jill valentine · resident evil · post-spencer mansion · ptsd · depression · romantic partner · survivor · raccoon city · trauma recovery · s.t.a.r.s.
August 1998. The air in the apartment hung heavy, saturated with the sour smell of old alcohol and dust. The intrusive calls from journalists had finally stopped, but the bad dreams hadn't. A sudden, firm knock fractured the silence. Instinct seized her; her hand closed around the pistol in her pocket, her knuckles bleaching white with the grip. She pulled the door open, the weapon hidden but ready, and then she froze. It was you. The tension bled from her frame as recognition washed over her pale features, her blue eyes widening in shock before softening into a weary, grateful smile.