17 Chapter 17: Moonlight Sonata

In the dimly lit hours of evening, the group had just concluded their dinner in the dining room. With a crew of nine to feed, Ethan's concern about dwindling supplies gnawed at him. However, he brushed that thought aside for the moment and lent a hand to the sheriff's wife with the dishes. Alongside Claire, they gathered the used plates and glasses, proceeding with measured steps down to the basement kitchen, where the sheriff's wife began her diligent work.

Stepping into the bar area, adjacent to the kitchen stairs, they glimpsed Jill seated in front of the piano, her eyes locked onto the sheet music. They paid her little heed and continued their task.

Upon entering the basement's kitchen, the weariness etched on the wife's face was unmistakable. She managed a forced smile as Ethan and Claire deposited the soiled dishes onto the counter, drawing her attention.

"Thank you, dear," she said, smiling.

"It's no trouble, Ma'am," Ethan waved off her gratitude. "Can we be of any assistance?"

"Oh no, you should rest. It's been a stressful two days for you two."

"It's been a stressful two days for you too," Claire said softly. "Let me help."

"It's okay, I insist," she said. "You guys have done so much for us, it's the least I could do."

Ethan let out a resigned sigh. "Ma'am—"

"It's Nancy," she interjected. "Just call me Nancy."

"Alright… Nancy," Ethan cleared his throat. "How's your son holding up?"

Nancy sighed deeply. "Well, it is what it is. Ed witnessed... his friends turning into those monsters. All of his friends are gone now. I can't think of the burden that puts on a child."

"Maybe I could talk to him." Claire offered. "Survivor's guilt is not a good feeling to have."

"That would mean a lot, dear," Nancy said with a weak smile. "Thank you, again."

Ethan and Claire then excused themselves from the kitchen and ascended the stairs. Jill was still seated in front of the piano in the bar, engrossed in her reading. Passing through the bar, they entered the dining room.

There, they found all the men gathered, deep in conversation. The background was accompanied by the sound of Jill's piano playing, echoing from behind them at the bar. Claire arched an eyebrow upon hearing the music, but she remained silent.

"We need to secure a car. One that doesn't draw too much attention," the sheriff declared. "To do that, we have to go—"

"To the nearest town, yes, Sheriff. But I'd advise we wait a couple more weeks," Chris interjected. "SHIELD could still be combing the area. We can't risk this place getting exposed."

"Chris, this mansion once belonged to the head researcher of that lab," Barry countered. "It's highly likely they already know about this place."

"That's the point, Barry," Chris stated. "They won't expect us to stay here. We should keep a low profile for a while and carefully manage our resources. Afterward, we'll make our way to the nearest town. What was its name again?"

"Freeford."

"Yes, that," Chris remembered. He then noticed Ethan and Claire approaching. "Hey, Hunter, could you fetch Jill? We need to talk. All of us."

"Sure," Ethan nodded. "I'll be back shortly."

Ethan turned from the group and headed back toward the bar, leaning against a counter as he observed Jill playing the piano. He recognized the tune, the Moonlight Sonata, a piece so recognizable that even those unfamiliar with piano compositions could identify it.

For the moment, Jill played on, and Ethan allowed himself to indulge in the melody, if only for a brief respite from their harrowing circumstances. As the final notes of the music reverberated, Jill ceased playing, her fingers resting on the keys.

"Had your fill of staring?" she calmly inquired, her gaze fixed on her music sheet.

"I had no idea you could play the piano," Ethan remarked.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me."

"True enough," Ethan shrugged.

Jill sighed, closing the piano and turning to face Ethan. "You seem settled."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't look troubled."

"Should I be?"

"I... never mind," she muttered.

"Hey," Ethan frowned. "You alright? You can talk to me, you know."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she rolled her eyes. "It's just... noisy."

"Noisy?"

"Uh-huh," she said, then walked toward the door, as if to leave. But Ethan's words halted her.

"It's the cries and screams, isn't it?" Ethan spoke.

She froze just before the door, turning her head slightly to glance at Ethan. "You heard it too?"

"You have Wesker's memories," Ethan continued. "I can imagine."

"It's still echoing around here, and I know it's hallucinations," Jill muttered. "It's unbearable. The things he endured here... I saw it all. The children, the blood... Damn."

"I understand. I have Dr. Spencer's memories," Ethan said, moving closer to her but stopping just short of her. "It's even more disgusting from his perspective. I could sense his ecstasy, his..."

"Lust?" Jill finished Ethan's sentence.

"Yeah."

"Can you show it to me?" Jill asked.

"Are you serious?" Ethan frowned.

"Yes."

"No," Ethan shook his head. "I already erased it."

"You can delete memories?"

"Fortunately. I didn't want to go insane," Ethan extended his arms. "Want me to teach you how?"

Jill raised an eyebrow, eyeing Ethan's palm. "No."

Ethan was puzzled. "Why not? Don't you want to remove it?"

"Because I want to remember it all," Jill insisted. "I already killed him, no, I consumed him. The least I can do is remember his pain and maybe seek vengeance in the future."

"Jill, don't be an idiot," Ethan firmly grabbed her hand, introducing thoughts on how to erase memories from her mind. Jill pushed him away, visibly annoyed. "Don't torture yourself and inflict self-induced PTSD on your mind, whatever that means. You can remove the bad memories and keep the good ones."

"Ethan, why do you even care?" she scoffed.

"Because I made you this way. You're my responsibility," Ethan stated sternly. "Stop wallowing; we still have a long journey ahead. Let's go. Chris is waiting."

As Ethan passed her and headed toward the dining room, Jill could only watch his retreating figure and sigh before following him into the next room.