My Name Is Anita Muller.
Summary: Anita Muller, Jake Muller's mother, Albert Wesker's lover, left a bigger impact on the world than she could ever imagine. Follows side-by-side with "Why Power Is A Must."
Chapter 1.
I exit my apartment to be confronted by another woman. She screams at me, presents her wedding ring, and slaps me on the cheek. She is a daily occurrence; well, not her, but just married women in general. It's not my fault that their husbands desire companionship with someone like me. However, it is sickening to hear men compare me to their wives without a single thought about who will pay the price in society's eyes: me. I didn't choose this life, but what's the point of saying that now? Exactly, there is no point; no one will listen. I get paid to listen, never talk; give, never take; love, never be loved. I am a commodity. Five hundred dollars and you get me for the hour.
I walk towards the brick facade of my work place. A man is standing outside the building staring at the door. I wonder what his intentions are, but I am already late as it is. Anya will kill me if I keep coming in so late. My arm brushes the man's, but I hope no incident starts because of it. The cold air of Edonia is vacuumed out of the air by the warmth of the interior of the building. Anya sits at her desk, smoking as usual.
"I wish you would stop coming in late." She states in an irritated mood.
"I wish you would stop smoking." I reply carelessly, but I instantly regret it.
"Remember who owns you, whore." Her eyes cut into mine.
"Sorry, ma'am." I look at the floor. I am not my own. I wander through the halls with the slightest thought: 'who is that man outside, and why was he just standing there?' I open the black door with a brass plate embossed with a rose. It leads to a lounge sort of area, where we all wait for clients. My only friend, Kai, sits upon the soft leather couch. She has always been extremely beautiful; as an artist working to pay for her emotional medium, she has a magic touch with make up and complementary colors with outfits and pigments. Her hair is unnaturally a soft red. "Good morning, Kai."
"Morning, Anita, did she give you shit for being late again?" Kai asks nonchalantly as she drinks a bottle of water.
"Yes, but it was all my fault, so I deserved it." I sit on the couch next to her. "You look nice today; are you seeing Axel?"
"Maybe," she smiles happily. "I know that he's supposed to be a horrible terrorist and all that, but he's not bad. He's nice and has a kind heart and pretends that the Edonian Liberation Army is just something he does for shits and giggles." She frowns a bit. "But what do I know? I'm a whore."
"No, Axel must really like you because all his subordinates say he's really mean all the time, and if he's nice to you, then he must really care. And you're not a whore; you're too pretty to be one." Axel is the head of the Edonian Liberation Army, carries a violent reputation, and is a major client for Kai.
"He stills pays me."
"So? Ulrich pays me, and he brings me out to dinner and listens to me play piano."
"You're missing the point, Anita; to men, we're play things. Once we break or get boring, they get new ones." Kai hisses as she pushes herself off of the couch and walks out of the lounge. I don't believe that all men are like that, maybe some but not all. Besides, Ulrich taught me piano, and that's not bad, right? No, it's quite wonderful actually.
–i–
Anya opens the door and demands all brunettes. I guess that means me too, so along with five of the other girls, I walk out of the lounge into the dimly lit lobby to become part of a selection, like a piece of meat. The man is the same one that was outside when I arrived. He is tall, fit, and young, a tourist if I ever saw one. Jana is first in line, and she is probably the most requested. She smiles at the tourist and tries to reel him in, along with his wallet. Karin is next to Jana; she is beautiful but due to her attitude, tends to rack up less profit than any of us. I could continue on and on about each individual, but I would rather not. My gaze slips down to my feet, and my mind wanders to what piece I will be playing for Ulrich today. He likes Beethoven, but I guess that's an archetypal assumption for any classical audiophile.
"Her," the man finally responds. His voice is strong with the faintest hint of a British accent; it is very unique in the ratio of accent in his voice. I prepare to walk away back to the lounge, but Anya catches me off guard.
"Anita?"Anya does not care to hide her surprise.
"Yes," he confirms without a doubt; I've never really dealt with the tourists.
"Five hundred per hour and fifty for every bruise and cut I find on her afterward." Anya only cares about the profit, so the rougher the man the better.
"Careful with our things are we?" The man makes eye contact with me as his eyebrow arches to complement his humor.
"I can't have you men ruining my selection. I'd have nothing left then!" Anya would prefer men to play rough and couldn't care less for our well being. I take the young man by the hand and lead him down a hallway into my designated room. It is a light blue with accentuated trim here and there on the edges of pillow cases and bed sheets, nothing too fancy. H e walks into the room and admires the theme of the room in silence, as I close the door and lock it for privacy.
My lips find his, and he is a passionate man, passionate for another woman. You can see her in his eyes. His name is Albert. Unlike most tourists, he is respectable and isn't looking for sex. He sits on the bed, holding his head in his hands. "I feel like I am losing my mind." He whispers, and I hold him in my embrace. It's just a part of the job. Everyone knows that a prostitute is supposed to service his or her clients, but no one really knows what that service truly is. Some say that it's a physical service, but I think that it's a mental service as well. We listen and tend to men's desires, no matter how sad or sickening. We do as we're told; we are the most obedient people you may ever meet.
My name is Anita Muller, and I exist to make other people happy.
A/N: This goes alongside "Why Power Is A Must" and, clearly, shows Anita's perspective. I find it easier to explain certain events with Anita rather than Jake or Wesker. There are other little things strewn about this series too, like Axel, Jake's friend and boss figure. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it, and it's open for criticism from whomever deems fit to write a review.
~FromPrussiaWithLove