~Psyche~
"What happened in there?" Claire asked while walking behind Steve. It was evident that Steve was deliberately walking at a faster pace to keep his distance.
"I don't know," he answered, shaking his head without looking back at her. Claire walked faster and grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him in the corridor. The redhead halted himself and sharply looked back at her, clenching his fists as if he was preparing to defend himself.
"You just attacked Doctor Reynolds," she pointed out. "I thought you said you could control yourself."
Steve frowned and looked away, almost as though he was in pain. "It's not about that," he told her, pulling his hand away from hers. He let out a shaky sigh. "I just... I saw that woman."
"Woman?" Claire reacted. "What woman...?"
Steve shook his head again, appearing uncomfortable. "I saw the needle and I was there again," he tried to describe. "I couldn't move. I was powerless. She came over to me with a shot of the virus - Alfred's sister, I mean. It was like I was really there again."
Claire stared at Steve silently, her eyes slowly trailing down to the floor as she gave herself time to think and process Steve's description. Steve watched her intensely while she let her thoughts wander, but he was quick to redirect his gaze to something else.
"...I need to get some rest," the boy announced. "Today was tiring." Without giving Claire the chance to respond, Steve hastily made his way to his room. Claire knew that he was right, though she couldn't help but worry for him. While rest was important for him he still seemed desperate to remain distant.
...
The next day...
Steve sat with his hands in his lap, occasionally playing with his thumbs as he watched Reynolds reading through the printed copies of his test results. He hadn't really said anything yet, aside from a quiet greeting and a bit of small talk with the doctor.
"Hmph," Reynolds hummed. "Your results truly are interesting, Steve. Your running speed surpasses that of any regular human's and your strength, despite your body type, is remarkable. You seem to have a higher tolerance for physical pain, if what I've heard from Miss Redfield is true."
The boy remained silent as he watched Reynolds, and it didn't take long for the man to notice his gaze. "You seem troubled," he pointed out. "What's the matter?"
What's the matter? What kind of question was that? Had Reyolds honestly forgotten what happened yesterday?
Steve gave the man a strange look. "Are you not... afraid of me?" he asked. Reynolds almost seemed offended.
"No," he answered. "Am I supposed to be?" Steve merely shrugged his shoulders.
"I attacked you yesterday," he reminded. "I'd be pretty concerned if I was sat in a room with someone as dangerous as me..."
"That's what I needed to talk to you privately about," Reynolds announced, seeing Steve react in an intrigued way. The doctor leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, holding his hands together. "Steve," he began slowly, "I believe you may have a severe psychological problem."
Now Steve was the one who seemed offended. His monstrous eyes narrowed as he locked his sights onto the older male. "Huh?" he reacted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I think you may need some help," Reynolds explained bluntly. Steve stood up abruptly, slamming his hands onto the doctor's desk as he loomed over him in a threatening manner.
"There's nothing wrong with me!" he barked. "I don't have any problems with my head, you got that?!"
"You have involuntary flashbacks," Reynolds reminded. "That's the first indication of a problem. But what really struck me as a problem was your view of yourself. Not only do you have negative thoughts about yourself but you see yourself as a monster."
Slowly Steve sat himself back in his chair, his eyes wide. He thought for a moment before opening his mouth, hesitating briefly before his words came out. "I am a monster..." he stammered. "I killed people, I ate people... I'm depending on an insane woman's virus to keep me alive..."
"This is exactly what I'm referring to," Reynolds cut in. "You refuse to accept that you are human."
Again Steve seemed irritated as he slammed his fist against the desk. "Because I'm not!" he yelled. "No human comes back from the dead! No human has a weird mutant virus keeping them alive! No human has weird abilities! I can't accept that I'm human because I'm just not one of them anymore! I'm something else now!"
Reynolds adjusted his glasses and exhaled heavily through his nose. "You speak as if every human is the same," he noted. "There are humans who suffer from rare diseases which can cause severe physical and mental effects. Are those people not human, Steve?"
Steve slumped back into his chair, though he still seemed highly irritated. He looked to the side, his eyes finding a model of the human body. He subconsciously stared at it while clenching his fists. "That's not the same," he said. "They're born with diseases or they contract them from somewhere. They don't turn into a big green beast like I did."
"You're not a big green beast," Reynolds told him firmly. "I'm looking right at you and I can confirm that you look like a normal human being."
The teenager huffed angrily. "I'm not that thing now but I was turned into that thing not long before I died," he corrected. "And now there's obviously a possibility that I'll turn back into that beast."
"What you used to be has nothing to do with what you are now," Reynolds corrected. "And you're not going to wake up one morning as a monster. I analysed your blood and the virus isn't multiplying rapidly at all; it has mostly settled and is not threatening you. The only possible danger is your scar, but that can easily be dealt with."
Waking up one morning as a monster was Steve's greatest fear. Every morning so far he had to check to make sure he was still human, all because he had a similar dream each night. He would dream of being that monster again. He would dream of swinging that axe. He would dream of obeying the Ashford woman.
He would dream of killing Claire.
The fact that he always had these dreams is what made him panic. He saw them as signs. Warnings. He believed that his body was warning him that he could become that large creature again.
"Steve," Reynolds spoke again, snapping the boy out of his thoughts. "I want you to tell me what you think you are. What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of yourself?"
The teen glanced down at his lap shamefully. "I'm a monster," he answered.
"Wrong," Reynolds corrected. "You are a human being, Steve. But if you continue to convince yourself that you are a monster then your mind will succumb to the Veronica virus. You will return to your feral state. Other people will easily be able to turn you into that savage killer again. Your body will not physically mutate but your mind will give in because you are constantly telling yourself that you are a monster."
"But I can't stop!" Steve cried out suddenly, his fists clenched as he bared his teeth in an attempt to hold back tears. His head remained hung in shame. "I can't make it stop, I can't!"
"Why not?" Reynolds pressed calmly.
"Because it's always there!" Steve cried. "Every time I go to sleep I'm there again! It always feels so real! It feels like I'm there!"
"Where?" Reynolds interrogated, remaining incredibly calm as he watched the boy.
"Antarctica!" Steve hollered. "I'm in Antarctica! I'm in that base! I... I'm always trying to kill Claire!"
Reynolds slowly nodded his head as he listened to Steve's hopeless sniffling. The redhead wiped his arm along his eyes to get rid of his tears but he couldn't stop himself from crying.
"The trauma you suffered there has caused your psyche to constantly remain in that moment," the doctor described. "You need to beat that monster."
Steve swiftly lifted his head to stare at him, his eyes red from the tears. "How am I supposed to do that?!" he shot back at the older man. "How am I supposed to beat myself?!"
"Claire told me that you regained control of yourself that day," Reynolds recalled. "That was when you truly were a monster. Now it is just a matter of beating the monster in your mind. Unfortunately I cannot tell you exactly how to beat it, but you need to find the thoughts which pulled you through the first time. If you ever struggle and feel like the virus is beginning to control your thoughts then it is up to you to fight it. Fight it with what you fought it with before. Remind yourself that you are Steve Burnside, a human being. Never tell yourself that you are a monster."
Steve once again fell silent as he thought deeply about what he had just heard, managing to calm himself down. Could he truly convince himself that he was human? It almost sounded ridiculous; how could someone like him be a human?
Reynolds handed the teen a mirror. "Look at yourself," he commanded. Steve flinched at the command but did as he was told. He met his reflection: sickly pale skin, dark spider veins and golden glowing eyes with slits. He was not human.
"Do you have fangs?" Reynolds asked. Steve actually had to check his teeth since he didn't actually know the answer himself.
"No," he answered upon seeing regular human teeth.
"Do you have any extra growths?" Reynolds queried. "Spikes? Claws? Lumps of flesh?"
"No."
"Has your skin turned green or black or any other colour that could never be associated with human beings?"
"...Not really."
"Have any of your body parts enlarged?"
"No."
Reynolds held out his hand and Steve returned the mirror to him. "Then that settles it," he concluded. "You're not a monster."
"But my eyes," Steve pointed out. "These eyes aren't human eyes."
"They are," Reynolds corrected. "You and Wesker are both humans with those eyes. They're just rare, that's all."
"They're caused by a virus," Steve reminded him.
"Some humans have pink eyes due to albinism," Reynolds stated. "Your friend, Mister Tremblay, has heterochromia. That causes his eyes to be different colours. Humans sometimes develop strange eyes."
"My skin makes me look sick," Steve described. "I look like a zombie."
"You're still infected and you did come back from the dead," Reynolds told him. "You weren't going to keep your natural skin tone after everything you've been through. But that doesn't make you any less human."
Steve was about to question his veins but knew that there was no point. Reynolds seemed to have an answer for everything. His fingers traced the veins thoughtfully, however. They still reminded him of what he was.
"Listen," Reynolds began, "I want you to tell yourself that you are human every morning when you wake up and every evening when you go to sleep. That should be a helpful exercise. If you can conquer your psychological problems then you could become a very strong young man, Steve." The older male pushed his chair back and stood himself up, heading for the door and opening it. "I think you are done here. We've discussed your test results and we've had our little chat. Oh, and the results from your blood test showed that the virus is no longer contagious. You're it's host now."
Positive news at last. He wasn't contagious. Claire would definitely be happy to hear that, so he kept it in his mind to tell her.
"If you have any problems then you can come straight back to me," Reynolds assured him. "Or you can go to Miss Redfield or Mister Tremblay. Reaching out to people is important when you are struggling. Remember that."
"...I will," Steve muttered slowly in response. "Thank you, doctor." He nodded his head and finally left the room. The appointment was over.
...
Claire and Mason sat together in the cafeteria that afternoon since both of them did not have any jobs to do. Mason took a large and loud sip from his cup of coffee before he spoke up to Claire.
"Anymore news on bioterrorist attacks?" he asked her.
"No," Claire answered as she used her spoon to absentmindedly stir her own coffee. "Though I've heard back from Tanzania and Chile. Both countries thank us for our help."
"Heh heh," Mason chuckled. "Being a part of this organization is great. We get to kick bioterrorist ass!"
Claire laughed softly before taking a sip of her own coffee. Silently she agreed with Mason's opinion; it was great to work for an organization which made the world a better place.
The cafeteria doors swung open and the atmosphere became tense as Steve marched inside with a frown on his face. He still hated the way people reacted to seeing him, even in a place like this.
Claire stood up immediately. "Steve!" she called out to him, waving him over. She wasn't intimidated by his hard glare.
The ginger teen spotted her and instantly his expression softened, a smile almost curving into his lips. He jogged over to her and Mason but was too hesitant to take a seat.
"Sit down," Claire ordered him, the command being somewhat relieving. "I'll go get you a coffee, okay?"
"No," Steve responded to her. "I can get my own coffee. I'm gonna try some chips, too."
"Food?" Mason gasped. "Haven't you not eaten normal food in, like, months?"
"Yeah," Steve nodded, "but I've gotta try eating normally again. I'm a little scared of what'll happen if I go hungry..." He was already hungry enough since he hadn't eaten in a few days, but starvation could possibly cause him to act feral again. He didn't want to eat flesh ever again, so the boy went to get himself some coffee and a bag of chips.
"Do you think he might be stress-eating?" Mason asked Claire casually. "Doctor Reynolds may have said something to scare him."
"Who knows?" Claire responded as she watched Steve awkwardly getting what he wanted. "I don't even know what Reynolds was talking to him about. He wanted to speak to him alone."
"Probably guy issues," Mason assumed.
Steve quickly returned to the table with his coffee and chips, sitting down beside Claire. "Alright, time to chow down!" he announced, sounding far too chirpy for someone who had been so depressed recently. Claire and Mason both labelled this as bravado, knowing that he was probably anxious about eating the chips and the meeting he had just had with Doctor Reynolds.
The teen opened up the packet while Claire and Mason started casually talking to one another. He picked out one chip and stared at his strangely. Normally he wouldn't notice the smell of something as minor as chips but here he was, enjoying the smell of something edible besides rotting flesh. He almost smiled at his mind's positive reaction to the scene before popping the chip into his mouth and crunching down on it, swallowing it quickly.
Delicious.
He started wolfing down the entire packet, catching the attention of Claire, Mason and a few people nearby. He only noticed their judgemental stares when he was finished.
"...Sorry," he apologized awkwardly. "It's um... been a while..."
Claire could only smile, reaching for his hand and placing hers on top of it. "It's okay," she assured him. "We understand. You must be pretty hungry after waiting to get regular food for so long."
Steve's lips twitched and forced him to smile back at her. "Heh heh..." he chuckled almost shyly. "...I might need to go get another bag, actually." Claire laughed.
"Go ahead," she said to him.
...
Steve roared and threw his axe as hard as he could so that it buried itself into the wall. Claire was able to narrowly avoid being hit by it, diving to the ground to save herself before looking back at her friend.
His claws were digging into his own head, drawing blood. He started to scratch himself and tear at his own flesh, falling onto his back as he let out a screech of pain. For some unknown reason he was trying to kill himself.
He dragged his claws along his throat but nothing happened. He wasn't dying. A howl of despair came from him. All he wanted to do was die. He did not need a reason. He just had to do it. He had to kill himself. But his body wasn't letting him.
Claire could be heard screaming. Steve managed to look in her direction, feeling whatever remained of his heart sink. That girl had just been impaled on one of his master's tentacles. She was desperately clinging onto life, but her body soon slumped lifelessly. The tentacle threw the corpse at Steve so that it fell beside him. Once again Steve howled with sorrow and grabbed the girl with his larger hand, cradling her close to his body. Did she die because of him?
...
He woke up screaming. The dream felt more real than any of the others. The image of Claire dead before him was embedded in his mind.
His room was dark, but he was able to see. He quickly ran to his door and swung it open, running down the hallway. He was glad to see that he was still human and was still at TerraSave.
Redfield. The sign on the door indicated that it was her room. Steve stopped just before it before pushing it open. He hoped that nothing had happened to her...
He was filled instantly with relief upon seeing Claire laying in her bed. She was fast asleep.
Steve curiously stepped closer to her. How could she sleep with such a peaceful expression on her face? How was it possible to sleep like that?
He didn't want to leave her. He was too afraid. Afraid of what could happen if she was left alone. Afraid of what could happen to himself if he was left alone. That dream had left him completely shaken.
Maybe she wouldn't notice if he took the other side of her large bed. She was sleeping so deeply right now, after all. The yellow-eyed teen slowly slipped into the bed and used one of his pillows as a barrier to keep him away from Claire. He turned so that his back was facing her and made sure to stay as far away from the girl as possible.
Once he was as comfortable as he could be, Steve closed his eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep.
The image was there again.
He clutched the duvet and curled up, his body starting to quiver. His eyes shut tighter but that only made the image more vivid. It was just horrifying.
He could feel himself starting to cry again. He didn't want to but he could just feel it. Steve wished that he could just stop himself from being so emotional but he just couldn't.
His quiet sniffling was loud enough to awaken Claire. The brunette stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes, putting her guard up when she realised that someone was in the room with her. She sat up swiftly and flicked on her bedside lamp, opening the drawer in her bedside table to reach for her handgun as she locked her eyes onto the shaking lump in her duvet. Before grabbing her gun, however, she recognized the sound of crying. Steve's crying.
"Steve...?" she spoke up slowly. The lump seemed to freeze and go silent for a moment before the soft sound of weeping was heard again and the trembling returned. Claire closed her drawer and gently leaned over, pulling the quilt gently to unveil Steve's body.
"Steve, you're not supposed to be in here..." Claire told him with a sad look on her face. The boy only looked up at her while continuing to sniffle - a sight which Claire couldn't bare to look at. She pushed the single-pillow barrier aside and shuffled closer to him, only to be surprised when he grabbed onto her and buried his face into her shoulder. His quiet sobs didn't stop.
"I can't..." he wavered hopelessly. "I can't... do this alone..."
Claire rubbed his back in an attempt to soothe him, hushing him quietly. "Shh... It's gonna be okay..." she lulled. "I'm here..."
She was. She was definitely there. She was holding him and he was holding her. He wasn't a monster trying to kill her and she wasn't dying at the hands of that woman.
But that just wasn't enough to make him feel better. He was too afraid of what could happen if he was left by himself for too long. He was afraid of something terrible happening to Claire. He had already watched one important woman in his life being taken away from him; he wasn't going to go through that again.
"Help me..." he whimpered like a helpless child. "Help me, Claire... I can't... I can't do this alone anymore..."
"You're not alone," Claire assured him, rocking him gently. "I'm right here." She gently lifted his face to make him look at her, smiling warmly at him. "See? I'm here."
Steve's eyes met hers for a moment, tears rolling down his face. He almost seemed astonished to see her face, but after a good few seconds he continued to sniffle and sob, his grip on her tightening.
"Don't leave me..." he begged. "Please, don't leave me... I can't take it..."
"Shh... I won't leave you..." Claire assured him, her hand now stroking his soft red hair. "Listen... You can stay in here with me tonight, okay? Cuddle up to me all you want... I'm here for you, Steve. I promise."
Promises were never usually taken seriously by Steve. He despised promises because they were so easily broken. But he trusted Claire. He knew that she would never do anything to hurt him.
He nodded his head but was still tearful. Claire held his face and wiped away his tears using her thumbs, locking eyes with him as she smiled. "It's gonna be alright," she reassured. "Come on... You need to get some rest. Tomorrow we're going out to get you some new clothes."
Steve tried to calm himself down, lying down beside Claire while remaining curled up in her grasp. She held him protectively and had no intention of ever letting him go while he was in this state.
She wanted to be there for him no matter what.
~End of Chapter~
