Made in heaven

Admittedly, Chris was having a hard time after Jill's departure. At first, he wouldn't leave his home gym in the garage, spending entire days working out like some chick who had been called fat by her classmates. Claire hated seeing him suffer, of course, but watching him lift weights was an acceptable payment for pampering him the way she did.

At some point, Chris accepted that he was still young and that one heartbreak didn't mean the end of the world. There were so many more to come. And so, it didn't take him long to overcome the first shock after the break-up. Once Jill's presence was restricted to work, Chris seemed to remember all the good stuff he hadn't been doing in months, as well, like arguing with the neighbors, for example, going for a walk on a sunny afternoon or spending some quality time with his sister. Claire couldn't have been happier about his freshly recovered zest for life, as she was the one enjoying him the most. They soon got back to what had been routine before Jill had shown up in their house.

As for Jill, she had come, just as Chris had predicted, the day after the break-up and while Chris was working, with her mood low and her attitude regretful. She'd come with bags and boxes and a big amount of resolution and she had told Claire how broken she was herself and that she hoped neither of the Redfields would hate her for making her choice. Claire had believed her. Jill's statement about her feelings for Chris had been more than just kind, empty words and she was positive that the young S.T.A.R.S. Officer was as saddened over the outcome of their attempt at a relationship as Chris was himself. The two women had covered each other in friendly words and had even hugged before Jill left the house and their lives. It was the last time Claire would see her for a very long time.

After the time Wesker had invaded her fantasies about Chris so forcefully, a hundred thoughts of confusion took over her mind every time they were together and Claire almost feared her weekly meetings with the Captain. She still hadn't understood what the sudden switch of faces in the middle of her pleasure had meant, but she certainly didn't want to find out. She kept visiting Wesker every Friday night, rather for the sake of Chris and his well-being than for her own contentment. She wasn't sure if the blond felt how uncomfortable she was all of a sudden, after being such a willing, obedient puppet during weeks, but if he did, he wasn't including this knowledge in his constant offences. They always followed the same, quiet procedure: she came, she came again, she left, and waited for the next meeting.

That was how summer 1997 passed by, slothful and torrid. Kelly was on vacation in Denmark with her family and Claire was glad she was busy preparing her departure to college, so she could keep her mind from torturing her every time Chris was off working and she wasn't. Visiting the campus and dorms was one of the biggest events that summer, as Claire had never been to such a huge, impressive place full of people. College wouldn't just be a completely new experience to her, it would also be the perfect excuse for her to leave Raccoon City and Albert Wesker behind.

Just a week before she would leave, Chris woke her up on Sunday morning.

"Hey! Claire! Wake up!" He yelled as he burst into her bedroom like an avalanche of excitement. Claire's eyes had barely fluttered open when Chris had already shoved the cover away and was pulling her out of the bed. "Come on!"

Well, there were two ways to wake her up on a Sunday morning: the good one, and Chris'. Grumpily, she threw all kinds of insults at her brother as he urged down the stairs, dragging her after him. Damn, who was he thinking he was? He could have caused her a heart attack with his surly invasion of her privacy. Or worse; he could have caught her masturbating. The thought itself nearly caused her heart to blast in her chest. If she'd had to spend more time in that house than just a week, she'd surely cared to put a lock onto the goddamn door.

"Fuck, Chris, what's wrong? You can't just stomp into my bedroom like this."

But her unconcerned brother only smirked at her.

"Oh please, it was about time you got up." He left her standing in the living room as he walked around the couch and pulled out a large box wrapped in pink-colored paper with golden stars printed on it, and crowned with a shiny, yellow ribbon. Chris gave her the widest smile she'd ever seen on him as he stretched his arms out to hand her the gift. "Here. This is for you."

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes oscillating in quick movements between the happiness spread on Chris' face and the mystery the box contained. Eventually, a smile popped onto her lips, too, as she made a step forward and took the present from his hands.

"What is it?" Claire carefully moved the box close to her ear to hear what was inside. She couldn't make out any rumble in it, though, concluding the content had to be nearly as big as the box itself. "Does it live?"

Chris laughed and shook his head no.

"Just open it! Come on!"

As she was told, she put the box onto the table and began undoing the wrapper with trembling fingers. A gift from Chris to her. What could it possibly be? Once the white carton box was undressed, Claire lifted the cover and inhaled sharply. Tears shot into her eyes almost instantly, burning behind her eyelids like acid, as she stared at the content in disbelief. Inside, there was a brand-new red leather jacket.

"Oh, Chris."

She turned to him while her fingers ran over the smooth fabric. He shrugged.

"I haven't seen you wearing your old one in a while," he explained laughing. "I couldn't find it in your wardrobe either, so I supposed you had lost it and didn't want to tell me."

Now the tears flowed relentlessly down her cheeks and dropped onto the garment in the box. Chris had noticed her jacket was gone. The same jacket she had thrown away after taking it off for Albert Wesker the very first time. And instead of asking, he had simply gotten her a new one; a wonderful, shiny new jacket in a bloody red, her favorite color. Between sobs, there was barely room for a word to come out, no matter how hard she tried. As she stood there and cried her tears into the box, Chris stepped closer and slung his arms around his sister.

"Oh, it's okay," he whispered as she stroked over her messy ponytail. "It was old anyway. I think you deserved a new one."

And the sobs seemed to cease. Claire wiped the tear drops away and sniffed once more before she eventually took the jacket out of the box. It was truly precious. It was a simple red faux leather jacket, with a front zipper in the middle of the chest and at the opening of the three small pockets it had. On the backside, though, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The whole back was ornamented with the stamp of a hardly-dressed, hot angel in a miniskirt, with little devil horns and wide feathered wings, riding an RPG. Under the picture, some curvy letters drew a line that, casually, was also the title of her favorite Queen album. Claire laughed.

"Made in heaven?" she yelped as she pulled down the zipper and began to push her right arm into the sleeve. "This is beautiful, Chris. Thank you so much."

Her brother just replied with one of his heart-warming laughs.

"Made in heaven, yes! I saw it and knew this was the perfect jacket for you. Oh, and it fits perfectly." Walking around her, he gave her one or two satisfied nods. "Jill helped me pick the size. She was sure this one would do it, and she was right."

Claire cracked a dazed smile at the mention of the brunette. Angling her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes.

"Jill helped you? So, you guys are getting along?"

Chris laughed a little and nodded, as he stretched his arms, crossing them in front of his chest.

"Yeah, we're alright. This was the first time we met out of work, and it went well."

From the look on his face, Claire knew that he was only reluctantly giving up on Jill Valentine, and that there were still feelings towards his coworker that he was trying to hide from the world. She smiled, though, sliding her palms over the soft leather on her upper arms.

"I'm glad to hear that," she whispered. "Thank you for the jacket, Chris. But you should save your money for yourself."

"Oh, I got one for me, too!" Her brother laughed loudly and went to the wardrobe in the hallway, pulling out another jacket. He held it up, showing it to her with a proud smirk on his face. It was a bomber jacket, much larger than hers, of course, held in a dark greyish brown. It had a similar picture of an angel with a rocket launcher on its back, but this one was an attention-claiming, colorful serigraphy. Claire laughed.

"Okay, now we're officially twins!" she exclaimed. Chris pulled on his jacket, too, unknowingly causing his sister to sweat a little. It looked simply amazing on him, she noted as he closed the zipper and spread his arms, causing the fabric to stretch over his shoulders and chest. "Did Jill help you choose yours, too?"

Chris laughed again as he walked back to the box.

"No," he said pulling out a dark case from it. Claire, baffled, watched him as he did. Had she overlooked it in her excitement over the jacket? "But she and Barry helped me choose this."

Claire walked back to him as Chris opened the case to her as if it was a jewel box and her heart began to hammer so loudly, she believed she'd faint. However, it wasn't a necklace or a ring he had gotten her.

"Dear god, Chris!" She exclaimed as her fingertips ran over the object in the case. Carefully, as if it was burning hot. "You got me a gun?"

Her eyes snapped to his, seeing the dark expression on his face.

"SLS 60," he introduced her to her new companion, taking up the gun and pushing the cylinder free from the frame. It was yet unloaded, Claire observed. "It's just a small 5-round revolver, but I think it's a good weapon if you ever need to use one."

Claire hesitated. Chris had taught her how to shoot a gun, but she'd never believed he would actually let her have her own someday and she could barely hold back her excitement. Head-shaking, she gave her brother a challenging smirk.

"You want all the boys in college to stay away from me, don't you?"

Chris smirked sarcastically and thumbed over her cheekbone.

"I just want to know you are safe," he spoke in a calm tone. "And I trust that you won't shoot it just for fun."

Claire replied with another dark look and a headshake. Of course, Chris knew his sister wouldn't be so stupid to shoot her pistol like some maniac. Her lip twitched a little as she finally slung her fingers around the grip and took it up, weighing it in her palm. It was heavy for such a tiny gun, but it lay comfortably in the hand, and it looked like a pretty decent weapon to scare off most of the people who'd want to do her harm. She sighed deeply and looked back at her brother, whose proud look held a little sadness as well, and it nearly broke her heart.

"Thank you, Chris," she whispered and slung her arms around him. "I promise I'll make good use of it."

She felt Chris move uncomfortably in her embrace and immediately knew something was wrong. Her suspicious was confirmed when he pulled back and pouted cutely at her.

"There's something I wanted to tell you," he muttered in a low voice, his eyes avoiding hers. The last time she'd seen him that shy, had been the time he'd confessed that he had asked Jill out. Claire sighed, frowning. Of course, the jacket had been a way to prepare her mood for bad news.

"What is it?"

Chris licked over his lips and offered her to sit at the table with him. Once they sat next to each other he shrugged oddly, causing Claire to pant in concern.

"You know, now that you're leaving for college, this all-" He let his eyes fly around the room. "This all is a bit too big for me alone."

Claire released her breathe. Okay, it wasn't anything bad.

"Are you going to get a roommate, or so?" She nodded eagerly at her own suggestion. "That's a good idea. They could help you pay the bills."

Chris smirked, flinching a bit. He eventually shook his head.

"No, uhm, you'll see. I have been thinking about moving to Raccoon."

Claire ripped her eyes open widely. Moving to Raccoon?

"You mean like renting an apartment?" She asked, at which Chris nodded.

"Yes, I would be closer to work."

And to Jill, she thought, but kept her mouth shut regarding that delicate subject. She forced out a smile as she nodded straightly at him, exaggerating her restrained excitement.

"Of course. Why would you stay here, right? All your friends live in Raccoon City, too." Claire patted his shoulder in a friendly manner. "And Wesker will be happy to have you closer." They laughed.

"I would try to rent this house. It has enough room for a family, and we can store our own stuff in the attic and lock it," Chris explained. "I could use the extra money for your college costs and an apartment in Raccoon isn't that expensive."

Claire received the news with sadness.

"Have you already found a place?" And had he just forgotten to tell her? Chris grimaced.

"I've seen one. It's a good place, but I want to keep searching," he told her and she nodded.

Who was she to deny her brother any comfort or happiness?

"Alright."

It had been ten years.

Claire stopped the bike next to the road in the warm afternoon sun on that last, lonely Tuesday in August. She hadn't been there since the year before, when she had come with Chris right after he'd left the Air Force. Things had changed so much since then, she thought as she slowly walked over to the wooden cross on the other side of the road. Chris had gotten a new job and new friends. He had found and lost love in shape of Jill. He had grown as a man and as a S.T.A.R.S. Officer. As for herself, she had successfully kept Wesker from spreading her little, unimportant secret all over the planet. Oh, and she would go to college. Smiling at the thought, she bent down in the sand right before the cross.

"Hey Mom, Dad," she whispered, placing fresh flowers onto the ground. Daisies had always been her mother's favorite flowers in life. With her left hand, Claire wiped the dirt and road grit off the cross and the withered letters came to show again. James and Anne-Claire Redfield. Never forgotten. She couldn't hold back a deep sigh as she made herself comfortable on the dirty soil. She was in the exact place where her parents had lost their lives ten years before, there on the road in between the woods in the mountains outside of their hometown. The place lay close to the mountain top and the sights were breathtaking from up there. Nature kissed her skin with a soft, windy hand. It was probably the most beautiful place where anyone had ever died.

The first time she'd visited that spot had been just one year after their accident. Chris had brought her in the middle of the night on his motorcycle, and they'd cried together until sunrise, sharing memories and swearing they'd never forget them. Since then, the siblings had come every year on August 26th to honor their parents and to remind each other how fast things can change. It had become a little harder when Chris had joined the Air Force, but he'd still made it every year to their annual appointment — until this time. This year, Chris had been called to an emergency just an hour before they wanted to leave. Jill was sick, apparently, and Wesker needed all available men that night. They would come to their spot the following day, Chris had said with a sad shrug of his shoulders, and so they would. However, Claire had felt the need to visit that special spot on the special date, even if she had to come alone. "Chris couldn't make it today." Her voice blew softly through the sad smile her lips curved. "But we'll come back tomorrow, I promise."

The petals moved swiftly, imitating the waves her auburn hair drew in the wind as she stared across the city. The breeze began to blow colder up there and Claire zipped her new jacket. She smiled as her hands stroked the leather on her arms, thinking about the past few months. They had indeed brought many changes; some good, some bad; and now she was about to leave Chris to go to college. To most others, it was the beginning of their life. To Claire, though, it was like her life would never be complete again.

"I will miss him so much," she confessed to her parents, drawing circles into the sand with her index finger. "I am excited about college, but knowing Chris will be so far away from me is killing me already." She sighed, noticing how good and relieving it felt to speak to the absent ghost of her parents when there were no pictures they could look at her from. Her irrational and unnatural love for her brother had caused so much damage to herself, and she wondered, just a tiny bit, if things could have changed if James and Anne-Claire hadn't died on that road in the woods, ten years before. A short sob freed itself as Claire leaned forward, her hand reaching for the cross and curling around the wood.

"I'm so sorry I failed you, mom." Her look dropped to the ground in shame, following the lines she had been tracing, until the tears stung sharply behind her eyelids. "I'm so sorry." The silent solitude the woods offered was the best company for those who seek comfort. There, where nobody could hear her, the tears rolled freely, and she even felt relief spread inside her. It seemed to wrap her mind in peace.

"I wish you'd been there to keep me from falling. Fighting this on my own is so hard." Had she ever spoken to anyone that sincerely? It was true. She had stood up to defend her brother and make her own mistakes as good as unmade. But had her mother been there — she could have taught her daughter better. "Can you still be proud of me, Mom?" She sniffed silently. "Dad?" Her sobs eventually ceased, as she felt a wave of serenity blowing from the woods towards her. Maybe that meant her mother had forgiven her.

"Thank you," Claire whispered into the wind as she closed her eyes. Now that she was about to leave, the temptation would cease, too. She would meet new people, and new people meant new opportunities to find love. She sighed. A part of her was enthusiastic and serene over the chance to start her new life, but the other one faced that idea with terror. How could she just forget Chris after so many years of true love? And how would she just leave him on his own? What would happen to Chris once she was gone? Who would have dinner ready when he came home late from work? Who would listen to his stories every night? Who would be there for him when the next best Jill Valentine would leave him destroyed?

It was such a pity they had ended. They had been so happy for a while.

A thought dawned on her and she frowned the last tears on her face away. Her eyes snapped back to the lettered names on the cross.

"Maybe they can fix things," Claire muttered, convinced that there was no one better than Jill Valentine to take care of her brother once she herself was gone. Claire thought a while. Chris had said they were getting along well. Proof was that they had bought the jackets together and he was moving closer to her. With one last kiss she placed onto her fingertips and smeared it over the cross, Claire said goodbye to her parents and swung herself onto her bike again.

Maybe it was time to speak to Jill again.

The streets were damp when Claire arrived in Raccoon City and her boots made a funny sound as she walked through the puddles. The rain had started falling shortly after she'd left the spot where her parents had died outside of town, making the trip to Raccoon longer than she'd calculated. Jill was sick that night, and maybe it wasn't the right moment to disturb her, but it was a good chance to find the brunette at home—alone. And it wasn't like she had much more time left anyway. Jill herself had once brought Claire to her apartment block, when she'd sneaked into it to get some of her belongings after the firemen had closed access. Claire had stayed outside that day, as Jill hadn't let her come with her into the half-burnt, unstable building, but she remembered and recognized the entrance door easily. The name sign on the doorbell revealed that Jill lived on the fourth floor. It was all she needed the bell for, as a young couple stepped out of the apartment block right after she arrived and gave her the chance to sneak into the hall.

When she arrived at Jill's apartment door, she took a deep breath and knocked loudly.

She waited in vain for a response. Claire licked nervously over her lips. Chris had told her Jill was suffering from food poisoning and that she was currently busy not dying while she was throwing up like a fountain in spring. Maybe Claire should have taken that as a reminder that the brunette was currently unavailable for visits. Her lip twitched slightly in chagrin. She didn't want to wake Jill if she had just fallen asleep, of course, but she still felt the need to talk to her and ask her to look after her brother. Did Jill even know about Chris' plans to move to Raccoon?

With dropped shoulders, Claire turned on her heels and walked back down the staircase. Maybe it was better if she didn't ask stupid favors. Chris was a grown-up, after all, and Jill, who had never had a sibling, was likely to misunderstand her intentions. Maybe she would think Claire was asking her to get back with her brother, or to keep him busy sexually. Those and many more absurd thoughts crossed Claire's mind as she descended the stairs, and she recognized them as her conscience's attempt at calming her nerves over her departure. Chris would be fine, for sure. He was ex-military, strong, funny and extremely good-looking. Chris made friends wherever he went and even if it hadn't been like that, he could perfectly take care of himself.

She walked out of the building and towards the gloomy back alley where she had left her bike. It was now pitch dark in the streets of Raccoon City and it made her wonder how long she had been standing in front of Jill's door, waiting for a response and fighting her own doubts. The keys jangled loudly on the ring while she ran through the rain, trying to find cover under her helmet as soon as possible. She shouldn't have left it hanging unsecured around the handgrip. Acts like those showed how much of a child she still was. A real grown-up wouldn't have offered it so mindlessly to strangers. When she reached her bike, she perplexedly found that the helmet was gone.

"Shit," she hissed, bending down to see if it had just dropped to the ground. The rain was getting stronger and reduced the poor visibility in the dark back alley nearly to zero. Claire got onto her knees and let her hands search blindly for the headgear across the floor. Two running steps were all she managed to perceive before she got hit in the face. The object slammed so hard against her jaw that it was simply impossible to hold back the scream of pain that escaped her lungs. The attack sent her rolling onto her back, where she lay until the daze let go of her. Unfortunately, it was already too late for her to avoid the next assault. Someone grabbed her by the jacket.

"Give me the keys, you bitch!" The assaulter was doubtlessly male, and maybe too young to even be on the street after sunset, but he was strong enough to immobilize her on the ground with one hand, as the other tried to force open the fist she had robotically curled around her keys. "Or I'll kill you!"

Admittedly, the threat wasn't really creative, but it was enough to make her understand that he was after her bike. She huffed out a desperate laugh. The motorcycle had been a gift from Chris and just over her dead body would some scrub who wasn't able to buy one like civilized people take it. Claire struggled nervously; her tongue too numbed to offer a decent insult to her aggressor. They fought on the ground until he managed to turn her arm in a way she feared it would dislocate her shoulder and her hand lost all the will to keep holding on to the keys. A soft cry was ripped from her lips when he eventually took the set from her and turned back to the bike.

"Thank you, precious," he muttered and started the engine even before jumping onto the bike. "Oh, that sounds so good. I'll get some nice money for this baby."

She could have let him drive off and everything would have been over. She could have given up and that scumbag would have gotten her bike and her dignity and she only would have had to tell Chris that she had gotten robbed in Raccoon City. But beyond the fact that she was a Redfield and that nobody would ever attack a Redfield and walk away unpunished, she didn't want Chris to know that she was secretly stalking Jill Valentine to ask her stupid favors. Perhaps this was one of the moments Chris had warned her of. Perhaps, it was time.

Her arm hurt gruesomely when she pulled open the zipper of her jacket and reached for the handgun she kept in her inner pocket. Chris had given it to her right on time, it seemed. Trembling, Claire managed to roll onto her elbow and push herself into an upright position, from where she unlocked the gun. That asshole wouldn't get away that easily. Claire watched him as he turned on the headlight and was just about to swing his leg over the roaring machine. He didn't know it yet, but he had chosen the wrong girl to fuck with. Once on her feet, Claire angled her arms up, holding the SLS60 tightly, with the same resolution she had shown to Chris when he had taught her how to use a gun.

"Get off my bike, you fucking bastard!" She howled through the rain, surprised by the gruff tone of her own voice. The young man turned back to her, and she could see the shock on his face. In the indirect shine of the headlight, she made out his sharp features. He looked like a foreigner, but spoke out an accent-free reply as he put his hands up.

"Hey, okay, I- I get it," he stuttered, cutting the engine and sliding back off the bike. "It's okay, lady, I'm sorry. This- this was just a joke, okay?"

A joke? Claire grunted.

"You better leave before I show you how little taste of humor I have when I get assaulted in the rain," she spoke, trying her best to hide the fear in her words. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest and she feared it would make her voice tremble. The man seemed impressed, but didn't turn away from her. With a nasty smirk on his face, he took a step towards her instead—testing her patience. Claire swallowed.

"Don't make me shoot you," she yelled. "Trust me, you will regret it more than I will."

Fuck, he was coming closer. Claire clenched her teeth as an automatic reaction to the fear that was crawling up her feet. That guy didn't know who he was dealing with—obviously. She was Claire Redfield, the girl who had hit a target at a distance of twenty yards on her first training day, and that scumbag would soon repent having tried to take her bike. She could still hear the shot, the blast she had thrown the can off the fence with, as well as Chris' proud laughter.

That's my sister, he had exclaimed and had made Claire the happiest girl on Earth.

She had hit that tiny can; she could shoot that guy at a close distance effortlessly, she thought as she adjusted her hands around the handle and laid her finger onto the trigger. It would be much easier this time, wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it?

Claire was forced to find that it wasn't. The pictures of herself shooting a human being, of blood and swiss-cheese-like perforated flesh gave her nausea; her agitated nerves weren't helping either. The man laughed sharply. He had come so close he was almost in Claire's reach.

"I swear to god, I will shoot!" But just as she pled the words to come out, the figure took a quick step towards her and hit the gun out of her shivering hands, ripping a yelp from her throat and a beg from her lips as he grabbed her wrist and pushed her into the wall behind her. Claire could swear she heard a rib break, and the pain in her side just reinforced the feeling. The guy pressed her hard against the wall, his knee between her thighs and his forearm pushing hard against her throat.

"You impudent little slut," he gruffly husked into her ear. He stank like alcohol, cigarettes and crime and her eyes fluttered closed as if it would help her cut the stinky smell. "Your daddy should have taught you some manners instead of buying you a gun you can't use." The more Claire struggled, the louder he laughed at her. "All I wanted was your bike, you know? But perhaps I should check what more treasures you're carrying with you." And just as he spoke, his free hand rubbed down her body. "I promise I'll make it quick."

She gasped for air, cursing everything and everyone she had ever met. She blamed Chris for giving her that gun; Jill, for not opening the fucking door; her parents for even letting her get the idea of coming to Raccoon City that night. But, above all, she cursed herself for her weakness. Why the fuck hadn't she just shot that dickhead in the leg? It would have stopped him from advancing towards her; she could have grabbed her keys and driven away with her bike. That would have been the best to do, wouldn't it? All good thoughts came too late, though, she realized, as he found the zipper of her jacket and slowly pulled it down the last remaining inches. Claire yelped.

"Shhhhh," he hissed, covering her mouth with his other hand. "You wouldn't want us to get caught here, would you?"

Tears and rain covered her face and threatened to drown her; that was, if that guy wouldn't kill her first. And she was lucky if he didn't rape her before that. His hands slid into the inner pockets of her jacket with ease, freeing her from all her other belongings. Even the library ID card soon swapped owners, but he didn't seem to care anymore what it was he took from her. The point was to take as much as possible. He kept holding her against the wall, his putrid mouth so close to her face that she feared she would puke, while he began to push his hand under her shirt. Claire groaned in pain when his hand found a place to rest on her ribcage and pressed her harder into her wall. She was certain he had broken her ribs.

"Oh, if your daddy could see you now," he grunted, nearly stroking her breast under her shirt. "What would he do?"

Claire didn't hear him anymore. She kept trying to fight the bastard off, unable to actually understand what he was telling her. Her right leg flew towards his, attempting at making him fall. He groaned, he gasped, but he just used the chance to hit her in the side. Claire's vision blurred and her mind somehow travelled to Chris, hoping he wouldn't blame himself for not keeping her safe. Her heart ached as she thought of him, how he had always wanted her to be happy. Then, another punch hit her, but she didn't scream anymore. She would go down fighting—no doubt— and she promised herself that, if she survived, Chris could never know how easily she had lost the gun he had given her. Anyway, it wouldn't be the first secret she kept from him; this was just another step on her staircase down to the hell of shame. The tears kept flowing wildly and her head threatened to blast under a pain somewhere between dehydration and an overdose of adrenaline.

However, sometimes, she turned out to be luckier than she thought she deserved to be.

"He would definitely end your miserable life, you rat."

That voice; she knew it. Just as she tried to understand what was happening, a loud shot rumbled through the night.