Chapter 8.

When I was seven, my mom told me about my dad. I've never seen her smile so much or that happy in my life. That was when I believed her and thought that he would actually come home. When I was ten, I started to doubt everything; how could my dad be so great if he had ignored my mom and me for ten years? "Your father loves you." 'Bullshit! If he gave two shits, then where is he?!' I made her cry, and I felt even worse than my dad. The last thing that I wanted to do was hurt her like he did.

–viii–

I could say that I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, but that is a childish metaphor that does not serve a purpose for me. This is my job, and I must carry through.

Seems we both have that problem; except, I kill people. Wesker made them suffer.

Lisa Trevor, I can only imagine the suffering that you are enduring, yet I continue my work and pretend that there is a reason that you are the subject and I am not. It is a hard thing to do, and this feeling of disgust crawls beneath my skin. I don't understand how Birkin and Marcus can dehumanize her. How can Birkin do this and then go home to his fiancee without a care in the world?

Lisa Trevor and her mom were taken as test subjects back before Wesker was even born, so Lisa had suffered for too long for you to just pity her.

It crosses my mind on a daily basis that perhaps this is the time to end her suffering, but we all know that will not happen. So day after day, she will suffer because of monsters like Birkin and me. The worst of it all? I worry, and it truly gets to me and eats away at my conscience. What if it happened to Anita? It would be my fault. I have nightmares and panic about the possibilities, and I can't tell her anything. If I could, she would leave.

Well shit, anyone would leave if they knew you were injecting people with viruses for work; anyone would call you a sick son of a bitch and walk out the door.

Anita is making dinner since I was allowed to go home early, and I sit at the table, staring out the window at the birds on the trees. "I am a monster." And I want her to agree and say that she hates me. I want her to blame me. She does not hesitate. 'You're not a monster, Albert.' She walks over with two bowls of homemade soup. 'Please don't say that; it's not healthy to be hard on yourself for no reason.' She has no idea, and I want to tell her. "I have done too many disgraceful things." She looks at me and pauses for a bit. 'If you are trying to get me to leave, you don't have to lie about yourself. You have shown me nothing but kindness, so how can I believe that you are a monster?' "I am." 'I don't think so. You don't have razor sharp teeth and talons or anything crazy like that. Give me a reason to think that you are a monster.' "I can only hurt you." 'That is up to me to decide.'

So did she just get fed up and leave? Why did she leave him? It's obvious that he didn't leave her after all.

"One more dose." I repeat, reminding myself that this is almost over for the day. Lisa is beyond hideous, and her deformed figure is a horrifying sight. She stares at me while she sits motionless. Birkin is in the other room collecting papers to turn in our research. My hands prepare the syringe, and she is still staring at me. As I approach, she backs away like always, but for some unknown reason, she lunges towards me and slashes away at my coat. 'No...more...hurts...so...lots...' The syringe slipped out of my hands, and at the same time the door busted open. Lisa keels over, and Birkin is holding a tranquilizing gun. We are the monsters.

Well, in truth, all of humanity are monsters.

Returning home is quite a blessing. However, home is empty.

How long did it take before he lost it?

I check every room again, and each empty room fills my being with doubt. Was she kidnapped? Did she leave? Is she okay? Is there a reason why she left me? Where is she now? What did I do? The front door shuts, and my body is sprinting towards the door. There she is, standing with two large paper bags of groceries in her arms. I am so very relieved.

He over-thought too much.

–viii.v–

I have honestly never celebrated Christmas for my entire life, but I feel like this year is the year to try.

I thought New Year's was the time to try new things.

I wake up somewhat early, but I guess that is normal since I leave considerably early to go to the lab. Anita is sleeping, and as I much as I would like to be here when she wakes, I plan to make her breakfast in bed. After slipping out of bed in a usually quiet fashion, I meander into the kitchen. Then a problem occurs; I have no idea what she eats for breakfast. I always leave before she wakes up, so I guess, according to the contents of our refrigerator, I will make the generic eggs and bacon with orange juice.

My mom used to really like waffles.

After a short period of time, a pair of arms wrap around my waist. 'Good morning, I'll make breakfast.' She has a bit of what is categorized as bedhead and is wearing one of my shirts. "Good morning, I was planning on surprising you with breakfast, but it seems that you have beaten me to my own surprise."

Seriously though, she liked waffles...

"I have a gift for you." She looks at me as realization dawns on her. 'You shouldn't have.' "I should have, so I did." I reach over the counter behind the shelf to procure a white box with a red ribbon tied into a bow. "That, and Birkin invited us to attend his Christmas party; that is only if you want to." She gingerly handles the box. 'I can't even begin to thank you enough, Albert.' "It's nothing really." I assure. 'It's more than you think.' She rests her hands on the box and closes her eyes. 'I've never really celebrated Christmas my entire life. My parents were atheists and didn't believe in frivolously wasting money. No one's ever given me a gift out of sheer kindness. I can't thank you enough.' She carefully unwraps the ribbon and opens the box; slowly pulling back the thin sheets of white tissue paper, a Prussian blue dress comes to light. "If you don't like it, I can –" 'I love it.'

If I remember correctly, Prussian blue is just a fancy way of saying dark blue, and if that's true, then I've seen the dress that is in question. It was always hidden in the back of Mom's closet, and I thought it was because she hated it. But she kept saying 'it's only there because I've never found a reason to wear it yet.' I still think that she hated it.

Birkin's party turns out to be a coworkers thing, and everyone is here with their high horse husbands and wives with all their designer dresses and suits. Anita does not seem to like the way this party is turning out. All the women are like Annette, proud of work they did not do, and they keep patronizing Anita. Birkin hands me a beer, a Stella Artois. Someone is trying to look classy. I can overhear Annette and her group of coworkers' wives. 'Someone is too undressed for this party.' 'It's like Wesker is trying to make us ridicule him.' 'You're just a play-toy until he finally gets a hard-working wife.' And still, Anita smiles, pretending that these women are not pulling her apart. 'Where do you think she came from anyway?' 'Well, I heard he went to Edonia, and you know how that country is with prostitution.' 'You think she's a prostitute?' 'Well, duh.' 'You think she could give us some tips?' 'What are you stupid?' 'She's probably ridden with STDs.' Anita just smiles.

What kind of man let's women talk that way about his girl?!

I have heard enough. "Excuse my intrusion, ladies, but I would like to point out that of all the women present tonight, Anita has shown the best etiquette. It really is not nice to be gossiping at such a wonderful party on such a holy day. And –" Annette walks over to me; her fingertip is pressed into my chest. 'Now hold on a minute, Wesker! You are the one who brought a whore to this party. We all know where she came from, so what are you paying her to pose as your girlfriend?! You disgust me; to think that William has to deal with you everyday!' Anita begins to walk towards the door. "No, Annette, I am not paying her to stay here. I love her, and I honestly do not give a shit about what she used to do. If you love someone, you should not have to choose by their past occupations." The sound of liquid hitting the floor splashes in the background, the sound of women laughing soon follows. Anita's eyes catch mine; she is beyond upset. She can not keep face and wants to run, and I am the only thing keeping her here, in this embarrassment. She begins to speed walk out of the room, but her walk turns into a run. Her hair trails behind her.

My mom used to always keep face while being ridiculed.

My hand drops the bottle of beer, and my body lunges into a run. She is a few blocks away from Birkin's house. Her hair is wet as well as her dress. "I apologize for the lack of human decency in all of those people." She is crying, and I wish that I had the initiative in preventing the banter of all the other women.

She used to keep face in front of all her offenders, but in secret, she would cry her eyes out. Life was never easy for her, and her dignity was destroyed.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not like those women. I'm sorry that I'm a prostitute. I'm sorry that I –" I slip off my blazer and wrap it around her shoulders. "You look cold; how about we head home?" She looks at me in shock. 'But what about Birkin and your reputation?' "Who cares? I do not need to impress them; if anything, they should impress me, especially after the lack of etiquette that they displayed tonight!" 'Take your coat; you'll be cold.' She begins to pull the blazer from her shoulders. "I'll get used to it."

Is that where my uber need to adapt to things came from?

–viii.v–

I'm not very fond of Christmas. As in 'fond,' I guess 'like' would be a better word. Bad things happen on Christmas. When I was ten, my mom was diagnosed with a terminal illness. When I was fifteen, she died. When I was seventeen, my best friend was assassinated for someone else's revenge. I am twenty and stuck reading the fucked up mind of Albert Wesker, and Sherry Birkin left me for good because I have issues.

–viii.v–

'I'm sorry that I already got the dress so dirty.' Anita apologizes for the millionth time. "It is fine; I will wash it when we get home or get it dry-cleaned tomorrow. Whichever you prefer."

She always apologized even when it was someone else's fault.

She lies down next to me, and my hand rests on the curve of her waist. My chin rests on her head. "Merry Christmas, Anita." She turns over to face me. 'I never gave you your Christmas present.' She presses her body into mine. 'I apologize; all I can give is myself.' I kiss from her lips to her collarbone. "I love your gift, almost as much as I love you." Her hands caress my chest underneath my undershirt. 'I love you, Albert Wesker, and I will love you for as long as I live.'

Normally, people just say that when they want to sound romantic and committed, but she really meant it. She loved him until the end, and she probably loved him for even longer if that's even possible.

Her bare skin touches mine as we lie awake. 'Albert?' "Yes?" 'I've been thinking about when you said you were a monster.' "Yes, what about it?" 'You're only a monster as long as you let people call you that. As long as you keep saying you're a monster like some kind of mantra, you will always see yourself as that. I don't want you to do that to yourself, but I can't make you believe me. You need to choose for yourself.' I do not know how to choose. I can not tell if it would be wise to do so, and I do not like taking chances.

"Jake, you're not messed up. You're nothing like your father." Wesker had it hard, and I sadly can relate. Sherry was my conscience and kept me down to Earth, kept my dignity, kept me in check, and made me believe, but she was wrong. I am like my father.

A/N: Late [which I apologize for]. Happy Chanukah (Hanukah, Hanukkah), Merry Christmas, and Happy Kwanza! Or Happy [all other] Holidays! And I apologize for being late on this, but I really do appreciate all of the support that is given to this story.

~FromPrussiaWithLove