(Made with the assistance of [@AcerRo])

If Elijah's words had stopped Christi's heart before, then this was a knife to finish the job. [i]He... he knew Momma? She said that about me?[/i] If anything, that made her feel even worse. Her mother had thought so highly of her, and she had paid it back by killing her. 

[i]And Tillie...[/i] In a way, his words didn't surprise her in the least. Tillie had seen the best in everyone, even Christi. Every time that Christi had shown her whatever new carving she had finished, she had always lavished it with praise. She had even sworn that when she owned her family's general store that she would sell them right at the front counter. Whenever Christi had come into town, Tillie had always dragged her away to talk about one thing or another. Not that Christi had really talked much, she was more inclined to listen, but when she had Tillie had always listened right back as though her words were the most fascinating thing in the world. And when she left to go back home, Tillie always did her best to crush Christi’s ribs with a hug, and melt her heart with a kiss on the cheek. When she’d… been with Charlie, and then practically had it painted all over town, Tillie had been the one who had hiked up the mountain and held her while she cried. Tillie had loved everyone, and everyone had loved her. Right up until the world turned on her. 

But to have singled her out to someone else as special? Even just the thought had her lip trembling and tears threatening break free, and she barely heard Eric’s words. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve all that praise, she was just worthless Christabelle, who had killed her own mother. Tillie had been the perfect one, and now she was dead and Christi wasn’t. It wasn’t fair, it should have been the other way around! 

A sudden snap of a branch nearby broke through the loop of miserable thoughts, and her head shot up. “Sweetie, we ain't got a lot of time right now. I'm gonna walk past these trees and we're gonna get you patched up... Alright, I'm coming through. Just stay calm for me girl." She could hear him coming closer now, making her heart hammer against her ribs and panic flood through her mind. If he got much closer, he’d see her, he knew what she had done, he’d catch her. She needed to get up, needed to run, if he caught her he’d…

It wasn’t a pretty sight when Elijah stepped around the tree. There she was, sitting between two thick roots with her legs clasped against her chest and her crossbow sitting at her feet, a large, blotchy bruise running up and down the side her face, stretching from her temple almost to her jaw. As she saw his face, filled with naught but sympathy, she gave a small hiccup. 

It was the bruise that sold Eli on Christi. Seeing her face like that, Eli could only hope her father did it. If what he was told was true, he’d be a long time dying. That single thought almost made things better. "No one is gonna hurt you Christi. Just wanna talk."

The low, soothing tone of his words broke her, and her tears began to spill down her cheeks. “D-did you mean it? What you said?” Whether it was fear or hope in her cracked voice was anyone’s guess. 

“Every word sweetie. I don’t lie.”

Something moved in Christi’s chest, and she began crying in earnest, burying her face in her knees. Shoulders shaking, all the hurt and fear of the past few hours poured out. It only lasted for a minute, but as short as it was, it was intense. After she was done, she stayed sitting there for a moment, then lifted her head wiped her arm across her eyes. “Okay.” Tillie had always seen the best in people, and she knew that she had wanted her to as well. If Tillie had trusted Eli, then she would too… for a few minutes, at least. With that, she stood up, revealing the red stain on the front of her shirt, shouldered her bow and began walking, pausing once to look behind her as an indication to follow. 

Reaching the spot where she had left her bag and Jack, Christi smiled as the dog got up and approached her, whining. She briefly dropped to her knees, scratching his ears. “Good boy.” Giggling once as the German Shepard licked the tears from her cheeks, she wiped the dog drool away and turned to look at Eli. “This is Jack. I didn’t take him, he just… followed me.” Her expression fell slightly. “Danny’s prolly mad about that too.” She grabbed her bag and turned to follow Eli, gesturing. “C’mon Jack.”

“Danny ain’t your problem to worry about anymore, Christabelle,” Eli answered softly. 

She didn’t believe him. Danny hated her more than anyone, especially after what she had done. He wasn’t going to stop until she was dead and broken on the ground, just like Tillie.

When they got back to the mineshaft, she spared a clearer glance at Eric. He seemed somewhat wary, especially of her crossbow, but overall, he looked… well, he was there. Sitting down at the mouth of the mine shaft, her eyes flicked over the open bag and first aid kit laying on the ground. She had her own, of course, never left home without it, but since this one was there… she reached out and grabbed it, then nervously looked towards the two men. “Um, I can do this myself. Cou-could you… um… go? Away?” Her fingers plucked anxiously at the hem of her shirt. 

“You heard the girl. Other side of the mine, Miller,” Eli barked to the boy. “Christi, don’t run off on me now.” He walked to join Eric, just out of sight and back turned in respect. “Keep an eye out, that girl has had enough shit for one day,” he said in a low voice, half hoping Danny and his friends would show up. 

Christi watched them go, biting her lower lip. Once she was sure they weren’t watching, she pulled both shirts over her head, wincing as she felt the cut open up again. She’d been very lucky; located about an inch beneath her left breast, the cut wasn’t too deep, the edge of the knife having angled such that it had caught and skated along the top of one of her ribs, but it was long, half again the length of her middle finger. Pulling out the bottle of alcohol, she soaked a corner of one of her shirts, a ratty old green thing that was half falling apart, and pressed it against the wound, a sharp hiss of pain escaping her lips as it stung. A second, sharper hiss followed it as she dribbled more of the alcohol over the cut, wiping it clear with her shirt as Jack whined in sympathy, his head perched on her knee. Grabbing a role of bandage, she cut off a section and pressed it to the wound, sticking it in place with some tape. 

Wiping away the streaks of blood that had spilled down her side, and satisfied that she would have full range of movement without the tape pulling loose, she slipped one shirt on and pulled a third out of her bag, stuffing the soiled one inside. It still hurt as all hell, but it could have been a lot worse. She stood up and stepped out of the mine shaft, nervously looking at the two men. “What do you want?”