This is a fictional diary that I wrote, which 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
June 29 1998, 8 P.M.
She woke up surprisingly without a hangover but she still seemed to be, not her regular self. At the time, I didn’t really think about it, all I cared about was making sure she was back on her feet. I didn’t have much she could’ve borrowed, so I called up Jack and got her keys back. Grabbing only some the basic things and something to put on.
Opening the door to my apartment, all I hear was loud whaling coming from the bathroom. Jill was huddled in the corner of the shower, naked, shivering and in an uncontrollable fit of grief.
I turned off the shower and tried to pull her away from the corner. “Leave me alone.” She didn’t move for at least 20 minutes….and I didn’t say anything. I let her go.
“Chris.” She reached out for my hand. I fumbled for a towel and tried to hand it to her. “No, your hand.” I helped her up and kept my composure, despite never seeing Jill like this before. She felt like an empty shell, as if she’d cried beyond her capacity. Tears were streaming down her face and began to hyperventilate. I held her close, trying to keep her warm.
A couple minutes passed and she broke away from the silence, shoving me.
It’d caught me off guard, but not enough to lose my balance. She ran at me in a frenzy and pounded on my chest, at I couldn’t feel it, the tears now drenched her cheeks, then the strikes became more intense.
One last scream came out and she partially struck me with a
full on right cross. She’d cut my lip pretty good; then it stopped. Blood was spilling slowly down my chin.
She didn’t reach for a towel, instead for lips. The pain of her soft mouth touching mine was irrelevant, I had no way stopping her. My tension from last night was not holding me back this time. I went to take my shirt off and she help tore it off!
Before I knew, I had nothing as well, falling on the bathroom floor.
It didn’t take long for me to be ready. She didn’t need any help and took my intensity and consumed it into the moisture between her thighs.
For 3 minutes she controlled my powerful hardness, then descended one last time and
collapsed onto me. There wasn’t any recognition that I’d unleashed multiple amounts of my own satisfaction in her. We didn’t give a fuck at that time.
She said to me in a low shuddered tone, “Chris, I’m throbbing.” I asked, “Does it hurt?” No, but I don’t want to move, I don’t think I can. We stayed there on the cold, white tiles for about 15 minutes, slipping into a light sleep.
Jill asked, “I know your a man and all, but did you want all that?!”
Which kind of confused me at first, but I understood. “No, you’re fine, we’re in the same boat, less you forget.” Jill smiled at me with a big grin and pulled herself up, revealing her pale-skinned, freckled breasts and toned stomach. “I don’t think you had time to really enjoy this.”
Quickly, she’d gotten up and somehow pulled me up, guiding me to the much more comfortable bed. “It’s your turn to let out those frustrations, Chris.” There was no argument there, just invigoration.
Three hours felt like three days, every way we motioned was burned into my mind. Our conditioned bodies entwined together an uncontrollable lust without recourse.
Motions steadily became slow, natural and serpentine; building into boiling thrusts and rough sex.
All the anger, rage, grief and frustration had emptied out of us. Umbrella was going to wait, as time stood still for one day. This was ours and those bastards at Umbrella couldn’t take this away.
As the sun when down, we laid there awake and rested. I remember her saying,
“I kinda feel like myself again.” She was right, this night…we fucking EARNED this. Normal people don’t have to survive walking corpses, with the stench of death and shit; up close and personal.
Sure, we were conditioned for anything and we barely made it! Our FRIENDS and teammates are fucking dead! All they got was a postumous police ceremony that tells everyone. Reminding us, that “they died valiantly in order to stop the Arkley Forest from burning down.” Which will be the last lie Umbrella speaks.
“Saving countless lives.” At least they got that right. We saved all of Raccoon City from a zombie infestation!
7 P.M. was an awkward time for coffee. Me and Jill got dressed and had a bit of time reminiscing about the team, how we met and what things were like before the outbreak, before that fucking cunt, Captain Wesker set us up to die. Instantly, it hit us, we’ve got to beat them and bring these assholes down.
Jill had better sense than me to let me know that tonight was it…at least until Umbrella goes down and we’re all safe from the virus.
“Chris, we can’t be giving each other pecks on the cheeks, slapping asses and quickies in the closet. We’ve got shit to do, it’s going break our concentration and get us dead!”
“Look we know how each of us move, a hell of a lot better now. Let’s use that to our advantage should we have put bullets in some of these bastards.” That was her way of saying, keep it in your pants. “Right, got it!”
Inevitably, I questioned. “You’ve got a plan?!”
After we got back, Becky became cold and reserved. After Richard died, we assumed she shelled up and put a false face of happiness for the public. Jill tried talking to her, only to get the cold shoulder. She thinks that it was just that the shock hadn’t worn off yet. I asked Jill to stay with her overnight, maybe she’d come out of her shell. We need her, not only is she one of us, she’s a chemist and field medic, so losing her is out of the question.
Brad finally answered my calls this afternoon. It looks like he’s back on board with us. He said he’d do it, “flying a chopper isn’t a problem for me. But I’m not going toe to toe with those freaks!” It was clear he was referring to the creatures we faced in the Umbrella mansion. I reassured to him, the chaos that happened there was over.
Lying to him was best thing to do, who knows what the fuck will happen…Brad and everyone needs range time. The last time Brad had a tight pattern on a target, was with my help.
Claire called me from Denver. Turns out she got a B average for her freshman year at Colorado State. Ever since we got back she’s called me at least twice a day, but this was the first time we actually talked about her life.
Apparently, the she’s gone through seven or eight boyfriends, too. I’m not too worried, she’s tougher than a lot of guys I’ve known in the service. Dad taught her how to hunt and track when she was 9 and ride a Harley by 12. She’ll be fine.
I haven’t said anything about the zombies, the lab or what really happened to my guys. Letting her know would only bring her to worry about me; she’s been good to me since dad died.
You’d think a tough guy like me would be the one to keep a stiff upper lip. But I was wreck then; getting into fights and drinking myself to near death. It almost got my ass kicked out of the squad, had it not been for her.
Two years sober, fuck man; that felt just like yesterday. But when I was fighting myself to stay dry, it felt like a decade.
Myself and all of the guys pulled together and built a new tactical course, over the past few days. Barry pulled some strings with the RPD’s armory and some of his “hunting buddies”, with some new gear.
Good thing we’re the cops, otherwise the ATF would be pissing down our necks in no time. He even got us an anti-tank rifle, just in case another one of Wesker’s creations stood in our way. I broke his balls a little, “Jesus Barry, what are you, the Tim the tool-man Taylor of guns?!”
He nearly choked on the bite he’d just taken out of his sandwich. It was a laugh we all needed, including Rebecca.
Speaking of her, after the course was built; she left. She said, “I’m not ready to gear up yet.” I don’t blame her. She went from the new kid on the block, to a hardened veteran in a day. Talk about being thrown in the fire.
She had so much more energy than all of us before this garbage happened, maybe one day we all can move on from
Training went smooth, real smooth…including Brad. Looks like he paid attention during the runs we’d made through the old training courses at the Army National Guard base. We spent three hours on the gun range, as well. Jill was off a little, but promised it was only temporary. Barry just played around with his targets and even hit a few of Brads just to make him look better. (Not like he needed it!)
READ MORE “THE DIARY OF CHRIS REDFIELD (PART 1) BY RACOON DADDY”