Day 108
Emily was strapped to a hospital bed, as if she was one of these mental cases. As the medical department was low on security, they wanted to make sure, if she woke up, that she would not try to escape. Or she might actually try to kill herself a second time…
Wesker sighed at the idea. Although Emily was somewhat "saved", she had been in a coma for two weeks by now. The doctor said she was out of danger, but he had no idea when she would actually wake up. There was not much that scared the great Albert Wesker, but he had to admit, when he saw her limp body, her cut wrists and the bed covered with her blood, something inside of him got terribly frightened. He had washed away the feeling quickly and had taken control over himself. But the feeling had still come to him and it puzzled him. Why would he care for a woman? On top of it, a woman so weak… If he was to fall for someone, he would have thought it would be someone like Ada: strong, independent, confident and a little bit feisty at times. He despised weak people… Shameful to the human race… Yet, they were always so useful to him. So, did he simply still want to use her or was it something else…? He sighed again, what had gotten to him? He looked at the machine helping her breathing. If he pulled the plug, he would be rid of her, the distractions she had caused him would be over. But he just could not bring himself to do it…
He realized he was dying to touch her. There was something about the situation that was allowing him to show more affection than if she was conscious. His hand slid on top of hers, squeezing it lightly. He looked at her seriously, her hand cold in his. For the last two weeks, he had visited her everyday. Sometimes, it would be for a few minutes, others, for a couple of hours.
Suddenly, her eyeballs started moving under her eyelids and she started moaning. Quickly, he removed his hand, hoping she had not noticed he was holding hers. He waited a few seconds to analyze her state. She finally opened her eyes, obviously confused and weak. Wesker instantly got out of the room and ordered loudly the doctor to come.
The doctor ran to the room and noticed immediately the woman had woken up. Carefully, he removed the device covering her mouth, then proceeded to examine her; verifying her pulse, running that annoying light through her eyeballs, checking on her general state. The whole procedure took several minutes, minutes where Wesker was slowly losing his patience.
"Miss Reynolds, can you hear me?" the doctor finally asked.
She nodded weakly, then released a barely audible affirmation with some difficultly. She looked at the Doctor, then at Wesker. Painfully, she recognized the too familiar face and looked away.
"Where are we?" she asked weakly, getting any words out was amazingly painful, her throat had never been so sore.
"In the medical department of our headquarters. Do you remember what happened, Miss Reynolds?" the doctor asked.
"Yes, unfortunately," she answered, looking at Wesker, her eyes showing deep sorrow.
"Dr. Andrews, if she doesn't require immediate medical assistance, I would appreciate that you leave the two of us alone for a moment."
"Yes, sir," the doctor answered, not daring to disobey his colleague. Dr. Wesker was known for his limited patience.
"Dr. Andrews, how long until she can leave the medical department?" Wesker suddenly asked before the doctor completely left the room.
"I need to do a few tests, but she will most likely need to be under observation for at least one week."
"I leave you one week exactly, nothing more," he ordered coldly.
The doctor sighed, not able to gather the courage to argue with his colleague, then finally left the two lovebirds alone.
Her pulse accelerated: being alone with Albert made her terribly nervous. She had no idea anymore what he was capable of… He walked to her slowly, his gaze menacing. Self-defence hitting in, she tried to move back on her bed. It's at that moment she noticed her hands were strapped to the bed, like it was one of these mental institution's beds. Left with no other way to protect herself, she turned her head, looking at the plain concrete infirmary wall.
"I guess I wasn't lucky enough…" she whispered almost to herself, still looking at the wall.
"You're right, Miss Reynolds. Your existence will cease to be the moment I decide so."
She turned her head to look at him, her gaze furious and hurt.
"Who found me?" she finally asked.
"I did."
"Why didn't you just let me die?"
"I still need you, Miss Reynolds. You're a brilliant bioengineer."
"Oh, because you think I'm gonna keep working for you now?" she snapped at him, resolved to keep her dignity.
"I'm afraid you don't have that kind of choice, Miss Reynolds."
"I just won't! You can't force me, I don't care if you hurt me!" she tried to yell at him, but her throat and lungs did not let her. Instead, it came out as some croaky protest.
Within half a second, she heard a whistle, then he suddenly appeared right in front of her, his face a few inches from hers, his body leaned over the bed. In his quick movements, he had grabbed her jaw with one hand, applying an uncomfortable pressure on it so she could not turn her head. She was forced to look at him…
"Miss Reynolds," he hissed in between his teeth, his voice only a whisper; a threatening whisper. He looked cold and emotionless, but completely insane in same time. "I will personally make sure you do everything as I say. If you don't obey me, I will torture you with no mercy. Oh, but I won't kill you… I know perfectly that's all you're asking for," he stopped himself, then ran a finger down her cheek. His finger was so cold, she wondered if it was the reflection of his empty soul. She heard the leather of his gloved hand cracked, covering the sound of her panicked breath. "Instead, I'll make you suffer, torture you until you think you can't take it anymore, until you're on the verge of death, then, I'll let you rest. But only until I can torture you again, and again," he paused for a few seconds, looking at her tortured features, enjoying the look on her face. "When I'll be done with you, Miss Reynolds, your dearest dream will be to follow every one of my orders. I will personally take care of it." He stopped himself again, still observing her, taking great pleasure in her reactions. He could easily tell she was truly scared, his threat had fallen through. "I bet you wouldn't like the man you love to torture you, now would you, Miss Reynolds?"
"Fuck you!" she whispered, her hatred giving her the strength to spit her venom at him.
He suddenly grinned, satisfied with the reaction his question brought. He then took a mocking expression, as if he was faking pity.
"Poor Miss Reynolds, reduced to being tortured by the man you love. Such a sad ending to a lovely story," he suddenly said, trailing languidly on his words. He chuckled, seeing the frustration and sorrow on her features. She had closed her eyes, his words just too painful to hear. He finally let her head go, so she took that opportunity to turn her head, her eyes fixed on the plain wall. Tears had formed in her eyes and she could not bear the humiliation of letting him see how much he had afflicted her. She could not believe she had fell for that man; he was so different from the man she learned to know… The complete opposite, actually.
He rose slowly, still staring menacingly at her.
"Are you gonna throw me in another dirty cell?" she asked, still looking away.
"No. You are far too unstable to be left alone again. I will bring you to my quarters," his voice was back to the coldness it normally showed, a coldness she was only starting to get used to.
"What?" she asked surprised, turning back to him, the shock bringing back some of her vigor.
"Would you rather be tied to this bed in a prison cell, Miss Reynolds? Because, if it is the case, I can arrange that for you."
She stayed silent, hurt and tired of his cruelty.
"Well, Miss Reynolds, I'm quite pleased with your awakening, but like you most likely need some rest for the moment, I will spare you further time in my company.
He bowed, almost mocking her, keeping his eyes on her the whole time, then left.
She closed her eyes, feeling the tears finally escaping her eyes. "I can't still be alive," she thought to herself, "because that sure feels like I'm already in Hell…"