So it had come to this.
Perhaps the scientist had merely been foolish enough to think that this day would not have ever come - the day when he'd have to pick and choose which path was best for himself, instead of playing that awkward game of pretend between having a family and being a monster. He knew he was indeed such a thing, even in the guise of a normal man, that fact had never truly wavered from his mind. Besides…he had to choose. In Wesker's plans there was no use for those who showed a margin of weakness, that useless margin of humanity, and he..
…he would not betray him.
Annette already lay dead in the room beyond the one the blond man currently resided in. He had perhaps been kind to her in the end - her death had been fast, relatively painless, a simple syringe of paralytic toxin that had numbed her body, put her to sleep, before he'd placed his gun through to her skull and merely pulled the trigger. William felt no real remorse for the loss of his wife - she had been useful in her time, but now plans had proceeded beyond the usefulness that she had given.
Sadly, Sherry's death had not come as swift.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised that his growing daughter had fought back. She had always been a fighter, surprisingly enough, strong and resilient with both her parent's intelligence and stubbornness. In the struggle he'd lost the gun and had to resort to less…savory means to put an end to the last remnant of the illusion of a family he had created. Blood smeared across the floor to the wall where the mortally wounded girl crawled, blood flecking his white lab coat and splotched near dementedly along the right side of the man's face as he crouched down by the girl, watched as her chest shuddered and heaved in it's futile struggle for air, watched the light slowly dimmed in her previously bright eyes. "D-Daddy…d-daddy w-why…?" She gasped, a strange choking rattled through her chest as more of that bright crimson of blood bubbled, foamed, at the corner of her mouth. Her hand reached out, seeking, searching, beseeching in its grasping before it fluttered, stilled, fell.
The light in those eyes, once mirrors so much like Sherry's mother's, dimmed then faded completely. William rose to his feet, his own blue eyes on the body of his only child, trying to take note of the odd hallow feeling that coiled through his senses before he frowned and forced it back. "Goodbye Sherry."
I'm sorry.