwilling to be the first to speak in case you scare the girl off.

“I guess you’re not too bad,” she says without looking at you.

You scoff. “I’m guessing that’s high praise coming from you.”

“It really is.”

You take another bite and then say, with your mouth half-full, “You’re just alright.”

And Ellie laughs.

You don’t exactly become friends with Ellie, but you talk to each other more frequently. She’s opening up to you but hasn’t said anything about Joel. In fact, she hardly talks about the man, although she lives in his backyard and is known around town as “Joel’s girl.”

It’s your day off from butchering, and you’re making your way to the sheep barn. You don’t have to work; you could stay in bed all day if you really wanted to. But you were never good at sitting still. You always needed to feel like you were moving, doing something.

Most of your days off were simply spent wandering Jackson, stopping to chat with others during their shifts or time off. And while it’s not your job to tend the sheep, you like to visit them, lending a hand if needed, but mainly, you like to pet them.

You miss having pets. Sure, there are the horses, but they’re for patrols and not for casual riding except for those who are learning how. There are a couple of dogs, but you can’t exactly lay claim to them. They’re either kept in the kennels for patrols to sniff out Infected or, like everything in Jackson, shared between everyone. There are also a few cats, but most roam freely, moving from house to house however they see fit, and can be hard to find without a handful of food.

The sheep, though, no one visits. No one calls them pets because they’re not. But they’re friendly and like attention as much as any other pet you’ve met. You try not to get too attached to any of them, though, knowing you’ll eventually slaughter them.

Letting yourself into the barn, you’re immediately met with bleating. Some of the sheep are pressed against the gate to their pens, looking at you as soon as you walk in, either wanting out to wander in the fenced-off area outside or because they want more food. You know for a fact that at this point in the morning, they’ve already been fed, and you won’t be letting them outside. The overcast sky threatens rain, and no one wants to deal with soggy, muddy sheep.

Ignoring a few of the pens, you walk straight to where the ones marked for slaughter are. You know it’s not technically a part of your job, and you know more about killing a sheep than tending one, but you like to look them over, make sure they look healthy, and check that there isn’t any feed in their pen.

But a noise at the other end of the barn stops you—the sound of a person knocking into something. The idea of an unknown person behind you in such an enclosed space makes your heart rate skyrocket. You turn around, searching, but you don’t see anyone.

You’re safe in Jackson, you remind yourself. Whoever is here won’t hurt you.

But your self-assurances don’t ease your anxieties.

“Who’s there?” you call when you don’t hear the sound repeat, unable to brush it off. After the sheep are tended, whoever is assigned to them leaves to work another job until later in the day. Sheep don’t need to be watched over for long.

No response.

Part of you says taking a step forward is a stupid idea. Another part repeats Jack is safe.

Peering around the half wall that breaks up part of the barn, you spy Ellie sitting on the ground, head buried in her knees. Your fists unclench, and it’s only then that you realize you had even done so in the first place.

You let out a shaky breath and gently say, “Ellie?”

“Go away,” she replies without lifting her head. Though the words weren’t as venomous as that night in the mess hall, they still had some bite.

This time you don’t leave.

You find a spot against the wall, a few feet from Ellie, and sit.

“You like sheep?” you ask, picking at your nails to avoid looking at her. When she doesn’t respond, you continue. “They’re not too bad, but I miss having a cat. Nothing like one curled up in your lap.”

“Cats are assholes,” Ellie says quietly, finally lifting her head and resting it against the wall behind her.

You smile. “Not if you know how to treat them. You can’t treat them like dogs, for one thing. They don’t play the same. They don’t show affection the same.”

“The cats in the QZ only ever hissed at me.”

You didn’t know Ellie came from a QZ. And it means Joel likely did, too. It serves as another reminder that you don’t actually know these people that well, and the whisper of doubt creeps up in your thoughts once again that you could be wrong.

But figuring out that part of her life is for another time, and you brush the doubt aside, once again convincing yourself that you’re not wrong.

“You’ve gotta be patient with them,” you say. “Let them get used to you. Sometimes they hiss when they’re scared or unsure.” You finally look at Ellie. She turns her head toward you when she notices. “You try making friends with one of the cats here in Jackson. I bet you’ll have a better time than when you tried in the QZ.”

Ellie nods. You see her fingers plucking at the cuffs of her long-sleeved shirt. Summer’s coming on, and despite the cloudy day, it’s already getting warm for something like that. You wonder if she just likes the shirt or wants to keep her arms covered.

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask gently. There’s a reason she’s hiding, and it’s not because she’s fond of sheep.

Ellie looks away, tearing a hole into the cuff of her sleeve.

“He just…makes me mad sometimes,” she finally says after a moment, her words soft, hesitant.

“You mean Joel?” Ellie nods.

“I feel like I should hate him, but…I don’t. I like him.” The words are so quiet you barely hear them. She wants to talk, it seems, but is unsure about letting the words out.

The feeling she’s describing is sickeningly familiar.

You swallow past the lump in your throat and ask, “What did he do to make you mad?”

You don’t know if she’ll tell you, but you have to try.

But Ellie’s demeanor changes, and you know you’ve lost her. She either won’t or can’t speak about it, not with you, not right now.

“He took something from me he shouldn’t have.” A pit opens up in your stomach at Ellie’s dark words. She jumps up and rushes from the barn before you can say or ask anything else.

You’re left on the ground, heart pounding, sweat starting to coat your body as a million scenarios float through your head. Things that could have happened to Ellie. Things that have happened to you.

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes and breathe deeply.

You need to do something about Joel.

“What do you think of Joel Miller?” you ask Mack. After hearing what Ellie told you, and based on your suspicions, something needs to be done about the man. You just need to know what others think before you make a decision.

“I haven’t talked to the guy myself, but I’ve heard good things.” The two of you are leaning against the outside of the slaughterhouse, waiting for the day’s sheep to be brought in. Mack continues. “Always offering to help people, fixing things here and there for folks. Covering a lot of patrols. All around nice guy, I’d say.”

You hum in response as Mack eyes you up.

“Single, too, from what I heard,” he says with a teasing smile.

You start sputtering, heat rushing to your face. “That’s not why I’m asking.”

Mack only laughs. You want to argue, tell him that you’re not, could never be interested in Joel Miller. But the argument would fall on deaf ears, making you more guilty in Mack’s eyes. And worse, he might go telling people you’re interested in Joel. The thought makes you sick.

If you thought Mack was the kind to assume the worst like that, you never would have asked him. So you pull out your only defense, though you hate doing it.

“Ellie’s sleeping in the garage instead of the house. I’m trying to figure out why.”

You don’t like bringing up Ellie and don’t like others speculating about what happened to her, but you don’t have a choice.

And luckily, it shuts Mack up.

“Joel’s girl?” he clarifies.

“Yep.”

Mack goes silent again, his brow furrowed. “You think they might be having some problems?”

You shrug. The hole you dug for yourself is already big enough; it doesn’t need to be any deeper. Though you hate what you’re about to say, you don’t exactly want the rumor to spread. You don’t want people talking about Ellie like that.

And more importantly, you don’t want anyone to get to Joel before you do.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. She could just be a weird kid for all I know,” you say, your tone bored like you don’t actually care what the truth is.

Spotting the woman acting as the shepherd bringing the sheep for slaughter, you push off the wall and head inside to get ready to butcher them.

Days go by, and you haven’t figured anything out. Not what to do about Joel. Not about Ellie.

You spotted her a couple of times at the mess haul. She’s now starting to sit with other kids her age, and she looks happy. You’ve never seen her with Joel.

You wish you could go to the council about your suspicions, but with Maria being Joel’s sister-in-law, you don’t know how well that’ll go over. You heard a rumor that she wasn’t too happy when he showed up in the winter, but now, with the baby almost here, she might have gotten over whatever her issue was.

You’re currently alone in the slaughterhouse; Mack has already gone home for the day. Distracted once again, your normal pace slowed down, leaving you cleaning up alone at the end of the day.

You’ve taken off your apron, cleaned up the blood, and put the knives back in their proper spots. You’re about to walk out and lock the door behind you when someone rushes past, pushing their way inside.

“Hey!” you shout after them. “What do you think you’re—”

“Stop yelling,” Ellie hisses, interrupting you. She’s pressed up against the wall next to the door. Clearly trying to avoid being spotted by anyone outside.

You step away from the door as well, following her lead. “What’s wrong?” you immediately ask, your mind already racing as you imagine the possibilities.

“Just be quiet,” she whispers. “And close the door!”

“Did something happen with Joel?” your shoulders tense, your hands clench into fists. You barely hear anything except for the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

“He just… won’t leave me alone,” Ellie says quietly, not meeting your eyes.

Your blood runs cold, and the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“What does he do to you, Ellie?”

She jerks her head up, confused, her mouth twisted in a grimace.

“What? He doesn’t—”

“Ellie?” you hear someone call from outside the slaughterhouse, and you and Ellie freeze.

“I told you to close the door,” she practically spits.

You quickly reach for one of the knives from the table pressed against the wall on the other side of Ellie and turn for the door.

“What are you—” she starts but gets cut off.

“You in there?”

Joel walks through the door as you step in front of Ellie, meat cleaver in your hand at your side, trying to block her from his sight. Joel pauses when he sees you but then looks past you to see Ellie peeking out from behind you. The concerned expression on his face instantly shifts to relief at the sight of her.

“Ellie, would you please just talk to me,” Joel says, stepping forward, completely ignoring you.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” you say, shifting to cover Ellie more completely with your body. Joel finally looks at you.

“This is between me and her,” he says, dismissing you.

“This involves me now, whether you like it or not,” you argue. You shift the hand you have the cleaver in, bringing it between you and Joel but not raising it too high. You want him to know the threat is there, that he’d be better off leaving Ellie with you. “Every time I talk to this girl, she always seems to be trying to get away from you. So I’d say it’s best if you back off.”

Joel eyes the cleaver, raising his hands slightly away from his sides, attempting to show you he’s not a threat. You know better than that. People don’t need weapons to cause pain. The soft expression he had when looking at Ellie is gone now. In its place is a mask of stone and a glare threatening to tear you down if you make the wrong move. You stand your ground, not intimidated in the least.

You’ve dealt with more terrifying men than him and came out on the other side after all.

“I appreciate your concern,” Joel says slowly. “But this has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me,” you growl. Ellie says your name, touching your arm, but you shake her off. “You’re not running around in the woods anymore, Joel. Did you really think no one would notice?”

Joel’s brow furrows, but the deadly expression doesn’t leave his face. “Notice what?” he asks.

“What you do with Ellie.” You hardly recognize your own voice.

Joel seems puzzled for a second before letting out an offended, “What?”

He lowers his hands, and you notice he’s curled them into fists, matching your own. He doesn’t move, but you raise the cleaver a little higher.

“Or do you think you can get away with it just because of who your brother married?” you continue. You can’t help but try to egg him on, get him to do something, admit to something. “Making her sleep in a fucking garage? Really? Like we don’t live in a town with nothing better to do than gossip.”

“That’s enough!” Joel snaps, his booming voice sending echoes through your mind and making you do exactly what he wants.

You hate it.

You hate him.

“I don’t touch her,” Joel spits, glaring at you.

“And why would I believe anything you say?” you sneer. You take a step forward, more to prove to yourself that you’re not afraid than to intimidate him.

Suddenly, Ellie’s hand clamps down on the arm holding the cleaver. Her grip is tight, nails digging into your skin, trying to pull you back even though she’s not strong enough. She repeats your name, her voice desperate, but you don’t turn to face her, unwilling to take your eyes off the man in front of you.

“Joel doesn’t— He’s not…” Ellie stutters. Then she takes a breath, collecting herself. “Joel doesn’t hurt me,” she finally says.

You keep your eyes on Joel for a second, flexing your fingers around the handle of the cleaver. Then, you lower your arm and turn to face Ellie.

“Then why are you afraid of him?” you ask.

Elle shoots a look at Joel, then quickly looks away.

She can say it all she likes; she may even believe it herself, but you have doubts. Though you have no proof, something whispers in your ear that you’re right. And with the way Ellie can no longer look at you or Joel, you know there’s something.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Ellie says, meeting your eyes. “I just…”

“She hates me,” Joel quietly says. You whip around to face him, noting his now despondent expression.

“And why does she hate you?” you ask, anger still burning inside you despite you recalling how Ellie told you the exact opposite days ago.

Joel doesn’t answer you at first. He gazes at Ellie, his hands twitching, fingers rubbing against each other. When he speaks, he doesn’t look at you.

“Because I couldn’t let you die,” he says, his voice quiet like he doesn’t want to say it but knows he has to. His eyes are threatening tears, caught in a memory.

Ellie’s hand slips from your arm, and confusion falls over you.

No. No, that’s not right. You saw…

But what did you see?

And what does Joel even mean?

“What happened at the hospital?” Ellie asks, an old anger tinging her words. Looking at Ellie, you see she’s not upset like Joel. The downward twist to her mouth and the hard set of her brow make you realize that some part of her resents him. But the matching wetness in her eyes, her trying to stop you from hacking Joel’s face off, tells you she cares about him, too.

Again, you’re reminded of the conflicted feelings she tried sharing with you in the barn.

“Tell me the truth this time,” Ellie orders, giving Joel a hard stare.

“This…isn’t what I thought it was…” you say quietly, more to yourself than the others. You let your arm fall limp at your side, the cleaver heavy in your hand, and take a step back, trying to get the full picture of Joel and Ellie. But you come up empty, still confused. Still trying to take the pieces that you’ve seen of their relationship and put them into some sort of order.

“No, it’s not,” Joel says, looking at you. The anger and defensiveness have left him. Now, he just looks tired. Then he looks back at Ellie, his spine straightening, preparing for an unavoidable blow. “Let’s go home. I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

Ellie steps forward, following Joel as he steps out of the slaughterhouse.

“I need to know,” you say quickly, stopping them both in their tracks. You need to know what happened to Ellie. Need to know that she’s okay. That Joel Miller isn’t the treat you imagined him to be, and that the echoes of your past aren’t here, now, repeating themselves.

You know you shouldn’t ask. You don’t know them and have no right to their story, but you were ready to kill this man if you had to, and you need to know why you shouldn’t.

Joel is looking at Ellie, letting her make the decision.

Ellie looks at the cleaver still in your hand for a moment, something dark clouding her eyes for the briefest moment before looking back up at your face.

“Okay,” she nods.

You nod back, still a little lost in everything you thought you knew about them. You carefully set the cleaver down in its proper place and follow Joel and Ellie out into the fading sunlight.

33 notes · View notes