There was a time once when she would have given anything for rest.
Now, she only wished to be free.
The pain had mostly receded from her body, as she floated half-consciously in a tank of fluid, her breathing kept in check by an apparatus strapped to her face and linked to the machine.
Her surroundings were blurry, foggy like a swamp. Occasionally, she could make out flashes of movement, but otherwise the world was still.
Her eyes were strained, partly from the fluid but also from fatigue.
She wanted desperately to break free. But her body remained still.
Rest, Jill. Close your eyes for a while.
No, that wasn't right.
Sleep, Jill. The world will be waiting.
It had been a long time since she took a nap. How long was it? Two, three years?
Since...the Mansion...
Rest now.
She...tackled Wesker...out a window... the cliff-side
You must rest.
Chris... was he alright...
REST!
No, she wouldn't rest. Her eyes shot open, feeling the slight burn of the fluid, as she pressed her palm against the glass repeatedly.
Someone will come. Someone will come.
Her muscles tensed, then relaxed. Something new entered her breathing tube, and she felt her eyelids grow heavier. Her head began to droop.
Before she fell completely into the depths of slumber, she risked one last glanced upward.
A man, with receding blond hair, dressed in black apparel, operating some kind of sharp instrument. Wearing... rounded sunglasses.
I know him...
Then the light vanished.