2. Hall and bathroom lights must always be on after 7:00pm
"What do you mean you don't love me?"
Click
"New and impr-"
Click
"I'll never let go!"
Click
"So two mice and a dog walk into a-"
Click
"You've got two coconuts and you're banging them together!"
Click
"It's the end of the world as we-"
Click
Jill turned off the television and threw the remote next to her on the green striped couch.. "Nine channels and nothing's on. It's impossible!" She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting out a bored sigh. She was exhausted, her muscles sore and her head foggy. But it was only seven, and she was too stressed out to sleep, leaving her very jumpy.
"I did it!" Jill's muscles jumped, startled, and she opened her eyes and tilted her head further so she could see behind the couch.
"Did what?"
Rebecca stood in the doorway holding a pickle jar in one hand and it's top in the other. "I got the pickle jar open all by myself!" She grinned and skipped back into the kitchen. Jill let a smile fall on her lips as she brought her head forward to stare at the blank television screen again.
Boy did her life suddenly suck. Well, technically it had been awful since that stupid mansion, but it got better for awhile. Now it was a speck deep in a black hole of suckiness. Jill tilted her head to the side. Now she was sounding like a frustrated melodramatic teenager, and she certainly should be. Well… not a teenager, obviously… damnit Valentine! Why so ditzy? She sighed. Ah! She looked around, her nerves once again tightening. Alcohol. Need alcohol.
Jill got up and paced in front of the couch, frustrated. She should call Chris, but Chris was part of the problem. Chris was always part of the problem, then again, he was part of everything when it came to her life, but only because he insisted on being so damn protective. The bastard. She glared at the phone on the end table. The lamp light seemed to be concentrating on its shiny surface, calling her to it.
She stopped pacing and started towards the phone. No, Jill, Chris can't help you this time. She bit her lip, Rebecca would know what to do.
"Becky?"
A distant voice echoed through the hallway from the kitchen. "Yeah, Jill?"
Jill turned around and headed towards the kitchen, smiling. "What're you eating?"
A slight pause. "Pickles…" She heard a distant sigh. "I was gonna have a sandwich, but I couldn't get the mayo jar open." Jill walked in to find Rebecca sitting at the island on a metal stool, fishing pickles out of her jar with a fork, her previous victory forgotten. Jill smiled a sad smile, Rebecca seemed to have the worst luck.
Jill reached to open the mayo jar, but thought better of it. Some people were sensitive about those kind of things and Jill did not know Becky as well as she knew the others. Well, not as well as Chris. Stupid Redfield. Why was she mad at him again? She couldn't remember, but it was important at the time, probably something about him breathing down her back every second to make sure she didn't hurt herself. She was a thief, for crying out loud! Survived three mansions, two cities, and a circus! That circus was weird… monkeys shouldn't be able to…
Jill brought up a hand to cover her mouth as she yawned, the adrenaline from worrying dieing off. "I'm going to head to my room and get some work done for the anti-U's in Maine. They're still trying to catch all of the infected fish in the bay."
Rebecca nodded and staked another pickle with her fork as Jill headed down the hall. "See you in the morning then, thanks for letting me stay over."
Jill's distant voice reached the kitchen right before the hallway light went off. "Anytime."
Rebecca looked at her forked pickle and frowned, she was starving and had not gotten a chance to grab some food before leaving her safe house. Stupid non-existent Umbrella members, anytime someone new came into the apartment she'd hide somewhere else. Not scared. Not exactly, the feeling was hard to explain. Paranoid was a better word. It sounded less childish, and Rebecca was no child, not anymore. No matter how they looked at her. She was, after all, older than Sherry. But not by much, about six years. Like Claire… which was not saying much in her defense…
Her stomach growled, causing her to focus on the pickle in hand once again. She sighed and set it on the counter, standing up and turning towards the hallway Jill had just gone down. The very last door led to the garage, where a freshly stocked pantry full of comfort food and snacks waited for her. Called for her. She suddenly new what a man must feel like, her brain was shut down and replaced by an ever growling stomach.
She took a step forward before noticing the darkness and being hit with a sense of de ja vu. In the mansion, before Chris had arrived and after she felt like she lost everyone, she had wandered into the kitchen looking for another ammo cartridge, Billy was… upstairs, God, she missed Billy.
Rebecca closed her eyes, letting her hand skim the top of the cold counter, its smooth, cool surface tingling her fingers. She remembered that the kitchen lights were on, two lamps hanging over the tables, shining off of the metal and illuminating the room in a silver glow. She could almost hear the zombie in the other room, trying to open the door with its smashed fingers, courtesy of her. The kitchen had been empty, except for a puddle of blood on the floor. She could still hear herself walk through it, looking down in surprise… the smell burning her nostrils.
She had been in the mansion for what seemed like days, she remembered how tired she was when she entered the kitchen, bathed in light, a sanctuary for the weak of heart. Rebecca shuddered and opened her eyes, finding herself back in Jill's kitchen, the flower covered walls and dull white countertops an extreme opposite of the kitchen Umbrella's slaves made their meals in.
Yet as she stared down the dark hall it became clear that they had one similarity. She closed her eyes, the yellow light surrounding the hallway turning an all too familiar silver and the room slowly morphing into the room of her memory, plain, but unforgettable. They did not know what it was like in that mansion, knowing it was just before dusk outside and if she could just get to that front door… The thought almost drove her insane. Front door, freedom. After the darkness there will be no other chance to escape. "Beware the land where angels fear to tread." The quote ran through her mind for the hundredth time in that kitchen.
They were not like her, they were not there from the beginning, she was. She did not understand, just a child. She was no child now. They were not on the train, did not see the first zombie, she did. Her stomach growled, she let her thoughts settle as her more basic needs drove her towards the hall. The zombies were also based on a very basic need; to feed, a disturbing side affect of the virus. She read it from a report, written by a scientist, found on a table, in a basement, of a mansion, in a forest, near a city. But she would not think about that right now. She would not think about zombies or dark halls because she knew a trick, a little itty bitty trick that she would never share with them. A clever trick- very clever, and simple in the simplest of ways.
Rebecca started walking down the hall, smiling to herself. A trick that she got from learning how to deal with blood and hospitals. "Ring around the rosy… pockets full of posy…" She sang it gently, like her mother used to sing to her.
Rebecca's mother was alive, which hurt a thousand times worse than her being dead. She had not seen her mother since the whole thing started and she was more homesick than she would have thought possible. Sherry's parents were dead, but they left behind a small group of friends who joined the resistance after their deaths, apparently the scientists had been planning to do the same and were caught, which led to their deaths, hard to believe since her father created that virus that… But her mother was willing to create a cure… But they were dead. Sherry could get over that, as horrible as it sounded, but Rebecca could not even contact her mom for fear of Umbrella finding out.
Suddenly the hallway seemed a lot longer, the light behind her casting an eerie glow and making her feel like she was walking out of heaven and into the depths of hell. The shadows did not dance or move, just watched as she passed, making her every step weigh her down. Hallways were horrible places to get caught in. But that was where Rebecca was and she was not about to complain if nobody was around to listen.
Suddenly another thought came to her… She hadn't cried yet. Four years, and she couldn't remember crying. Maybe she did, in the beginning. Not since. She knew the others did, but she was a medic. Trained to push all human thoughts away and do her damn job.
As she continued down the hall, near the halfway point, her heart swelled in longing. She had done a horrible thing, not letting herself morn. Her throat closed up, and she stopped, trying not to think. She closed her eyes and let a silent tear roll down. Good, maybe this will be a quiet cry. She let out a choked sob, her face contorting in emotion, and slid to the floor, covering her face in her hands.
"…Beccy?" Jill opened the door to her room, bathing the hall in light. She took in Rebecca's shaking form and slowly walked down the hall, sliding down beside her. "I… Haven't cried, either." And suddenly she did.
***
It was the cries of the vanquished that her heart so desired.
Yay! 'Nother chappy finished! Can you feel the bonding magic?
"What do you mean you don't love me?"
Click
"New and impr-"
Click
"I'll never let go!"
Click
"So two mice and a dog walk into a-"
Click
"You've got two coconuts and you're banging them together!"
Click
"It's the end of the world as we-"
Click
Jill turned off the television and threw the remote next to her on the green striped couch.. "Nine channels and nothing's on. It's impossible!" She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting out a bored sigh. She was exhausted, her muscles sore and her head foggy. But it was only seven, and she was too stressed out to sleep, leaving her very jumpy.
"I did it!" Jill's muscles jumped, startled, and she opened her eyes and tilted her head further so she could see behind the couch.
"Did what?"
Rebecca stood in the doorway holding a pickle jar in one hand and it's top in the other. "I got the pickle jar open all by myself!" She grinned and skipped back into the kitchen. Jill let a smile fall on her lips as she brought her head forward to stare at the blank television screen again.
Boy did her life suddenly suck. Well, technically it had been awful since that stupid mansion, but it got better for awhile. Now it was a speck deep in a black hole of suckiness. Jill tilted her head to the side. Now she was sounding like a frustrated melodramatic teenager, and she certainly should be. Well… not a teenager, obviously… damnit Valentine! Why so ditzy? She sighed. Ah! She looked around, her nerves once again tightening. Alcohol. Need alcohol.
Jill got up and paced in front of the couch, frustrated. She should call Chris, but Chris was part of the problem. Chris was always part of the problem, then again, he was part of everything when it came to her life, but only because he insisted on being so damn protective. The bastard. She glared at the phone on the end table. The lamp light seemed to be concentrating on its shiny surface, calling her to it.
She stopped pacing and started towards the phone. No, Jill, Chris can't help you this time. She bit her lip, Rebecca would know what to do.
"Becky?"
A distant voice echoed through the hallway from the kitchen. "Yeah, Jill?"
Jill turned around and headed towards the kitchen, smiling. "What're you eating?"
A slight pause. "Pickles…" She heard a distant sigh. "I was gonna have a sandwich, but I couldn't get the mayo jar open." Jill walked in to find Rebecca sitting at the island on a metal stool, fishing pickles out of her jar with a fork, her previous victory forgotten. Jill smiled a sad smile, Rebecca seemed to have the worst luck.
Jill reached to open the mayo jar, but thought better of it. Some people were sensitive about those kind of things and Jill did not know Becky as well as she knew the others. Well, not as well as Chris. Stupid Redfield. Why was she mad at him again? She couldn't remember, but it was important at the time, probably something about him breathing down her back every second to make sure she didn't hurt herself. She was a thief, for crying out loud! Survived three mansions, two cities, and a circus! That circus was weird… monkeys shouldn't be able to…
Jill brought up a hand to cover her mouth as she yawned, the adrenaline from worrying dieing off. "I'm going to head to my room and get some work done for the anti-U's in Maine. They're still trying to catch all of the infected fish in the bay."
Rebecca nodded and staked another pickle with her fork as Jill headed down the hall. "See you in the morning then, thanks for letting me stay over."
Jill's distant voice reached the kitchen right before the hallway light went off. "Anytime."
Rebecca looked at her forked pickle and frowned, she was starving and had not gotten a chance to grab some food before leaving her safe house. Stupid non-existent Umbrella members, anytime someone new came into the apartment she'd hide somewhere else. Not scared. Not exactly, the feeling was hard to explain. Paranoid was a better word. It sounded less childish, and Rebecca was no child, not anymore. No matter how they looked at her. She was, after all, older than Sherry. But not by much, about six years. Like Claire… which was not saying much in her defense…
Her stomach growled, causing her to focus on the pickle in hand once again. She sighed and set it on the counter, standing up and turning towards the hallway Jill had just gone down. The very last door led to the garage, where a freshly stocked pantry full of comfort food and snacks waited for her. Called for her. She suddenly new what a man must feel like, her brain was shut down and replaced by an ever growling stomach.
She took a step forward before noticing the darkness and being hit with a sense of de ja vu. In the mansion, before Chris had arrived and after she felt like she lost everyone, she had wandered into the kitchen looking for another ammo cartridge, Billy was… upstairs, God, she missed Billy.
Rebecca closed her eyes, letting her hand skim the top of the cold counter, its smooth, cool surface tingling her fingers. She remembered that the kitchen lights were on, two lamps hanging over the tables, shining off of the metal and illuminating the room in a silver glow. She could almost hear the zombie in the other room, trying to open the door with its smashed fingers, courtesy of her. The kitchen had been empty, except for a puddle of blood on the floor. She could still hear herself walk through it, looking down in surprise… the smell burning her nostrils.
She had been in the mansion for what seemed like days, she remembered how tired she was when she entered the kitchen, bathed in light, a sanctuary for the weak of heart. Rebecca shuddered and opened her eyes, finding herself back in Jill's kitchen, the flower covered walls and dull white countertops an extreme opposite of the kitchen Umbrella's slaves made their meals in.
Yet as she stared down the dark hall it became clear that they had one similarity. She closed her eyes, the yellow light surrounding the hallway turning an all too familiar silver and the room slowly morphing into the room of her memory, plain, but unforgettable. They did not know what it was like in that mansion, knowing it was just before dusk outside and if she could just get to that front door… The thought almost drove her insane. Front door, freedom. After the darkness there will be no other chance to escape. "Beware the land where angels fear to tread." The quote ran through her mind for the hundredth time in that kitchen.
They were not like her, they were not there from the beginning, she was. She did not understand, just a child. She was no child now. They were not on the train, did not see the first zombie, she did. Her stomach growled, she let her thoughts settle as her more basic needs drove her towards the hall. The zombies were also based on a very basic need; to feed, a disturbing side affect of the virus. She read it from a report, written by a scientist, found on a table, in a basement, of a mansion, in a forest, near a city. But she would not think about that right now. She would not think about zombies or dark halls because she knew a trick, a little itty bitty trick that she would never share with them. A clever trick- very clever, and simple in the simplest of ways.
Rebecca started walking down the hall, smiling to herself. A trick that she got from learning how to deal with blood and hospitals. "Ring around the rosy… pockets full of posy…" She sang it gently, like her mother used to sing to her.
Rebecca's mother was alive, which hurt a thousand times worse than her being dead. She had not seen her mother since the whole thing started and she was more homesick than she would have thought possible. Sherry's parents were dead, but they left behind a small group of friends who joined the resistance after their deaths, apparently the scientists had been planning to do the same and were caught, which led to their deaths, hard to believe since her father created that virus that… But her mother was willing to create a cure… But they were dead. Sherry could get over that, as horrible as it sounded, but Rebecca could not even contact her mom for fear of Umbrella finding out.
Suddenly the hallway seemed a lot longer, the light behind her casting an eerie glow and making her feel like she was walking out of heaven and into the depths of hell. The shadows did not dance or move, just watched as she passed, making her every step weigh her down. Hallways were horrible places to get caught in. But that was where Rebecca was and she was not about to complain if nobody was around to listen.
Suddenly another thought came to her… She hadn't cried yet. Four years, and she couldn't remember crying. Maybe she did, in the beginning. Not since. She knew the others did, but she was a medic. Trained to push all human thoughts away and do her damn job.
As she continued down the hall, near the halfway point, her heart swelled in longing. She had done a horrible thing, not letting herself morn. Her throat closed up, and she stopped, trying not to think. She closed her eyes and let a silent tear roll down. Good, maybe this will be a quiet cry. She let out a choked sob, her face contorting in emotion, and slid to the floor, covering her face in her hands.
"…Beccy?" Jill opened the door to her room, bathing the hall in light. She took in Rebecca's shaking form and slowly walked down the hall, sliding down beside her. "I… Haven't cried, either." And suddenly she did.
***
It was the cries of the vanquished that her heart so desired.
Yay! 'Nother chappy finished! Can you feel the bonding magic?