Ellie trusts Abby when she says that Ellis died. They both know what death is. Intimately, utterly. They've seen it, they've dealt it. They know what it is to watch someone's eyes lose their soul.
Ellie wasn't there. She can only imagine. She never once questions the idea that Abby volunteered, or that Richard would have done it. It's Ellis. How could any of them have hesitated?
"Jesus Christ, Abby," Ellie whispers, because it's all she can say. Her heart's going a mile a minute. Her palms feel clammy. She wasn't even there, and she can't imagine it, but Ellie understands exactly why seeing that would fuck someone up.
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Ellie trusts Abby when she says that Ellis died. They both know what death is. Intimately, utterly. They've seen it, they've dealt it. They know what it is to watch someone's eyes lose their soul.
Ellie wasn't there. She can only imagine. She never once questions the idea that Abby volunteered, or that Richard would have done it. It's Ellis. How could any of them have hesitated?
"Jesus Christ, Abby," Ellie whispers, because it's all she can say. Her heart's going a mile a minute. Her palms feel clammy. She wasn't even there, and she can't imagine it, but Ellie understands exactly why seeing that would fuck someone up.