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Optio	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 8319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1-Annus Novus
- 2-Domus
- 3-Calor
- 4-Posco
- 5-Ludus
- 6-Felix Dies Valentini
- 7-Desiderium
- 8-Dormientes
- 9-Curre
- 10-Gravatus
- 11-Vita
- 12-Vigilo
- 13-Arcanum
- 14-Phasma Phasmatis
- 15-Possessio
- 16-Mutatio
- 17-Anniversarium
- 18-Monstrum
- 19-Lues
- 20-Vita Post Mortem
- 21-Iterum
- 22-Eam
- 23-Fidelitas
- 24-Veritas
- 25-Pacisco
- 26-Mundus Novus
- 27-Febris
- 28-Chemia
- 29-In Aeternum
- 30-Frater
- 31-Historia
- 32-Familia
- 12
- 13
- 14
Optio
Chapter 13: Arcanum
November 5, 2001 Monday 12:16 PM

Subject: Arti, Maritza
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: Anxious
My frown would not leave anytime soon, not as long as I had to deal with that old fool Sidorov. Leon had been out looking for leads on Claire’s whereabouts since she was taken, and Chris refused to leave his sister’s apartment for too long. It had been half a year yet they refused to give up hope, something that I both admired and damned them all for. They were not making my job any easier.
“So,” I began, crossing my legs and leaning back in the black, leather armchair (everything my employer bought was black it seemed), “you feel we should just now be having this conversation?”
With a strong Russian accent he muttered, “Better late than never.”
Knowing that time was against me I sent him an icy glare. “You know how fucked we are Alexei?” His response was to roll his eyes, angered that he had gone from being feared to being a grunt whose only job was to play lookout. People like me (young people) were getting to the top of the ladder that he fell off of and broke his hip once he hit rock bottom, and he would stay bitter over the fall of Soviet rule for the remaining days of his life. Good, I thought to myself.
I took a deep breath to calm myself. “If you hadn’t been worried about making your bingo games you would have never missed his comings and goings. I wouldn’t have had to have been active but no you lost sight of your own boss,” I spat, grimacing in disgust. How dare he talk down to anyone for being young and inexperienced when he was seasoned and proving to be incompetent?
“With all due respect Miss Arti,” he ground out, “may we discuss the matter at hand?”
I relaxed my jaw. “The Denver survivor is infected.” His eyes grew wide at my news. “The CDC knows, and they know that our employer has custody of her. ‘They’ would include Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Leon.” My gaze dropped at the mention of Leon’s name, because though he was a part of my job I honestly felt for him and it was far deeper than what I had felt for any other man business or otherwise.
His innocence may have only been projected as so because frankly he was not the smartest out of the bunch and I meant that with no malice. Somehow I had allowed the line to blur and I allowed for him to slip through the cracks of my defense mechanism, yet strangely I had no regrets. I just wanted Leon and as soon as I finished this job maybe I could have him without the lies and baggage. Of course when dealing with Albert Wesker, that was a big maybe.
November 6 2001, Tuesday 6:00 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Mayo, Yukon
Status: Bored
I thought I’d be ecstatic to have the use of my legs once more; however I was proven wrong by this now that I was left to wander the living quarters alone while the scientists all worked together downstairs on God knows what. They worked in silence I knew that for sure, and Wesker was with them, also something I knew without a doubt. What I didn’t know was if they were working on me or something else entirely, but I hoped that Wesker hadn’t let it slip about my misfortune. He’d asked me more and more questions, taken a few more pinpricks blood and tried to force any kind of reaction out of it, and honestly I thought he would have been able to figure out what I was now capable of. It wasn’t super strength or speed, but it was something that I found impressive seeing as I had spent my whole life as a human.
A part of me wanted to test myself, see how severe of a wound I could handle, and I was also being a chicken about it. I stood in the kitchen, glancing around nervously back and forth, knowing that the more I did this the less amount of time I’d have to see how I’d heal.
“Come on Claire,” I muttered to my reflection in the butcher knife. I held out my left arm and pursed my lips tightly, taking in a deep breath and praying that I wouldn’t scream out from the pain. Quickly I swiped the blade across the inside of my arm and instantly dropped the knife once my arm burned and tingled where it was cut, but I couldn’t take my eyes away. Like a sci-fi movie it sealed up before my eyes, making that one moment of pain worth it.
It was incredible.
Yet it still wasn’t enough for me. With a shuddering breath I looked around once more and fell to my knees onto the tiny, black squares of the kitchen floor and took the blade up. I placed my palm against the cool tiles and took in another breath of air, knowing that I would more than likely scream regardless. Raising the blade I tried my hardest to aim for the middle of my hand so I wouldn’t end up severing a finger because then I’d have a lot of explaining to do when I showed up downstairs holding a digit.
With enough strength to run the blade through my hand I drove the stainless steel down, letting out a yelp as I felt a burning pain. Breathing shallowly I stared down at the blade that had penetrated my skin and tendons, mouth agape as I tried to keep myself from making any more noise. Shakily I grabbed hold of the hilt and pulled the knife from my hand, blood covering only two inches of the tip. I was beginning to feel faint, nausea forming in the pit of my stomach as I stared down at the bleeding, self-inflicted wound. Just as my cut did before, I witnessed my new injury seal itself, closing without leaving a scar at all.
“Maybe next time it’ll work…” The murmuring and footsteps cut my time to marvel short, and I jumped to my feet to grab the dishrag laying forgotten on the counter. Peeking through the doorway I saw no one and decided to hurry back to my wing, hoping that I hadn’t been seen. Once I was in the bathroom down the hall from my room I found a bottle of alcohol and peroxide in the medicine cabinet. There was no way I would risk washing my blood down the sink if there was a possibility of contamination, and though I was sure many diseases were flushed down toilets and spit down the drain I knew that what I had flowing through my body was much stronger.
If there was a trace of “T” in me then I would be careful with how I disposed of my blood, and as I rubbed the blade clean with the dishrag I knew I’d have to burn it tomorrow while Wesker worked and then sterilize the knife further. While cleaning the blood from my hand I was once more hit with the morbid thought that I was no longer the same person who my brother loved, and I was what he fought against. Another number, I was “infected,” someone to be put down or hooked up to machines in a government lab. While Chris almost let them take me, Wesker had saved me from such a fate where I’d be used up until they found the advantages of my infection, and then I would have been disposed of like a lab rat.
A soft knock interrupted my sulking. “Yeah?” I called, getting to my feet to grab the razor from the cabinet.
Wesker’s cool voice came from the other side. “Are you all right?”
“Just about to cut my hair!” It wasn’t a lie. Before he could question the closed and locked door I turned the razor on to finally cut my too-long hair. Of course I had to chop it off first with a pair of old, yet sharp scissors. Perhaps I should have donated it, but I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Deciding that I liked it somewhat long I cut off a foot so it would hang just to the bottom of my breasts, and I like to think that I did a decent job and didn’t butcher it.
As I disposed of the severed locks I was reminded of how I’d managed to grow hair so long only in a few weeks. With a heavy sigh I went to the towel cabinet and grabbed a thick towel to wrap the dishrag in, hiding it and its content from Wesker who I figured still stood outside. Say what you want about the man, but you couldn’t say that he was an idiot. Though we weren’t interacting much and I tried not to so much as look in his direction, he knew that something was going on with me. It’s why he constantly checked in on me when he thought that I wasn’t paying attention and why he chose not to run extensive testing on me.
Eventually he knew that I would come to him and reveal my secret, and it’s why I hated his fucking guts. Albert Wesker’s true source of power was his ability to see what would come, his capability to predict the moves of those around him, and he had had plenty of time to study me in order to figure me out. I mustered up some courage and reached for the door knob while cradling my secret cargo, and leaning against the wall across from me, clad in black was my “gracious” host.
With a shrug I asked casually, “What?”
A half smirk took over the left side of his face, and he pushed himself forward from his perch to stand over me to put his imposing height to use. “Am I not allowed to check on you?” His voice was taunting, like he knew I had a secret, but he possessed no details which more than likely vexed him more than he would ever dare to show.
Now knowing that I held the power I attempted to walk past him, but his arm shot out to block my passage. His disappointment was being kept under wraps, under that mocking grin I wanted to slap off of his face, but surely I could bring it to the surface. Yet, I knew that we were past the enemy stage, and why should I act so shy now? If anything I had a right to treat him with hostility. Let me mount you any time of the day and throw you back into your everyday life, then pop up and turn your world upside down and pretend that we never had sex even though there was a child to say otherwise! My thoughts would not be verbalized though, and that angry rant would stay contained in my mind until we had that final blow up witnessed in dramatic TV shows where the character monologues their feelings.
Yeah, I so needed a monologue moment, but now wasn’t the time. He on the other hand desperately needed one because he never did it; that would involve venting his innermost thoughts and feelings. Since he never unleashed them it was safe to assume that Wesker just did not have thoughts he couldn’t or refused to voice for fear of being viewed as an emotional bitch-boy.
Since his arm was still barricading my way I breathed out heavily, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “What do you want?”
He gave a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. “A status report.”
“Fine,” I offered, looking down at the cheap, brown carpet.
“Have you eaten yet?” He turned to the side, a signal that we could begin walking to my bedroom.
Since I wouldn’t be able to go right in anyhow I took my time with a slow pace. “Not hungry.” We made it to my room and he placed his hand on my back to usher me across the narrow hallway to my door, and I almost shuddered from the chill that ran up my spine.
Unaware of what his small action had caused he asked, “You will let me know?”
“If I get the munchies? Yeah sure.” He drew a blond brow inward at my quick answer, definitely aware that I was not telling him something. “See ya when I see ya.” Though I expected him to grab my wrist when I tried to enter my room he didn’t, something that both surprised and disappointed me. It was for the best though. For the sake of my deteriorating mental health I needed for Wesker to keep his distance.
Perhaps it was best that he pretend we never shared a bed. If I could make myself believe that lie then my biggest secret could remain in the dark, and I’d be able to forget about the damage Wesker left in his wake. After locking the door I rested my back against it, staring up at the white ceiling as my vision blurred.
My heart was still undeniably broken.
November 6 2001, Tuesday 11:54 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Mayo, Yukon
Status: Hungry
I had awoke to a strange yet familiar noise that couldn’t be ignored once a few pains showed up in my abdomen soon after. I was fucking starving.
After assuring Wesker that I wasn’t hungry for days I was finally in the refrigerator pulling out anything that wouldn’t take too long to heat or assemble. To be as quiet as possible I even used the oven to heat the food, but I had to hit broil and turn it up all the way just to sate my hunger on time. Never in my life had I experienced such an intense desire- no, need of food, and as I stuffed bread into my mouth I realized how desperate I was to fill my stomach. It was obvious what was happening to me: I understood the cause of my side-effect once I recalled some Biology 101.
My metabolism had shot through the roof and my body’s need to heal a pretty big injury had finally made that apparent.
The desire for beef would not be satisfied though since it appeared I lived with Goddamned vegans, or just some nerds who had never stepped near a grill in their lives. I needed something that would fill me and bread, string beans, mashed potatoes, and spaghetti weren’t enough. The turkey sandwich only made my appetite for meat even worse, and I would even go as far as to eat a whole damned cow if one showed up outside.
“Hungry I see.”
My head snapped around to see Wesker standing just at the kitchen threshold, arms folded over his chest and the moonlight streaming through the window made the pallor of his skin stand out, his hair looking platinum under the natural light. I was going to tell him as soon as I was done gorging myself, knowing that food gnomes was not a good enough excuse for the refrigerator missing half the contents that were present the night before. With a frown he looked to the lit oven and saw the paper plate inside.
“How many plates have you had?” he asked, his glare returning to me.
In embarrassment I looked down to the remaining half of my sandwich and muttered, “Four.” I had been so quick to eat that I was sitting at the stool at the counter, knowing that I would be spotted easily but I didn’t care because I knew that eventually he would hear me rummaging through the ‘fridge.
The sound of his boots against the tiled floor made me feel uneasy; he was more than likely about to inspect me. It irked me when he would study me like that, and it bothered me even more so that I was being viewed as a science project rather than a young woman. Yes, I wanted him to appreciate the baby-weight boobs before they completely disappeared and no, I didn’t want to resume a physical relationship with him but it wouldn’t hurt to have a man treat me like I possessed a vagina.
Fed up with his staring I turned to him angrily, “What?”
Taking a step back and tilting his head up he whispered to himself, “You’ve lost weight.”
Ignoring my possibly burning food in the oven I stood up from my stool and attempted to pinch some fat to show him otherwise. I got nothing. “Since you last saw me?” I asked, staring down at my now exposed stomach. Oh dear.
He was nice enough to let me finish my last plate and even offered to get one of the other scientists to make a run to the store for some more substantial food for me, though I’d have to wait until tomorrow… well later today. After asking me fifty more time if I felt any different he finally gave up and took a seat across from me. The scale had informed me that I was 109 pounds, a bit small for my size.
“You’re underweight,” Wesker confirmed. “Your frame has changed since your pregnancy which would mean your minimum weight goes from 112 to at least 116.”
Incredulously I asked, “So I went from a healthy plump weight to being underweight in a day?” I needed to get to a mirror but I was afraid of what I looked like. “How can I slow my metabolism down?” However I realized that if I did this then my side effect would cease to be.
Like a doctor writing a simple prescription he scribbled something on the clipboard and said evenly, “Methadone.”
“What?” I screamed, and I saw his eyebrows rise at the increased volume of my voice.
“Dear heart I can find a better way. Until then you need a new diet. I assume steroids are out of the question?” I saw a smirk appear, but I wasn’t laughing at this suggestion.
As I chewed on my lip I realized that until I stabbed myself through the hand I hadn’t been hungry, so maybe this would only happen when I needed to heal, and I hoped to God that this was so. That meant no getting hurt. Yeah right, I was too good at that.
“An increased metabolism,” the blonde began, spinning his chair in the other direction, “could cause certain side effects.”
Lowering my head I asked, “Like what?”
“Palpitations, anxiety, and interference with your menstrual cycle. Hair loss, heat intolerance, and insomnia… just to name a few.” he added, turning to face me again. So I went from being even curvier to a stick, and I could go from a head of hair to being bald?
I just couldn’t win could I?
Now that that talk had been had, I finally realized that just like the night he showed up in my house I was in a pair of underwear albeit underwear that covered my ass. My thighs did look quite skinny, and I thought to myself, No Claire the mirror will not be your friend for a while.
“Speaking of menstrual cycle,” I began, but stopped to let him fill in the blanks himself.
For a moment he looked thoughtful. “We will have to see about that. As for your ability to reproduce… Dr. Seaborne was a gynecologist.” As he scribbled more on the clipboard he muttered, “I will schedule something with him.”
It was hard to hide my disappointment; I really only cared to have one of the men living here knowing what my unmentionables looked like. “Who is Seaborne?”
“The taller one,” he answered absentmindedly, and I could tell that he was deep in thought. I was happy to know he wasn’t the sweaty, little fat one, and I was even more relieved that Dr. Lister wasn’t the OBYGN of the building. I just didn’t want another woman seeing me like that, especially if I hadn’t even seen her around here.
“Are we done here?” I asked, my eyes refusing to land on his face.
“Yes.” I hopped down from the examination table and started for the automatic door. “And Claire?” His interruption of my exit stopped me dead in my tracks, my body growing warm like I had been caught in a lie. “Do tell me if you experience other side effects?” Though it was a question the tone he used said that he knew what was happening, but I chose not to give myself up since more than likely it would be discovered during the more invasive and strenuous physicals in the coming days.
Something in me wanted for him to sweat and figure it out. So with a smile I said to the door, “Sure,” and left him alone in the room, hearing a single, soft laugh.
November 7 2001, Wednesday 8:42 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Mayo, Yukon
Status: Uncomfortable
It wasn’t ever a pleasant experience to have sharp, metal objects shoved up into you, and as I recalled the horrors of my first pap smear I felt somewhat violated. Yes, this had been my first since I never had a reason to have one before: I wasn’t sexually active until Wesker and I mixed business with pleasure, and I had never taken birth control. I was glad to know though from Dr. Seaborne that the pill could actually be behind abnormal pap smear results and even cervical dysplasia, but did I actually need to know this since I wasn’t going to be having sex for like… EVER? The doctor had been nice though, telling me he wasn’t going to lie about how it felt and that I was lucky Wesker hadn’t ordered for a biopsy. He did a sonogram to determine if there was anything else to be worried about in my belly and to ensure me that everything was intact.
When I asked about my cycle he just said, “We’ll have to wait and see. Given your ‘condition’ I can’t say what is normal for you and what’s not. I just know that from what I’ve seen today you look healthy. There’s no scarring or anything that would inhibit you from carrying and delivering a child.”
The relief that I felt couldn’t be described, only the way I dramatically grabbed at my heart and exhaled could somewhat properly display my elation. No I hadn’t changed my mind and had a revelation about children, but it was just good to know that of all of the things Wesker had taken: my innocence, my humanity, and my brother, he didn’t take one of the things that made me a woman.
“Thank you so much Dr. Seaborne,” I said softly, getting up to leave the lab. He only gave a small smile and nodded at me. Since Wesker had work to do I decided to go upstairs and see what was on television, finding an assortment of DVDs stashed in the entertainment system. So since I was still hungry I thought it best to prepare the steaks one of the scientists had bought this morning, and I had four piled on a plate before me as looked for some horror movies. A few cheesy zombie flicks were on with lots of sex and women who dared to run through the woods with one boob popping out of a terry cloth robe.
Shaking my head at the fast, door-opening, stair-climbing zombies I thought of how lucky I had actually been to endure an outbreak of idiots that traveled a mile an hour. However, one bite was all it took, which actually gave them the advantage, and honestly after that one bite it probably was better to just lie there and let the zombie finish his meal in peace. I told myself to concentrate on this movie made for the entertainment of those who never experienced an actual outbreak, namely, for the people who still thought that Raccoon City was like Chernobyl number two. The people who had no relatives there and believed that there was a mass evacuation…
By the time the movie finished I was done eating my steaks and beginning to feel stuffed as I should have, and since it wasn’t hard to lose weight from this point out I got a huge bowl of ice cream with hot fudge and to make it seem special I went ahead and threw a banana and a few cherries in. Now I was watching the Evil Dead movie that was in the DVD player already, too lazy to turn down the volume as Cheryl got raped by a bunch of limbs and vines.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed, remembering my gyno appointment this morning. “Who the fuck am I kidding? Cheryl, you got it worse.”
“What are you watching?”
At Wesker’s tone of disgust I turned around and said, “Evil Dead.” The grimace on his face was priceless, and I only shrugged and ate another spoonful of ice cream. “You were like, twenty-one when this came out how do you not know this movie?”
Walking around the couch, still frowning at the screen he said, “Because a movie about a woman being raped by the foliage isn’t exactly proper for anyone.” Finally tearing his eyes away from the frightened woman on the TV, he asked, “Are you still hungry?”
“Just being a pig now,” I replied, shaking my head at my own greed.
“What else have you eaten?” He asked with his eyes once more fixed on the scene of a horrified Cheryl struggling to find the correct key to enter the cabin.
Like we were discussing the weather I replied, “Four steaks.”
Wesker sat down on the other end of the couch, almost like I’d bite if he were too close. “You look better today.”
Too into the movie I barely showed any emotion as I muttered, “I should be after eating a few pounds of food and drinking every liquid in sight.” I guess his comment was meant to sound like a compliment in “Wesker-speak,” but I didn’t want to look into it too much. Fool me once: shame on me, fool me twice: well I’m just a dumbass then right? “When are we having our little appointment?”
Getting to his feet he said, “I’ll allow you to finish up. Meet me downstairs in my office when you are done.”
To acknowledge his instructions I nodded and said, “Okey-doke.” Still I had no idea what more he could want from me unless he was trying to figure out how to lower my metabolism. When I walked into his office he was leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped like he had been expecting me at that exact moment, but I ignored his attitude and stood before him.
“Present,” I announced, placing my hands on my hips.
Without hesitation he asked, “Is there something you want to tell me Claire?” The use of my name surprised me, but it wasn’t the first time he had done it so I shrugged it off.
Shaking my head I asked, “What could I possibly have to tell you?”
“As a scientist,” he began abruptly, “I do understand the consequences of certain things, such as a severely high metabolism. Dear heart, not all are bad.” Without a doubt he knew what I was hiding, yet I decided to play dumb until he spat out what he thought. “I was going to stab you…”
My eyes shot open, a reaction that brought a grin to his face, but I didn’t think that this was funny at all. “I… what do you mean?”
“What an actress.” He mockingly clapped his hands at my performance, his smirk not leaving even as I stood there and lied through my teeth. “Rapid healing is something worth being mentioned Miss Redfield.”
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach, and I took a seat in the chair across from him, an action that made his smile grow even wider. “What was I supposed to think?”
Demandingly he said, “Elaborate.”
Throwing my hands out I cried, “You would have tried to turn me into your science project!” As if my claim had hurt his feelings he raised an eyebrow, his smirk shrinking away until his mouth was nothing but a straight line. “Wesker you’re supposed to be fixing me and so far you’re just monitoring me-”
Staring down at a pile of notes on his table he said barely above a whisper, “How do you propose that I ‘fix’ you when I have no idea what it is I am meant to fix?” He turned to look at me once more, probably loving my confusion and the fact that I felt like an ass right about now. “Miss Redfield, I wish that you would have come to me with this information. Have you experimented with it?”
I let out a sigh, “Yes.” He nodded for me to continue, so I might as well have given him the full account. “The day we began my therapy. I… cut my finger on your letter opener. Then after I could walk again I cut myself on the arm.” Hesitantly I added, “Then I stabbed myself in the hand. All wounds healed.”
“And you were not hungry until that night?” His attention was once more turned on his clipboard, scribbling fervently, probably excited about the possibilities of my virus and not really thinking about me as a person.
Sadly, I gave a nod and said, “Correct.” A chill came over me and I asked, “You’re not going to test that are you?”
His pen stopped its movement at my inquiry, his eyes still on the paper, and through his shades I witnessed him blink. “I will take your word for it.” The scribbling resumed while I was left to ponder what that meant exactly. Usually he was willing to do whatever it took to figure out the inner workings of things, but today he had given me a pass without an explanation. Why would he take my word for it when I had lied to him for days, unless he cared still?
“Wesker,” I began, nearing his desk to remove the letter opener from his pencil holder. Staring up at me, he looked confused, and I lowered my left arm so he could see it, revealing the inside to him. With a deep breath I plunged the blade into my flesh, dragging it up my arm to increase the length of the incision in the process exposing tissue and blood. The muscle should have been ruined I thought to myself as I pulled the blade out, and just as easily as it had been made, the cut sealed from the inside just as before until finally my skin mended together like I had never made a crude slit in the first place. When the blond didn’t speak I said loudly, “It hurts when I do it. The healing though, feels refreshing, like my body just took in the cleanest air ever. It’s like… cool, spring water or some shit,” I almost exclaimed, only now trying to find a way to describe the healing.
It was like relief, so much better than the endorphins a cutter experiences, and it was intoxicating which was perhaps my body’s new way of enduring pain received. His mouth parted just a millimeter, like he was willing to break down and praise my ability, but he kept his composure and wrote a few more notes. He then snatched a tissue from the box in front of him and took the letter opener from my hand, soon after offering me one to wipe away the remaining blood.
His refusal to harm me in order to gain a desired result had annoyingly poked at my heart rather than touch it, making me blurt out an embarrassing question. “Is that fondness still there?” Wishing I hadn’t said anything I stepped back and fell back into my seat, frowning at my stupidity. I’d told myself it didn’t matter anymore, yet his actions were questionable from day one of me being here, like how he didn’t put me through insane tests just to see what I was capable of. Instead he treated me like a houseguest.
“I think we should concentrate on your condition Miss Redfield.” He wouldn’t look at me as he said this, and I took in a deep breath to push back the tears attempting to fill my eyes. There was something painful about rejection, and it was worse for a woman than a man: an ego could be repaired by any new woman, but rejection would force a woman to rethink herself as a person and the possible reasons why she was turned away are forever haunting.
“I understand,” I lied, getting up from the chair. Then as I left the room I felt another sting: he didn’t try to stop me.
November 8 2001, Thursday 3:28 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Mayo, Yukon
Status: Famished
I had made myself a few burgers, stuffing them with pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, cheese, and lots of mayonnaise. Oh how fattening, but that wasn’t the case for me I thought happily, and I decided to throw some jalapeños on my sandwiches as well. “Oh burger, how I love you,” I professed before taking a huge bite from my midnight meal. Something told me to turn around, a feeling that I listened to, and mid-bite I was face-to-face with a skinny, pale woman with dark, brown hair that bordered on black. She looked confused and perhaps a bit disgusted so I assumed that she was the one responsible for the ‘fridge barely having any meat when I first arrived. Mouth full of food I mumbled, “Hi.”
Nervously she muttered, “Sorry,” turning to leave, and before I could tell her to stay she was gone. The only other female in the house and she was a bitch. Then again a woman indulging six burgers at three in the morning could be an intimidating sight I suppose, but I wasn’t going to bite her. Then again maybe it had to do with my attire: a white, wife beater with no bra, and a pair of red and black boy short underwear.
It would explain why she apologized.
“Now what are you eating?” I hadn’t seen Wesker since I was in his office, and now he was nearing me like what happened today actually didn’t happen.
Concentrating on my food more than I was him I replied, “Burgers.”
“More red meat?”
Though I wanted to ignore him and finish eating I knew that I couldn’t since he wouldn’t go away anyhow. “It fills me up.” I heard him pull out the stool next to me, causing me to audibly groan when I had been hoping that the worst reaction he’d get out of me would be me rolling my eyes. Why the hell did he have to haunt me?
“Were you unable to sleep?” he asked, pretending that he could not sense my vexation.
As I picked up my second burger I said, “Yep, unable to eat right about now.” Most of the time he would chuckle at me, mocking my attempts to insult him, but tonight he did no such thing, instead he fell silent. He let me eat without bothering me any further about how I was feeling, he just stared straight ahead at the wall just above the sink, and I was happy to not feel his eyes on the side of my face. Though unnerving, the quiet between us was welcomed and enjoyed by me, and since he was never a huge talker I assumed that Wesker preferred me stuffing my mouth to me running it.
He watched me clean up, but when I moved to leave he stopped me with the truth. “You require some form of closure.”
Rather than turn to face his back I just stayed there facing the doorway, staring down at the floor. “But?”
“I am unable to supply it.”
Feeling a knot form in my chest I closed my eyes tightly, holding my breath. “Unable or unwilling?”
I heard him near me, could feel the tickle of his breath on my ear, and his shadow cast over me, towering my own as they stood one in front of the other below us. “I assure you Miss Redfield. Unable.”
Fighting the urge to turn towards him, I attempted to walk away, but I felt his arms snake around my stomach, holding me against him. It was a grip that could be easily broken, something that conveyed to me that I could choose to leave his embrace if I decided. Something had stolen the use of my legs though, and I laid my head back against his chest as a small sob broke through me. “Why did this happen to me? Is being a Redfield synonymous with bad luck?”
“When you differ from billions in the world dear heart you should not feel shame.” It wasn’t a declaration of his feelings for me, and I understood what his statement translated into: biologically speaking I was superior in some fashion to have carried his child, a superior being’s child. Though the result was undesired and uncontrollable it had been done, and of all the women he had conquered I was the only one to bear a child by him while I was nothing but a human.
Remembering the hours that led up to my death- no murder, I said in a low voice, “But I should when I create a monster.” Easily I slipped from his hold, leaving him at the kitchen threshold while I made my way to my bedroom. I locked the door behind me, barring him from entry if he chose to come after me, and I immediately slipped into my bed. I turned off the lamp next to my bed, letting darkness settle upon my room, and if Wesker did enter I wouldn’t have to see him. Suddenly I was sleepy, or maybe I had mentally exhausted myself after the long day, and with what had happened should I have fought the drowsiness? No, because I would rather fight demons in my sleep than deal with the ones of my reality.
In my sleep it was all so different, Wesker was different, and I was different. But it was never more frightening than what I had lived through while I was awake, and I’d take an evilly grinning madman any day over one who had confused himself so badly that he couldn’t answer a question asked by woman he probably considered a child. Because Dream Wesker was more similar to the old Wesker and old Wesker existed before I ever accepted his offer and helped him.
You know what his refusal to answer means.
It meant that he was still fond of his “dear heart.”
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