Sublimity ? Leon Kennedy

The next day is as difficult as it gets.

Leon shakes me awake before dawn, the skies a dark shade of blue out my windows-the usual buzz of the streets outside nothing but dead utter quiet.

I drag myself out of bed, my chest heavy from exhaustion despite having slept for I don't know how long. I change into a jeans and a shirt. I grab my backpack from under my bed, rummage through my cabinets for a few changes of clothes and chuck them in my bag, looking out for any traces of my phone but still failing to find it. I also shove in my first aid kit from school and some Tylenol.

Leon was already standing under the doorway when I step out of my bedroom, leaning against the frame, lips set in a tight line.

"Are you just about done?" He folds his arms.

"Yeah . . I'm sorry I took so long."

"It's fine." He eyes the bag slung on my shoulder, nodding to it. "Do you have a gun?"

"Do I look like I have a gun?"

He arches an eyebrow in amusement, a small ghost of a smile on his lips. "Right. Let's go."

Leon steps out without hesitation, not once looking back.

Meanwhile, I falter, fiddling with the straps of my bag, looking down at my shoes and the floorboards I know so well under them. My white medschool shoes are still tucked under my shoe-rack for this week's lectures.

I turn to my foyer, overlooking the living room. The morning skies sift through the curtains, pouring against the white carpet under my coffee table, chips and candy wrappers glinting on the floor. An ache tugs at my ribs.

Why do I have to leave? Why do I have to leave everything I've ever known for the sake of survival?

Am I being punished for running away from my problems? For pushing them so far out of reach in my head, the universe just gave me a taste of my own medicine?

My TV remote sits alone atop the table, the PS5 controller no where to be seen.

What?

I frown.

"Hey, what's wrong? We have to go." Leon pops back from the corridor.

I tear my eyes away from the living room, shaking my head. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm going." I step out and lock the door.

We make our way down the apartment complex, through the same mess of garbage and black sludge I encountered yesterday, through the stairs-Leon's hand at his side, hovering just an inch away from his holster at all times.

The quiet of the building throbs in my ears, only cut off by the crunching of garbage under my shoes. Despite his mass, Leon moves swiftly and deliberately-no wrong steps or swerves, no accidentally stepping on trash. His eyes are darting on each corner of the hallway as he walks, cautious and alert, everything calculated-it almost fucks with my brain.

I've seen this before with surgeons. Every deliberate flick of their wrist and every squeeze of forceps and cut of scalpel on delicate living flesh corresponding to something significant.

Outside, everything is exactly as I left it yesterday: the overflowing bins, the shards of broken glass, the cars on top of on another. The strong stench of rot punches me in the nose-a trail of thick blood splattered on the previously dry concrete.

What is that?

"I found a car in the corner of the street with the keys still attached. Maybe we can use it." Leon speaks, gaze peering across the deserted streets and buildings.