Chapter Text
A Place to Hide
It was the middle of winter, so Sherry could not rely on the sky to give her the time. After all, the sun preferred to retire early during the winter. However, she had a good enough sense of the time to know it was getting late even without checking out the window.
It was eight o'clock, yet not one of her six invitees had shown up to her apartment. The first two, Leon and Claire, were obvious choices since they were the closest to her. The third, Jake, could be anywhere on the planet fighting off B.O.W.s, but inviting him anyway only felt right. The latter three were acquaintances from work.
The party officially started at seven o'clock, and dinner had been simmering on the stove since seven-thirty. It needed to be eaten soon before the noodles got too soggy, so if nobody showed up, she would wind up eating dinner alone on her own birthday.
Sherry remained hopeful, preferring to assume anything other than malice of her invitees. A delayed flight may be holding up Leon, Claire, or Jake. Her coworkers possibly got snowed in and were unable to contact her thanks to spotty reception. The more she lingered on it, though, the more she recognized how unlikely it was for there to be so many coincidences at once. Hoping to escape the thoughts that inevitably followed, she decided to stop lingering on it entirely.
Clad in a daytime outfit that was not suited for sitting around, she had been waiting patiently on the couch for the past half hour, her arms wrapped around a throw pillow, her chin propped atop its side. The local news station was wrapping up the latter half of its nightly report, speaking primarily on inconsequential affairs like sports. Mundane it may be, it was the only voice she wanted to talk to her until anyone arrived.
Predictably, she leaped off the couch as soon as a knock played on her door. A simple press of a button on the remote silenced the meteorologist on the television, and she greeted her visitor almost immediately. Deep inside, she hoped it was Claire. Claire was always the best medicine when she was upset.
She threw the door open, but instead of finding herself face-to-face with Claire, Sherry found herself face-to-chest with the rangy Jake Muller. She needed to tilt her head back just to meet his face, and she found him looking down at her with a smirk. It was not the person Sherry expected to meet at her door, but she was hardly disappointed.
"Evenin'," he greeted.
"Jake? I... I didn't think you'd make it!" she nearly cheered.
Aside from a black beanie and studded earrings, he was exactly as she last saw him: well-built, dressed decently, beat-up boots, a deep discolored scar stretched across his cheek, and eyes a ghastly blue.
Another detail caught Sherry's eye, though she neglected to draw attention to it. It was a delicate, freshly polished gold necklace hanging from his neck. The gold was most likely authentic judging by how brilliantly it shimmered. Curiously, its pendant hung beneath the collar of his snug Henley shirt, tucked out of sight. With how closely the shirt clung to his muscular frame, the faintest outline protruded from the fabric.
With the door now open, Jake pushed himself off the door frame against which he had been leaning, then welcomed himself into the apartment. Sherry insistently took his coat moments after he shed it from his shoulders, and he allowed her.
"Why'd you invite me if you didn't think I'd make it?" he asked. After briefly scanning his surroundings, he added: "Nice digs, by the way."
"I knew it was a long shot, but I figured I'd... you know, invite you anyway," she explained while hanging his coat on the rack in the foyer. She followed after him once she was finished. "Would've been nice to have you."
"Well, you got me."
She smiled slightly, and she turned her head elsewhere to conceal the red spreading across her cheeks. Luckily for her, Jake was already off investigating the rest of her apartment, not staring at her blush. His intrusiveness would have put her off had he been any other guest, but there was no disabusing Jake Muller of his brashness; she had long concluded that, and for her own sanity, she had to accept it.
"Thanks for coming. I know it was out of your way."
"Don't mention it."
The many photographs lined across the fireplace mantel caught his interest the most, so he investigated them first. Watching from aside, she wondered what they looked like through his eyes.
That mantel was a window into her soul; it contained everything—and everyone—she ever treasured. Among sentimental keepsakes and trinkets, there stood multiple framed photographs of varying ages.
The oldest was a family portrait salvaged from her mother's office during the Raccoon City incident. It was her only window into the past—the only thing she could consult as the faces of her mother and father faded from her memory. As she marched deeper into adulthood, their faces became blurry, their voices distorted. She was so young when she lost them, and the trauma of that horrific night only made memories harder to retrieve.
The second-oldest photograph was of Claire and Leon accompanying her to the new school she attended after becoming a ward of the state. They had pooled together their money to gift her with brand new school supplies: bright and colorful map pencils, a light blue backpack, stylish clothes, novelty erasers, a new headband, and so many more things that long escaped her memory. They were small, but they meant the world to her.
Some of the remaining photographs commemorated the other milestones she achieved throughout her life, all despite the hardship she faced at an age that least deserved it. The other photos were of Leon or Claire, sometimes independent, sometimes with her in their arms. Silently, Sherry hoped Jake understood the gravity of everything on that mantel and respected it.
Whatever he thought of what he saw, Jake did not speak of it.
"So am I the only one you invited or am I just early? Could've sworn I was running late." He glanced at the clock on his phone, confirming he was indeed an hour late.
"I invited others, but..."
"They still haven't shown up?" he assumed aloud. His voice had grown sharper, his volume spiking in disbelief. He whipped around to look at her, revealing the scowl set on his face. Sherry's downcast expression answered his question. "Bunch of fuckin' assholes."
"Maybe the folks from work are, but not Leon and Claire," she hurriedly said. "They'd never stand me up like this."
"Something might be holding them up," he reasoned, temper cooling. "They better haul ass or else they're going to miss dinner. I don't think I have another hour in me; I'm starved. What's cooking?" he asked, referencing the warm, savory aroma that filled the apartment.
"Homemade chicken noodle soup. I prepared it from scratch."
"Sounds perfect for a cold night," he approved with an anticipatory smile.
"I guess we can eat now if you're hungry."
"Hell yeah. I haven't eaten all day."
"All day?" she echoed.
"It was either that or cough up God knows how much for shitty airplane food."
"Well, come on, Jake. Let me take care of you since you won’t take care of yourself," Sherry sighed. Walking back to the kitchen, she gestured to the dining table. "Go ahead and grab a seat."
He obeyed and seated himself at a circular table, favoring the chair facing the pass-through bar that looked into the kitchen. Watching her take two bowls and two chargers from her cabinet, he cleared his throat.
"Twenty-one years young today, right?" he asked, leaning back comfortably in his seat.
"Try twenty-eight," she corrected.
"Quit lying to me."
"I'm not!"
"With a body like that, there's no way you're any more than a year older than me."
"I'm telling the truth. It's because of the... you know..." She set down the ladle she had been using to scoop spoonfuls of soup into either bowl.
As she studied him with burdened eyes, a period of silence settled between them. She waited for Jake to draw the conclusion on his own, but also during that time, he waited for her to continue with her explanation. When no explanation arrived, the gears in his head began to turn. His brows perked when the realization dawned on him.
"Damn, that virus has all sorts of perks, doesn't it?" he commented. That was Sherry's cue to drop her shoulders, sigh in relief, and turn back to the pot on the stove.
"I guess it depends on your perspective," she supposed. When she returned to the table, she brought with her a plate of elaborately arranged saltine crackers. She set it in the center of the table. As she returned to the kitchen to prepare two glasses of iced water, she continued. "Mind if I ask what you've been up to lately?"
"I just got finished with a job in Kijuju. Had some cleanup work to do over there. You'll never guess who the client was."
When the conversation reached an unnatural pause, Sherry turned around to look at him through the pass-through.
“Were you wanting me to guess anyway?”
"The B.S.A.A. Ended up working with that Redfield guy again," he went ahead and said.
"Claire's brother?"
Jake nodded.
"I was surprised to see he was still alive considering what was happening the last time we saw him. Made me respect him a little more."
"Claire's told me a lot about him. He's an incredible man," Sherry agreed while delivering the glasses of water to the table next. "Too bad he doesn't seem to have shaped you up any."
"There's no saddling this stallion," he said smugly. "But I guess he's a good enough guy. He's the one who landed me the contract in the first place."
"The B.S.A.A. prefers to do its work in-house, you know. That must mean Chris really wanted you there."
"Guess I'll have to be nicer the next time I see him."
"Was everything okay between you two? Last time was... tense."
"We weren't at each other's throats this time.”
"That's a start, I guess," she sighed.
In the time it took for Sherry to fully set dinner at the table, finishing with delivering the entrees to their respective seats, no new guests appeared at the door. That left the two to sup alone with nothing between them besides two glasses of iced water and a plate of saltine crackers.
Sharing the plate, they cordially took turns grabbing individual crackers for their soup, though their fingers inevitably bumped against one another during the meal. It only occurred once. As he was inclined, Jake stood his ground, the corner of his lip curling as he watched Sherry hurriedly withdraw her hand and attempt to hide a subsequent blush.
True to his word, Jake was hungry. He ate his soup strangely; instead of civilly taking and dipping his crackers in his soup, he took multiple at a time and crushed them in his strong, thick hands. The fragments grounded against one another until they were crumbs, and then he dumped and stirred them into his soup. With enough crushed crackers, the soup no longer resembled soup at all, its consistency sooner resembling porridge.
Sherry neglected to comment, preferring to simply watch him eat. Strange as his habit was, he did not forget his manners, including when it came time to thank her in the middle of the meal.
"Thanks for the soup, Super Girl," he announced after swallowing his umpteenth bite. Suddenly, he smirked, his eyes looking distant as he lost himself to thought. "Huh. Soup. Souper Girl. Soup Girl. Soups."
Her chin propped up on her fist, she rolled her eyes.
"Oh brother, is that my new nickname?" She almost succeeded in emulating exasperation.
"Probably. 'Super Girl' gets stale after a while."
"Here we go..." she pretended to lament with a sigh.
"Don't pretend you don't like it, Soups."
"You know, Claire used to tell me that boys pick on girls when they like them." She gracefully delivered another spoonful to her mouth. Jake scoffed in the meantime.
"Hate to break it to you, but I'm not into older women."
"I'm not that much older than you, Jake!" she exclaimed. She slammed her spoon back into her soup, but not rough enough to splash anything out of the bowl.
"Seven years is a bit far out. You were graduating high school by the time my balls finally dropped."
"Jake!" she hollered again. "Can you not talk about your balls at the dinner table?"
"Sorry, was there another time you'd prefer to hear about them?"
Her face suddenly hid behind her cupped hands, her elbows spread on the table. When enough time passed, Jake's smile dropped, and he blinked a few times in confusion. One of his hands reached for her, but right before it touched her wrist, it recoiled hesitantly.
"Um... Hey, look I'm... I'm sorry, alright? Might've gone too far with that one. Probably should've known better than to talk that way around a lady."
Contrary to his expectations, Sherry started to giggle lightheartedly.
"Oh, Jake..." She lifted her head, revealing she had been grinning the entire time. "Don't worry about it. Oddly enough, it's kind of nice knowing you're comfortable enough around me to talk like that."
Shaking his head, Jake pulled back and groaned, though a faint smile betrayed the annoyance he attempted to portray.
"Got me good," he muttered beneath his breath.
"Just go back to eating your weird soup."
"Don't have to tell me twice."
He obliged, perhaps to an extent Sherry did not foresee. Jake ate heartily and almost too quickly. As he worked on his third bowl, Sherry was prepared to deny him any additional servings, but thankfully, her interference was unnecessary. After emptying his bowl, he leaned back in his chair and released a contented sigh.
"Thank God. I was afraid you'd never stop," she sighed.
"What can I say? I'm a big guy."
"More like a black hole."
"You can sure as hell call me that when there's good food involved."
"Glad I've got your approval."
"As if you need it. You're one hell of a cook, Soups. I'm sure you'll make some man very happy one day."
"I'm perfectly happy being single, I'll have you know," she rebutted as she proceeded to collect their dishes. He watched for a moment before deciding to speak.
"Why don't you let me wash the dishes, birthday girl?" he offered during her walk back to the kitchen. "Might be nice to do something that isn't killing monsters for once."
"I'm just going to throw them in the sink and do them later."
"The birthday girl's always right," he agreed nonchalantly.
She did as she said, setting moderately dirty dishes in her perfectly clean sink. While doing so, she pulled her phone out of her pocket to check for any news, but to her dismay, it showed her nothing aside from an unwanted notification for a sale at a boutique that somehow got her phone number. Huffing, she shoved her phone back into her pocket and dove into the fridge.
She returned to Jake with two cans of beer, one of which she slid across the table toward him. Beyond catching the can to keep it from flying off the edge of the table, he did not interact with it.
"Anybody tried to contact you yet?" he asked.
"Not a single text," Sherry sighed while grabbing her can. "Time to drink away my sorrows, I guess.” The hiss of the can cracking open followed, but before she lifted it to her lips, Jake cleared his throat.
“You know that stuff's not good for you.” His voice was firmer than earlier.
"So? And what does your diet look like?"
"Fresh fruits and veggies, grilled meat, black coffee, and water," he answered immediately. That he did not need to stop and consider what to say suggested he was telling the truth. "You gotta take care of that body of yours."
"Says the guy who throws himself headfirst into active combat for money," she countered with a roll of her eyes. "Besides... Alcohol's never had much of an effect on me. You know, being 'Super Girl' and all."
"Huh. I never even considered that. Makes sense now that I think about it."
"Sometimes I wish I could get drunk. I've heard it's a nice way to get away from your problems."
"Maybe getting drunk might do you some good since you women always have something to whine about."
"I don't even know why I keep this stuff around," she continued, ignoring Jake's previous jab. Absent-minded, she twisted the can around, her eyes lazily scanning its label. It was a cheap 'piss water' brand, but she hardly knew how to discern between a good beer brand and a mediocre one. "I originally bought it so I'd have something for guests, but..."
"Don't get many visitors?" he assumed.
"Nope."
"You lonely?"
"I... guess I am. I've always been too busy with work to notice."
"Hey, if I'm gonna be your shrink, I'll have to start charging by the hour."
"Whatever. Open a tab."
"And I'm not a qualified psychologist either, so you're gonna get what you pay for."
"No, you're... you're the only person who could ever be qualified to understand me, Jake."
"Well, I'll start by saying I don't see why you don't have more people in your life. You're pleasant enough." He leaned himself back in his chair and tilted it onto its back legs to play a precarious balancing act. His arms crossed over his chest. "Sure as hell aren't an asshole like me."
"Everyone I know at work is aware of my... you know... condition. It isn't exactly something I can hide there. American bureaucracy may be big, but gossip travels so fast you'd think it's a church."
"You think that's why they may be avoiding you?"
"Can't rule it out."
"I'm not sure how often you get out, but in my travels across the world, one fact gets reinforced time and time again: humans are animals, and animals are afraid of what they don't understand. Anyone with half a brain can see you're not going to hurt anyone, so your life's going to have to be about finding the people that aren't slobbering troglodytes."
She grew a crooked smile.
"Thanks, Jake. You're not one of those... uh, troglodytes, as you put it... most of the time, at least." Her innocent jab made him garner a smirk. "I think that's why I appreciate your company. You know what it's like to be seen for your blood before anything else."
"Although I get the impression I haven't had to put up with nearly as much shit over it."
"Sorry to get presumptuous, but... yeah, you probably haven't."
"That bad, huh?"
She nodded.
"It's been like this for as long as I can remember. Almost everyone who presented themselves as a friend ended up secretly hating me. They only played nice because there was something they wanted from me. Leon and Claire have been the only people who were different."
"Got any examples for me?"
"After Raccoon City, I spent my childhood in government custody. There was a nurse who routinely took my blood. She called me pretty, fed me cookies and juice after it was over, brought art supplies so I'd stay entertained... Seeing her was usually the highlight of my day." Her expression darkened. "But it all turned out to be an act. I was too young to see through it, but after I heard her talking about me behind my back, I couldn't deny the truth anymore."
"What'd she say?"
"She called me a freak among other things."
"And you still think her opinion matters after what–twenty years? Stop letting it bother you."
"Who would say that about a child unless they meant it? Why wouldn't it still bother me?"
"Because I said it doesn't matter what she thinks," he asserted firmly. "I'm telling you you're not a freak. You're a perfectly fine woman, so don't worry about that bitch unless you value her opinion over mine, alright?"
"Interesting. So all I have to do is pretend I'm paying you, and you'll shower me with all sorts of compliments."
"Yep. That's all you need," he agreed dismissively. There was a frustrated affect to his tone, but it was unclear what incited a frustration so pronounced. Sherry opted to avoid prodding him for answers. Luckily for her, he changed the subject after leaning forward and returning the chair's front legs to the floor. "Hey, this is a birthday party, yeah? Aren't there supposed to be games? Something about putting a tail on a piñata? Or does this country just have indefinite therapy sessions on people's birthdays?"
"I didn't have much planned aside from visiting with everyone. Figured the alcohol would be enough to keep everyone happy."
"And alcohol doesn't go far for either of us, so..."
Suppressing her desperation, Sherry reported to one of the cabinets in the small entertainment center in the living room. Rummaging around got her nothing but a rusted tin of dominoes that rattled noisily when she moved it.
"I've got dominoes," she offered, but the plan fell flat when she caught Jake's indifferent expression. "You too, huh? Yeah, dominoes doesn't sound fun right now."
"Got anything else?"
Hot flashes raced up and down beneath her skin when she returned to the cupboard, and to her dismay, she found nothing else within it that even qualified as entertainment. With droopy shoulders, she had no choice but to admit the truth.
"No," she mumbled despondently. Until she worked up the nerve to face him, she kept quiet, but when she did finally look at him, she found Jake still seated at the table watching her curiously. "Look... I'm sorry this party ended up being a bust. You probably didn't fly across the planet just to eat a few bowls of soup."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. This is probably the best party I've ever been to."
Sherry's glum expression dropped into a slightly annoyed scowl.
"Let me guess: you haven't been to any parties," she muttered, monotone.
"Nope."
"That's what I thought." She returned to the living room, remaining within eyeshot as she recklessly seated herself on the sofa. Elbows on her knees, she buried her face in her hands again, except this time, it was not to hide a sheepish grin. Sensing her dejection, Jake rose from the dining table to follow. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Jake. If there's somewhere else you'd rather be, I won't pressure you to stay here. D.C. has a lot to do and see. It's all probably a lot better than sticking around here."
While her attention was averted from him, Jake approached the couch silently, escaping her notice until he sat beside her. Having put all his weight into his descent, he nearly launched Sherry off the sofa the moment he plopped next to her. She gasped and pulled her hands away from her face to steady herself.
Flustered, her eyes snapped over to him, looking just in time to watch him spread his legs and arms wide and comfortably. A deep groan rumbled in his throat as he pressed his shoulders against the back cushions. She was so close to him, and his unfurled limbs reached so far. It was moments like these that underscored the size disparity between them.
Without a weapon on hand, she felt tiny and helpless. Thankfully, it was a comfortable flavor of helplessness, for she trusted that Jake never intended to turn his power against her. If he did, he would have done so a long time ago.
"I don't care for tourist traps. I'm already here, so let's make the most of it." He leaned forward to snatch the remote control on the coffee table in front of them, then handed it to her. "Here. Put on something good."
Hesitantly, she took the remote. Before turning the television back on, she studied Jake questioningly. Eventually, he looked back, his expression relaxed and easy. One of his brows perked.
"Something on my face?" he asked.
"Is this really what you want?"
"Staring at a blank TV sure as hell isn't what I want," he joked while motioning to the television. Shortly afterward, he snatched the remote from Sherry's dainty hand and powered it on himself. Seconds later, the sound of the prime-time news broke the silence. While the anchor reported on the polar vortex currently sweeping across the northern states, Jake took a moment to familiarize himself with the remote control. Once he was ready, he proceeded to channel surf.
Her cable plan was rudimentary, offering little beyond basics such as the news, public access channels, classic TV, and educational channels. His surfing came to a halt when he stumbled across a boxing match. Judging by the low-quality resolution of the channel, the broadcast was of a local boxing competition. Two shirtless men traded blows, and it immediately interested Jake.
As invested as he was in the match, his investment was not strong enough to have him turn a blind eye to the uninterested look in Sherry's eyes. He cleared his throat as he placed the remote on her lap.
"Let's watch what you want to watch, birthday girl," he suggested amicably.
Instead of objecting, she obliged and flipped through the channels the same way he had minutes earlier. When she landed on another local channel, the sound of an audience's applause filled the room.
"Welcome back to Jeopardy, folks. We've got a good match for you here tonight. Sandra Reeves is a biochemist joining us from Jacksonville, Florida. Tell us about your latest work, Sandra."
"Well, my team and I have been working hard to get to the bottom of these horrible viral outbreaks that've been cropping up around the globe. We hope to have a vaccine within the next five years, but that's only the..."
Jake distracted Sherry from the television when he chuckled.
“Oh, this is one of those shows for you brainiacs," Jake commented.
"I was about to ask how you haven't heard of 'Jeopardy,' but then I remembered you didn't grow up here."
"Yep. Too busy looking for my next meal in Edonia." Shortly after speaking, he paused to watch Sherry's face melt with pity. He pulled his eyes away from her. "Sorry. Didn't mean to spring that on you."
Instead of venturing further into that topic, she pulled them back to the surface.
"I used to watch this a lot when I was growing up. Simmons didn't let me get out much, so I liked how this show taught me a little more about the world," she explained. "Would you rather watch something else?"
"Nah, keep it on this. Maybe I'd get something out of it too."
"You could use a few extra brain cells."
"Especially since I lent them all to you."
"Funny. I don't feel any smarter."
"They must've gotten lost in transit."
"You sure they didn't just run away from you?"
"Probably after I told them they were going to you."
Their banter dwindled once introductions were finished and the game properly started. The host returned to his podium and motioned toward the game board.
"Picking back up from last time, we've got five incomplete categories for the Jeopardy round. Cecilia, you're up first."
"'Desert Life' for four hundred."
"Although this cuckoo can fly with ease, it prefers to speed across the desert on foot, reaching twenty miles per hour."
"Roadrunner," Sherry quickly replied to the screen.
"What is the roadrunner?" answered the contestant shortly afterward.
"That's it, the roadrunner–also known for dropping anvils on coyotes." The host's joke earned laughter from the audience. "Go ahead and take another shot and see if you can get a streak going, Cecilia."
"'Desert Life' for six hundred."
"The people of Victorville, California and Boulder City, Nevada are part of the life of this desert."
A different contestant signaled before Cecilia.
"Carlos?"
"Mojave," Sherry blurted out quickly.
"What is the Mojave Desert?" Carlos answered shortly afterward.
"You got it."
"'Desert Life' for eight hundred."
"The California fuchsia, a trumpet-shaped flower found in the desert, is often pollinated by this tiny bird."
"Hummingbird," Sherry answered again.
"What is the hummingbird?"
"Right again."
"'Desert Life' for one thousand."
"Some species of this stinging arachnid can alter their metabolism, allowing them to live on only one meal a year."
"Scorpion."
"What is the scorpion?" This time, Sherry and the contestant answered simultaneously.
"Yep. That completes the 'Desert Life' category."
Sherry could have gone on to answer the next question, but Jake stole her attention when he lightly bumped her shoulder with his fist.
"Next time I've got a job out in the desert, remind me to bring you along."
"I'm not sure what good some useless trivia would do you out there," she replied with a pleasant smile.
"You never know..." he trailed off while returning his attention to the television. They looked back just in time to watch one of the other contestants pick a new question.
"'I Didn't Say That' for eight hundred."
"This is the English translation of the popular French phrase, 'Qu'ils mangent de la brioche!' which is mistakenly attributed to Marie Antoinette .”
"What is 'Let them eat cake?"' Sandra almost immediately responded.
"That's eight hundred in the bank."
As the game continued onto another question, Jake's head turned toward Sherry.
"Aren't we supposed to be eating cake for your birthday?" he asked quickly.
"That's usually what people do, but I haven't baked one," she answered. "I'm sorry, you didn't want cake, did you?"
Her concern flourished once Jake rose from the couch, his fingers ghosting over the outline of his wallet in his pants pocket.
"Think any bakeries are still open at this hour?" he asked while checking the clock on his phone.
"Wait just a minute." She stood as well. "Don't worry about getting one if you're just getting it for my sake."
"Relax, Soups," Jake assured her while pointing back to the couch. "Stay here while I go run and get one."
As he returned to the door and collected his coat and beanie from the rack on the wall, Sherry rose and prepared to follow after him.
"I can come with you," she suggested. Slipping his arms into the sleeve of his coat, Jake shook his head.
"Stay in case Leon or Claire show up."
Slightly dejected, Sherry's shoulders dropped, and she nodded flaccidly.
"Yeah, I guess I probably should," she admitted. There was still no indication that Leon and Claire were on their way, let alone close to arriving, so she was not certain they would even show up in the first place. Regardless, it would be impolite to not be where she invited them.
"I'll try not to take too long," he promised. “Go back to watching your brainiac show; you can answer all the questions now that you've got all my brain cells.” With that said, he disappeared behind the front door.
Left alone, Sherry took slow steps toward the door, and when she arrived, she quietly locked its deadbolt. After pressing her forehead against the door, her nostrils expelled a heavy sigh.
The dark corner of her mind beckoned her, and for just a moment, she listened to what it had to say. After all, the pessimistic side of her always served her well over the years. It always prepared her for the worst, and everything in her life had conditioned her to expect nothing better.
Her pessimistic side warned that Jake was gone forever now, leaving without the intent to ever return. All he needed was an excuse to leave her apartment with a manageable degree of guilt. She could not blame him; nobody wanted to spend time with a mopey girl at a lame party. The longer Jake was gone, the more her hope dwindled. Her pessimism solidified.
"Pull yourself together, Sherry," she grumbled to herself. "So what if he's gone? You were living just fine without him."
Once she was back on the couch, she did not return to watching the television. Instead, she turned it off. As silence filled the room, she leaned back and tilted her head toward the ceiling, staring blankly at its stippled texture.
It was then she got the idea to lie down and rest. If Jake returned, it would invalidate her fears, but if she found herself alone when she awoke hours later, it would confirm her suspicions. No matter the outcome, at least she did not have to spend hours agonizing in suspense.
For as long as she could remember, cramped and dark places were a friend. The dark always gave her all of its attention, wrapping her in its encompassing embrace. Having been starved of attention during her formative years, any at all made her heart flutter.
A cramped and dark place was the first thing that offered her protection fifteen years ago when the world changed forever. It was there she hid while within Raccoon City's police headquarters, and it protected her from the bloodthirsty monsters prowling the building and beyond. Everything that hunted for her would never be able to find her there.
Ever since then, a place to hide had become her sanctuary. When the people she relied on for comfort failed her, the darkness was always there, its arms outstretched. For its reliability, she had grown to love it.
A dark and enclosed space provided her the comfort she needed, and tonight, that cramped and dark space was her lonely apartment. It was her place to hide from whatever troubles dogged her. When she placed her head on a throw pillow, her gut toiled. Again and again, her intuition told her she would awake on her own at two o'clock in the morning, her apartment empty like always. The tension should have kept her awake, but it actually exhausted her. The silver lining was that it primed her to immediately fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.