Author's Note:
I understand that Leon Kennedy and Aya Brea is a very odd combination to collaborate. This story is written for my best friend, who is experiencing some very hard times in his life. As kids, our pin-names online happened to be Leon and Aya. This story is depicted through fictional characters and scenarios fused with non-fictional emotion and situations. So forgive me for giving the characters such a raw, realistic and dark "out of character" characteristics. With that said, I hope you can appreciate and enjoy the story, for it is not just FanFiction but thriving with truth. Thank you.
One More Note: This will also contradict some of the games' story lines, for obvious reasons, who followed the Parasite Eve saga. This is written as if Aya left after the first incident in New York City, Leon after Raccoon City. Good thing this IS fanfiction!
Most say the addiction does not lie within the substance itself but the high that given is what beckons you to continue. It starts in small doses. Enough to get to sleep or enough to take the pain away. The numbness that silences the nightmares. The happiness it gifts you when there is none. It's such a relief from the pain that dwells in soberness that the small doses begin to do nothing. So, you take a little more.
And a little more.
And a little more.
You wait for it to take over. To take you to that place that leaves a morbid reality as nothing more than a faint memory. Suddenly, like a dog being yanked on a leash pulled tight, it hits you. Your body becomes heavy and your thoughts are clouded. You welcome it's arrival, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you inhale, holding it, before exhaling deeply everything that was, only minutes ago, torturing you.
Your eyes scan the room and you notice things different than you had before. Your vision is altered. Like vampiric vision, everything appears sharper, even at far away distances. You become enthralled by the details of the world you envision in such a different way. And with this strong state of concentration, you can leave the cares of your labors behind.
A true Devil's symphony. A tune you can dance to mindlessly with your head tilted back and your arms spread as you twirl, not caring as you continually spiral downward. You move further and further away from a reality that haunts you. A distance that seems to set itself between you and the rest of the world. As if reality begins to lag yet it is you who is lagging outside of it.
It is only when you stop that the spins start. As the drugs work their way out of your body, you are drug back to the world you left behind. Your head is pounding. Your stomach churns and feels as if it's rotting. As if a thousand bugs start to crawl under your skin, stinging every pore. The pain excruciating even if you so much as sneeze. You don't want to leave that feeling behind, your mind desperately clawing back at it as it feels as though it's being drug through sharp glass.
The thoughts start to seep back in, making you want to scream yet that would bring even more pain. You will do whatever it takes to escape the grasps of reality and run away once more. To make you body stop hurting. To make your mind stop plotting against yourself. Even if you hurt others in the process. Anything to stop the pain.
Why stop what makes you happy?
What makes you forget?
A hellish cycle of good and evil.
A constant battle of feeling alive versus wanting to die.
I had seen Hell. Experienced numerous accounts of near death experiences when the closest anyone had got at my age was going to the theater. I still remember the smell of rotting flesh. Seeing people around me have their skin ripped and chunks of flesh bit out by other people. The fear I felt. My heart pounding against my chest with every step I took in the city of the Undead.
I survived though I never escaped the town.
It started with the night terrors. Being torn apart by people with empty stares and thoughtless survival. Tossing and turning under sheets that stuck to my damp skin. Heavy breathing and eyes clenched, fists curled as the monsters of my past devoured me in what sleep could be had. Some nights I chose to not sleep. Struggle to stay awake until my brain shut down unwillingly, having the chance that I would black out and sleep for a couple of hours undisturbed.
I ignored them at first. Dealing with them by distracting myself with work. I still carried my badge yet questioned myself every day. It was a constant reminder of those days in Raccoon City yet it was my ultimate distraction. I would make eight hours of sleep stretch between four to five days.
As much as I was haunted by the undead, I was becoming more and more dead every day. The feeling of being alive was no more than breathing and bleeding.
Until I met her.