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Day 86
A fever burns in her.
It soaks her insides. Turns her muscles to porridge mush. Turns her bones to peanut brittle.
She's hurting. Sweat covers her skin. She stays at her post. Death mask and cloak in place.
Jill swallows, finds her mouth and throat more than dry.
"Did you even hear what I said?!" Excella's voice screeches in her ears. She wears something that flatters in dark red. Her stiletto heels sound like bells slapped against steel when she walks.
Jill exhales, finds her chest shake with the expelled breath.
She closes her eyes for one long second.
Then nothing.
Day 16
Jill wrenched the dirt-caked shirt off. She dropped it on a nearby rock, grimaced at the sight of mud trails all over her torso. She worked to rid of the stained cargo pants next.
"You okay?" She heard Chris approach her, the water slushed with each of his step.
"Yeah."
Her muscles complained with every movement. The training exercise for STARS was more than she expected. At least the stream's water against her skin felt refreshing.
Lean arms wrapped around her from behind. A nose buried in her sweat-drenched hair.
She fought off the reflex to jump away, uncomfortable with how dirty and unattractive she was at the moment.
"It's nice here." Chris murmured in her hair. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Warmth spread within her, fueled more by the heat of the sun and the obvious hardness at the slope of her ass.
"You think they'll come looking?" Smiles bloomed on their faces.
Day 46
"I wonder how much this body of yours can take." Wesker presses on the injection's plunger a little harder.
"I can break you with this, Jill." He pulls the needle out roughly, smirks at the lack of expression on her face despite the pain.
She feels numb. She has lost count how many times the P30 was given to her.
All the puncture sites are afire. Yet she remained voiceless about the extreme discomfort.
"The lashes have closed."
He circles the elaborate metal chair, crouches right in front of her. His gloves stick with the sweat on her bare knees. He raises a hand to touch her face.
"How much would Chris give to have you again..."
"I have plans for you." He breathes out with satisfaction. Behind the tinted glasses, the corners of his eyes crinkle.
"We'll start with eliminating that old partner of yours."
Day 26
Wesker has her crushed between the glass wall and his unyielding body. He tears the front of her lab gown, captures her mouth in a suffocating kiss.
Doubt erupts in her heart. Her knees weaken and her arms tremble.
He grabs her by the hips, holds her up and pinned in place. One gloved hand finds its way between her thighs, tucks her panties aside.
Her breath hitches at a tinkling sound - his belt coming loose.
She's not wet enough, not open enough to receive him.
He forces his way in, leaves her out of breath and wincing in pain.
It takes painfully slow minutes, frantic thrusts, and an inhuman pace.
She bears every sting, blinks back tears.
It's difficult to play the victim.
Day 66
The plate's control sits on the table, next to her side of the bed.
The minutes drag by. She observes it, wonders why it's left close to her reach so carelessly.
She blinks. It lights up. She shuts her eyes at the sudden burst of white.
It vibrates. A call. Excella Gionne.
She observes the phone, his personal phone that also functions as the remote control for the toy that is her.
The piece of plastic continues to rattle against the wood. She does nothing but stare.
Wesker rustles under the sheets. Movements leaden and annoyed. A tanned arm stretches across her under the moonlight and snatches the offending device.
The disturbance disappears.
He settles on his back with a small flop.
"Lie here." He rasps.
She's pulled away from the headboard, led to lie against his side. He sighs, feels the cool metal stitched on her chest right on his skin.
Long fingers weave in her hair, caress the curve of her neck, brush her bare shoulder, and finally rest on the dip of her waist.
"Sleep." She goes under and deep.
Day 26
A sound like a sob escapes from her into the room. She's startled by it as she pants on his clothed shoulder.
His hips snap up. He buries himself inside of her. As deep as possible. Grinds. Desecrates.
She hears him groan, watches his neck strain and his jaw tense in the peak of his pleasure.
Abundant heat then fills her. Prolonged spurts that she can feel all too much.
He looks down at her face once, before he's pulling out and casting her aside like a doll.
He doesn't bother righting himself. He dashes out of the metal double doors.
Albert Wesker leaves her sprawled on the lab floor.
Fucked raw and with the hot mess he made between her legs.
Day 86
She wakes in his private laboratory, sees the intrusive lights, and the state-of-the-art equipment.
"We can remove the pump." A floating voice says.
"We can remove the embryo." Another chimes in.
"It may continue naturally!" Someone shouts in exhilaration. "All we need is to stop the P30 supply. Imagine the research we can conduct, what we can discover!"
"We're not even sure if this is a mere threatened abortion." One reasons.
"She's still bleeding." Wesker's voice echoes. Far away. Full of indecision.
Jill dismisses the voices.
The fever is gone. The pad lining her underwear feels thick and filled.
She's somehow more different with the P30 cut off.