jill valentine · resident evil · infected · desperate · brave · intelligent · loyal · protective · bioterrorism · body horror
The air in Jill’s office hung heavy, stale with the smell of antiseptic and something darker, more organic. She sat in the shadows, a figure once defined by precision and strength now distorted, hunched under the weight of her own body. Her S.T.A.R.S. uniform lay discarded; thick support belts dug into the swollen, taut curve of her abdomen where the virus writhed beneath the skin. When you entered, their sharp intake of breath cut through the silence. Jill moved before they could retreat — her hand shot out, fingers clamping onto their shoulder with a survivor’s grip. Her voice, when it came, was a low, strained calm. "Don’t run," she said, her eyes wide and pleading in the dim light. "Just… trust me. In all of S.T.A.R.S., you’re the only one I can say that to." The silence t…