Claire turns 49 years old, but how will they celebrate?
At 9400 words, this is now my longest ever chapter (probably will be the longest one ever too XD)
Sit tight, keeps your arms and legs inside the rollercoaster at all times!
"Uncle Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"No, I've been awake for an hour, just lying here. What's up, Pebble?"
"I…can I have a few bucks? I need to go to the store…"
"Er, sure? What for?"
"Just…things."
"What kind of things? You're not getting more candy or stickers."
"I don't want candy or stickers."
"Just tell me, what is it you need?"
"I just need to borrow ten or twenty bucks, I don't know how much. Please Chris, I'll do chores to pay it back."
"Is that toilet paper falling out of your pyjama pants?"
"Erm…"
"Chloe…has your period started?"
"..."
"Oh Chloe…look. Get cleaned up if you need to. I'll go to the store and get you a few things."
"N-no, it's fine, I can go…"
"Chloe really, I don't mind, don't feel embarrassed. I'm sorry that we didn't have anything for you to use."
"I…I can go to the store, Chris it's fine…"
"Chloe. No."
"But-"
"I'll be fifteen minutes, Chloe, go take a shower, clean yourself up, get some warm water onto your back and belly, I'll leave what you need on the bathroom counter."
"You ok in there, Chloe?"
"I…I just stick this in my panties, right?"
"Er, yeah."
"Which way? Does it matter?"
"If there's a longer end, I think that goes at the back."
"Um…ok…"
"..."
"..."
"...you alright?"
"Yeah… I wish Mom was here…"
"It's bad timing, I know. I'll send her an email and let her know that you're having your first period."
"Where is she in the world?"
"She's in Asia, I think she's across a few countries for three month that she's over there."
"...ok."
"..."
"..."
"Oh, you're done? How do you feel?"
"My belly hurts…and I have a backache…like a dull aching below my stomach…"
"Yeah, sorry. All part of the package I'm afraid, but remember that nearly every young girl will have periods. I got you some heat pouches and painkillers. And some ice cream, and chocolate. Always seemed to work for your mom."
"Thank you, Uncle Chris."
"Oh, and when your periods become more established and if you feel comfortable using tampons, you can ease the discomfort in the hot tubs downstairs, that seems to work for Claire too."
"Yeah."
"I think we'll have some takeout tonight, what do you say?"
"But we have takeout on the last weekend of a month, Chris."
"So? I'll bring it forward. For you. Sushi?"
"Erm…"
"Chloe there's not a chance in hell that you'll say no to sushi, I can see that smirk, don't try to hide that smirk! We're having sushi tonight, you hear me?"
"Yeah."
Chloe grumbled incoherently as she shoved a sanitary pad wrapper into the bathroom's trash can. Like clockwork, her phone had alerted her two days before to the impending visit from Aunt Flo, but that first day was always the worst; dull aches front and back, a numb thigh, headaches and generally feeling like shit. It must've happened as she went to bed; it was purely good luck that she had a mattress protector for her regular night terror sweats. She glanced up to the mirrors along the wall and flicked her hair with a finger. Staring back at her was a thin, teenage girl with red hair and blue eyes, and she wasn't a sight to behold, not a chance in hell. She looked aloof, distant, but also there was…Chloe physically slapped herself in her face, and that hot pain in her cheek…oh did she relish in that pain!
"Facepalm my face." she seethed.
Ever since Claire called her a slut on that beach, she had hated her reflection, her image, that nasty flame-haired witch on the other side, leering at her. That girl in the looking glass scrutinised her, glared at her and regarded her as a lowly piece of shit on the bottom of a shoe. It had hounded her mind and preyed on her thoughts like a pack of hungry wolves surrounding their next meal.
She had endured the sweating from the Summer heat, she had ignored Chris pleading with her to wear loose and light clothes to spare herself from the risks of dehydration; she had neglected to eat and drink sufficiently, and last week he had to firmly escort her out of the gym after she fainted on the treadmill. The ugly yellow bruises still remained prominent on her shoulder and cheek, the one that she didn't just slap.
He had scolded Claire for being horrible for no reason, but he had scolded Chloe for letting it sit on her mind.
She couldn't help it.
A passing remark, not even with malicious intent, could hungrily gorge itself on her mind and thoughts and emotions for a week, two weeks if the words hooked themselves deep enough. It would make her feel sick, so fucking sick, she would refuse to talk, she would push her plate of food away, or even feed her dinner to Thor when no one was paying attention. She would receive comments about "looking miserable" from her classmates, and her teachers would stare at her wordlessly; they had spent years exhausting their positive and encouraging words on her. Chris would also scold her for this maintenance of her withering mood, albeit with a gentle touch; he had never raised his voice during her weeks of low mood. Claire on the other hand…
She looked down at her thighs; Chris would sure as hell do more than scold her if he saw those cuts…
"Chloe? I really need to use the bathroom." came Chris' morning yawn-groan through the door. Chloe tilted her head to the side.
"Yeah, ok. You can come in, I'm decent."
"Well, I need a deuce."
"Ok?"
"So…"
Chloe held her palms against the cuts. She couldn't let him see them. She had hoped that he'd walk in, and she would have her back to him as he would walk over to the toilet, then she would creep her way out of the room. She kept her palms low as she headed for the door and-
"Sorry Chloe but I really need to go." Chris declared as he pushed the door open, and she instinctively threw her hands up to catch the door. He uttered his apologies, but she was already into the living room and out of his sight. She slipped quickly into her room, right as her mom emerged from her own room, gym bag under her arm.
She saw that. She saw the eye flick downwards that Mom gave her.
The sheer thought that Claire possibly saw the week old cuts on her thighs made Chloe dart her eyes about her little mint coloured bedroom, her stomach filled with a thousand jagged rocks, and the crawlies danced feverishly. She gasped for air. Air, she needed air. She lurched forward, across the pink-red rug, and threw the window open more than the couple of inches she had left it. Air. Fucking get some air, Chloe!
Tears formed in her eyelids, and she took in big gulps of the smog infused air beyond her window. Calm, calm, calm. Mom saw nothing, she was just regarding what little clothing you were wearing, she thinks you're slut remember, she saw no cuts, Chloe begged herself to believe her own thoughts.
She swallowed sickly, sour bile that had ejected up into her mouth, and she twisted her head. Trash can. Fresh bag. She could vomit in there if she needed to. Dots danced in her eyes and she repeatedly gulped more air, leaning her head out. Oh God she was on the verge of a fucking anxiety attack, she was so toeing that goddamn line. She whimpered, rapidly clenching her fists together. No, what if Mom hadn't left for the gym yet? Mom can't hear her cry, Mom can't hear her whimper. Her chest froze in place and she slammed a fist against her breastbone; no no no no come on no!
Hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her backwards, twisted her, and pulled her down until she was sitting on her bed.
"Chloe! It's ok!" Chris' voice breathed in her ear.
Broken.
She broke, she crumbled, she writhed and and she cried, right there in Uncle Chris' arms. He did not speak, he did not interrupt, he did not stop her. He held her, he let her cry, he let her wail and scream and shout profanities that no fifteen year old should be uttering, he let her hammer a fist on his shoulder until the skin became sore and tender.
She tried to get up, she tried to move away from him, but his hold was too strong.
"Chloe. Look at me."
Chloe shook her head and whimpered again.
"Chloe, I saw your legs earlier and I want you to talk to me. I'm upset at what you've done, but I'm not going to shout."
Chloe twisted frantically in his arms, gesturing silently to her trash can, afraid to open her mouth. Luckily her uncle wasn't dumb, and he released her, right as she threw up into the bag. She shivered at the sensation, and more sticky bile forced its way out of her throat. A warm hand circled on her back as she began to hyperventilate, and the room spun like an out of control carousel.
"It'll pass, and I'm not going to leave you until it does. If you're hurting yourself, I'm not prepared to leave you alone in this mindstate."
"Chris, please, leave my room. I deserve it."
"No."
"Chri-"
"I've been there, Chloe. I know what it's like. I have sat there with self harm slashes, telling myself that I deserve it, that I deserved every shitty thing to happen to me, and I will tell you the exact same thing that I was told. It is not what you deserve. You never have, and never will, do anything that would ever warrant it. And I want to be here for you, whether you want me to be or not. I am not prepared to let you fester in here alone with your thoughts. The human mind can be a dangerous place when left to wander. Believe me, I know."
Chloe was tired. Too tired to argue with Chris. She knew it would be fruitless to even try to best his words. She just accepted his presence and continued to hover over the trash can like flies over shit.
A shit fly.
Yeah.
She was no better, was she? Her existence was nothing more than the festering, smelly life of a fucking disease riddled fly.
He slowly eased her to her feet as she gripped the metal rim of the can, gently laid her on her side on her bed, and he pointed to the floor. She placed the trash can down and watched him through tight eyelids. He peeled a strand of hair off her sweat laden forehead before lightly tapping the tip of her nose.
"God, you really do have the Redfield nose."
"Ugly?"
"No. Strong. Bold."
"So, ugly…"
"No, Chloe. Not ugly. You are not ugly. You need to love yourself more, embrace yourself. You're a pretty girl, and I'm positive that you'll grow into a very pretty woman, just like your mom."
"Pretty roses have thorns. And I'm certain that she saw the cuts too…"
"Yeah, your mom certainly has some big ass thorns right now, and to be honest, Claire can't say shit about you hurting yourself, she's been there too…" Chris trailed off, and he paced to the keyboard on the opposite side of her room. He turned to look at her, and she blankly stared back at him. She watched him lower his hulking frame onto the stool, he flipped the switch, and the feedback crackled for a split second. He flexed his fingers, and began to play one handed, his left hand, with the right slowly adding melody to the left. Chloe's eyes squinted, and she slowly sat herself up, hand resting on her burning chest.
The melody sent shivers through her body, it soothed yet haunted her, and she couldn't decide what confused her more; the sweetness of the song, or Chris playing the song. She had never seen, heard or even known that he could play. It was a simple melody, an easy composition, but…it made her feel safe, like she could find solace and recuperation to its tune.
Long minutes passed after Chris finished the short song, and he turned his head, just slightly, to her.
"I wrote it myself. I call it 'A Moment Of Relief'."
"It was beautiful, Chris…"
Chris snorted and hunched his shoulders in.
"No, it's not, I just pulled it out of my ass one day. I played it on guitar but it… I don't know, it didn't sound right. Sorry for sneaking in and using your keyboard while you were at school."
"Retirement's got you like that, has it?"
"Maybe," he shrugged, "Maybe I'm not cut out for retirement just yet."
"Chris?" Chloe fumbled her fingers in front of her face.
"Yeah?"
Do you think that my dad is watching over me?" she asked quietly. Chris sighed, got up, and knelt in front of her. She briefly made eye contact with him before his solid but soft stare made her look away.
"All the time," he smiled, "I guarantee it."
She thought of his words, of her faceless, voiceless father, silently watching down on her. Or up, but she didn't think that he was evil enough to be thrown down to Hell. At least she had no grounds to think so. But still…why had no one ever really spoken to her about him? Was he not a nice guy? Did he do something to warrant no one uttering his name?
Chloe looked back at Chris, and she straightened his glasses on his nose.
"Do you…do you think Mom might like a surprise I've thought of for her? For her birthday today?"
"Oh?"
"But can you set my keyboard up in the living room for me?"
The front door closed and a damp haired Claire strolled into the living room with her wet swim kit under her arm. She passed a look of puzzlement between Chris sitting on the far couch with his guitar, the cable trailing to his amp, and Chloe on the couch opposite him with her keyboard propped on its stand in front of her.
"Er…" she expressed, and Chloe shrugged with a smirk.
"We're just jamming, Mom, nothing to see here." Chloe stated, and she looked at Chris, who smiled and winked at her.
"Erm…alright then." Claire said, and she dropped her bag by the laundry basket in the kitchen. Chloe flicked her eyes to meet Chris' again, and he nodded, the cheekiest grin she had ever seen creeping over his face. Chloe placed her right hand over the keys and took a breath. She played the B flat and D keys together, either side of the middle C key, then F, B flat, D. Her left hand played a B flat before crossing her hand over her right and played G, then F, in octaves.
She repeated the notes, but those first few plinks had already very rapidly drawn the attention of Claire, who had thrown herself against the kitchen door frame, gripping the wood, her lips parted and her eyes wide with surprise. Chris, like they had agreed, began to sing.
"Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mama, life had just begun. But now I've gone and thrown it all away."
Chloe couldn't keep it in, she had to she-
"Mama, ooh!" she joined Chris on vocals, "didn't mean to make you cry! If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters."
Chris laughed loudly as Chloe continued to play, amazed that she had successfully sang and played at the same time without hitting a single wrong note. Claire by this point had sat herself on the centre couch, her face alight with amazement and awe. Chris shifted his guitar as he sang, oh he was ready.
"Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth."
Chris brought the guitar alive in his hands, and the three Redfields tore into the words;
"MAMA! OOH!" followed by the tiniest of voices from Chloe; "any way the wind blows".
"I don't wanna die! I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!"
Chris began the instrumental that bridged the next verse, Claire fidgeted excitedly in her seat, and her beaming smile made Chloe smile. It was a genuine smile after a month of forceful happiness from her mother. Maybe something was eating away at her too, just like something was with herself. Maybe Mom was in her own wallowing pit of darkness, maybe that's why she had been so snappy and horrible recently.
Maybe she just needed a little something to make her smile.
Oops! Those chords are coming up, Chloe, do it!
"I see a little silhouetto of a man. Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?"
"Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening me!" All three of them sang, and Chloe alternated the "Galileo!" with Chris, again as per their earlier agreement. All three of them fervently sang the words in varying pitches, right up to the excellent riff that Claire adored so much.
"So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye! So you think you can love me and leave me to die! Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby, Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!"
They all sang loudly, far faaar too loudly, God the neighbours might complain. Oh, fuck the neighbours, it was harmless fun, and the first time that the small family had come together without qualms or fury in a long time. Chloe rounded off the song as Chris softly sang the last lines, and she looked up to him with wide eyes.
"Oh my God, I actually did it!" she exclaimed, and Chris got up, leant across the coffee table and offered a fist bump. She returned the gesture before nervously searching for Claire's reaction, but was only met with her arms and bosom. And tears.
Tears.
"Mom?"
"Oh my God…when did you learn to play that, sweetie?" Claire sighed. Chloe awkwardly shuffled in her arms.
"I..it was the first song I learned to play, so a few years ago." Chloe explained bashfully. Had it really been a few years?
"The first song?"
"I learned to play it for you, Mom. I learned a few Queen songs, and Meat Loaf."
"Oh my God, Chloe," Claire bit her lip, "I'm so sorry, I should've paid attention. I'm sorry."
"It's ok, Mom. You're distracted. Happy birthday."
"Thank you, sweetie."
Chloe allowed Claire to rest her head on her shoulder and looked over at Chris, who by this point had placed his guitar back on its stand by his desk. The leather squeaked as he sat down and he clicked his mouse over emails; Chloe could see the icon in the corner. He tapped a finger on the mouse, not strong enough to click, and he rubbed his lips together. She watched him nervously scan the screen with his eyes, occasionally nodding and sighing. He clicked, and his fingers flew over the keys.
Sent.
He scratched at his hairline as Chloe watched him right click and delete the email, and once that email was then again deleted from the trash he nervously rubbed his hands up his face and blew a breath. His phone buzzed, a FedEx logo appeared and he tapped it, before turning to Chloe, smiling awkwardly.
He mouthed something, pointed at his phone, then at Claire, who was still resting her head on Chloe's shoulder, still sniffling and hugging her daughter. Finally he pointed at the front door and downwards. Chloe nodded, she knew the assignment.
"Hey, Mom?" Chloe began, pulling away from the embrace, "I just need to go do something."
"Yeah, ok," Claire breathed, rubbing her tear streaked face, "I'm sorry for how I've been to you, to Chris. I wish I could control it."
"It's ok, Mom, I know you don't mean it all. Let us be here for you, please." Chloe pressed her lips to her mother's cheek and brushed by her, out of the apartment door. She ran her hands down the darkwood railings of the block's thin staircase, propelling herself down two, maybe three steps at a time. Butterflies fluttered in her belly, but she was excited. It was butterflies of excitement.
She knew the assignment that Chris had entrusted her with.
She crossed the clean, polished floor of the lobby and the two tone marble felt cold under her feet. It figured, really; the air con had been turned on already here.
She had insisted to her mother that she let herself and Chris be there for her, yet literally an hour before, she was the one freaking out in Chris' thick as fuck arms. Was a Redfield doomed to be screwed up mentally? Chloe sniffed and hummed to herself. No, they're not doomed to be like that, not predisposed to mental illness. Mom and Uncle Chris had been through a hell of a lot, had seen a hell of a lot. It only made sense that, after all this time, the effects of decades of the nightmarish events Claire had endured would hit her hard. For Chris, it was the events in Kijuju that triggered his mental downfall. No one had hidden that from her; her mom and uncle used it as leverage to make certain that she would follow a different path to them. For Claire, it was a slow, slow decline through the thickening tar pits of every dark thought and crippling emotion imaginable. Lashing out was simply her way of coping. Sure, it hurt those around her, but Chloe knew how strong they all were. She had heard of the tales of when both her mother and uncle were at their lowest back in 2009, way before she was even a twinkle in her father's eye. She bounced on her toes and paced in a circle, placing a foot perfectly central on each tile, desperate to avoid the grouted tile edges.
Her father. Dammit, she never asked her mom if there were photos of him. She won't ask today, she'll ask in a few days, maybe. She'll wait and see if she can coax her into having several good days in a row before sitting down with her and finding out about her paternal heritage. She had inherited every Redfield trait going; the facial features, the build (from her mother), the height, that internal fire that burned endlessly, and, of course, that fucking suttobrn attitude that all of them would proudly tout. Literally the only thing remotely not Redfield about her was the O'Reilly genes from Granny Louise.
She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and, stepping out of the large doors and into sunlight, gazed at her fiery locks. The Irish genes. They had skipped mostly through to her, and she had the same hair colour as her great-grandmother. Mom had the slightest red sheen in natural light, but it still wasn't quite a Redfield trait. Irish blood ran thinly in her veins from Great-Granny Niamh O'Reilly, American blood from Grandpa Paul and Mom ran thicker; she wondered if the blood of her father gave her more American blood or somewhere else entirely. If she did in fact have any resemblance to her deceased father, she was yet to discover what it was. She hopped and clapped her hands. Oooh, maybe she could ask for an ancestry kit for Christmas?! Maybe all three of them could do tests! That would be so cool and interesting! What hidden gems would be revealed about her ancestry with one of those kits?!
She looked up as she heard the metallic sliding of a van door, and there stood a man in navy and purple uniform, whistling a cheerful tune. He held a large but flat cardboard parcel, and he turned towards her, waving a tanned arm at her.
"Morning!" Chloe chirped.
"Buongioooorno, mia ragazza, good-a morning to you too!" He doffed his purple FedEx cap at her and a smile crept under his thick moustache. He held aloft the parcel. "This-a for, er, Cristoforo Camporosso. I think you know-a him, si?"
"Er…"
"Chris Red-a-field-a, no?
"Oh, Chris Redfield? Yeah he's my uncle. He sent me down here to collect from you."
The deliveryman eyed her with that continued thin smile, and he chuckled.
"Siii…tuo zio…surrre, your uncle…" he rolled his eyes and winked at her.
"...yes, my uncle." Chloe confirmed, but what the hell was that smile? She frowned.
"Soooo, Chiara Camporosso is your-a mama, si?"
"Claire Redfield, yeah she's my mom, you know her?"
"Siiii, I've delivered-a some…ah how to say… wonders to her overrr the years," he chuckled again and wiggled his moustache, "Well I did-a tell her that she would-a have a Ferrari Testarossa, and I did not-a mean a carrr…" He gestured to Chloe's ponytail draped over her shoulder. Chloe frowned harder in her attempt to unravel his little riddles, but gave up. Too much brain work, she had used it all up playing Bohemian Rhapsody.
She took the parcel, and balanced it on her palm as, what's his name tag? Marcello. Marcello held out his scanner to her.
"Just-a scrivi your finger herrre, è print your-a name therrre, ok grazie!" He swung his scanner on his wrist after she had finished rubbing her finger on the touchpad.
"Thank you, mister!"
"Pregooo, you enjoy your-a day with your parents, siiiii?" He winked once more at her and laughed.
"My mom and my uncle, mister!"
"Suuuuure!" his voice faded as he strolled back to his van "Ciao, bambina Camporosso!"
She watched him clamber back into his van, and he wiggled his leg in the footwell.
"Eeeeey Frank, I told-a you to stay put, you want-a me to break your scanner, uh?!" Marcello's voice damped as he slammed the door, right as Chloe opened the block's doors.
God.
She hated it when people assumed Chris was her dad. Father figure, maybe, but certainly not her birth father, hell no, that would be fucking disgsuting. Why did she have to be built up of 99% Redfield genes…ugh…see if she ever became renowned for bullying a boulder…
Chloe weighed up the parcel in her hands; she knew exactly what was inside it, she had been the one to suggest the idea to Chris on the night that they got home from Florida. Claire had had another unprovoked outburst and promptly took herself to bed, leaving Chloe and Chris with piles of unwashed laundry, suitcases and Disney plushies. They couldn't sleep after that. They had loaded the washing machine at 2am; these new machines were so quiet nowadays! Chris had peered into Claire's room that night and saw that she was very much asleep, but he was concerned by the layer of filmy sweat on her skin; she didn't sweat so much in hot weather at night, this was nightmare sweat, Chris told Chloe. It was from this point that Chloe would begin to pity her mom and her behaviour toward them.
"Chloe? Why are you just standing in the middle of the lobby just zoning out like that?"
Chloe jumped and quickly looked around. Chris was standing on the stairs in front of her, looking at her in puzzlement.
"Sorry, sorry." Chloe bowed her head, but Chris dismissed her apology.
"It's fine. I shouldn't have asked, you can't help it." He glanced at the parcel as he approached her and sighed. "I was hoping that this would come before today so I could wrap it."
"I mean if you distract Mom, I could? Want me to see if Mia has some gift wrap?"
Chris moved his eyes up the stairs. No one was there, but perhaps he was simply thinking.
"Yeah…yeah go see if Mia has something."
"Sure."
"Give it twenty minutes or so though, ok?"
"Erm…ok? Are you going to speak to Mom or something?"
"Y-yeah, I'll-," Chris wiped a bead of sweat from his greying hair line, "I'll speak to her. She took a funny turn after you left, and went to lie down. I'll check how she is. If she doesn't wake up then I'll get you to take this through to her."
"Alright then, I'll go to Mia's." They both started up the stairs, and Chloe watched Chris disappear up the remaining flights as she rapped her knuckles on the Winters' apartment. She glanced around idly, looking out the hallway window to her right. She could see someone slowly pacing on the sidewalk a few dozen metres down, talking on a phone, but the city to the person's side was already well and truly alive with life as a cyclist narrowly avoided the phone talker.
She heard the dull sound of a lock being twisted, then a key, and in the thin opening of the door appeared the face of Mia Winters.
"Oh, Chloe! Good morning!" she smiled at the girl.
"Hey, good morning, Mia, I need to ask a bit of a favour."
"What is it? Oh, hold on." Mia closed the door and Chloe heard the brass chain being slid from its case, and then the door opened again, this time a lot wider. "Come in!"
"Thanks, Mia." Chloe stepped in, and she could hear the Sunday morning cartoons that Rose loved so much coming out of the tv. She paced through behind Mia, who dressed in a long cream coloured cardigan and dark leggings. Her grey slippers hung limply off her feet as she sat on the couch. Chloe looked at Rose sitting on a huge yellow bean bag, only two or so metres from the tv and its dark wood stand, but she had not yet noticed the teen girl.
"Is this your mom's birthday present?"
"Yeah," Chloe nodded, "I wanted to ask if you had any spare paper?"
"Oh sure! Let me go fetch it!"
Mia got up and hurried out of the room, and Chloe looked down to a totally oblivious Rose, completely devouring the…what the fuck even was this show? Chloe raised her eyebrows at the tv. They don't make cartoons like they used to. Maybe one day she could introduce Adventure Time to her; old but gold. She sat back against the leather and took in the apartment. It wasn't the first time she had been in here, if anything it was a second home to her. Though it was considerably darker than in her own apartment, it was probably down to the darker green wallpaper that Mia used, and perhaps the angle for the natural light too. Plenty of large indoor plants and twisted twig decorations lined the living room walls, but aside from them and the many photos of her wedding with Ethan, and some of Ethan with Rose as a baby, the room was sparsely aesthetic. She looked down to Rose again.
She only remembered meeting Ethan maybe four times, and she was barely able to remember him. She was eight years old when Ethan gave his life to save Rose, Mia and Chris…she only wished that her own father may have given his life in a similarly brave and selfless manner. He was a military man, after all, but perhaps he was simply KIA. Blown up. He could've been an anti mine unit member and got it wrong one day. She didn't know. But one day she will find out. One day.
She began to open the box in her hands; Chris had asked her when he ordered it to make sure it was correct and undamaged before it was gift wrapped. She unfolded the cardboard and pulled the polystyrene blocks and styrofoam sheet away to reveal a large, unevenly shaped black frame with several smaller frames all attached, and a lump caught in Chloe's throat.
The centre photo, also the largest, was from her grandparents' wedding, when her mom was only eleven years old. Granny Louise looked gorgeous in her ivory and red bridal dress, and Claire looked so damn adorable in her contrasting red dress with a little ivory sash. This was literally the one time that she had seen her mom with her hair down; she knew when she was born that her mom's hair was cut to her shoulders, but she had grown it since, and even now Chloe couldn't recall seeing her hair down outside of showering and blow drying. Grandpa Paul and Chris both wore matching ivory coloured suits with red ties; Chris looked so funny in a suit! She bit her lip at the sight of her four relatives smiling at the camera.
"Oh my…is this it?" Mia gasped, placing some floral wrapping paper and a sticky tape dispenser by Chloe's side. Chloe nodded and sniffed, and Mia gripped her shoulder.
"I wish I could have met my grandparents." Chloe whispered. Mia looked at Rose before perching herself on the arm of the couch. She moved her eyes to the other photos; another of Granny and Grandpa, it was the same one that hung on the wall in the Hard Rock Café. They both wore leather biker jackets, and Paul had his arm wrapped around Louise's waist, pressing her into his side. She remembered what Chris said about this photo. While they didn't know at the time, Louise was pregnant, and they found out a few days after this photo was taken.
Chloe stared at her grandmother's soft face, then to her belly. Of course there was nothing to see, it was far too early into gestation, but to know that, in a sense, there was another life hidden away in this photo? It made her smile. The two teenagers had no idea how much their lives were about to change, oblivious to the distant arrival of one Christopher Paul Redfield. It was crazy to think that if she had a baby roughly the exact same age as them, she'd be pregnant in about a year and a half. They were only seventeen when they became parents.
She glided her eyes over to the next two photos. Oh God, she really didn't like looking at these. Her older sister and younger brother. Minne and Corey. Both babies were…gone…they looked asleep instead in the photos, but it did nothing to settle how uncomfortable the images made her feel. She shuddered, and quickly moved to the other baby photo at the opposite corner. It was her, she knew it was. Wow, she was a chunky baby, look at those rolls of baby fat on her legs! And those huge chubby cheeks!
Next photo…wow, she really did look like Claire, didn't she? It was a photo of her and Chris when they were kids, though she wasn't sure of their ages. Chris looked like a high school jock, and it made her giggle.
There was one more photo of the three remaining Redfields, taken only a few years ago. This one was before the arguments, before the fighting…before her Mom began to have spontaneous bouts of rage. Finally, below that wedding photo in big, black curly letters carved into the wood was 'Redfield'.
"These are lovely photos, Chloe. And I'm sure your grandparents would have loved to have met you too."
"Do you think Mom will like them?"
"Oh of course she will, Chloe. It's beautiful."
Chloe took in all of the photos, the old ones, the newer ones, the happy ones and the sad ones.
"Thanks, Mia."
Tears were shed once again from Claire over her birthday gift from her daughter and brother, but Chloe was, in a weird way, a little happy that Chris also felt awkward seeing the photos of his passed niece and nephew. She was glad that it wasn't just her. The frame lay on a cushion by Claire's side on the couch as she tortured the room with pepperoni pizza and, ugh, Labyrinth. Claire's birthday tradition. Instead of pizza however, Chloe had ordered a huge Philly cheesesteak with spicy fries while Chris had ordered a spicy chicken burger. Even in the light of fast food he still thinks about his protein, Chloe grinned to herself. Chris had also treated her to some ice cream after discovering the sanitary pad wrapper carelessly dangling out of the bathroom trash can. Ice cream always made her feel better during 'that time'.
With full bellies and the elation of being released from the cringe-worthy grip that Labyrinth had over her, Chloe excused herself to clean up the glasses and plates that they had used. She tipped the remainder of her drink down her gullet, and shivered, smacking her lips at the hot, bitter taste. Wow wow, Uncle Chris, how naughty of you to slip a drop or three of Jack Daniels into your niece's soda while her mother wasn't looking! Chloe wiggled her tongue over her lips; it wasn't the first time and it most definitely wouldn't be the last. She loaded up the dishwasher as Thor lay calmly on the kitchen tiles next door her, his eyes tracing the meat juices that Chloe had neglected to rinse off the plates. She watched him and leaned to see into the living room; Mom and Chris were talking, but they both carried looks of seriousness. She hoped that nothing would come of it, and she snatched a plain fry left on a plate, tossing it to the big boy.
She finished loading the dishwasher and turned it on, stretching her arms towards the ceiling. Trash needs emptying too but the chute hatch is broken. Again. She stepped into the hallway, slid her red sleeveless jacket over her shoulders and leaned into the living room.
"I'm taking the trash to the dumpster." she declared, but she was certain that her words fell on deaf ears as her mother and uncle continued to talk. She tried to ignore the harsher tones that were now emanating from the living room, and headed downstairs and out the lobby doors.
Though it was the height of Summer, the air had a chill to it, and after Chloe launched the bag into the dumpster she pulled at her vest. The whiskey, though only a small amount, had made her feel marginally fuzzy in the mind, but it was a nice little feeling. She flexed her heels inside her Dr Martens and hopped; she still hadn't taken them off since collecting the food with Chris, and she twisted to head back inside but a stark realisation blanketed her with anxiety.
What if she gets back in to find them arguing again? On Mom's birthday?
"Oh, God…" she uttered. Her crawlies teased her ever so slightly with their presence, and she pulled her arms to her chest, rubbing them with her palms. She half ran back to the lobby doors, unsure as to whether she wanted to get home to halt any fighting that could be happening, or to be there to prevent it in the first place. She glanced at the street and saw the same person from this morning on their phone.
She knew it.
She FUCKING knew it.
Claire was ripping into Chris.
Her heart had begun to sink as soon as she opened the apartment door and heard her mother's raised voice. Chris meanwhile remained silent, and his eyes shifted over to Chloe as she emerged from around the corner. Claire saw his visual divert, and spun around.
"Chloe, listen to me." Claire barked, "You told me earlier how much you hated Chris. He won't believe me. Tell him what you told me."
Chloe's jaw hit the leather toe tips of her boots as the two Redfield adults waited for her to speak. She lifted her chin with a finger, but she could not refrain herself from scowling at her mother.
"I have not said anything like that today. Or in the last month." she explained, but Claire blew through her lips.
"You lie! You fucking told me that you hate him and you wish he were dead!"
Chris raised an eyebrow, but not at his niece. Chloe wordlessly approached her mom, and was surprised that the crawlies that had thinly washed over her upon returning home had all but disappeared. A new sensation. What did they call it? Resilience?
"Mom. I have never, EVER, wished death upon anyone. Let alone my own family."
"Why are you lying, Chloe?" Claire sneered. Chloe scoffed and flapped both hands at her.
"No, Mom, why are YOU lying?! Do you not stop to think that perhaps Chris and myself talk about these things that we have allegedly told you about each other?!"
"Why do you talk?!" Claire raised her voice higher, and shot a glare at her brother, "You both hate each other's guts, you both tell me!"
"Claire, you need to stop, breathe and think, plea-"
"No, Chris, fuck you! Why are you both lying to me?!"
"Why are you lying to us, Mom?!" Chloe did it. She raised her own voice beyond her mother's. Chris wasn't taken by surprise by it, but her mother surely was.
Claire stared at her daughter, her chest heaving, and she snarled her lip at Chloe. Oh no. She knew what was coming, she could see that tell tale twitch in Claire's arm. Chris saw it too, and he moved swiftly from behind Claire to catch her rapidly rising wrist.
"What the hell?! Let go, Chris!"
"Don't EVER raise your hand to Chloe." Chris' voice was cool, level, calm. Amongst this imminent train wreck he was remaining calm. Chloe inhaled slowly and focused. Keep the crawlies back. Keep them back.
"Mom. You hate that me and Chris talk, don't you?" Chloe matched her uncle's calm demeanour, and he nodded silently to himself.
Claire struggled against Chris' grip, and Chloe winced at the sound of her mom gritting her teeth together, God what a horrible sound! After no verbal intervention from either of them, Chloe continued.
"Why say that you want us to get along again, but then go ahead and actively try to sabotage our relationship? I know you bugged Chris' phone when we walked Thor to the park last month. I know you listened to our conversations. Why, Mom? Eavesdropping I can tolerate, but why the hell do you think it's acceptable to bug my uncle's phone?"
Claire bent forward quickly and tried to lunge at her daughter, and Chris had to quickly recompose his offset posture to stop her. He twisted his sister on her feet and firmly sat her down on the couch. She tried to stand up, but Chris pressed his hand down onto her shoulder.
"You keep saying that this family isn't what it used to be, that this family is falling apart because of me. Because of Chris." Chloe still spoke collectively as she gestured to him, and felt Chris' other hand briefly brush her shoulder. She watched her mother wring her fingers together, heard her grind her molars, heard her breathing increase in pace, and she knelt down before her.
"You're wrong, Mom. This family is falling apart because of you. Your lies are breaking us apart. What is it? Jealousy?"
Chloe dove backwards to avoid Mom's open hand, she hit her back on the rim of the coffee table, and Chris thrust an arm across Claire's chest, shoving her back into her seat.
"Claire Redfield. Do NOT attack Chloe, you hear me?"
"God, you're both fucking conspiring against me?!"
"No, Claire, we're just trying to make sense of it all."
Chloe grimaced at the hot pain on her spine, and she looked at her mom's face. Something wasn't right. Something had definitely changed in Claire. God, is this what severely delayed PTSD looked like?
"Fuck the both of you! I hope you both rot in a hole together!" Claire screeched, and she glowered at Chloe through her bangs, "and you, especially you, slut!"
"Chloe go get some air on the balcony." Chris ordered. He didn't need to repeat himself. She sucked her teeth as she stood up; must've hit her back harder than she thought. Claire began to shout incomprehensibly, and Chloe just wanted to get the fuck out of there.
She clicked the balcony door closed, and her mother's shouts became nothing more than a muffled noise lost in the living room. Chris will handle it. He's got this.
The night had further cooled down even in that small time frame between taking the trash out and now. This was meant to be July, but it felt like November out here. No traffic flowed on the roads below, there were no pedestrians, no Sunday night stragglers. A chopper flew overhead above the skyscrapers, and she could tell it was a cushy touristy chopper. Janine's dad worked for that company, those chopper rides were a disgusting price. Besides, if she ever wanted to be a chopper passenger, she could enlist Chris or his former squad.
She stepped away from the door, over to the pillar near the kitchen window, and kicked at the loose panel at the bottom. She knelt down and removed the little zip lock bag that was tucked into the crevice. She had no idea how long she had successfully kept her cigarettes and lighter hidden, but she was proud of her ingenuity. She lit up, shoved the contents back into the bag, and concealed them again for another night. She rounded the pillar and leant on the glass edge of the balcony, slowly inhaling the nicotine.
Still her mother's shouting and screeching filled the room behind her, but she was numb to it.
Chris would handle it.
He's got this.
She pinched the cigarette between her fingers and coughed a weak cry. All she wants is for them all to be happy. Why was this now so goddamn hard? She was always made to believe that Chris was the problem, that she was the problem, but now it is all as clear as the glass pane that she leant on.
Claire was bullshitting to both of them about the both of them. She had been for years. Chloe couldn't understand what her motives could possibly be.
She just wants them all to be happy again.
She placed the cigarette between her trembling lips and breathed another hit.
CLICK
"Fuck!" Chloe jumped, and she dropped the smoke as quick as she could, stamping her boot on it to hide the evidence. A figure appeared by her side, but her heart fell heavily, right into her ass.
Caught.
She stared hard into the city but checked her peripheral vision. Well, that wasn't her mother's tree trunks for legs. She heard a zippo click open and close, and a lit cigarette appeared before her eyes. She followed the arm that held it, up past the shoulder and at Chris' emotionless face. He twitched his eyebrows and motioned for her to accept it, but she was confused.
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather offer you an allowance of cigarettes than run the risk of you shoplifting for them." Chris explained, and he wobbled his hand again. She hesitantly took it, and took a breath. "How do you think you end up with cigarettes in your pockets every now and again? Not magic. But it really isn't a habit that I want you to get drawn into, you hear me?"
They smoked in silence as they stared into the lights of the city. A boom of thunder rolled in the distance, and Chloe shuddered.
"I'm sorry, Chloe. I want to make this right, but I have no idea how." Chris mumbled, stuffing his cigarette end into the ashtray on the table.
Chloe heard that. She heard that tiny crack in his voice. It made her angry. Angry that her mom was affecting him like this, now that she knew what the root of their issues were. She handed her own cigarette end to him and he tossed that into the glass too. He stepped into her and engulfed her in his arms, still unbelievably muscular for a man in his mid fifties. Resting her head on his huge chest she could smell his own faint scent, and it slowed her thumping heart, it soothed her soul, it reminded her of their tender and close relationship when she was a much younger girl. She was beginning to feel more and more reliant on his calming words recently, on his presence, like a drug that was impossible to wean off of. They were mending their relationship slowly. Their relationship that they now knew was diseased by the mother and sister in the family, but the progress was being hindered, being poked and prodded at by the same entity. Being alone with Claire was beginning to scare her, and the thought made her bunch Chris' shirt in her fist.
"I mean, I know how, but whether I can without repercussions…" Chris trailed off, and Chloe rubbed her cheek on his shirt to look up at his face. His eyes were far away, staring, glassy. She knew the repercussions he referred to, but he didn't know that she knew.
"What's your plan?" Chloe uttered, and Chris smoothed a hand over the red denim on her back.
"The plan is that one day I will get to tell you what I've wanted to tell you for years. Whether Claire wants me to or not. She won't stop me. Not ever. Not anymore." He pressed a hand between them, once again tracing the outline of Chloe's heart pendant.
"Why not tell me now?"
"Because I want your mom to get beyond this mindset she has. I don't want to run any risk of harming either of us, or herself."
"You just said that she won't stop you, so why not tell me now?"
"I want things to be better first."
"What's the point? Why try to make things better, Chris? Mom pretty much hates us talking, hates me, and I'm slowly realising that you're too fucking spineless to really say anything to her or do anything about it all."
She felt a lump travel into Chris' chest against her ear.
"You have no idea of the sacrifices that I am having to make, my emotional sacrifices to keep your mom happy. One day maybe you'll learn, and one day maybe you'll realise why you think I'm so spineless. Until that day, my heart will continue to ache for you, Chloe."
Chris planted a soft kiss on her cheek, holding it there for a few seconds. Chloe's eyes began to pool. He hadn't left a prolonged kiss on her cheek since she was in elementary school.
"One day you will know why I love you so much more than I should as an uncle." Chris sighed and exited the balcony. She too sighed, and slowly stepped about with her eyes to her boots. Voices began to rise inside the apartment again, and Chloe decided that she was going to spend as long as possible out here on the balcony before heading back inside. A flash lit up the sky on the far side of the city, and Chloe counted the seconds before the imminent grumble of thunder.
An arm threw itself around her throat and pulled her to the floor, and she blindly grappled to break free as Thor's sudden, bellowing barks drowned out the bickering inside, his claws scratching frantically against the glass door pane. She went to shout out, to alert people of her peril, but a hand clamped over her mouth, and she was dragged back to her feet. She bit hard on the fingers, and a man's voice yelped behind her. She wildly threw an elbow out and felt it connect.
Outside of the dojo, there are no rules, Little Pebble.
She stomped her foot on her assailant's foot and turned to make a break for the door, but a…face cloth? A face cloth was held against her nose, once again she was pulled down to the floor, and she panicked when she realised the cloth had a sweet, grass clippings kind of smell and-
"-mine just as much as yours, Claire! Stop this!" Chris yelled, and he ripped the knife handle from Claire's hand.
"Chris I swear!" Claire squawked, her voice gritty and dry from her persistent shouting, "I swear if she just heard you, I will put this fucking knife through your fucking disgusting FACE!" She attempted to grab the large kitchen knife back off him, but he pushed her onto the couch nearest the balcony door, where Thor was howling and barking.
"You need help, Claire, can you not see that?!"
"Thor, will you shut the hell up?!" Claire screamed, launching herself over the couch back, and she planted a foot hard into his leg.
"Don't kick the dog!"
"Well I just did, what are you going to do abo-"
Chris shoved passed Claire and tended to the whimpering shepkita, who still pawed the balcony door.
"What's wrong, boy?" Chris asked, and he peered outside. He bolted upright and threw the door open.
Chloe was gone.
"Where is she, boy? Go!" He let go of Thor, who bolted down the fire escape stairs, barking madly, claws clattering on the metal steps. Fire escape. Why was it open? It wasn't earlier.
"See? She heard you, Chris." Claire snarled behind him, "She heard the truth about you, and she couldn't bear it, so she ran." Chris ignored his sister's mocking tone and strode to the fire escape. He looked left over the balcony's edge, to Thor sniffing at the side gate for the apartment. He couldn't get out, but Chloe had gone that way. He slowly stepped closer to get a better view and felt something stick under his bare foot. He lifted it up, saw a thin silver chain dangling from his sole, and upon pulling at it, revealed Chloe's heart shaped pendant.
"Oh, look. She even took it off? I thought you said she never took it off, Chris?"
"She didn't run away." grunted Chris, still ignoring his sister's condescending manner.
"Oh but she did, she defini-"
Chris tisked and shoved Claire back inside.
"She's been taken, Claire! Kidnapped!" He saw his sister's eyes move to the knife he had dropped, and he snatched it up before she could react. He threw it over the dining table and into the kitchen, where it landed on the tiled floor with a steel clatter. She reeled and lunged at him for the fourth time that night, and he twisted his body, grabbing her in a headlock.
"Claire." He spoke in her ear as she screamed, "I'm locking you in Chloe's room. There is nothing in there for you to do damage to yourself or me. I need to find out where Chloe is, and I can't do that with you being like this." He had half dragged Claire over to Chloe's room as he spoke, and he pushed her in, closing the door and swiftly pulling down the nearby artwork on the wall. He wedged it under the handle and over the door frame; thank God it was big enough. Claire screamed again, rattling the door, but the barricade was stuck fast. Chris pressed his palm heels into his forehead and moaned into the air. The rattling of the door and banging of fists petered out, and Chris nodded, turning to head back to the balcony.
"Chris…please…I don't know what is happening to me…I'm scared Chris, please…"
He stopped. Listened.
That wasn't Claire trying to put anything on; that was her sincere voice, her real self.
"Chris…please…let me out…help me…"
He turned and looked at the door handle, weighing up his options.
"Chris I will fucking GUT you and strangle you with your own FUCKING entrails when I get out! Let me out, bastard!"
Nope. Fuck that. He discarded the idea of letting her out and went back outside right as Thor sniffed at something on the ground. Something he hadn't seen earlier.
Blood.
His body became enveloped with ice, and he gripped Thor's fur.
"Hope this is not Chloe's blood."
The song for this chapter is Guilty by The Rasmus.
Think of it as a song that could apply to all three Redfields in one way or another.
Bonus songs are also A Moment Of Relief from the RE: Code Veronica (and X) soundtrack (the game's save room music), and also Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. For Chloe to play it with Chris was one of my earliest concepts, and the primary reason why I had her be a novice level pianist.
You could say this is the end of "Part 1" of Made In Heaven, the plot literally thickens from here on out and I'm going to really need to concentrate to get it all correct and join the dots, so to speak. Don't be surprised if there's an even bigger gap between chapters from here on out.
Finally, big shoutout once again to MasterOfFangirlingArt for allowing Marcello to appear once again!
(Oh and bonus points for noticing references to MIH and that cheeky ref. from RE1 1996 :) )