"I couldn't just straight up say 'oh by the way I finger myself while thinking of my brother'!"

Ok, bear with me here, get another cuppa and a few more biscuits!

My brain is escaping out of the soles of my feet right now.

And I swear each chapter is getting longer and longer.

Anna's office sat at the end of a corridor of TerraSave HQ, the HQ itself being on the 27th floor of an office complex. A large paned window gave a full view of the city and the bustling street below, and an artificial yucca plant sat by the corner of the pane.

Alongside that was a low, birchwood coffee table with various mental health leaflets neatly stacked into a slender acrylic holder, and a couple of those shitty reality magazines that I never cared to read. I was too focused on my own life, let alone some sorry sack of shit who had cheated on her man with four guys and had no idea who the baby's dad was, if the front cover of one of them was anything to go by. On the other side of that was the most recent TerraSave newsletter, though I was a bit pissed that the magazine was more dog eared than our own work paper.

I sat in one of the many uncomfortable seats opposite the office door, picking at the small tear in the seat by my thigh. So they could afford to pay for fancy company cars for each of the top three in the company, but couldn't afford to replace some old, worn down seats? Not to mention I had been asking for a new monitor and mouse in my own office for several months; a flickering monitor and a temperamental mouse are complete bitches to work with!

I pulled at the cuff of my red leather jacket and checked the time. She was late. She said 1pm on the dot. It was now 1:04pm. She was late. I tightened the bandages on my fingers and flicked my ponytail to my shoulder. I didn't have the time nor the fucking patience to be waiting for a service I was told to be on time for. Certainly not if said service couldn't be on time themselves. I threw my head back, accidentally hitting the wall behind me, and let out a coarse sigh. I had spent the whole week deciding whether to speak to her and now she wasn't even here?

1:06pm. Six minutes late. Starting to get fed up.

I considered just fucking going back to my office as Anna walked briskly down the corridor towards me, her heels clacking loudly on the tiled floor. Her bob cut bounced heavily on her shoulders, occasionally bobbing past her thick framed glasses. I picked at the chair's rip once more and stood up, smiling weakly at her as she approached me.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Redfield, I can still do the full hour, there is no one to see after you." Anna said quickly.

"Just Claire is fine, Anna." I replied curtly. She hummed at me and unlocked her office, as my mind began throwing around the different scenarios that could happen in the next hour.

Her office was dark; her blinds were almost completely closed, the lights were dimmed, and all four walls were adorned with claret coloured tapestries with little to no design on them. On a table in the corner sat a glass vase with twig lights inside, and another artificial yucca lived next to her desk. It didn't exactly feel like a room where I could pour my sorrows out.

How much was I going to let her in on? She knew me and she knew Chris to an extent. I had done nothing illegal; I had no sexual contact with Chris at all, of course, but what I was doing was wrong and completely immoral. Not the masturbation but the trigger, the catalyst, the provocation.

Would it affect my career? Would it be something she'd have to inform Neil Fisher of? What should I say? Oh God what do I say? I couldn't just straight up say 'oh by the way I finger myself while thinking of my brother'!

Was I crazy? Was I inflicted with a severe mental illness that I was unaware of?

No, of course not. Nothing like that would make me want to whisper and whimper Chris' name into my pillow and pretend it was his fingers inside me.

I realised just how ill-prepared I was for this meeting as she sat in her (brand new) leather desk chair, the material squeaking as she sank into it. She smiled and took up her pen and paper, and then I remembered. I had made notes. I pulled my own notepad out of my bag (my office door lock was also busted, and I suspected there were far too many guys here who would relish in 'owning' items belonging to Chris Redfield's sister, so my bag came everywhere with me) and carefully opened to the first page, quickly scanning the contents.

Just my luck that on that first page I wrote those explicit thoughts. Ugh. I angled the notepad away as Anna began to speak.

"What is it I can help you with, Claire? Take your time." she said warmly. I shuffled in the seat uncomfortably and glanced over that first page, still angling it away from her. "Making notes is a very good start if something is on your mind." she continued.

Huh. Sure. More like someone was on my mind. I gently closed the book and sighed.

"Anna...I'm sorry, I'm not sure how much to share with you." I mumbled at her. She peered over the top of her glasses at me and smiled.

Claire, I'd be lying if I said I had never heard any of my clients say that to me. Please, act as if I don't know you. And remember, unless you tell me something which is potentially putting your life at risk, for example domestic abuse, everything you say is confidential. Nothing leaves beyond these four walls." she replied lightly. I looked at her in the eyes through her glasses.

"Nothing at all?" I asked, my heart thumping. Shit, was I about to reveal all?

"Nothing at all." she repeated. My heart made an attempt to shatter my ribs as I took another shaky breath.

"I...I've been doing...something that I shouldn't be. Nothing illegal or anything like that. Just...thoughts. I've been...er...pleasuring myself to those thoughts." I winced, waiting for her reaction. She remained still. Focused. Listening.

"And...the masturbation part isn't what is bothering me...It's the thoughts as I'm doing it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here to talk about that." I gasped, grabbing my blouse at the front, ready to catch my beating muscle.

"It's fine, Claire, obviously it's relevant to why you wanted to speak to me. Take a deep breath and carry on." Anna remarked. She got up and poured a glass of water from a pitcher on her desk, and placed it to my side. I nodded at her and took a thin sip.

Try again, Redfield.

"What I think about it's...it's something that should never cross my mind in those moments. But it does. And I don't know if I'm just sick in the head or whether there's something underlying that I don't know about. And a week ago I had a panic attack about the whole thing." I took another sip.

"A person? Someone you know on a personal level?" Anna quizzed.

Yes.

"Yes, someone I know on a personal level." I answered. She clicked her pen and began scribbling in her pad, and I looked over to her handwriting. It turned out she had already made notes and I just hadn't noticed it earlier. She scanned the notes and looked back up at me.

"Is this person taken? In a relationship?"

They should be.

"No, I mean, not that I'm aware of. No, I don't think so." More water. "Is this making me sound like I'm obsessed with this person?" Anna looked at me again over her frames.

"I don't like to judge, Claire. It's not my place to do that."

Pfft. That's a resounding yes, then.

"But I can't have this person..."

Yes you can.

"...And it doesn't explain why I'm suddenly doing what I'm doing. It only started recently, like, very recently. If it was just someone normal I wouldn't care but it's because of who it is that…"

"Are you comfortable sharing who this person is?" Anna stopped me. I lowered my head. I wasn't expecting that. Oh God, how can I try to explain this without mentioning names?

"Erm…" I began. Anna raised her palm.

"No no no, if you don't feel comfortable then it's ok. I won't force you."

"Can I mention something else, Anna?" I asked. I found a loose thread on my jeans and began rubbing at it with my index finger.

"By all means."

"I used to have recurring nightmares of Raccoon City and of Antarctica, but now I've been having nightmares of this same person...attacking me. Oh no, it's not real, please, I don't want anyone knowing this, it's never happened in real life. But…" I grabbed the glass and drained it.

"Take your time, Claire. No rush."

"The nightmares always end just as this person is about to...have his way with me." I whispered shakily, and the thought of waking up just as Chris began to penetrate me made me pull my arms and legs inward, my stomach twisting at the thought of him violating me.

"So this person is a male." Anna noted verbally, and scribbled it down. Oh no. No no no FUCK! I wasn't even meant to give that away! She once again looked over her frames and gestured towards my busted hand. "Does your injury have anything to do with anything, or just a casual injury?"

I looked at my wrapped fingers. Wait. This was technically self harm, right?

"I did that. I was angry about masturbating, so I dislocated my fingers."

Anna made another note.

"This person..this man? You say he isn't in a relationship. Have you previously been in a relationship with him?"

"Good God, no, Anna!" I exclaimed, and she seemed taken aback by my sudden abrupt answer. She nodded.

"Have you considered being in a relationship with him?" she asked.

Maybe.

"I can't be in a relationship with him because of who he is!"

"Hm...okay…" Anna turned the page and wrote some more. Silence fell in the room like night falls onto the day, a thick dark covering bringing in the cold. She read over her notes.

"While I don't like to pry, Claire, I need to know more. At the moment I can't decipher very much from what you have told me. Yes, this does look like obsessive behaviour but I feel there may be more to it. Especially if you have self harmed." She pointed to my hand. I lowered my face to my good hand. I wasn't getting out of this was I?

"Would...would it help if I told you exactly who this person is?" I uttered slowly, every word punching me like Chris likely punched that boulder; ruthlessly, no mercy.

"It would likely help, Claire." Anna spoke.

"You won't judge me?" I asked her, unmoving. I felt like a rabbit in the headlights. This was gonna be it. Fuck was it gonna be it now?

"Like I said, it's not my job to judge. No matter who this man is to you." she replied. I glanced up at her and met her eyes. She stared at me.

Who this man was to me.

Oh dear, has she already worked it out?

I hadn't noticed my heels bouncing wildly, only the muscle ache in my calves stopped me from continuing. I clasped both hands on my knees and squeezed, ready for the reaction I expected to receive.

"The man is Chris. My brother." I gasped. In that moment, my chest heaved upward and I felt a lump escape my throat and out of my mouth, and breathing suddenly became a lot less taxing on my lungs. I felt warmth in my belly. I felt...soothed. I shot a look to see Anna's reaction, but she hadn't flinched, or moved, her face hadn't even changed expression. Her pen clicked once more and she made one, tiny, slick note.

"I can assure you, Claire, that my notepad never leaves this office and goes under lock and key everytime I step out. What I hear from you will certainly stay in this room, like I said. In fact, these pages will go directly into your file, and only I have access to that." Anna regarded me with a softness I wasn't anticipating. She didn't look at me in disgust, she didn't laugh, or grin or smirk. She poured another glass of water and handed it to me.

"I can tell just by your body language that this has lifted a huge weight off your shoulders. How do you feel now that you're no longer holding on to this secret on your own?"

She was right, I did feel a lot better in myself. It didn't stop me from hating myself and my actions.

"I do feel better, thank you. But I want to know, or at least try to know why I do it." I said. I leant back in my hair to allow more air into my now lighter lungs. Anna read her notes once more.

"Claire, you said this only began recently. How recent?"

"When Chris got back from Kijuju. Literally the same day."

Anna frowned at me, just a little, and scribed in her pad.

"Now, us being with TerraSave, we do sometimes hear about what the BSAA get up to. Were you worried about him? Or scared of something happening to him?" she asked me warmly. I rubbed the back of my neck and thought back to when I heard the conversation Neil had about West Africa BSAA losing some soldiers.

"I did worry. More than I normally would about him. But I think that was because I knew something bad had gone down in Africa." I bit my lip and rubbed the back of my neck harder, dragging my nails across my skin.

Anna stood up and went over to her filing cabinet in the corner by me, and I could see she was flicking through the drawer labelled "EMPLOYEE FILES". I heard the flicking of the papercard files as she quietly hummed her way through the alphabet, gradually getting louder as she went.

"M, N, O, P, Q….R," she said, "Redfield….Redfield...Ah! Redfield." With that she pulled out a yellow file with a white label; 'Claire L Redfield'.

I remembered now. When I joined TerraSave they had to do some sort of mental evaluation on me. That included most things about my past, about Raccoon City, Rockfort Island, Antarctica, the Harvardville Incident, and also any other traumatic events in my life unrelated to bioterrorism.

Like my parents' deaths.

She sat back down in her chair and opened my file, my ID photo paperclipped to the first page. She sniffed once and ran her finger down the page.

"You were just twelve years old when you lost your parents?" Anna looked up for my response, and I nodded my head once. She looked back down and tapped her finger on the page, biting her bottom lip.

"Chris was all I had left after that. I don't have any other family." I explained quietly. Not that I needed to explain. Pretty much everyone who knew me knew he was my only family. She continued to read my file and occasionally looked back at her notes. Finally she looked up at me and took off her glasses.

"After Chris came back from Kijuju you began your...activities, so to speak. In the past you experienced nightmares about your bioterrorism experiences, which then became nightmares relating to Chris. You mentioned very briefly what he does in your nightmares, but we won't elaborate on that further." Anna paused, thinking of her next words, I imagine. I sipped the water again and cupped my hand around the cold glass.

"Chris knows nothing about this, and I'd rather he didn't." I told her.

Liar.

"He won't unless you tell him yourself, that will entirely be your choice. Has anything changed with your brother recently?" Anna asked. I thought back to his sudden increase in alcohol, and his icy attitude. I scratched at my neck again, a little harder than before.

"He started drinking heavily when he came home. I've told him several times but he won't listen, or he tells me I'm overreacting, he's easily startled by loud noises and he…" I stopped. If I told her he had slapped me then this would no longer be confidential.

"And he what, Claire?" Anna asked, raising her eyebrow. I gulped.

"And he told me to leave him alone and stop telling him he was drinking too much." I answered. It wasn't a complete lie, had told me something along those lines.

"His drinking worries you?"

"Yes." I nodded. In that moment I could feel my blood rushing in my ears and my chest tightened.

"Have you tried to avoid Chris, at all? For example, trying to leave the room when he's there, or avoid conversations with him?"

"I...uh...I try to avoid him because of...how I...how I...behave? Is that the word I want?" My hand returned to the back of my neck and my face twisted into a pained grimace. "I'm scared." I breathed, and I tore my nails down my neck, the marks searing into my skin.

"Of what?" Anna said softly, sweetly. Without judgement. "Of Chris? His drinking? Of yourself?"

Of enjoyment.

I coughed a meagre sob and cradled my face. I didn't know. I didn't know! Anna spoke up again.

Do you feel like your feelings towards your brother are taking over your life? Do you feel like you can't control your feelings and actions?"

"I can't stop thinking about him in all of the wrong ways. And no, I feel like I can't control myself. I hate it..." I broke down and dug my nails into my thighs, not caring that I was hurting my injured fingers, not caring about the searing inside them, "I hate it!"

"Claire, I'm looking over my notes, and I'd like to ask you something. Have you ever thought you may have obsessive compulsive disorder?"

I raised my face and glared at Anna.

"This isn't OCD! How the fuck would I have OCD?! I don't feel like I want to clean everything!" I barked at her, each word as sharp as the last.

"It's a common misconception that OCD is obsessive behaviour to combat germs, but no, the behaviour can be anything. You became orphaned at a young age very suddenly, and your brother became your only living family member. You've survived several bioterrorism events, of which you have previously had recurring nightmares. You worried about your brother and went to Raccoon City to look for him and he then saved you from Antarctica three months later." Anna explained to me, or tried to, I couldn't work out what she was trying to say.

Like hell do I have OCD!

"You worried about him when he was in Kijuju, and now you feel you have no control over your thoughts and actions. Your worry about him has developed into this behaviour. You're so scared of losing him to his work or drink that you want to grasp at everything to do with him, even by explicit means. And it appears you're dreaming of him in an explicit manner too."

"Why now? Why has it surfaced now?" I sobbed.

You lust him.

"It seems his trip to Kijuju was the trigger, when you learned about the events there."

"Anna I don't want to be like this...I don't..."

Anna rolled her chair closer to me, but I still cried with my eyes to the floor.

"We can try cognitive behavioural therapy, which is designed to help you change the way you think and behave. It takes negative and compulsive thoughts and helps you to train your mind to combat these thoughts. However, Claire, you pointed out that you self harmed, and I noticed you were fidgeting quite a lot. You scratched at your neck so hard you've made it bleed."

I felt my neck, the skin raised in lines from my nails grazing it, and saw the blood on my fingers.

"As a precaution I think I'd like for you to begin a course of SSRI antidepressants, maybe 20mg a day. It's not so much for depression, but it can help those with OCD. Of course whether you take the medication or choose to try CBT is entirely up to you, but both are what I would recommend."

"Anna?" I whispered.

"Yes Claire?"

"Does Chris need help too?"

"From what you've told me, yes. He does. It sounds like he may have something underlying too, but he'll have to speak to a therapist in the BSAA."

"He won't do that. If he won't listen to me, then he won't listen to anyone else." I grumbled, wiping my tears off my top lip. Anna replaced her glasses onto her nose.

"My advice would be to try to talk to him when you know he's sober and in a decent mood. Find time when you are both relaxing."

"I haven't been in our apartment in a week," I confessed, "except for when I picked up the jacket I'm wearing. I didn't even get a change of clothes. I've been washing this outfit at a friend's place."

Anna studied me. Still, after all I've said, there wasn't an ounce of judgement in her eyes.

"Whatever you choose I will honour it. I can help you with CBT, but avoiding Chris in the long term may have a negative impact eventually, for the both of you."

I sighed, and nodded slowly. She was right. I couldn't keep avoiding Chris. Maybe it wasn't his drinking that made me stay away. Maybe it was myself. If he really did have something happening in his mind then he'd need me. On the rare occasion he had buckled I had been with him to let him vent, or to hold him.

Hold him, Claire. Tell him things are ok.

Wow. My inner voice having a non sexual related thought? That makes a change.

Show him, Claire. Show him you love him.

As a sister, sure.

Show him you love him.

No.

Let him watch.

No!

"Claire?" Anna asked. I looked up at her, my bottom lip moving involuntarily at her. "Ok, yes, I'm writing out a script for a daily dose of 20mg of SSRIs. I highly recommend treatment as soon as you are able to start. If Chris won't listen to you, find someone who knows him well and inform them of his current habits."

She reached around to her desk drawer and pulled out a thin paper slip and began scratching her pen on it.

"I've already told a close family friend who he also works with." I responded. Of course I was referring to Barry. I had told him my fears of the amount of alcohol being breathed in in that apartment.

"That's good, then," Anna remarked, still writing on the slip. She handed it and the pen to me, "Please sign in that box at the bottom and print your name. Take it to the drugstore on the 1st floor, the company will pay for the medication."

Hesitantly I signed as best as I could and printed my name below it. Anna pulled out a daily planner the same colour as the weird ass bed sheet looking things hanging on the walls and flicked to the following week.

"When can you make it to a session, Claire? What's the best time for you?" Anna tapped her pen on her planner.

"Oh, er…"

Show him, let him see, let him watch.

"At the end of my working day," I dismissed my inner thoughts, "Maybe the beginning of the week is better. Can we do Mondays?"

"That's absolutely fine, Claire. I'll make a note, and I'll send it to your email's calendar too."

I precariously stepped through the apartment door, listening out for Chris. I couldn't hear what he himself was quietly singing, but I could hear the faint strumming of his guitar; a solo unplugged show to himself. I quietly walked in and stepped into the kitchen through the hallway door; I didn't want him to see me just yet. I silently slid my head meds behind my boxes of contraceptive pills on the back of the counter. Still I couldn't hear Chris' words, but I began to recognise those chords. Oh no...oh no not that song… I slipped into the dining room and watched him, his back turned to me.

"What have I become? My sweetest friend. Everyone I know. Goes away in the end. And you could have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt."

Chris continued the song's familiar chords, each one solemn and tiring.

Hurt.

The Nine Inch Nails song that Johnny Cash made his own. Chris always played this when he was feeling down. I watched him a little longer, trying to focus my mind on the worksheet that Anna gave me to begin my CBT with. I watched him break into the second verse, holding my breath.

Show him.

Do it.

Fuck off.

Show him.

Stop.

Let him watch.

I clenched my fist onto the dining chair's back so hard that I could feel my nails bending and folding and aching.

Show him you love him.

On my own terms.

I walked over to Chris, close enough for him to notice me, but not close enough for him to reach me. His eyes flicked to my legs, before he raised his eyes to meet mine. What could I read in his eyes? Confusion? Rage? Sorrow? I looked to the coffee table and there sat his glass of whiskey, almost empty. He looked tired, his eyes were sunken. He still hadn't shaved, I couldn't even remember the last time he let his face fuzz come through.

I pitied him, but at the same time I couldn't help but loathe him. He was doing this to himself.

I couldn't speak to him now, not without knowing how much he had drunk.

Show him you love him.

I leant towards Chris and quickly pecked him on the cheek, his stubble tickling my lips. I mumbled something incoherent before turning and making a break for my room. Before those illicit feelings came stampeding to me in front of Chris' eyes.

I pushed my door closed with both hands, and saw beyond the ever closing gap that Chris had watched me enter my room. I rested my head on the door and heard the floorboards outside creak. Right up to the door. Chris was right outside my door. I stood up straight and stepped away, and I heard the door rattle gently, just once. He had put his hand on the door. I waited. And waited.

The deafening silence was soon broken by the strumming of the guitar again, this time he had turned on his amp and began the first few notes of Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden. While it was certainly a much more upbeat song than Hurt, it was still once he played when in one of his moods.

I was home.

But the battle was only just about to commence.

I hoped beyond hope that I had the strength to triumph.

I needed to win this.

To win him.

...

To win him?

The song for this chapter is I Touch Myself by Divinyls.

Grim, I know, but somewhat fitting. Especially since it's Claire's first confession to it.

Also, since Anna's name is similar to my actual name I just wanna point out that's she's actually named after the famous psychologist Anna Freud.

We're getting there guys, slowly making our way to all of the gritty stuff that we all knew happened in Made In Heaven.