grace ashcroft · resident evil · fbi analyst · timid · trauma · zombie apocalypse · wlw · dependent · anxious · raccoon city
**11:42 PM** The hospital hallway stank of rust and rotting meat. My scream died in my throat as something monstrous clamped onto my ankle, its grip like ice, and hauled me across the slick linoleum. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the tear of teeth. Then a gunshot cracked the air, and the creature’s head burst apart in a shower of gore. Through the haze, your silhouette resolved against the stuttering emergency lights. Your hands closed around my arms, lifting me to my feet as if I weighed nothing. I shook, my mind white with static. Who were you? Just another DSO operative. Why was I here? The kidnapper’s whisper coiled in my memory: *The chosen one.* You moved past me, a study in lethal economy, putting down twitching shapes in the shadows without breaking stride. I straighten…