ultraviolence | l. kennedy

I.

Instant prodigy. That's what your freshman chemistry teacher had told you. Funny how those exact words and her perseverant letters to your principal had led you to somehow successfully achieve a Master's degree in Chemistry at twenty-one. As it would turn out, the brief moment of fame set off by that achievement led to an instant job position.

Umbrella Corporation.

Your parents were happy to know you were staying in Raccoon City. Hell, they were ecstatic to learn such a famous company had given you such an offer with such high pay, no less. You would have been lying if you weren't excited, as well. You were on top of the world. It felt like all your hard work and dedication was finally paying off.

So how did you get here? Babysitting your coworkers' daughter for two weeks? The big house and the same hourly rate as your researcher position may have appeared alluring when they approached you, but by the second week, you were painstakingly aching to get back to work.

A workaholic. I'm a workaholic, in other words, great.

Sherry wasn't the problem. No, she could never be the problem. She was a sweet girl with the unfortunate reality of parents who also happened to be workaholics. You wondered if you were just a last resort after a sit-in nanny had quit or something similar, considering how often the couple worked late. Nonetheless, she was essentially the living definition of an angel. Always polite with you, making sure to use her manners and clean her own messes. Nothing like the actual twelve-year-olds you knew. It made taking care of her all the easier. Depressingly, it also made the current conditions of the city harder to explain to her. She deserved so much better than this.

"You can call shotgun," her sad expression melted into a small smile. "I won't tell your parents you rode in the front when we find them. I promise." Her petite frame opened the back door of your car before hopping in the passenger seat next to you.

"Thank you, Y/N." You wished you could say that you were giving her the offer because you knew it would cheer her up a little in this living hell. A sense of normalcy. But you knew the truth. If any infected breached the car, it would be easier to keep her safe if she was closest to you.

With the infection spreading all throughout the city and no contact from the Birkins, you made the hard decision of leaving their residence in search of what you hoped to be a safe destination they had taken salvation in. As a researcher working there, you knew that the laboratory under the Raccoon City Police Station was vast. Far more vast than you had actually explored. The chance that they had hidden out somewhere inside had to be high.

Right? They were about one level higher than me in security clearance. There has to be somewhere in there that they're just hiding in. They have to have one. For their daughter.

You hesitated as your hands gripped your key on the ignition. Your palms had already started sweating horribly. The thought that William and Annette had fled the city, or worse, gotten infected too weighed on you heavily.

There's no harm in checking. If we can't find them, we'll just have to leave the city.

In another world, you would have interrupted your own thoughts. Reminding yourself angrily of your own family and how you couldn't leave them behind. Biting your lip, you pressed your foot on the gas pedal and held onto the steering wheel so tightly your palms turned white in an attempt to hold back tears.

Because you wished you were in another world where you hadn't gotten the traumatizing phone call of hearing them get mauled by something you were responsible for creating.

-

The debris just increases the more I drive into the city... At this rate, we might have to just book it to the station. You bit your lip. The idea of walking around without anything to act as a safety barrier was unsoothing, to say the least. But what other options were there?