Author's Note: Here is a sequel to my story called Resident Evil Insanity. It shouldn't be too hard to find if you haven't read it. You can check my Deviant Art page if FF gives you some trouble. There's a link to my DA account in my user profile.

I'll attempt to update this story at least once a week, every Friday/Saturday provided real life doesn't get too busy. It's also worth mentioning that in my RE Insanity story, I had done a signifcant amount of work on it prior to putting it online. This story, for all intents and purposes, is entirely new. There used to be a general idea for this story that tied into Resident Evil 4, but I've opted to scrap nearly everything from that concept in favor of leaving the main cannon storyline mostly untouched. As such, I cannot gurantee that this will turn out anything as good as my last story, but I'm willing to give it a shot and see where it goes. I hope you enjoy it ^_^


CHAPTER 1

RELIVE THE HORROR

"Are the sounds of footsteps those of survivors?"

"Excuse me?"

You'd think I would have gotten used to the dark by now. "I'm still having dreams—nightmares."

"How often?"

"Once a week, maybe more. Sometimes I don't remember, but I wake up feeling cold and alone."

"I see. And the medication hasn't helped at all?"

"No," because I stopped taking it.

"You know, we can tell when you're lying."

No, you can't. "I know. If I could stop having these dreams, I would."

"And you still don't remember much, do you?"

Questions… "Bits and pieces, here and there. If what I dream about shows me anything new, I rarely remember it." Nothing but questions.

"Your last dream, then. Can you tell me what you can recall?"

Blood. I always remember the blood. "I remember running,"

"Like most of your other dreams?"

"Yea, running down a street… or maybe it's an alley. It's always dark, but I can only run straight ahead. Still, I end up feeling lost."

"And are you being chased?"

"I believe I am. I know there's something behind me, that if I stop I'll die—or worse."

"Or worse?"

Trapped for eternity telling the same person stories that I've had to have told her dozens of times before?

"Did you say something?"

"No… No. Nothing. Never mind. I guess I can't remember much besides the fear of stopping, slowing down or looking over my shoulder."

"Go on."

"I don't know if I escape or if I'm eventually caught but I do know the hopelessness that always follows."

"Hopelessness?"

It's like talking to an idiot. "Alone. Forsaken. Discarded. If I'm still even alive at this point, I don't have the will to continue living anymore."

"Do you see anything when you feel this hopelessness?"

"Maybe. I can't really remember."

"I would like to try something, if you're willing to participate."

You mean, you'd like me to try something. "Sure, fine." As if I have a choice.

"I'd like to watch you as you sleep."

Creeper.

"Do you think you can do that?"

"Why not?"

"Okay. Try to relax and listen to my voice."

Right. I would have brought a blanket if I knew it'd be naptime. I really hope I get a cookie and a carton of chocolate milk after this.

"Remember where you used to live, before you came here?"

I remember a life, if that's what you mean.

"Raccoon City. Can you remember your life there: your childhood, your family?"

Yea… I can still see their faces if I think hard enough, but I'd rather not.

"About six years ago, something happened in…"

Something… Right.

"…but you survived…a week…alive…"

So much blood. Everything... The streets, the police station, the school… Oh god, the school…

"…rising pulse… right… I'll go… administer…"

…they were just children…


Someone spoke, their words falling against a veil of numbed slumber. For one sweet moment, existence had been forgotten.

"Jake, wake up. We're finished for the day. It's time for you to go."