It is unnerving. Intimidating. There's a deep sick feeling in her stomach, an itching that's spreading across her skin, digging in like bugs. She doesn't feel right inside of her own body, and this is just an echo of it.
There's nothing like looking at a glimpse of what she used to be, to make her realize how far she's come. To make her realize just how lost she was. How twisted, and angry, and desperate.
How close to the edge.
Looking back on it makes her feel closer.
"Yeah," she answers, unflinching. She's looking at the page, not Abby's face.
"I was fucked up."
With a sharp twist of her wrist, she flips the journal shut.
Ellie doesn’t say anything for a moment and Abby falls silent, tracing the outline of her own face and braid, fingers tucked underneath of her lip. She couldn’t contain it. Abby was starting to burst at the fucking seams by the end. She had a clenched jaw sitting, aching in her skull and the nightmares were completely out of her control, killing her people off left right and centre. Maybe writing and drawing was helpful. A way of putting it all out there.
She won’t know for sure, she can’t bring herself to ask.
The sharp snap of the book startles her, and she sits up straight in the chair, hands dropping to her knees.
Ellie falls silent, existing in this weird place where she just doesn't know how to handle it. They share the kind of pain few others will ever really get, and Abby's the source of Ellie's side of it. Different pieces of the same fractured circle.
By all rights they should have each other, but they don't. Their choices made sure of it.
Ellie sets a hand heavily on top of her journal, protective of her hurts, but after a few seconds her fingers relax, and she leans her hip against the desk, looking down at her fingers.
She has something of her tongue and it's digging a hole in her, too heartbreaking to say, too venomous to keep inside.
"I thought killing you would fix me," Ellie says quietly.
Abby doesn't need to look at her to know what expression she's making. There's a furrow in her brow as she considers a spot on her knee where the fabric of her pants is fraying, picking at it with blunt fingernails. She says, "I thought killing him would fix me," quietly. "All it did was make me worse." And she doubts that it would have been any different for Ellie.
She didn't take that final step, the same way that Abby did. She was able to pull herself back from the brink. Not an easy thing.
She stands up.
Distractedly, "Don't– rush Ellis about all of this, okay. I don't think he really wants people knowing," because they'd fuss, obviously, and he isn't about that. She probably shouldn't have told Ellie in the first place, but oh well. Abby doesn't regret it.
The answer leaves her breath short, catching at the edges. It's not better. Joel dying that disgusting, excruciating death ultimately did nothing but make it everything worse.
Ellie doesn't know what she might have answered with. Is fine with not answering that at all. It's best if she doesn't. Instead she takes half a step back, her fingertips still resting on the journal, eyes following Abby's shoulder, if not quite her face.
"Yeah." She taps her fingers once. "I'll keep it under wraps."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
There's nothing like looking at a glimpse of what she used to be, to make her realize how far she's come. To make her realize just how lost she was. How twisted, and angry, and desperate.
How close to the edge.
Looking back on it makes her feel closer.
"Yeah," she answers, unflinching. She's looking at the page, not Abby's face.
"I was fucked up."
With a sharp twist of her wrist, she flips the journal shut.
no subject
She won’t know for sure, she can’t bring herself to ask.
The sharp snap of the book startles her, and she sits up straight in the chair, hands dropping to her knees.
“So was I.” She still is. Sometimes.
no subject
By all rights they should have each other, but they don't. Their choices made sure of it.
Ellie sets a hand heavily on top of her journal, protective of her hurts, but after a few seconds her fingers relax, and she leans her hip against the desk, looking down at her fingers.
She has something of her tongue and it's digging a hole in her, too heartbreaking to say, too venomous to keep inside.
"I thought killing you would fix me," Ellie says quietly.
no subject
She didn't take that final step, the same way that Abby did. She was able to pull herself back from the brink. Not an easy thing.
She stands up.
Distractedly, "Don't– rush Ellis about all of this, okay. I don't think he really wants people knowing," because they'd fuss, obviously, and he isn't about that. She probably shouldn't have told Ellie in the first place, but oh well. Abby doesn't regret it.
no subject
Ellie doesn't know what she might have answered with. Is fine with not answering that at all. It's best if she doesn't. Instead she takes half a step back, her fingertips still resting on the journal, eyes following Abby's shoulder, if not quite her face.
"Yeah." She taps her fingers once. "I'll keep it under wraps."
Even to Ellis.