This is a fictional diary that wrote that is based off of Resident Evil.  It follows directly after the first entry.  For a synopsis of Resident Evil look HERE   

I’D READ THAT FIRST IF YOU’VE NEVER PLAYED THE GAME AND DON’T INTEND TO.

OTHERWISE THIS WILL SPOIL THE STORY

WARNING!!  CONTENT NOT FOR  CHILDREN  

All rights to the original source material is owned by Capcom.

 

Diary of Chris Redfield

July 31st 1998

 

Today was a pretty shit day. Our S.T.A.R.S comrades were given a full ceremony in order to honor their deaths.  Bullshit…among those honored was Albert Wesker, the former leader of the group. That bastard betrayed us!! Yet we honor yet him?! The only thing that kept me was losing my cool was Barry.

He told me, “This is only beginning. Keep calm, you know damn well they’re watching us and we have to be careful with our moves. Losing your cool is the last thing we need.”

Normally, most folks would go grab a meal, coffee or find some place to talk. We all quietly went our separate ways.

 

August 7th 1998

It’s been two weeks since the Arkley Forest went up in smoke. Both the explosion from the mansion outbreak and murders that resulted from the mutated animals are being told another way. They’ve panned it off as wildfire and the deaths as wolf overpopulation in the wilderness. Jill went over yesterday to talk to the victims’ families and give them the truth, some were unmoved and seemed to have been “coached” by someone.  Most likely it somebody with deep pockets and plenty to hide.

It’s clear that Umbrella is covering their tracks well and aren’t sparing the expenses. It’s odd that neither Jill, Barry, Becky have said anything about any suits approaching them. Maybe they know we won’t stay quiet and are one step ahead of us.

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We’ve gotta be on alert, but I don’t think any of us can even keep our eyes open. I’m always on edge; paranoia isn’t even the word to describe it. A couple days ago, I tried to talk with Brad, but he said, “to leave me alone, you wouldn’t understand!” I’m not sure if that’s the guilt or Umbrella talking.

June 28 1998

My vacation started yesterday, I almost collapsed on the floor from the lack of sleep. Insomnia set in the moment I stepped off of that chopper. All I would remember was the ear-bleeding screams those lizard-men monsters would make.  They were so goddamn fast!!

I did everything to fight them from taking my head off my shoulders, I remember with EXACT detail. From the dinosaur-like talons, their towering height, blood drissling from their teeth the way they’d leap at you was…something that just doesn’t fucking exist!!

One got me pretty bad on my left bicep when my revolver went dry, had I not forced my knife into its skull, I’d not be here. Fortunately, Becky took care of it and I was left using my right hand only for about an hour until the drugs kicked in.

 

 

June 29 1998

 

 

Jill gave me a call around 1 A.M., saying she needed a ride back to her place. Some of the girls at the station took her out to drink, she ended up staying after they’d left and had too much. When I got there, she was shit-faced.

Jack, the owner of the bar was pretty cool about keeping her there and had her lay down in the lounge. She was trying to hide how drunk she really was. But it didn’t take long, as when we got to her place, that she left her house keys at the bar.

Helping into my apartment she stumbled and continued to ramble about how the men at the bar only looked at her as “only sweet piece of ass” and the rest as “some pariah”. The pungent smell of tequila on her breath was more or less encouraging me to make sure she got to either a toilet or the bed ASAP. Fortunately, we got there with her popping in the apartment. It looked as though everything would be fine, but she asked me to help her with her shoes. When I tried to unbuckle foot, wrapped her legs around my and forced my face right into her panties. I panicked!

Her legs became a vice trapping my face into her soaked crotch. Her scent was the direct opposite of the tequila affecting her, but had the same intoxicating effect. She told me,

“Chris, I never had a problem with you fucking my brains out! If anything is going to make me forget all of this, it’s you.”

Everything she said forced the man outside of my mind to take control and give what her drunken urges wanted. I felt so fucking wrong and everything…went black.

Then she popped…all on the carpet, the sheets and night stand.  Most guys would’ve felt robbed at this point. Jill threw up everywhere and the lust left the room. Honestly though, Jill getting sick was probably for the better.

After spending about an hour cleaning up, I crashed on the couch and cleaned up the best I could. I didn’t want to move her and pretty much made sure she was sipping water to ease the nausea.

 

 

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