Resident Evil Oneshots

Cat and Mouse

Working at Castle Dimitrescu was no small feat. The looming structure, with its dark, Gothic architecture and haunting atmosphere, would intimidate even the bravest souls. But for me, it wasn't the grandeur of the castle or its eerie ambiance that posed the greatest challenge. No, it was something far more personal—and far more terrifying. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The middle daughter of the Dimitrescu family was infamous within the castle walls. She was known for her sadistic tendencies, her delight in the hunt, and her insatiable thirst for terror. Most of the staff did their best to avoid her, keeping their heads low and their tasks quick and efficient. But for some reason, I had become her favourite prey. 'Cat and mouse,' she'd whisper with a twisted smile, her dark eyes gleaming with malice. I was the mouse, of course, scurrying about the castle, trying to complete my duties without drawing her attention. But she always found me, and the chase would begin. This morning was no different. I was dusting the grand staircase, a task that should have taken no more than twenty minutes. The intricate carvings and banisters required a delicate touch, but I was quick, my hands moving with practiced ease. My ears were alert, listening for any sound that might indicate her approach. My heart pounded in my chest, not just from fear but from something far more dangerous desire. Because, as twisted as it was, I had a major crush on Cassandra Dimitrescu. It was ridiculous, I knew. She was the embodiment of danger, with her piercing gaze, sharp features, and an aura that demanded submission. Yet, something about her drew me in, like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, with a confidence that was both intimidating and intoxicating. Or perhaps it was the rare moments when she smiled—not the cruel, predatory smile she often wore, but the fleeting, almost tender smile that made my heart skip a beat. But those moments were rare, and they were never meant for me. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts that threatened to distract me. Focus. I needed to focus. The silence of the castle was both a comfort and a curse. It allowed me to hear the faintest of sounds, but it also amplified my fear. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant thud, sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. And then, I heard it—a soft, almost inaudible rustling. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My eyes darted around, searching for the source of the sound. The hallway to my left was empty, as was the grand foyer below. But I knew better than to trust appearances. Cassandra was a master of stealth, moving like a shadow through the castle's many corridors.

"Are you hiding from me, little mouse?"

Her voice echoed through the hall, smooth and playful, with an undercurrent of menace that sent shivers down my spine. I didn't answer. There was no point. She knew I was here. She always did. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes. If I could just last ten more minutes, she'd grow bored and move on. Or so I hoped. I resumed my task, my movements quick and efficient. The duster in my hand glided over the banister, sweeping away the dust that had gathered overnight. My eyes flicked between my work and the hallway, my senses on high alert. Suddenly, there was a loud crash from the direction of the dining hall. I jumped, my heart racing as I turned to face the sound. The door to the dining hall was ajar, the shadows within shifting unnervingly.

"Oops,"

Cassandra's voice drifted through the crack, laced with amusement.

"Did I scare you, little mouse?"

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to respond. She thrived on fear, on the reactions she could elicit. If I showed weakness, she'd only push harder. But it was so hard to stay silent, especially when my pulse was hammering in my ears, and my stomach was tied in knots. The way she spoke to me, like I was nothing more than a plaything, should have filled me with dread. And it did, to some extent. But beneath the fear was a spark of something else, something dangerous. A part of me wanted to give in, to let her catch me. To see what would happen if I stopped running. But that was a foolish thought, and I quickly pushed it aside. There was no telling what she'd do if she caught me, and I wasn't ready to find out. I finished dusting the staircase and hurried down the steps, my feet barely making a sound on the polished wood. The door to the servants' quarters was just around the corner. If I could make it there, I'd be safe—for a little while, at least. But as I rounded the corner, I nearly collided with a tall, imposing figure. Cassandra stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, a smirk playing on her lips. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made my heart skip a beat. She was beautiful in a way that was almost painful to look at, her sharp features softened by the dim light filtering through the windows.