25-year-old Claire Redfield sat at her computer and stared at the blank page in front of her. She chewed on her fingernail and found herself in a trance, finding it nearly impossible to look away from the screen that seemed to be mocking her.

Most people would find it hard to keep on living everyday without jumping at every little sound and constantly looking over their shoulder; to just carry on as if the horrors of Raccoon City and Rockford Island had never happened. Most people would break down and cry after watching a horror movie or seeing anything that relates to the undead. Most people wouldn't be able to carry on knowing that someone's last words to them were 'I love you'. But Claire wasn't most people. She was a Redfield, and there was no way in hell she was going to let Raccoon City and Rockford Island control her life.

It took a while for Claire to remember what it was like to live normally, but eventually, she managed to put the majority of it behind her, and put her experiences towards something that would help her pay the rent. Claire Redfield became something she never thought she could; a writer.

But unfortunately, this week just wasn't all it was supposed to be. She found it nearly impossible to concentrate long enough to get so much as one good sentence down and she couldn't figure out what was wrong. Actually, scratch that, she could. Lately she'd been having nightmares that woke her and covered her in a cold sweat, preventing her from going back to sleep for countless hours at a time. She remembered them all too well for her to forget where they came from and when they started.

The undead were always hungry for fresh human flesh, and it seemed as though they would never be satisfied until they got her. She would always run as fast as she could, but it seemed like no matter where she went or what she did, they were always there, just like they had always been in the past. But she was never alone in her nightmare. There was always a tall man with her who seemed to be hidden in the dark shadows of the night. And even though she never could see his face, his piercing blue eyes seemed to stand out from the darkness that engulfed his face, giving Claire a warm comforting feeling amongst the havoc around them. No matter how many times she found herself stuck in that dream, she could never see his face, but she could hear his faint voice, and she definitely knew who he was.

Enter Leon Scott Kennedy; her best friend from Raccoon City. She didn't know much about what he had been up to lately, but she did know that he was busy doing something with the President. He hadn't told her much, mainly because it probably would have been bad for him to reveal to much to her over the phone about his new job. She hadn't seen him in a few odd years, but his voice and face never left her mind.

She was wandering farther away from the blank page on her computer as she thought harder about Kennedy. The last she had heard was that he had to go to Europe for some reason. Several days had passed since then, and in all honesty, she feared for the worst. For some reason, the only things she could think of were Wesker and Umbrella. Could they be up to something again after all these years of calmness and peace in the survivors lives?

Claire shook the unnerving thought from her mind and concentrated on getting at least one page of writing done before she went to sleep. It was already past eleven o'clock, and she had to meet Chris for coffee early the next morning. Letting out a sigh, Claire cleared her mind and looked down at her keyboard before she let her fingers and imagination take over.

The smell of death surrounded her as she found herself cornered by the hungry undead as they limped, stumbled and crawled their way towards her. The sounds of their feet and loose limbs dragging on the titled floor sent a million shivers up her spine. She could almost feel them tearing hungrily at her flesh as she prepared herself to face her inevitable death. She shut her eyes tightly and found herself wishing they would reach her faster and put her out of her misery. The whole world, it seemed, was destroyed. In a matter of a mere night, the whole metropolis she had grown up in was destroyed by thousands upon thousands of undead creatures. It all seemed like a dream, but it felt far too real to be only in her head. She knew that this was it, that there was no happy ending for the short story that was her life. Everything was over. She didn't know where her only living family member was, she didn't even know if he was alive or not, and judging from her current situation, she knew she would never be able to find out.

And then, she heard it. She heard his grunts from above her, and the shattering of glass that overpowered the low moans that had filled the entire warehouse room. She protected her head from the falling glass with her arms and heard gunshots ringing out and bodies thumping to the ground below. She looked up and saw a man, covered in the shadows of the dimly light room with his back turned to her as he continued to fire his two handguns continuously.

Claire stopped writing almost instantly when she realized that what she had typed was hitting too close to home. Her deep blue eyes scanned the page over, and the memories flooded back as if they hadn't let her mind at all. Without thinking twice, she highlighted the whole page and pressed 'delete'.

If only the past were that easy to erase.

I know what you're thinking. I know this chapter is rather short, but it's to the point. If you're interested in seeing where this story goes, please let me know by leaving a review, and I'll be sure to keep it going. If you hate it, feel free to flame. As long as I get feedback, It's all good. So please leave a review, and thank you for reading!

-Tera