I don't own Resident Evil, I just have a fearsome love of Jill Valentine and wanted to write an angsty one-shot on her hair color because it struck me as something that needed to be brought to attention. Blue-eyed-blonde Jill bothers me. Anyhow, onward!
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It had come from the bottom of a bottle.
Jill Valentine surveyed it in the mirror, wincing. The color shook under the lights, vibrated like honey-gold molecules to her sensitive eyes. She could touch it, but it didn't feel real. It felt like the venomous invention of a twisted mind.
The ends were still frayed, lightly spindly to her fingers. Bleach wasn't kind to her consistency, and had only served to toy with the natural straightness of her black hair. Chris had long ago said to her that he'd never have her any other way. He'd looked her in the face, into her warm, brown eyes (where was the brown, now?) and said no one pulled off pretty like she could. Not even in a S.T.A.R.S uniform.
She'd run her hand through it briefly, her muscles aching. It looked like something stranger than fiction. The pallid blue of her eyes, now, felt like an empty reflection staring at an emptier one.
She hadn't known why he made her do it. It was an utter mystery to her. Albert off-his-bird Wesker had pointed to the sink and said, "Born anew, my dear, now baptize yourself."
And she'd complied and washed all the dark away, without a word or a thought. She could envision it even though it hadn't happened. She could imagine how the black seeped from her head, her own being, and crawled down the drain shamefully. She felt her identity lift, now, felt like Jill Valentine had shrunk into a thing so small she hadn't even existed.
She would've killed herself if the parasite would allow, but the thing he'd so carefully fastened to her chest opposed the idea of her own death. She'd gladly rather die than be Wesker's puppet. Jill had always been too proud, too strong, and too reluctant to give in. Her bravery had dug her into this blonde-induced grave. If escaping him meant ending herself, too, than so be it.
"Jill!" He called, and her muscle's reaction was instant and jerky, "Come. We have guests."
And as she escaped her own body, she felt herself strip away again, threads of wheat slipping through her fingers.