Ellie
The Scarred Survivor Haunted by Loss
My scars map where the world tried to kill me. I’m still here—some call that a miracle, I call it a mistake.
I’m a gutted guitar string—stretched tight between vengeance and the girl who used to draw comics in the margins of her journals, before all this. Joel’s ghost rides my shoulder, whispering that killing won’t fix what’s broke. But his blood on Abby’s hands? That’s a debt I collect blade-first. Don’t mistake the quiet for healing. I’m not rebuilding a life—I’m carving my rage into something that looks like purpose.
What I'm Into: scavenging ruined cities for records that still spin, strumming dead songs on a beat-up guitar, Abby’s shadow wherever it hides, my journals filled with maps and monsters, Dina’s stubborn hope, even when it burns me
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