Day 3

They'd parted so quickly that there was no way that Tim had seen anything. Leon's gaze was too obvious though; he wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he stared at the black, television screen with a finger resting thoughtfully -almost worriedly- against his lips.

When Claire looked at Tim he was exclaiming something about the wind as he took longer than usual to shut the door behind him.

When he finally looked up, his eyes appeared to light up with joy. "My man!" His excitement at seeing Leon was a bit confusing to his partner at times. He greeted him like they were good friends that regularly hung out together, but in reality, the two had only hung out a handful of times when Leon came to visit Claire and she was out. He shrugged off his thin, brown jacket and took three long strides to reach over her.

Leon managed a grin somehow, despite his and Claire's prior mood, and got up so they could go in for that weird hug men loved so much. When they released each other Claire expected a proper greeting from her boyfriend, but instead, he proceeded to ask Leon about his latest developments.

When she'd heard enough of them each saying nothing was going on Claire cleared her throat noisily. "I mean, I've actually got something new going on."

Tim's excitement had markedly declined when he switched into his loving-caring-boyfriend mode. "Oh, wow. You really got it done." She'd been talking about a dye job for a while now just to switch it up from the usual, color she'd been having her whole life. "It looks great, babe." His response was obligatory, and it bothered her more that he was still more concentrated on Leon's presence. She chalked it up to a lack of male interaction. "So, am I interrupting some secret meeting?"

Before Claire could answer, Leon quickly said, "No. I just got the call that Claire was back in town and I figured I'd swing by to see her."

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, a smile still present. "How long are you staying man, because we've got the spare bedroom?"

"Thanks, man, but I'm only gonna be here for a few weeks. Accommodations have already been made."

"Well, where'd they set you up at?"

"Homewood."

Tim raised his eyebrows, impressed at the selection and probably at how much money that meant that the US was shelling out for Leon's living arrangements. "Nice. Kitchen, living area, bedroom…"

"It's like an apartment without the lease."

"Hey, you want a beer?" Before Leon could accept or –preferably- decline, Tim was already heading towards the refrigerator. When he returned with the uncapped bottle in hand, Leon left him hanging. "All I've got is Michelob."

With a nod, Leon slowly reached for the beer, tilting it to thank Tim, but rather than take a swig he set it on the coffee table. Tim wasn't aware of the ease with which Leon could slip into a downward spiral of alcohol and despair. But how could he? He had no understanding of what the Raccoon City survivors had to contend with in their own minds. Before awkwardness could settle, a loud thud came from next door, earning a glance from all of them.

With a heavy sigh, Claire stared at the wall as if she were able to see through it. "Scott and Walter sound like they need some help."

After swallowing a large gulp of beer, Tim said, "If they're not settled in a week we can offer our services. That Scott guy… I don't know about him."

Everything awkward between them disappeared, and Claire was completely entranced by this mention of their strangest new neighbor. "Have you seen him?" She noted the apparent excitement in her voice and told herself to gather her emotions. She'd just never seen anyone suffer such burns and live to tell about it. Claire needed someone else to say that they had seen it too. After all, she was not too proud to admit that sometimes her eyes played horrible tricks on her.

"No," he shook his head almost disappointedly.

The young woman folded her arms over her chest. "All I know is that he was a traveling doctor. Judging by what I've seen of him, I'm guessing that his retirement was forced."

Silence began to settle, and just as Claire was about to continue on the subject of the neighbors, Leon shot up from the couch. "Look, it was nice stopping in. I have to get back to the room, let Hunnigan know that I'm actually on vacation this time, and rack room charges."

Claire wanted to protest, but Tim looked like he would do that on her behalf. Instead, she asked, "How much time do you have exactly?" As a friend, she genuinely hoped that he was not planning on charging the miniature bottles of wine, vodka, and whiskey to his room. No, he wouldn't; he'd just softly declined the beer that Tim had offered him. Claire shot a glance to make sure that the brown, glass bottle was still sitting unopened on the small, circular table on the side of the couch.

With a smirk, Leon replied, "I was actually kind of sent away… from the building. So I've got a good amount of vacation stacked up."

Tim gave a nod. "Sometimes that's gotta be done. I swear Claire would probably be gone year-round if she could."

Sometimes, she felt that way, and sometimes she wanted it to be that way. As they said their goodbyes to her friend she felt a sadness come over her that seemed illogical. He'd be fifteen miles away. A text could be sent in no time, but if he walked out of that door she just felt that something would be so off. Claire didn't want Leon to go.

She'd been lying in bed for a while. There was nothing else to do. Claire ran her fingers back and forth over the black sheet beneath her, scratching at the tightly-woven threads with a crimson nail, competing with the sound of Tim loudly brushing his teeth in the bathroom. The rushing water would've lulled her to sleep years ago when her biggest concern was getting through English class without Colby Pratt noticing the young, auburn-haired girl staring at him, but now it served an important purpose to her at this moment. The noise complimented the sleep dread that she'd been experiencing since the incident. It amazed her. How could she slip into sleep when she knew that Alfred Ashford was skulking just around a corner, but after that, she feared sleep more than any BOW?

How could it have been that the biggest threat to her in her dreams was now a tie around the throat rather than a set of teeth? When did a bullet penetrating her vest become trivial in comparison to… Vulgar thoughts were unwelcome on this vulgar topic that Claire chose to avoid except in the safe confines of her mind. As she heard the stream of the water stop and Tim spit, she drew into herself to set the tone for bedtime. Tim touching her was typically held off for day three of leave, but Claire couldn't bear the thought of having obligatory sex with someone. The light switch was flipped off and she heard the heavy footfall that she knew was intended to rouse her had she dozed off, and she felt the bed sink in behind her.

With another flip of a switch, the pair was bathed in darkness, and she felt the unbearable heat of his body before he even made contact. He pulled her to him by the waist, his arm digging into her skin painfully, but she tried to look okay as she followed his pull and turned over. Even in the dark, Claire could not smile and could barely breathe. He grabbed her face, completely unaware of her anxiety, but to Claire, it just felt like he didn't care. She knew that if she told him he would. Right? Right. His mouth found its way to her neck where she felt him place heated kisses and leave behind a trail of warm saliva. Then he was on top of her, throwing back the sheet, feeling that same unbearable heat that Claire had felt as well.

Robotically, her arms made their way around his bare back but her body did not move beneath him as it would have before. She stayed still, petrified as if struck by lightning. Paralyzed, her fear-stricken brain wondered if she was being paranoid. Her attacker didn't kiss her. No. It was the unsolicited contact, the fact that she hadn't shown interest in physical contact with Tim. A peck on the lips was one thing, but sex? Please, no, she thought as the panic threatened to show.

He continued kissing her, his lips finding her own that failed to be responsive. As he moved against Claire, the only one dancing to this sick song, she felt him hardening against her thigh, flinching at the feel of the smooth, hardened tumescent. It took so little for men, and now she was feeling sick to her stomach, both of them teetering on opposite ends of the scale. He was heavier though, and his partner could feel herself falling to him, holding onto naïve thoughts with surfaces so smooth and thin that she should have just let go. She should just let him devour her.

And so he did.

He'd attempted to penetrate her, needing the assistance of him licking his hand only to rub it against her entrance. In the dark, the tears weren't real. She told herself that the warm wetness on the sheets could be easily mistaken for sweat. Tim couldn't have known. Her muscles were rigid not with an impending orgasm, but with horror, with the belief that if she held him tightly then he'd notice nothing. Claire did not moan but instead, she breathed so heavily with each thrust that he might mistake them for sounds of pleasure.

His face was buried in her neck as he panted the usual. "Fuck!" "Claire, I missed you." "I love you so fucking much." He thought this was passionate, but she only wrapped her arms around him even more tightly, grabbing at the hair above the nape of his neck. Claire had been biting her bottom lip so hard that she began to taste blood. It was only a few thrusts away from it being over. As she felt him coming inside of her, Claire felt herself letting go, now haunted by the revelation that no matter who it was, no matter their intent, it would now all seem the same.

It was all violent.

Day 4

A storm was brewing, it was all they talked about on the news. There was an expected flood, but every time one came the complex was left untouched. This meant that no tenant cared about evacuating. Claire's biggest concern would have been Tim had he not unknowingly forced her into confronting a monster that existed only for no one else, and perhaps for Leon. It was unfair that she placed such high expectations on him when he had no idea that he needed to modify his behavior for his girlfriend's sake. Claire wouldn't tell him though. She'd been tested for everything at least three times, scrubbed her body raw, and abstained from any solo sexual activity, far too disgusted with her own body and the profane things that had been done with it. She couldn't bring herself to say the "R" word; it meant so much more than what people realized, and it felt incredibly diminutive that the word had only four letters.

Four letters could ruin so many lives.

A simple word had so many complexities, yet right now it would have been better to focus on the storm. Dr. Cyrus had said as much. He said that the possible loss of electricity was going to be more harmful to his patient and her mental state if she didn't prepare herself. He was right. Claire went out and bought a backup battery pack to charge her phone in case the power did go out, a case of water, food that required no prep, and a flashlight with extra batteries. She had a few more days before the initial rain started, but after that people would be arriving at the supercenters in droves as though it were the last of days.

She'd advised Leon that if he planned on hanging around then it was best that he also purchase some food since he wouldn't be able to go anywhere. Even the hotel restaurant would be shut down due to the expected and excused high volume of callouts. This preparation kept her mind occupied, so much so that she failed to even mention what happened last night… If Claire would have divulged that information, Cyrus would be well on his way to his checklist of why she should be either suspended or discharged from duty. With a heavy sigh, Claire stuffed bags of chips and popcorn into the cabinet overhead, but upon the sound of a loud thud, her eyes wandered to that damned wall that was shared with Walter and Scott.

Shutting the cabinet door, Claire took a few steps towards the wall, staring so hard that she began to squint. It wouldn't help. A louder thud caused her heart to jump and she grabbed her chest, feeling the muscle beat uncontrollably. She wondered to herself what she expected, feeling silly at her reaction. As the young woman turned to walk away she heard muffled yells, and they weren't excited or instructive. It sounded almost volatile, hateful, and not at all like something that anyone would choose to listen to. Without thinking, she exited the apartment and began knocking on the door.

Swift and heavy footsteps responded with what could be construed as relief and gratefulness for a distraction as all the yelling had ceased. The door swung in quickly, and Walter appeared, pleasantly surprised. "How are you, Claire?"

"Good," Claire replied, unable to keep from peeking into the apartment. No one was behind him today. She'd gathered that the other tenant was still in the bedroom, unable to follow Walter to continue whatever he had left behind in that room. "I was just checking on you to make sure that you know about the storm coming." The lie came so easily when there was a pretense of care behind it.

"Oh yes, we've just started seeing the warnings. When national news warns about the weather you'd best take heed."

"We've got almost a week so you should have plenty of time, but if there's anything you guys need just feel free to let me know."

Walter smiled with such pleasantness that Claire was sure that he was warming up to her. "Thank you, Claire."

"He's gonna be all right?" she asked, pointing in the direction that the bedrooms would be.

"Yes, he's getting around much better lately."

"What happened to him? If you don't mind me asking?"

His smile faded, however, he did not indicate that he determined the inquiry to be distasteful, but he did appear to be struggling with a response. With much care and thought he said, "He was injured while working. He was out of the country." He nodded to himself sadly, quickly adding, "Almost died before anyone even found him, really." His tone had now become full of pride, although a bit of remorse still tinged his voice as he remembered something that he certainly was not willing to tell anyone about his roommate from years long gone. "Dr. Connor was an ambitious man with high hopes for the world, but with such ambition comes a price."

She nervously began locking and unlocking her fingers. "I'm so sorry." Claire lowered her voice, hoping that it would help Walter feel more comfortable with divulging more. "Was it a fire? I saw the burns."

He glanced back quickly, surprising his probing neighbor as he stepped over the threshold which prompted her to step back, and he slowly drew the door until it was almost shut. "I'm not at liberty to discuss his accident, but I can say with utmost certainty that if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

So badly, Claire wanted to push the envelope and say, "Try me." It would have been a mistake that she was sure that Walter would report back to his charge, and so she merely said, "I believe in a lot of things now that I never did before."

He gave a short laugh and reached back for the doorknob. Before he completely turned though, he stopped, turning his head back in her direction. "You know, Claire…" His pause almost seemed like an eternity. "The walls are thick, but I gather that you can hear much of Scott's tantrums even still. This move has been hard on him." He seemed regretful of that, licking his thin, pale lips as he looked to the floor. "I think he'd want you to know that he'd rather you not even know he's here, or that he exists. I try to keep him mellow. At ease… but I can't expect so much of him. He wanted to come here to evade notice because of what he believes he's become." Without further expounding, Claire knew that the unspoken word was "monster."

Feeling horrible, Claire started to say, "I'm so sorry-"

"His physical therapy has been strenuous, but he's determined to at least be walking by New Year's. Please, bear with us for that long. He's hoping to live unassisted by autumn of next year."

"Of course," the young woman whispered, feeling ashamed that she had even attempted to continue prying. Claire had seen the result of his unfortunate accident, or at least part of it. Even though it was killing her to not know what had happened, at least she could try to keep the snooping subtle. After all, feigning normalcy was the most normal thing that could be done right now.

"He's too strong for his own good." Once again, he turned to signal the end of the conversation, this time, meaning it. "You have a good evening, dear heart."

As the door closed in Claire's face, she felt herself freeze up, lips slightly parted. It seemed that the past was determined to consume her, entirely.