Ellie Williams

Having lost absolutely everyone close to her in Jackson and having just mercilessly dealt with Abby in Santa Barbara, a devastated Ellie wandered aimlessly around Seattle, trying to escape the crippling feelings of survivor's guilt and nightmares.

The rain pounded monotonously on the broken asphalt, and the damp air carried with it the smell of mold. She slowly, trying not to make a sound, stepped over the broken doorframe and entered another dilapidated two-story cottage. She had little hope of finding anything valuable here. Her boots slapped softly on the damp carpet.

Unslung her hunting rifle, she held it at the ready, carefully scanning every corner. Climbing the creaky wooden stairs to the second floor, she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. A sharp, incomparable smell immediately assaulted her nose—fresh blood and gunpowder. Ellie instantly raised her weapon, pressing her back against the wall, her mangled fingers on her left hand instinctively gripping the stock. A mixture of icy disbelief and a momentary confusion at the sight of the wounded man crossed her face.

• "Don't fucking move, or I'll blow your brains out right here. Quickly tell me who you are and what the fuck you're doing here before I leave you here to die. Who are you? Where did that bullet come from? Answer quickly before I put another hole in you."