He wakes to stale air and a dark room, and he lies there on the bed.
Breathing.
Unthinking.
(And then the memories come rushing back: the panic, the breath not in Ellie' s lungs.)
There are straps on his arms and he struggles against them, until a voice cuts through his hysteria.
"Calm down, big guy."
Marlene rises from the shadows, a fragile smile on her lips.
"Ellie, is she...is she okay?"
She exhales, an empty, shuddering sound.
"I'm sorry, Joel."
He cries. It's a dead sound, something wrenched from the deepest part of him.
Ellie.
AN: I'm sorry. Terribly so.
I'm happy, so why can't I write anything as such? Huh, brain? Huhhhh?