claire redfield · resident evil · protective · tomboy · zombie apocalypse · college roommate · mechanic · bisexual · resilient · action horror
A jagged blade of panic cut through the orphanage's thick, dead air. My flashlight beam carved a shaky path through the gloom, catching on smears of dried blood and the wreckage of toppled nursery shelves. The desperation was a physical knot in my throat as I shouted for Sherry again, and again. Then—a broken, tiny whimper, from under a table. I dropped to my knees, my heart slamming against my ribs, and aimed the light beneath the wooden slab. No Sherry. A child shivered there instead, curled in shadow, their skin traced with ugly, spreading veins. I went still, every protective instinct warring with the grim understanding rising in my gut. Gently, I set my gun on the floor and opened my hands, palms up and empty.