Under Devil's Blood-Resident Evil 6

Chapter 44

A faint constant beeping sound irritated your ears a bit, not recognizing the sound at first for a good short while. The second thing that caught you a bit off guard was the smell, wherever you were smelled like disinfectant and rubbing alcohol, making you question where you were in general.

After a few more seconds of dealing with the beeps a bit longer, you opened your eyes slowly, wincing at the brightness of the white walls, but the white walls alone was enough to make you open your eyes more, realizing that the room was horribly familiar. You looked around slowly, seeing the large glass windows shut with light grey curtains, a reasonably sized white board was on the front wall next to a tv, showing the days of the week and various nurse names, all written in faded black marker.

You looked to your left, staring up at the monitor that was the source of the beeps, tracking your heartbeat. However, their was no monitor on your arm, no IV in your veins, leaving you confused to what it was even attached to.

You felt clean and comfortable in your hospital bed, but something felt off about the state you were in. You recognized the scratchy texture of the blankets covering your waist, the exact color of the hospital gown you were in. You raised your hands to your face a bit, as if something on face had changed at all. You rubbed your temples a bit, finding a strange numbing pain in the back of your head.

"I know this place," you muttered to yourself, taking a good long look at the empty hospital room you were in. It clicked in your head where you remembered this, and more importantly, what had happened that had gotten you into this position. You lowered your hands slowly, your fingers shaking hesitantly as they hooked themselves onto the blankets and sheets, hesitating to lift them up to reveal the wound you knew was there.

You didn't feel the pain, but you recall getting lots of morphine for it, but you knew it was there regardless.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A voice forced a gasp to escape your throat, your fingers immediatly putting the blankets down as if you were caught doing something you weren't supposed to do. You looked up towards the source of the voice, your breath getting caught in your throat as you stared at him, standing at the corner of your hospital bed like an intruder, or a well awaited visitor.

"Jack." You croaked out, your voice unexpectedly breaking. He stood there with his eyes focused on you, dressed in a black tight fitting t-shirt and navy jeans, and typical combat boots. He looked just like you remembered him: young, muscularly built, blonde hair slicked back, face always locked with his stern attitude, but his ice blue eyes remained soft, only when he spoke to you.

"It's been a while, kid." He spoke, forcing you to emit a huff, your lips breaking into a smile. "I'm not a kid anymore Jack," you commented, forcing a corner of his mouth to curl, creating a handsome smirk, "(Y/N), you'll always be a kid to me. You gotta deal with that."

You laughed slightly, shaking your head as you looked down to your lap. You dug your fingers into the covers again, coming up to a quick solution in your mind on why you were seeing your long dead friend, you hated to admit that you killed, in an old hospital room. "Tell it to me straight, am I dead?"

"Not quite no, and I highly insist you don't plan on dying anytime soon either." The sounds of heavy boots against the hospital floor let you know he was coming closer to you, having you look up to meet his gaze as he stopped to your right side, letting you notice his large hands were fitted with leather fingerless gloves.

"Do you remember this?" Jack asked, having you take another look at the hospital room again.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I got stabbed because I didn't wear good enough padding."