Author's note: I'm still alive, horribly so. The report when well, got a 3.5 out of 4, so it was cool. The prof just asked me, who wrote the book of genesis, why them, and the structure and some other stuff.
Raven: Thanks, yeah, all was cool.
Orion: Cool.
Tifa: Hmm, that could be a plot twist.
Tre: Glad to hear that.
Hotaru: You took that jellybean from me.
Serena: Sorry but I have to get a rain check on that.
Frenchy: You know me, I kind of go far away from the butterflies.
Chapter 8: "Pain"
Leon went up the cracked steps of the apartment complex, wondering why it could even stand up as he did. The lobby that he just came from was dark and unlighted, giving off a claustrophobic feeling even though it was just the middle of the day. Blue Creek felt like it was a setting for some horror game of sorts. A little girl was playing by the narrow stairway, immune to the danger surrounding her every move. After a few more steps, Leon reached the story, turning his head left and right as to assess where to go next. "204." He silently reminded himself as he marched through the dim hall. A small puddle of water splashed against Leon's step, something that leaked out of the laundry room that stuck out from the floor.
His sunglasses were pushed up against the top of his forehead, keeping his long hair back. It took him eleven hours to drive all the way to Stoneville, and the drainage if energy definitely showed in his appearance. Even though he was usually meticulous when it came to his appearance, and though he never admitted to that, this was a special case. He didn't care if had an amputated hand or if he'd grown an extra eye right above his chin. He needed closure.
It took him a few minutes before he could finally get enough courage to knock on the door. Amazing how simple it was for him to chase a lunatic through ten counties, but find facing himself to be the most difficult thing there was. He felt like the slightest tap of his fist could bring the whole door down, but that didn't stop him from putting some extra force in each knock.
"Looking for somebody?" interrupted an elderly woman, just as Leon finished rapping the door.
"…Uh, yes…the girl who lives here." He replied, somewhat annoyed at the distraction.
"Claire Redfield isn't living there anymore." She said knowingly.
"What? You…know Claire?" he asked her, his attention now fully belted.
"Not really. She came her sometime ago, just some shadow…it was a real pity, because she looked like she was one who could go through a tunnel of fire with just a few black marks…but all I saw were dead eyes." She responded, walking closer to the young man. With a trembling hand, she procured a key and proceeded to unlock the door.
"Do you…own this place?" he asked her. She looked at him and nodded. "The name's Ms. Acorn." The old woman told him, just as she pushed open the door.
"She moved out because she couldn't pay her rent…and she must have left some of her stuff behind, probably things she wanted to forget."
"…You kicked her out?" he asked, subconsciously raising his hostility.
"I had no choice. Somebody will be moving in here soon…and well, the truth is, I saw her with the kid, and knew how hard it was for a single parent to raise somebody. I had a kid once too…well, I tried to make it easier for her by cutting the monthly payment in half…she never knew that. If I went lower, it would have been difficult for me to actually keep this place up and running."
"…"
"You look like you're a well-to-do boy…what are you doing looking for a girl like her…in a place like this?"
"…I'm trying to clear my head." He replied in a whisper, walking in behind the old woman. The apartment was small, confining to Leon's tastes. He couldn't really imagine how someone could live in such a cramped space. He grew apart from humanity in that respect.
Leon walked around, imagining Claire in that room, doing the dishes, playing with Sherry. Then came the vision of her in distress possibly with alcohol by her hand, sitting by the phone and telling him her problem. The thought alone made Leon's skin crawl. "How…long did she stay in here?" he asked the old lady, who was tidying up the place.
"…Uh, my memory isn't really that sharp, but…maybe…6 months? Yes, about six months."
"…Oh…" he walked up to a door and stood in front of it for a few seconds. "Did…were they the only ones here?" he asked. "No one came with her upstairs other than the little girl, right?"
"…Not to my knowledge. Those two were the only ones always up here."
The young man nodded; comforted by some faint reassurance that the girl didn't let her financial problems land her a desperate job as somebody who comes out at night. "…The truth is…she never really talked to anyone else. At least not anyone in this floor." Added the old woman, who rearranged the seats on the table. "She beat up a guy twice her size once, and because of that, most of the people here are afraid to go near her."
"Kept to herself?"
"Every single day." The woman told him. Leon nodded, and gently opened the door, revealing a room that was remarkably untidy. There was a mirror, but it was broken, probably hit by a blunt force at medium impact. A small bed was up against the wall, and an open window could be soon on the opposite partition. "…" Leon got to the side of the bed and picked up a crumpled piece of paper. "What's this? It's her handwriting…" he thought as he squinted his eyes.
It was the song, what she wrote in the dining room. "Wishing I could hear your voice again…knowing that I never will…sometimes it seems…I fight back tears…why can't the past just die?" He was familiar with the song as well, and he knew full well what it meant. With a frustrated sigh, he threw crumpled the paper again and threw it out of the window.
"What was that? Ms. Acorn asked as she looked out the window and down the street.
"Just some bad memories." Leon replied coldly, falling on the bed.
"Young man…that girl really needs somebody. She needs somebody to hold on too other than that little girl." She told him, in a way almost warning him. "I've seen people like her, people who throw their lives away to depression. I may not know what it was that happened to her, but I do know this… the past, it helps us build character, to learn more about what lies ahead, but it also isn't the answer to everything. We praise history, how we won wars, how gallant our soldiers were, but do we really want it to happen again? No, of course not. Those who do, they are the ones that haven't finished something that they set out to do… they become ghosts, living, but dead at the same time. All they see are history lessons, and in a way, believe that achievements, or sacrifices, are enough to keep them going, whether it is something to be proud of, or something that they cry over. The people who live their lives crying over a loss, those are the ones that need somebody. I know in my heart that she is that kind of a person, and I know in my heart that she can't d anything about it alone."
Leon nodded as a reply, simply because he didn't really know what it was he should say. There was a simple truth to what the woman said, something he could readily accept. The problem was that he couldn't be the one to save her. "She's still thinking about Steve…" he thought, convinced that it was the lost boy whom the song was addressed to. "Thank you…I think I'm done here." Leon said as he gave one final look around the room, convincing himself that her calling him was just some sort of fluke. He was both disappointed, and in a way glad, telling himself that this whole thing was over; he could finally go back to Rachel.
It was already nightfall when Rachel made her way to Stoneville, at places frightening, in others, glamorous. She stepped out of the red Volvo as she pulled up the street, exactly opposite where the Blue Creek apartment complex stood. A few cars sped in front of her before she could cross, probably apathetic if ever they run somebody down in the process. Whenever she felt horribly afraid, or something to that extent, she always did what she saw her favorite actress do in 'The Others'. Tucked into her right pocket, she clenched a wooden rosary tight in her hand, asking her beliefs to shine in through the crevices of her life. Her eyes were fixed on the entrance of the complex, and rightfully so, as she stopped to a halt when she saw her fiancée walk out, with a small wave to somebody inside. "He's here…" she thought, exactly like Emily said he would.
She feigned a smile and turned back, not caring anymore if Leon saw her there. "All he needed was an excuse to leave me…and I handed it to him in a silver platter…" she told herself as she made her way back to her car, with the young man headed away, completely oblivious of her fiancée's presence in the area. Rachel always tried to smile when she was in the brink of giving up, because she hated to let other people see her looking like she was about to die. In a way, she truly was.
The second she closed her eyes, two strong hands grabbed her and threw her down the dark and empty sidewalk. "Hello there baby…" a relatively large man hissed at her as he walked up to the girl who was backing away. He was covered in black, from the hood to the ripped rubber shoes. Rachel didn't say a word as she crawled back, knowing full well what was in her assailant's eyes, gleaming shadows that she saw before. With a maniacal laugh, he lunged forward, only to be met by a quick boot to his gut that sent him back. Rachel saw the small opening and pushed herself back up as fast as she could. She could run, but then again, after all that she's been through, she preferred to let out her anger.
With a loud cry, she cracked her fist against her assailant's jaw, again, and again. The few people passing by didn't care, or sped when they happened upon the two. The assailant soon recuperated with a strong backhand that sent Rachel down on her knees with a sharp cry. "You little bitch!!" he shouted at her ear as he pulled her hair back, and threw her face first to the passenger door of her own car. "Hey!!" suddenly interrupted another woman before the man could do anymore damage to Rachel. "Get away from her, you asshole!" she shouted, pushing the man away.
"Don't get in my way you little…"
"Fuck off." The woman interrupted, sticking her boot in the man's face before he could finish his threat. With an angry growl, she then grabbed the man by his collar and flipped him over, something that she learned from her brother long ago. "Scat!" she cried with a scowl, forcing the man to turn away and retreat into shadow.
"…Thanks." Rachel whispered as she dusted herself off.
"Don't mention it." Replied the other without any hint of sincerity in her voice. "I've seen people take advantage of others hundreds of times…thought I'd start doing something about it." She turned to look at Rachel.
"How's the jaw?"
"Still moving."
"You're not from around here, are you?"
"Is it that obvious?" Rachel asked the woman, who nodded in reply. "Who are you, by the way?" she then asked, before the woman could leave. From what Rachel could deduce, the streets did clearly not intimidate this young woman. She was wearing a black tank top and a pair of ripped jeans. Her hair was tied back to a tail. The young woman looked to be about the same age as Rachel.
"Does it matter? I'm just another person out here looking for a stress-reliever." She said, referring to the assailant.
"Well, you did save my life…I think."
"…From what I saw, he just got lucky, you could've upped the ante."
"You were watching?"
"It was a long way from the lady's room."
"…Oh."
"You looked like you knew what you were doing. Do you practice self-defense or something?" the woman asked, getting fairly interested in what the newcomer had to say.
"My…fiancée taught me."
"That's sweet."
"Actually, it sucks to think about it, especially since he's all obsessed about finding his lost love."
"Really?" the woman asked, her interest picking up. "Do you want to beat the scum bag up? I can help." She offered jokingly.
"I wish." Replied the girl with a slight chuckle, but soon retained her serious tone. "I guess I still love him so much."
"Love…I think I gave up on that long ago."
"I can tell by the whole kick-my-fiancee's-ass thing you have going on."
"Is it that strong?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"So…what's lover boy there's name?"
"…Leon."
"What?" the woman asked, suddenly alerted.
"Leon. Leon Kennedy…do you know…oh my God."
"…"
"Claire."