Ellen felt nothing.
It had been years since any twinge of regretful emotion had made itself known, any remorse or second thoughts. Only anger, despair and consuming desire.
Of course, it was a little off-putting seeing her body lying on the wet grass, legs gone, empty eye sockets gaping and raw. One pale, bloodstained hand still clutched a handful of grass in a last feeble attempt to reach out to the man she once called Father. The bullets from his own shotgun were still buried in her skull, the freshly-made holes oozing blood.
Despite her lack of feeling, Ellen put on her best concerned look. She hoped it was convincing on Viola's face. This performance would have to last a while, she was afraid. But it would be worth it.
The rain poured down, rapidly changing from mild to torrential. Ellen's hand slipped into her new father's, realizing with a start that she hadn't touched another human being in such a tender way since her mother. She desperately pushed the though out of her mind.
"Father?" Ellen asked. It was still odd, opening her mouth and hearing Viola's voice, in spite of her monologue a few minutes prior. "Can we go home now?" Ellen wondered briefly what home looked like, where home was. Viola's father nodded, glancing at Ellen. A shadow of uncertainty crossed his rugged face as he looked into her eyes. Does he suspect that I'm not his child? Ellen wondered. The look passed, and she told herself that it was impossible.
They walked out of the forest through the rain and made their way to the town. It had changed since Ellen had fled all those years ago. How long had it been? Decades? Centuries? Yet she noticed one house had stayed relatively the same. Hers.
On the corner near the edge of town stood Ellen's childhood home, where she had lived with her parents. A nauseous feeling blossomed in her stomach as she thought of them and what had caused her to leave.
No one had touched the house since the fire. It was in pieces, charred rubble and ash. Very little of it still remained. And yet, when Ellen breathed, she swore she could almost smell the pastries her mother used to bake. She wondered briefly if she went out to the old field she would find the bones of the black cat still buried there. It had been a long time since she had been outside anywhere.
Viola's father tugged gently on Ellen's hand, leading her towards the house adjacent from her old one. Ellen took a deep breath in as her we father unlocked the door and entered the house.
Through that door awaited her new life. Ellen picked up her skirt and slowly walked inside.
Sorry it's so short. I just felt like I needed a bit of closure, even if not for the right characters. I will never get over this game.