[Hey, my friend, kaliméra, I hope you are doing good and staying safe. You know where to find me. I'll be there.]
WARNING: Since the way Tidal Wave ended, you can now easily guess the kind of topics implied in the continuation. I won't go easy on this story. Morals and ethics will be heavily involved and explored. I don't want anybody's feelings to be hurt (especially for those who might relate to it on a personal level) so, if you stop reading right here, it's totally fine. A Fangirl understands.
Scroll down and swipe left at your own risk. You've been warned.
Kudos on me for I resisted the temptation to mess up the timeline too much.
Chapter 29 – Quail
Part 1 - Stump
The news froze him.
The first thirty seconds his brain refused to process the words.
Chris just stood there good and dumb, behind the wooden cabin in his grandparents' cottage backyard.
Like a penguin in a polar blizzard.
The first minute after Claire had delivered the uncanny news had been like drowning in the Antarctic waters: belly burns, ribcage contracts, lungs torpefy, limbs go limp, you can't move, you can't breathe, the cold seems to gnash you and squeeze life out of you like the juice of a lemon. Then the heart stops and all the blood curdles. Chris went through all the stages of hypothermia in the turn of sixty seconds.
As the boy prepared to die for good, the cigarette, aware that its presence was now superfluous, simply slid off his paralyzed fingers and committed suicide, extinguishing itself in the soft snow.
Chris stumbled backwards, eyes bugged out and jaw dropped fearfully. His legs simply sagged under his weight and he collapsed onto that old stump coated in an appreciable layer of snow that would soon melt and seep through the cloth of his dark jeans – whatever, he was pretty much going to piss his pants regardless! The hit with the improvised chair managed to force a little breath out of his lungs and they seemed to remember how to do their job as Chris began panting.
"I-is it m-mine…?" he wheezed.
"No, it's Dildo Chris's!" Claire darkly deadpanned, adding insult to the injury with a responsiveness that surprised herself too. It was no time for dark humour – but it was no time for stupid questions either. Of course it was his, goddammit!
Chris didn't find his sister's out-of-place answer amusing at all – none of them did, actually.
There was still that accusatory halo about her that hadn't gone away yet but she made great effort not to let anything else transpire. She was a mystery.
"You… n-no, you…" Chris fumbled for words and eagerly shook his head. The mere thought that he had impregnated his sister was as sensational as it was unbelievable. "I-it c-can't be."
Claire glanced at the house backdoor direction in worry. She didn't expect Chris to take it easy at all but she needed him to recover fast, since lunch was due in a few minutes and the whole house was crammed with natural-born investigators. Maybe she'd overestimated him. Claire now reconsidered her decision to acquaint him about her condition. She'd been too hasty and had acted in the spur of the moment as he... ugh! She should've waited and kept her mouth sealed regardless. That's what you get when you don't think before doing! Did last Tuesday teach you nothing?!
"Calm down now." Claire whispered, always keeping an eye out.
Chris scoffed in incredulity. "Calm?! Me?! Now?!" He squeaked, wide-eyed, rabidly poking at the centre of his chest. He spoke in short, ragged whispers of dismay, forcing breath through his lips as he gestured like an obsessed. "Did we hear the same words, Claire?"
Claire bit her lip and shifted on her feet in nervousness. "I need you to keep calm, okay?" She begged, softly and desperately, almost whimpering. She refrained herself from anger out on him like her quick temper urged her to. She needed his collaboration at all costs. "Please don't make me regret I told you."
Chris exhaled a pained whimper. He was still shocked as fuck but his sister saying she "needed him however" pulled some strings inside him that somehow or other grounded him a little. Just a little.
Chris sat there, on the frozen stump, a big dark bundle of sorrow in the midst of a wonderfully snowy mountain landscape. His mind was spinning fast just like the world around him. His heart hammered so hard one could almost hear the pounding from outside. Elbows on the knees, Chris took his head in his hands and raked his fingers through his short hair, as though he wanted to tear it out of the scalp while he tried to collect his thoughts.
He was the picture of despair.
What have I done?
"Christopheeeer… Claaaaire… lunch's ready!" The far, croaky voice of Grandma Mary uttered from the distance as the old woman's head peaked through the backdoor to call her grandchildren.
"We're coming!" Claire shouted and thumbed up so her Granny would go back inside. The girl turned again towards her brother just as the boy's head bucked upwards to look at her in dismay. "Chris," she spelled expectantly and gently nodded at the cottage's direction.
The big boy's head bucked upwards and he swallowed hard, panic-stricken. How could his sister just show up, unload a truckload of troubles on him and then expect him to go back inside and meet his goddamn family as if nothing happened?
What have I done?
"Claire, I can't come." He wheezed, looking back and forth his surroundings as though some sort of answers were to be found – although he preferred finding some candid cameras, honestly. He panted as if life was abandoning his body and those were just the last breaths he'd ever take. His heart was on the verge of shattering. "Not like this."
"You have to."
"I need time, I… I-I…" Chris stuttered and, with an abrupt and surprising force, he stood up, both hands dipped in his hair as to make sure his spinning head wouldn't fall off and make him ultimately lose his mind once and for all. The leather boots sank in the fluffy snow and he drew small irregular circles in the lawn as he paced around like a mad man searching for aid or any sort of solace. "I-I need to puke." He finally assessed and he folded in two, leveraging on his knees for support as he tried to gulp down as much air as he could in the hope it'd appease his growing nausea and push back down every possible retch building up.
"You eat first, then." Claire said.
Chris's livid face immediately turned and gave her a dirty look.
How could she just act like that, like she hadn't just said she was motherfucking pregnant? Her scorn was unsettling. Was she happy about it? Or was she just scared as fuck as well as him? Was it her way to cope with it? Sarcasm?! No, that'd be too uncharacteristic of her! She was indecipherable and it honestly drove him crazy.
In hindsight, she wasn't acting much different than in those last few days: she was just as cold as that premature winter and as talkative as ever. Hadn't he been so shocked, Chris would've surely noticed such outstanding detail and wondered how long she'd been keeping that secret. Rather, he'd wonder why her demeanour hadn't rung any bell within him.
"Let's just go." Claire exhorted. "We can't draw any attention."
"We gotta talk. I n-need to know- h-how could it hap-pen-" Chris panicked. What have I done?
"We'll talk later. I promise." Claire jabbered. "Now you wipe that expression off your face, put up a smile, pretend nothing happened and celebrate this goddamn Thanksgiving like you mean it!"
Her words stormed onto him and Chris ran out of breath. She was asking for the impossible – which also happened to be the only option available as for now. As she beckoned to get moving, Claire nodded again to follow her back into the cottage. Chris stopped stomping around in circles and addressed her the most broken, lost look she'd ever seen on him. "How can you be so calm?"
Claire's look dropped to the ground and she embraced herself as though a shiver of cold had just crossed her limbs.
"I already freaked out." She mumbled in sorrow.
Part 2 – Monthly
There had to be a mistake.
The more Claire leafed through her agenda, the more she repeated to herself that "there must be a mistake".
It was late at night in Girly Room, the red-haired girl was preparing her backpack for the next school day when a sudden doubt assailed her as soon as her eye fell onto the small calendar hanging on the cardboard.
According to it, it was the 19th of November – Monday, for the record.
Nothing relevant if only she hadn't remembered that about a month earlier, when they were still switched, Chris had had her periods around the sixteenth. The little red heart in the upper corner of the agenda page confirmed it. She'd told Chris to keep track of her periods and she'd seen him scribble that misshaped little heart with her own eyes! Therefore, the "mistake" appeared pretty much unlikely. Nevertheless, there had to be some sort of error – otherwise, her period was three-damn-days late!
Alright, truth be told, Claire's uterus had never been like clockwork, it always took its time with no hurry. Nonetheless, a three-days delay sounds incredibly alarming when you've just been in a sexual relationship even if your period is a chronic latecomer.
Claire needed to ask her brother if he remembered the exact day when his second period as a fake girl started – perhaps he'd say another date and she could sleep tight that night, with any luck he'd just picked the wrong page. She purposefully walked up to her bedroom door but her hand stopped mid-air before it grabbed the handle.
She couldn't just go and ask. Not without getting him to freak out. Chris was already troubled on his own! And there was no way for her to put it in order not to get him to shit a brick. The last thing she wanted was a freaked-out Chris stalking her – his performance at Jill's birthday party had been more than enough so uh, no thanks!
The girl turned and aimlessly roamed in the silent stillness around her.
It was late, probably she was the only one still up in the whole house – provided that her brother wasn't jerking off the night away. A thin drizzle tapped against the thick glass of the window, but no noise was to be heard from inside. The suffuse blend of white and pink lights added a quiet comfiness to Girly Room, ideal for putting on a fleecy, oversized sweater and just vibe on the bed bare-naked and appreciate the late hour bliss to a scented candle flame while contemplating the silvery cracks of moonlight in the cloudy sky above the city.
Unaffected by such unequalled appeal, the girl felt a stone of uneasiness build in her stomach, instead. A weight that would've accompanied her through the next day and on, and that she'd regret immensely afterwards. Compared to what loomed ahead in her path, in fact, that uneasiness would one day look like milk and honey.
Claire lazily climbed onto her bed and rolled beneath the blanket. The flamingo lamp painted her face with a rosy shade as she tried not to worry too much prematurely. Maybe she'd just wait a little bit more and allow her period a wider time frame to show up all giggly and exuberant and she'd forgive her uterus and leave it all behind! Maybe she'd wake up the next day to bloody bedsheets, hopefully. Otherwise... if she couldn't ask Chris – and that was for sure – there was only one way to figure it out and get it over with once and for all.
But the idea of taking the first pregnancy test of her life unnerved her.
Part 3 – Planner
The following morning, after a night of angsty dreams, Claire woke up intentioned to opt for the resolutive way.
At first, she decided to skip school and get rid of that tedious worry as soon as possible. The plan she concocted while brushing her teeth was genially simple: she'd play hooky, making Chris believe she'd entered the school, then she'd head downtown, buy a test, take it, go back to school before the bell rang and finally go home pretending it'd been another boring school day. Perfectly scheduled.
What an evil mastermind she was!
In the turn of a few minutes, she was pacing resolute towards the bus stop, devouring the sidewalk in big strides.
Chris walked along, just a few steps behind her not to let her breathe the smoke as he enjoyed the first cigarette of the day.
It was the second day after that disaster called Jill's party and, maybe, he felt still too ashamed about his behaviour to stand by his sister pretending things were alright between them. Any attempt he'd put up so far had been a wreckage of good intentions. Not that he'd pushed it that much, though. As a matter of fact, he'd seldomly gone past a soft tone and a gentle smile, but he couldn't come up with nothing better. He didn't dare to.
Things had simply got so damn uncomfortable between them.
Chris hated to admit he sort of preferred her not being around. Sort of. Because he also hated to be shunned that blatantly. After all, she wasn't the only one who left Moon's Donuts traumatised and beaten. The blow had struck them two equally.
Homework and the gym had spared him her discomfiting company on the previous day, but the walk to the bus stop was unavoidable. Therefore, he trod in unease, minding only to not cross her path and to fill his lungs and blood system with as much nicotine as he could suck in.
Fortunately, she wasn't paying much attention to him.
Careless of the big guy following hot on her heels, Claire kept walking and grew determined in her purposeful plan. Or rather, she did so until she caught a glimpse of Rebecca and Jill by the bus stop.
Oh, fff…uck! No…!
Claire had neglected to consider them in her calculations.
What was she supposed to say to Rebecca and Jill to justify her voluntary absence and keep them from wanting to join her and "take a day off from two hours of Wesker" at the same time? Also, even if she'd get lucky with unpatrolled service entrances to sneak back in after accomplishing her mission, what assured her that Chris wouldn't notice her absence in the school's hallways? Not to mention lunchtime by the cafeteria!
Suddenly, the genial plan cracked on all fronts.
Claire was like a deer caught in the headlights. As she compelled herself to arrange a new plan on the fly, she slowed down until abruptly came to a halt.
A huge mass of something bumped onto her from behind, ripping a quiet imprecation from her lips.
"Sorry." Chris hastened to apologise as he grabbed her by both shoulders to stabilise her as he moved aside.
"Nevermind..." Claire whispered unconvincingly, still keeping her eyes set straight onto her friends.
Give or take, Claire guesstimated there was about a sixty-foot distance separating her from the girls, maybe she was still in time for inventing a sudden sickness, turn around and go hom- ok, no, they spotted her. Dammit. Why had Jill to always be on the lookout?!
The universe was clearly plotting against her.
"You ok?" the soft, concerned voice of Chris rolled into her mind.
Claire shook herself from her dejection and stretched a faint smile as she glanced at him sideways. Only then she realised Chris had been holding her shoulders all along. His warm hands kept her steady but as soon as one of his thumbs dared to stroke her, she wriggled free from his loose grasp and resumed walking while a frown umbered her beautiful face.
Okay, hardly three steps later she realised it'd been too harsh of her and she regretted it. Chris was just caring. He did nothing to deserve her harshness. Well, not really nothing, but… the damage was done. There was no point in apologising now.
He's a big boy. He'll be fine.
Claire shook her head and returned to mind her new problem. Sighing, she had to settle for postponing the whole thing to the afternoon and undergo the morning with the obsessive thought stuck in her mind. The idea of hours of growing paranoia oppressed her but there was no other choice.
She could only hope it would elicit no panic to possess her.
Wesker's lesson had probably been the most boring since the invention of school.
It was the epitome of boredom.
His monotonous voice rained down on the whole classroom mercilessly. It thrummed for the usual one-hundred-twenty minutes with little to no breaks in the middle. His dark shades scrutinized his sleepy audience carefully. Every student knew that. What they didn't guess perhaps was that his look often indulged on the downcast head of Claire Redfield.
She took notes diligently, copied everything Wesker scribbled on the chalkboard but she never looked directly at him.
The arrogant blond teacher inwardly smirked, convinced that it was his nasty appeal's handiwork to make the pretty girl shy away his look. It was so tasty he almost salivated in anticipation.
How could he guess the girl was just elsewhere in the future with her mind?
How could he know that future would one day dare to affect his invincibility?
Part 4 - Reboot
"A date?! On Tuesday?!" Rebecca had grimaced.
Claire had eagerly nodded to underline the absolute likelihood of what she'd just said.
Every single nod of her head was part of the new plan: "how to take a pregnancy test and get away with it – afternoon reboot". It consisted of not going back home with Chris once they'd step out the bus but, instead, pretending to go to Rebecca's house for homework, then rushing to the next bus stop and, lastly, head downtown. The final part of the plan remaining unchanged.
To get Rebecca's compliance hadn't been difficult at all. When Chris predictably wondered why Claire wouldn't follow him home, Rebecca sided her, masterfully playing the part Claire asked for during the bus ride. Chris didn't question, even though he looked a little confused. He wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved to be allowed a little freedom from his sister's presence.
Anyway, as soon as Chris wasn't within earshot and, rather, walked away in the opposite direction, Rebecca claimed due explanations, since it was clear her friend was holding something back from her.
"With whom exactly?" the brunette investigated.
"Oh, uh, a guy I met on the internet…"
Jill and Rebecca exchanged a look of suspicion. Claire had never alluded at any guys she was texting with "on the internet".
"We'll come with you." Jill resolutely said.
"No!" Claire exclaimed and hastened to clarify her harshness. "I mean, I want to be alone with him. You know…" And she pretended to blush a little just to coax them to step back.
"We'll keep distance." Rebecca chimed in, nodding at Jill's proposal. "And we'll keep an eye on you two as well, and if he'll even dare t-"
"I want to go alone."
Rebecca eyerolled and sighed in exasperation. "What if he's a middle-aged creep with the hobby of kidnapping underage girls and rape them to death?" She gushed. "Hell, do you want to find yourself in someone's basement with tape on your wrists and a plastic ball in your mouth?"
"You've been binging on Tarantino again lately, aren't you?" Jill deadpanned.
Rebecca gasped loudly as a sudden thought thundered in her mind. "Gosh! What if it's Wesker?"
"He's not like that, okay?" Claire protested. "I already met him. He's a young, decent guy. Therefore, definitely not Wesker."
"Tsk, you talk like my old man. A decent guy." Jill scoffed.
"Decent guys do hardly exist in real life, let alone online!" Rebecca stated and high-fived with Jill at her cleverness.
"Listen, girls." Claire said, stopping walking. "I told you only because I wanted you to cover me with Chris, okay? You know him. He gets so madly jealous."
Jill raised an eyebrow and pierced her with icy grey stare as she carefully inspected her. "Please, tell me you're not dating that douche."
"What douche?" Claire wondered, glancing at Rebecca who had no idea who Jill was talking about as well.
"The junkie in shining armour. Steve." Jill deadpanned. "I swear, Claire, if Chris doesn't first, I'll chain you to your bed instead of watching you hook up with that doper."
"Hold your horses, Val." Claire exclaimed. She placed a hand square on her own chest and assumed an offended expression. "How dare you? I'm insulted."
Jill pretended to threaten her with her look for a little more before bursting out laughing. "I was just checking."
"You're so Chris's perfect match!" Claire snapped, returning the favour and smirking at Jill sticking out her tongue at her in protest. She felt an inner sting of pride. She'd definitely become a masterclass level liar. It simply came so natural to her... she sounded so convincing even if she'd just come up with the least smart idea ever yet her friends had totally bought it! "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, girls."
Jill and Rebecca exchanged another unconvinced look but could only shrug at their friend's determination as they watched her cross the street and speed on the sidewalk.
The Central Station was so grand.
It seemed concocted to make travellers feel little and insignificant. It was built to impress and brag. It was Raccoon City's way to state aloud "we're on the rise, we matter".
Still and all, Claire rushed under its glass and wrought-iron roof paying no attention to what they wanted her to feel. She just felt more and more nervous with every step she took towards the underground platform where the train that'd lead her to Redstone Subway Station was about to stop. That damn queue by the ticket window had almost made her miss it.
Claire only cared to run as fast as she could not to miss the train and consequently delay her liberation.
Because that was the only option her mind accepted. Liberation.
She already foretasted the relief laughs she'd share with Chris when she'd tell him she thought she may be pregnant! They'd laugh at it for like ages!
Part 5 – Shut up and Take My Money
The elevated railroad cast a net pattern of straight shadows and square lights on Redstone Street's asphalt as cars raced below the steely structure mindlessly. Fast and resolute, a train bolted among the tall brick buildings and the clangour quite shook Claire from the dreamy torpor she'd fallen into.
She stood on the sidewalk staring at a big white and blue sign across the street. More than one car slowed down and stopped, believing she was just another pedestrian waiting for the right moment to cross the road, but she never alluded to take a step forward.
"Happy to assist you" the uppercase Redstone Pharmacy's sign read. Claire didn't doubt their diligence, yet she was anything but happy to be assisted. How can someone even be happy to provide ill people medications? Or worse, "fucking pregnancy tests"?! Suddenly everything good about healthcare system appeared ominous and rotten in her eyes, as though they somehow shared the fault.
A loud honk, full of arrogant urge, pushed her to finally move.
The girl entered the pharmacy shyly, looking around in circumspection. The two pharmacists were both busy with customers so they didn't mind her much after the mandatory "good afternoon".
Claire wandered between the high racks full of colourful packages and bottles. She found the section she looked for at the bottom end of the wall-long rack and mentally scoffed at the terrible sense of humour those pharmacists evidently had. They'd arranged the pregnancy tests right beside the condoms section. Like, if you don't buy these here and now, you'll probably need those later.
Before approaching, she gingerly glanced around. The last thing she wanted was to run into an acquaintance or something while trying to purchase the most scandalous of goods available in such a place. Luckily, nobody except the owners and a complete stranger were there.
It was about time to do what'd pushed herself across half city up to that downtown drugstore.
Claire didn't imagine there were so many brands on the market. There was at least a couple of dozen different kinds! Which one to choose?
Guess it's the same… as long as I pee on it.
"Is there something I can help you with?" a woman in a white lab coat and eccentric violet glasses asked, with a welcoming smile, appearing in her eyesight out of nowhere.
Claire fumbled for words, intimidated, and blushed.
She felt so small. So little. So fragile.
So deplorable.
Part 6 – In a Snap of Fingers
It was the third time in a row that Claire read the instructions on the small leaflet and about the hundredth time that she glanced at the time on her phone screen. The only thing she didn't dare to glance at was the fancy stick onto the toilet tank.
It was late-afternoon and, since it was just about opposite the pharmacy, Claire hadn't found any better option than the Moon's Donuts' restroom in order to take the test. She'd ordered a cup of freshly brewed black tea to allow her to both legitimately use the restroom and have something to pee at the same time.
Going home was out of question. Claire didn't feel comfortable in the least bringing that scary little thing home with her. She already owned a dildo and that was more than enough for her to hold her breath and quiver any time her Mom walked near the chest of drawers. She really didn't need to add another item to be ashamed of!
To lock herself into one of the stalls had seemed to grant her enough privacy and anonymity at once. Ironically, she'd been in that very place just a couple of days before, maybe even less since it was late at night when Chris had groped and seduced her so wickedly, and not by any stretch of imagination she'd have thought she were to enter there again any time soon. Let alone to take a… the timer on her phone went off.
The time had come. Three minutes had passed. It'd taken them a few whole centuries but they'd finally passed. And now that they did, Claire would gladly appreciate a few more decades. The sooner the better motto was cracking.
Now that she was finally about to get rid of her fearful worry she secretly wanted to chicken out and go home.
Enough. This ends here and now!
She was sick and tired of bobbing and weaving around it! Biting her lip in jitters, Claire shoved the leaflet back into the box and, taking a big breath and closing her eyes, she grasped the test. It was like diving on reverse. She'd already jumped but she counted backwards only afterwards.
Alright, one blue line and everything's fine. Two red lines and… Claire swallowed hard. She couldn't muster it, not even in the form of thought. Ok, three, two, one…
Claire opened her eyes.
The world stopped turning for her.
She had run out of time and her life had ended right away.
Her whole world quaked and crumbled before her eyes as destiny sucker-punched her in the shape of two red lines on a white stick.
It was absolutely unbelievable.
She was walking down the sidewalk leading home, calm and steady. Too calm and too steady to be fine. A part of her strived to believe she was still sticking to the earlier plan. It'd been arranged before she discovered she was fucking pregnant. So, what now?
Back in the restroom, while Claire was poorly dealing with the worst panic attack of all times, the plan successful outcome had heavily vacillated. In the general mayhem of thoughts haunting her mind, she struggled against the impossibility to simply escape her body and that horrid burden of sin it carried. She curled on the floor next to the toilet and, seemingly, she felt like being in the shit over her head.
She had run out of breath, almost collapsed on the beige floor, fearing the worst when the worst itself had just materialised straight into her hands. She cried until her eyes dried. She sobbed until her muscles ached. She wished her heart stopped beating that hard. She wished it just stopped at all.
Her life was over. Ended at only sixteen years of expired youth.
So what's the purpose on keeping beating?
How could she show herself around pretending there was nothing wrong with her when she was a living concentrate of wrongness?
Hell, how could she even look at Chris as if nothing happened? As if he hadn't ruined her life forever? How could she resist the urge to punch him hard until her knuckles bled and their blood mixed?
Their blood mixed.
She reckoned that was actually what had already occurred.
A little still functioning part of her brain believed there was nothing she could ever do to hide the news from everyone and that she couldn't be calm or happy ever again, that the panic and the feeling of dying was meant to possess and escort her forever. In an endless spiral of sorrow.
Yet she'd come around it and walked steady now. Nobody could tell she was a walking dead by looking at her.
Claire stopped as soon as her house finally got in sight. Had she really got to go home? She could just walk away and disappear. The sorrow for losing her would certainly be better than the disappoi- no. No. They'd certainly die for heartbreak if she ever walked that way. Her family wouldn't survive it. Chris would... He would... He'd totally lose his mind if she ever vanished into thin air.
Claire had no other choice but to go home and figure out how much of a good liar she'd become. If not to save her own ass, at least to protect her loved ones from the worst shock ever.
Claire slowly raised her head and a terrible, resolute, dark frown blazed on her features.
She embraced what she carried: reckless evil generating from the maddest love.
Claire stepped out the shower tray and grasped her red bathrobe.
As droplets of water dripped down her naked body, she sank her face into the fluffy fabric first. Raising her head, she barely acknowledged the two black haloes of smudged mascara on it. Normally, it'd have aroused her funniest reactions at how bad her make-up remover worked, but this time there was no fun to make, not by a long shot. Nothing could ever amuse her, not ever again.
Claire looked at the big mirror and watched herself in sadness, worry, fear and revulsion.
The girl's hand slid down her stomach as though to make sure it was as flat as it looked but, when it came to the lowest part of her womb, it stopped and fled away, as if scared, or disgusted. As if it burnt.
As if to go further would somehow recognize and accept its existence.
It was still hard to realise a new life was harbouring inside her body. It still looked the same. Her belly was still flat like the day before and the one before it and so on. But it wasn't supposed to stay like that for much long.
She made up her mind to wear the super-baggy FabRainbowCorn Suit nonetheless. It'd been lying in her drawer for too long, considering that she always avoided to wear it during her nightly encounters with her brother. She always preferred hotter pieces over that night suit to make his blood boil in arousal over the limit. From that moment on, instead, it would be a precious ally.
Time was ticking but she refused to accept she had to make a decision before her sin became unconcealable – even to herself.
Part 7 – Thief
It was quite late.
Claire had just met her mother halfway down the staircase, as a yawning Lily bid her goodnight and recommended her to have a bite, since she'd skipped dinner to "finish her homework". For obvious reasons, Claire had had to lie on that too when she'd come home earlier in the evening. She couldn't really say she was so upset that her stomach was in knots. After the shower, in fact, she'd retreated in her room pretending to be studying when instead she spent hours alternating incontrollable sobs to moments of devastating apathy. But now the quake in her stomach rumbled too loud to be ignored.
She was hungry like a starving wolf.
Claire peeped at the living room. By the lopsided angle her father's head drew above the couch backrest, she guessed Robert was peacefully snoring while the spy-movie on the tv basically entertained the furniture. Not that it mattered in the least. One less person to pressure her into eating something and not choosing duty over health. Someone like Robert Redfield would never choose duty over a good meal, no matter how it'd tickle his geekiest side.
The girl turned left and crossed the dining room, turning on lamps on her way into the kitchen. Her look pointed at the fridge like a hunting fox to a rabbit.
Hadn't she been so devastated and hungry she'd have utterly loved the quiet surrounding her.
A golden dim-light filtered up to the kitchen from the dining area. The girl turned on the yellow spotlight bar above the stove. The little illumination provided by those sparse haloes of gold merged with the dark, giving it a feeling of warmth and hospitality. She let the mellow darkness envelope her like a cape and it warmed her up, shielding her from the freezing adversities of the outer world. She glanced at the backyard through the little window above the sink, the steely moonlight outlined the shape of the bushy hedges, translating into a single picture the November cold.
Claire opened the fridge and instantly spotted the two lidded glass containers with the leftovers. Her mother had succeeded to save some from Chris's and Rob's unsatiable jaws. She didn't even care to check what it contained first, everything was fine providing that it'd appease her hunger.
As she rummaged in the first drawer for a fork, the backdoor behind her creaked open, startling her. She glanced over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Chris probably darts-player-style launching the butt of a cigarette in the ashtray always sitting on the veranda balustrade.
The big guy didn't expect to meet her there as well. The look of surprise on his face was quite palpable.
With the fork tightly grasped in one hand, Claire turned away. At first, she'd thought to sit on a stool and comfortably have dinner in peace but, now that he was there, she reconsidered and simply ate her meal standing up, next to the fridge as if in a hurry, determined not to let Chris's presence completely rob her of the dinner. Not again. She hadn't had the guts to just sit down and face him when she'd returned home but she won't make the same mistake again. Besides, her stomach wouldn't let her anyway.
He'd already robbed her of youth, happiness and innocence…
Claire just hoped he'd leave soon and set her free from his burdensome presence.
Crushing all her unspoken hopes, Chris walked by the island and absently slid a hand over the clean quartz top as he approached. A hair-rising shiver crossed her under the skin as she listened to him getting closer. She should've known better. Chris wouldn't let the chance to be alone with her slide off his sticky fingers.
To watch her by the fridge had reminded him of an episode of a few nights before, when they casually met in that same spot for a joint late hour snack after they both had sinned to the memory of each other, separately but together. Back then, an accidental brush of their shoulders had escalated into a hug and then into a stolen kiss. Two joined silhouettes in the icy light of the fridge, kissing ravenously among jars, bottles, veggies and eggs, then parting kiss and ways in shame and longing.
The memory blew him away and caught him in the middle of lusting for it to happen again and wishing they'd… act normal.
For the life of him, he wouldn't let it happen again that night. He'd behave well. He'd show her he could control his instincts, his love. She'd feel safe around him, like she used to. She'd understand and forgive. Hopefully. Together, they'd wipe the slate clean and become siblings again – even though by no means he'd stop being in love with her and love her secretly. Not in the least. But he was willing to pretend lest he'd suffer that forced separation more.
"Fortunately, Mom always cooks more than necessary." He chuckled as he gingerly leant with his back against the cabinets beside her. "If it were Dad's turn tonight… you'd keep starving, I guess."
Claire stuffed her mouth with more food to excuse her silence without coming across as annoyed, careless if she looked like a puffer fish.
"So… uh…" Chris fumbled, "how was your day?"
Had she been in the mood, Claire would've sniggered at him asking about her day, just like that, like it'd actually been just another boring day. Like it hadn't been the start of the ending for her. Claire clenched her jaw in anger. He got the ingenuousness and obliviousness of whom knows nothing. She envied him terribly. Insomuch that she felt an unnamed feeling sparking within herself. It was harsh and burning and sharp and… and it tasted a lot like hatred.
She hated him at some degree but she wouldn't tell.
Claire shoved another forkful of mushed potatoes in her mouth and fought against the desire to blurt it all out and unload her troubles on him, so he'd suffer just like she was condemned to. After all, it was his fault! All his. If only he'd been more careful! If only he paid more attention to his own semen!
Thankfully, her loose hair hid her face from his look, otherwise he'd have read her thoughts of blame and vengeance from the inside out quite easily.
"I suppose you had a great time with Becky, otherwise you'd have already finished your homework." Chris attempted at kidding as he folded his arms over his chest. A little smile, just a crease between the short beard accompanied his words and flew to her dark gaze who immediately killed it like a raven shot by the enemy's hunter. Chris's eyes turned even softer than they already were and he cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you had a great time…"
Something shifted on Claire's face.
Despite all the grudge inside her, all the grief, she couldn't remain indifferent to that dejected tone of him. He knew nothing, that's true, but he cared about her. And he was there, showing it all, risking being verbally assaulted just to show he cared. Reminding her what a great brother he was with his sweetness and gentleness, just in case she'd forgotten. Actions speak louder than words they say, and to a Redfield actions downright speak volumes. That little small-talk was undoubtedly his way to apologise, mend his mistakes, show he was not to be rejected as monstrous. That he loved her, maybe too much, but he was no monster.
Claire's heart broke – or maybe she just acknowledged how broken it was.
In that little moment she took to chew and gulp down before answering, she wished with her whole self she could preserve his innocence and spare him that same grief that gnashed her bowels and devoured her youth and beauty from the inside out. She wished he'd look at her that tenderly and innocently forever, no matter what.
He was a cuddly big bear of pure affection whereas she was… she was the bearer of chaos and disgrace. She was so fucked up and full of shit, regret, hatred and resentment that she couldn't fight that grief back and cling to that feeling of affection Chris had just summoned in her. She'd rather nourish herself with all those real monsters and enliven all that ugly there was in her soul in that moment of her miserable life.
She'd embrace the liar side of her and wimp out from reality. But for the sake of whom this time? Hard to tell.
"You know girls…" She murmured, as she looked down to cut a meatball with the side of the fork. "We gossiped until it was too late to study anymore."
Chris chuckled, evidently happy to be recognized of such participation. "Any news from her side?"
"Not really."
"Everything fine on the Kennedy side too then?" He questioned, being a little more specific about his curiosity. One's never too preoccupied to forget to check on his friends' possible heartaches…
"Pretty much. We gossiped only about others today, sorry." Claire replied, unleashing all the acting skills she was meant to discover and implement from now on.
A short-lived silence fell in the dim-lighted kitchen. Claire took advantage of it to stuff herself more until Chris broke it first.
"I can't wait to meet granny tomorrow!" He said, smiling, his bulky frame still leant against the cabinets.
"Me too. She's already back, right?"
"Yup. Dad picked her up at the airport this afternoon."
"I heard Mom say Aunt Matilda's gonna come back from Texas, too." Claire commented. As much as that conversation seemed a real, unhoped-for blessing to Chris, it was a challenging pain to Claire. To pretend she was alright… to pretend she wasn't falling apart and make them believe… it was so difficult yet as easy to obtain as a low-hanging fruit. It's incredible how easily she could deceive people. Umpf, suckers! She just had to set her voice well and everyone would just think she was okay. But she wasn't. And she'd never be again.
Only Chris would certainly read between the lines and acknowledge her unease, but there was no way he'd guess the truth. Claire could bet on it, Chris only thought she was still upset after the restroom accident.
"Oh, I miss her so much!" Chris murmured, good-naturedly, a note of nostalgia tinging his voice while he couldn't restrain a wide smile to enhance his manly beauty. "And I want to hold Riley again so bad! I miss that little bundle in my arms! Damn, I love her!"
Claire inwardly screamed all sorts of imprecations. She cursed, she uttered the worst blasphemy she'd ever heard. She was going to die there and now. Her heart began racing as long as it shattered inside her ribcage. She was dangerously falling free towards the breaking point.
Chris glanced down at the food containers. She'd almost scooped them all. To him it felt perfect to seize the day and ask her for some quality time together. "Hey, wanna watch a movie with me?"
Claire stiffened on the spot as his question made its way through his innermost disconcert. "I'm a bit tired and it's half past ten."
"We'll pick a short one!" He enthused, glad that she hadn't really said no – yet. He slightly hunched towards her and lowered his voice to a hushed tone yet being careful not to sound suggestive in the slightest. He needed to sound like a brother, not like a lecher. "C'mon! In honour of good old times?"
"I still have some homework to do."
"Damn! You really did nothing all day with Becky!" Chris heartily laughed aloud, reclining his head as he filled the room with his husky laughter. As Claire gave him a dirty look, he shook his head in an apologising manner, resuming the look of pure tenderness on his face. "I can help you with your homework if you like…"
There he went. The big older brother, always ready to protect and offer his help to the little sister. Just that this time was the wrong time. His kindness only pissed her off as it hit a soft spot. The last thing Claire needed was to be treated like she needed to be rescued – even though, secretly, she kinda wanted so.
"I don't need your help!" She sputtered, harsh and quick, and immediately tried to reassess her tone. "I can do it on my own." Can I?
"Alright, alright…" Chris murmured. And he moved onwards to grab the food containers as soon as she put the fork down. "I'll mind these so you can go studying… Or sleeping." His voice slowly trailed off as soon as he saw Claire recoil from his touch.
"Yeah… I totally need to sleep." Claire said, trying to remedy her unrestrained reaction and rubbed her eyes as the masterful play required.
With the plastic containers in his hands, Chris looked at her, straight in the face.
His impossible, mild, dark eyes betrayed sadness as they caressed her countenance. His kissable, naturally curved-down lips only enhanced the overall look of depression and concern on his face. He reckoned she was going to follow his advice, turn on her heels and leave and all he could think about was the damn goodnight kiss. Too many nights had come and passed without him kissing her goodnight like he'd always done since she was a baby. And he despised it. All he asked for was just a little peck on her forehead to reassure himself he was still part of her life – if not as he wished, at least as he was supposed to be. That was the right moment to keep the tradition alive and give a hint of normality to their recent twisted days.
But he hesitated.
A second too long.
He bottled out in front of the high wall of discomfort she'd raised with her tone, with her look, with her shunning. He'd been fooled by the small talk, she wasn't gonna spend some time with him. She didn't want it.
Claire eventually turned and left.
And Chris was left with an ungiven kiss dying on his lips, dirty dishes to clean in his hands and a whole lot of the self-blaming thoughts of who knows has fucked up for good.
He watched her disappear and little he knew about – even less he'd imagine – the big tears rolling down Claire's cheeks as she ascended the stairs pressing a hand against her mouth not to sob.
I live on vibes. I love this story.
Now that you've read the long flashback, I guess The Lady Frost and Tidal Wave will have a whole different flavour to you.
P.S. I just released the first chapters of OMIYS's official spin-off. It's called "Behind the Scenes Chronicles". Also, I shared the link to OMIYS Spotify playlist in my Instagram bio. Check it all out if you like.