'Should I let you fall, lose it all
So maybe you can remember yourself?
Can't keep believing
We're only deceiving ourselves
And I'm sick of the lie
And you're too late'
I pushed my fingers through my hair, the foam of the shampoo slapped against the tiles as I flicked the ends. I wouldn't call myself a fan of Moira's shampoo; we had vastly different hair types, but at this point I'd take anything. Anything to bubble away the events from last night, anything to scrub the sin and crime that I was subjected to...anything to get HIM off me. I would've put money on Moira being able to smell that unique kind of 'scent' on me when she found me asleep outside of her door. I inserted a finger into my vagina and circled it; it was a vain attempt to remove what he had left inside me, but I think whatever would have emptied out was stained into my panties. I'd have to burn them. No one can know. Cleaning them won't be good enough. Cleaning them was not an option.
I rinsed the shampoo away and worked the conditioner in.
I calculated in my head the last time I had a period; however they've always been hit and miss, sometimes I'd even miss a month or two here and there, that was the whole reason for me taking the pill; to help regulate them. Regardless, I was going to have to go to the drugstore to get the morning after pill; I'm not taking any chances.
But you know how your monthly cycle looks, Claire.
I know I do.
You saw your discharge only the other day; you've probably ovulated by now.
Then I'm definitely not taking chances.
You had your family taken away from you, you'd love to start one.
Not with Chris, what the fuck?!
You'd love it. You'd love to give him a family.
Thanks for reminding me that I need to buy more weed.
By this point you're going to need a lot more than just one toke to silence me, Claire.
If that's what it takes to get you out of my goddamn head then so be it.
I squeezed body wash into my hand and vigorously rubbed it all over my body, but...why did I feel sad that I was destroying the evidence of Chris' body against my own? His warm, smooth chest pressed against my back like it was...
I sighed. I'm seriously going to need something stronger than weed.
"Claire-Bear! You're fucking telling me all these bruises and stuff is from practising karate chops and kung-fu kicks with brothersaurus?!" Moira shrieked at me as she attempted to pull at the towel draped over my arm.
"Well, yeah. We found that sparring helped us vent our frustration out, it helped a lot." I lied. I subtly adjusted the towel wrapped around my head; she could already see my panda eyes from the nose injury, she didn't need to see the bruises nestled underneath my hairline.
Full of absolute shit, aren't ya?
"Babe you fucking look like you've gone nine rounds against Mike Tyson!"
I laughed, as much as I could through the burning in my side, at least.
"It was fun, we enjoyed kicking the shit out of each other!" I grinned at her.
Full. Of. Shit.
My phone buzzed next to me and I read the text;
~ Claire, it's Dave. I was called by the resident below your apartment because they could hear you shouting. I tried to knock but there was no answer, I tried to come over on the balcony too but I couldn't see or hear anything. I'm not allowed to break in without a permit, otherwise I would've. Please let me know you're fine~
I looked up at Moira and quickly lied that it was a colleague.
~Thanks, Dave, I'm ok, just a little argument. Chris was being a twat again, as you'd say ;) thank you for being concerned, but I'm fine. Listen, I've stepped back to give him some space and I don't know how long for yet, can you check on him from time to time please? I'm still in the city.~
Moira's expression didn't change as I stretched one arm to the ceiling and vocalised a yawn.
"Anyway, Moira, I've got to head in to work today so I'll go get dressed now." I placed my drained cup of coffee down on the new funky pink table and carefully stood up, masking my grimace of pain from her. Damn. My pelvis felt shot as fuck, too. He really fucking pounded me. I could see her watching me with worry and concern as I picked up my bag and headed for the bathroom again.
"Claire?"
I turned to look at her, holding the towel up around my chest. Her brows furrowed at the ends, and she gave me the saddest pout I've ever seen on her face. She looked shit scared.
"The apartment across from me is vacant right now if you need a safe space for yourself. Just saying." Moira finally spoke.
Yeah. She totally knew something had happened.
I felt I had done a pretty damn good job of concealing my black eyes with Moira's makeup, and I strolled into the drugstore with confidence, and though it was quite warm today I wore my usual long sleeved jacket that everyone had grown to associate with me.
"Hey, I recognise that jacket from a mile off!" said a voice.
Sometimes a little TOO associated with me. I turned and was met with the face of that numbskull. I sighed.
"Leon."
"Claire! How are you?" Leon S fucking Kennedy, of course.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Still not forgotten about the White House incident, you bastard. Thanks for saving my ass though.
"Wow, are you wearing makeup? I'm not used to seeing you wearing that much makeup, Claire." He smiled, swishing his blonde hair from his eyes. God he's insufferable these days.
"I just thought I'd have a little change for once." I replied, and I saw his eyes wander to my neck over the jacket collar. Fuck. I forgot to conceal that bruise. He looked back to my face and smiled again.
"You're pretty enough without too much of it though, Claire, you know that."
Leon, please, go away, I thought. You've already clocked that bruise on my neck, you do not need to see me buying the morning after pill, you'd start asking questions.
"Why are you even here, Leon?" I asked, subtly adjusting my collar.
"Ah, I need allergy stuff, I've become weak to flowers, you see. Maybe they're just too pretty for me to bear." He turned his head and feigned a sneeze before smiling, ugh, cutely at me.
Why don't you fuck him too, while you're at it, Claire?
"Leon, I still haven't forgiven you for keeping that data, don't try to flatter me, it's not gonna work." I raised an eyebrow, and it stung my face. I'm surprised I can even twitch a muscle after the beating I got. He rubbed the back of his neck at me.
"Look, Claire. I'm not trying to hit on you, you know I wouldn't, we're not like that. But am I not allowed to say you're pretty? You're a pretty woman, you don't need to wear so much foundation," he smirked at me and looked me down and up, "that makeup doesn't suit you."
Smug fucker was mocking what I said to him about his outfit at the White House. Ugh, go away please.
"Leon, thank you, but listen, I'll leave you to look for what you need." I said, and I turned to head for the counter. I placed my hand lightly on the surface and cleared my throat. The woman behind looked up and smiled at me.
"How can I help you, Miss Redfield?" My eyes widened. Of course she knew who I was, TerraSave got the company prescriptions from here, like my own meds. I could see that Leon had found the allergy meds and was waiting in line behind me. I swallowed, and the woman tilted her head in mild confusion. I glanced at Leon, who gave me one of his trademark smiles.
"I'll come back later." I mumbled, and with that I paced out of the drugstore and went to work.
Ugh. Anna and her goddamn time keeping…
I stared out of the large paned window as I thought of Chris, and the night before. Poor guy. I stabbed him in the shoulder with a pencil, of all things. Why though? Was I angry that he had raped me? Or was I angry at myself for being a fucking whore and enjoying what he was doing? Did I take my own anger out on him?
He had helped me so much over my life. He had given up everything just for me. He didn't have to, but he did. I owe him my life, if anything. Maybe I had just been ungrateful to him over the last couple of months? Maybe I should've supported him so much more than I did. He expected more from me, and I failed him. My phone buzzed on my lap;
~ Can do, love, hope you're alright. I'll keep you posted about the twat upstairs for ya ;) lemme know if you need more plant life and I can get it to you if you don't want to come here for it :) ~
~ Thanks, Dave. I appreciate it. I'll talk to you in person at some point in the near future ~
Chris doesn't want to be like this. I know he doesn't. HE knows he doesn't. But if he's going to continue to drink, after all of his therapy sessions and our conversations, then why should I try for him? I can't help him if he can't help himself. Why should I be the one to put in the effort and the literal blood, sweat and tears if he isn't going to bother? Him, and only him, can correct his behaviour, only he can truly change himself. I can only advise and support him.
You know what? Fuck him. I'm not going to pity him anymore. I tried. I fucking tried, and all I got was beatings and a dick up my cunt? Yes, I may have owed him something, but to take my virginity and my dignity? What kind of fucking animal does that to his sister? How could it possibly have crossed his mind that what he did was acceptable?! Not just to me, but to anybody?
What would've happened if he wasn't at home? Would he have grabbed some random woman on the street? I get it, he raped ME, but would he have done it to someone else? He did say he'd wanted to sleep with me for a long time, but he was also drunk and definitely not thinking straight. I shivered. I didn't want to entertain the thought of my brother being outed as a rapist, even if he was to a degree. At least there was a slight chance I may have saved another person from that hellish experience. Maybe I should just crawl back home and offer my ass to him, no one else will get hurt that way.
No. Fuck him. Let him fucking deal with this shit on his own. I've got to think about my own mental health now. And I've got a pregnancy to avoid. I'll go back to the drugstore after work. He can go fuck himself.
I thumbed at my blouse sleeve and my wrist clicked as I moved it. Damn, he really fucked it up, didn't he? My elbow ached too from the harsh twist he put on it. I still could barely breathe, and I pondered whether to actually go to the hospital.
You promised.
He didn't promise back.
You were sparring.
Oh yeah. We were, weren't we?
Yeah, you didn't block, you fucking dumbass. Serves you right. Learn to block.
It doesn't matter anymore.
You're looking forward to the next time.
There won't be a next time.
You say that now…
"Good morning, Claire!" Anna's voice rang out down the corridor at me. I looked at her with weary eyes and smiled.
"Morning." I sighed. She eyed me cautiously before unlocking her office and beckoning me in. I quietly sat down as she pulled my file from her drawer, and I twisted my chair a little to directly face her and offered her another wry smile.
"And how have you been feeling?" Anna asked, peering at me over the tops of her glasses. I shuffled my butt and offered another smile. Had to mask that aching in my pelvis somehow.
"I've been ok, a few little arguments, and some slow progress, but I'm getting there."
Liar.
Anna gestured lightly towards me.
"Can I ask about the bruise on your neck?"
"Sure. Erm, Chris and I found that sparring, as in karate sparring, was really helpful in getting our frustrations out. We got a bit too enthusiastic though, as you can see." I laughed after my words had finished; would she buy it?
"Claire. I've been in this line of work for as long as you've been alive. I've seen many different pretences. I've seen the hidden secrets. Please be honest with me."
Tell her.
No.
You said it yourself; Chris could be a danger to others.
No, he won't be.
How do you know that?
"Claire?"
"I am being honest," I lied. I leant towards her, just enough to try and convince her that I had an air of truthful confidence about me, and more sharp pains aggravated my side, "we practise karate and the self defence that comes with it to help curb our emotions. We just go a little too overboard, sometimes. But we always feel so much better afterwards. We wind down afterwards in the sauna to help ease our muscles."
"Does your brother have bruises too?" quizzed Anna. I laughed again.
"No, no he doesn't, not really. I'm the peach that bruises easily, he's a watermelon, pretty much."
Anna didn't seem convinced, and she flicked through my files. After a short while, she looked back up at me.
"After you injured your shoulder a couple of years ago you showed no signs of bruising. After the Airport incident, no bruising. How hard are you hitting each other?"
Keep it together, Claire. It's her job to see through this stuff.
"Pretty damn hard, I'd say. But we wear the correct sparring equipment."
Liar.
"So you wear the equipment yet you're still bruising?"
"I told you, we go all out." I felt my eyes flick away, only briefly. Hers, however, stayed on my face, and I could see her tracing around my head, settling back at my neck. To my relief she changed the subject.
"Are you still engaging in your acts?" she asked me, clicking her pen to her pad.
"Yeah," I sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from my hairline, "I know in our previous session we spoke more about fighting my urges, but I don't know if I have the strength to keep fighting it."
"Are you wearing foundation, Claire?" she asked suddenly. I frowned at her.
"Why do you ask?"
"You just brushed your forehead, but you smeared away the foundation. I didn't know you wore foundation. I've personally never seen you wear it, anyway. I can see you're sweating from just being too warm, yet you continue to wear your thick leather jacket."
My brain went hell for leather trying to find a believable excuse, just like what I had told Leon, and several colleagues already today.
"I just felt, you know, felt like wearing some foundation. God why is everyone asking me about it today?"
"Because everyone knows you wear only a tiny bit of mascara or eyeliner, maybe lip gloss. No one has seen you wear foundation before."
"And my jacket? I'm not as warm as I look." I shrugged at her and smiled again, but she clicked her pen and set it on her desk with her pad before wheeling her chair just a little closer to me.
"Claire. I don't wish to be harsh but I may need to be now. Please tell me the truth. I can see you're forcibly trying to face me head on, you're maintaining eye contact with me, you're leaning towards me. You're keeping your jacket on when it is clearly too warm for it. You never did this in our previous sessions and now you are."
I gulped. Fuck, she's seeing right through me, isn't she? Anna continued.
"You're wearing foundation. I can also see you have mild swelling on the side of your head, and around your eyes. Your nose, no offense, looks broken. You're regulating your breathing, almost like you're deliberately forcing yourself to keep your composure. And the bruise on your neck isn't consistent with any kind of martial arts I'm aware of."
I kept my cool. I fucking fought that as hard as I possibly could.
"That neck bruise is consistent in victims of strangulation."
I breathed in sharply and stared at her face, and I saw the tiniest of smirks crack in the corner of her lip. She had it. She fucking knew she had worked it out.
"Claire. What has happened at home? What has Chris done? What have YOU done?"
"Neither of us have done anything."
"Are you going to tell me that the neck bruise is from a choke hold? Because if you are I'll know you're lying. I practised judo in my teenage years and my twenties, and that is not a choke hold bruise. That's from a hand around your neck."
I breathed in to talk, but my phone began ringing. My blood went cold. That was Chris' ringtone. I glanced at my phone and saw his name in big letters across the screen, before swiping it away.
"Sorry about that, I forgot to mute my phone." I mumbled. I began tapping to enter the settings menu before Chris' name appeared once again, and I immediately rejected the call. Successfully setting the phone to only vibrate I went to place it in my bag, but not without rejecting one last call from Chris.
"I know that was your brother calling, apologies for looking at the screen. I wouldn't have minded if you had answered him and told him you were in a session."
"Oh no no it's fine, Anna."
"But instead you rejected his calls. Why, Claire?"
Anna was slowly cornering me like injured prey to lions. I was rapidly running out of reasons.
You mean excuses.
"Claire, please, I'm here to help. If anything has happened then please tell me, because you're not covering yourself very well and I'm becoming more and more concerned. Has Chris attacked you?"
My phone buzzed against the metal zip of my handbag. Just once. A text message.
"No, he hasn't."
"Claire, look at me. Has Chris attacked you? Remember, you're safe in here and so are your words."
"But you said if you suspected anything it wouldn't be confidential anymore."
"So he has attacked you."
"No! That's not what I'm saying!" I kept my composure as well as I could; I couldn't show her any sort of over the top reaction.
"You wouldn't question confidentiality like that if he hadn't attacked you."
"But he hasn't! We were sparring! Why doesn't anyone get that?!" I sat myself up straight and nearly left my seat. I was getting angry. I needed to calm down, my cover was being blown apart enough without my anger aiding it.
"Have you heard of the term gaslighting, Claire?"
"No?"
"It is basically when someone toys with your mind and makes you doubt your own perceptions. Has Chris repeatedly told you that you were both sparring when in actual reality that wasn't the case?"
"But we WERE sparring! We were in our karate uniforms and everything! In the gym! On the foam floor! SPARRING!" I shouted indignantly. So much for keeping that composure.
My phone buzzed again, another text message.
"I'd like for you to do me a favour, Claire. Make a phone call to Chris."
"I'm not calling him in a session." I gritted through my teeth.
"You have my permission, don't worry."
"But I'd rather not."
"Why?"
Damn, she was really pushing me.
"We're not talking currently." I replied.
"Is that so? If that's the case then why did he call you three times?"
"Look, I don't know, can we just carry on, please?" I threw my arms up, immediately regretting it. Why do I keep forgetting about my rib? Ugh.
Anna removed her glasses and leant towards me, worry pooling in her eyes.
"Claire. I need to know. This is detrimental to your own health now. I won't get the police involved if you don't wish to press charges but I need to know exactly what is going on. This is beyond just your obsession with him now." Anna had almost lowered her voice to a delicate whisper, as if ears were pressed against the gross tapestries lining the room. I battled my emotions, I wanted to push them away, but the mental army of fear and hatred stampeded down my hill of fear harder than I could endure. Anna I think could see that.
"Claire Redfield, this is serious. You need to think about yourself. Remove yourself from the situation."
"I...I...can't leave Chris…"
Yet fifteen minutes ago you were saying he can go fuck himself?
"If this is what he's doing to you, physically and mentally, then you need to get away from him, Claire, your life could potentially be at risk."
My life? Chris would never make an attempt on my life!
He fucked you though.
I know he did.
You love him but you despise him.
I know.
So what will it be? Love him or hate him?
I don't know!
No. You don't know. You indecisive little whore. You hate him but you want his dick again. Whore.
"But I want to help him…" I threw myself forward into my palms, and once again, like a fucking baby, I cried. I cried because I couldn't fucking decide if I wanted to help my brother or help myself. After what he did it should be a no brainer, right? Of course not! This is me we're talking about!
"Claire, listen to me. He's your brother, your big brother, I'm not denying that for a second, I know you love him, I know you have no one else. But you NEED to THINK. Think of yourself. You can't help him if he breaks you. You live with him, right? Maybe I can speak to HR and request emergency housing for you, but you absolutely have to take yourself away from him. If it carries on he could kill you."
Her last words iced my heart and my mind spun in circles. Was he really capable of killing me?
"Please tell me the injuries you have currently. What did he do?." Anna asked. I breathed and closed my eyes, the rib poked and prodded at me, as if it was taunting me.
"Anna. We were sparring. But I can tell you what the injuries are." I breathed again. Did I really want to do this? Could I trust that Chris wouldn't get the police kicking down the door in a couple of hours?
"I'll begrudgingly accept that these are sparring injuries, but please tell me."
"Alright," I painfully sucked one last ounce of breath in, "twisted arm and bruised wrist from arm locks, he got a bit carried away. Hence the jacket. Bruised rib; from takedowns and a kick I missed trying to block. Entirely my fault, but I'll manage. Busted nose from another failed block, again, my fault. He tried to blame himself though, saying he should've anticipated that I might miss the block."
Wow, Claire, with this level of bullshit you should become a politician. Missed your calling.
"And the bruise on your neck?" Anna quizzed. I quietly thought of another believable lie.
"Another takedown. He got a bit rough."
Anna stared at me for some time in silence, and my phone once again buzzed. I spoke up for another time, realising she knew far too well this little game I was playing.
"I think for now I'll be going to another place that I've found, but I'm scared of how Chris will cope without me, or more correctly, how he won't cope without me."
"He needs you a lot more than you need him right now, yes. However, I implore you to keep your distance. For your own good. He's having his own therapy and you have yours. You can't let him use you as a personal punchbag."
I remained silent as more tears rolled down my battered cheeks.
"If I find out that you go back to him, make no mistake, I WILL get the police involved. I'm already going against my own work for not sending them round to your brother right now. You HAVE to remove yourself. Take a step back, breathe, go back over your notes that we went through. Continue with your CBT as we have spoken about throughout all of our sessions, and continue with your medication."
"I don't know if I can…"
"You're strong, Claire. You're quite possibly the strongest woman in this organisation. Both you and Chris need a break from each other's presence. By the way, I'd like to ask you something, just one more thing."
"What's that?"
"Is there a reason your walking is a bit strained?" Anna queried. Oh, fuck off! I didn't think of an excuse for this!
"I'm just aching from sparring, is it obvious?" I answered half-heartedly.
"It is. Is there one last thing you'd like to tell me?"
Yes.
"No, Anna, that's all. I've told you everything."
Fuck off, Claire.
Still seemingly unconvinced, Anna picked up her notepad and pen from her desk and scribbled on a fresh page. I exhaled as slowly as I could manage. I can't even lie convincingly. What a fucking joke.
What a shit show of a day that was. A meeting with Anna where I think I lied more times in that room than I had in my whole life; three other team meetings that were basically human interaction regarding useless information I had already received in emails, and my desk chair finally fucking broke; the wheel fell off and I flew ass over tit over the back. At least this injury was easier to explain. How fucking embarrassing. Right in front of Neil Fisher, too. The highlight of the day was meeting Dave around the corner of the block. We didn't even talk about yesterday. I knew he knew that Chris had beaten me. He was just relieved that I had got away. I slammed my still broken door closed, and with a sniff of my nose I pulled my phone out as I paced down the corridor, dodging other operatives as I went. Finally I checked the texts that that asshole had sent.
~ Claire, please answer your phone. Did I get too drunk again? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away again. I'm sorry, please call me when you can. Love ya, sis. ~
I gawked at my phone screen as I exited to the 1st floor, crossing the lobby to the drugstore; Morning After Pill Attempt Number Two; Electric Boogaloo. He wouldn't know if I had read the text or not. Next message;
~ I'm sorry. Please. Please know how sorry I am. I didn't mean to get so drunk. I'm trying. ~
Who was he kidding, seriously? He really didn't remember what he did to me, did he?
~ I'll always be here, Claire, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for being a bad brother to you. I love you, baby sis. Always. ~
I sniffed hard, my nostrils itchy. Nope. He definitely didn't remember what he had done to me. I carelessly threw my phone into my handbag and coughed a weak sob. I could never remember a moment in my life where I was this conflicted with my own desires. Staying away from Chris was in my best interests, but how would he handle himself with me not being around? Should I speak to him?
No. Not a chance. Not after what he did. Let him fucking apologise. Let him fucking realise how shit he's been. Let him suffer alone. Let him drink himself into a stupor. Let him give me the stereotypical alcoholic spiel of 'I can change!' or 'it wasn't me, it was the drink!'
Do you love him or hate him?
I hate him. I hate my brother. I hate that I'm still alive after all of these incidents. I hate that HE'S still alive. Why couldn't both have just fucking DIED in Antarctica when it blew up? Why couldn't Albert Wesker have killed him? Why couldn't Steve Burnside have killed me?
Why did I go looking for him in Raccoon City? I could've stayed comfy at college and never have had to worry about bioterrorism. I could've had a normal, carefree life. I could be married with a kid or two by now.
I'll never forgive him. As I entered the drugstore through the open door I vowed I'd never forgive him. He had his fucking chances, I was so patient with him. Fuck him. I don't need him. It's not my problem if he can't cope without me. It's not my problem at all anymore. I don't need that level of negativity or incompetence in my life.
I approached the end of the aisle and froze in place, wrinkling my nose and sniffing again.
"Yeah, a bit of an accident. Failed DIY. What do you suggest I use on this?"
I ducked down below the level of the stall and pretended to browse. Well, fuck. Condoms. Bit fucking late. How fucking ironic. I held my breath and listened.
"So this ointment should help? I lift a lot in the gym, do I need to tone it down for a bit?"
I peered around the edge, luckily the random products hanging from the little metal bars helped hide me. Chris was there, pulling his shirt shoulder down. He must be here to find something for his little pencil stab that I gave him. Aww. Poor baby Chris. Fuck him. I hope it gets infected. I hope his arm drops off. Fucking asshole.
I felt a terrible twisting sensation in my stomach, and my breathing became laboured. No, God please, not here. My head spun, and I glanced at Chris again. The woman behind the counter saw me clutching at my chest and she interrupted him to ask if I was ok.
I ducked back down and ran from the store. I don't know if Chris saw me.
The song for this chapter is Call Me When You're Sober by Evanescence.
I lost count of how many times I referred back to Chapter 5, but I got there in the end.
Let me know your thoughts regarding this chapter!