Well, we finally get to know why Jill never trusted Wesker. I feel my idea is pretty cliché, but oh well...

Feel free to leave me a review! I get a decent amount of hits, but barely any reviews. I always wonder if people read it, but are scared to tell me it sucks... I don't wanna be a beggar, but getting a few reviews would pump up my poor self-esteem! ;-; But, I will still update even if I get no review, I won't play that game, no worries:)

Present

A pleasant surprise was waiting for Wesker when he entered the hotel room.

"Hey!! Wesker! Wanna join in?" she asked, chuckling, obviously completely drunk.

He could only see her head from where he was standing, but he did not need to see the rest, nor the dozen of bottles laying on the floor empty, to understand what had happened.

He came closer, and sighed heavily, discouraged and angry all at once. He leaned down, his head at the same height as hers, and looked at her, expressing his disappointment towards her with his cold expression.

"Ooh, I made you mad!" she let out, still chuckling.

He looked away only to pick the bottles off of the floor and throw them in the garbage. He came back to her and lifted her up to transport her to her bed.

"Awww, isn't it cute? You're carrying me on the bed… You're like a knight in shinny armor!" she giggled uncontrollably.

He tried to put her down on her bed, but she wrapped her arms around his chest, trying to pulling him closer. He resisted, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward.

"Jill, get a hold of yourself…" he said, moving away from her only to sit on his own bed, facing her.

"Fuck you! That's right! Fuck. You."

He sighed, getting irritated by her behavior.

"Come on? Doesn't that deserve some "punishment"? I insulted the great Albert Wesker!" she giggled again.

He stayed still, emotion unreadable on his features.

"Nah, you wouldn't do that right? You'd never hurt me… I wish you would, maybe it would go away… Maybe I would finally stop to…" the only sanity she had left stopped her from spitting it out. She brought her hands to her face, covering it. "Maybe when I'll remove them from my face, he's gonna be gone… Everything will be over…" she thought to herself, alcohol acting up on her.

"Stop to what?" he asked, obviously irritated, impatient for her to finally spit it out.

"Nothing," she said, the sound of her voice muffled by her hands.

He sighed again. Now, THAT was what he wanted to happen… Getting the woman drunk after having sex with her…

She finally got her hands off of her face, still laying on her bed. Tears had formed in her eyes and slowly ran down her cheeks. He sighed again, only to move closer to her. He sat next to her, caressed softly her hair with his hand. She looked at him deeply, a look of complete desperation.

"I hate you."

"I know," he answered calmly.

"No, you don't know."

Silence.

"You just don't know."

She turned her head, and then looked away. But she could still see him. So she closed her eyes, but she could still hear him. So she looked at him again, the alcohol in her veins having more power over her than she had wished.

"You just don't."

"What is it, Jill? Say what you have to say," he said, his patience hitting its limit.

"Leave me alone," she yelled.

"As you wish," he answered, staying calm.

He returned to his bed, still facing her.

"Why…? Why!" she yelled still.

"Jill, for God's sake, will you stop all this nonsense?"

"Fine! I love you! Are you happy now?" she yelled. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she turned over, her back facing him.

He smiled proudly, the only thing coming to his mind being "Finally…"

"But I don't want to… I hate loving you… I hate caring about you… You're everything I despise…" she said sobbing.

Silence.

"But the one I hate the most is myself…"

She finally looked at him, his gaze was impenetrable, his features tensed.

"I knew what kind of man you were… And yet I let this relationship go too far… I knew it from the first time you got jealous of Chris… I can spot your kind right away."

He stayed still.

"You wanna know why, right?" she asked, the question being completely useless.

He looked sarcastically at her, his answer obviously "yes".

"Cause it wasn't the first time it happened to me…"

She looked away, remembering the memories painfully.

"I was 18, still in high school. He was two years older than me, the typical bad guy. All my friends warned me to not date him, they had heard all kind of things about him, but I wouldn't listen… I loved him," she chuckled sarcastically. "After only two months, things started to go down… He was jealous of any men I talked to… Even the one I exchanged one trivial sentence with. One night, he got so jealous than he beat me… He left bruised all over my stomach, my forearms… I made sure no one would notice. At first it was only once in a while, but eventually it would be two or three times per week. And, of course, every time it happened, he would apology… He would say it was all his fault, that he was such a terrible person and would buy me a present every time. So I would forgive him, until it happened again… It took me three months to realize I fell in his pattern. The last time it happened, I finally woke up… I had enough self-esteem to understand it wasn't love… That he was the real problem, not I. I called the police, filed a complaint against him and moved away. I joined the military so I could defend myself. I promised myself I wouldn't let any other man do that to me ever again…" she snorted, feeling as if her whole "promise" did not worth much after all seeing the situation she was in now. "But since then, I have been untrusting with most men that I have been involved with. I have problems opening my heart, especially to someone like you…" she stopped herself for a moment, but could not stop the anger raising quickly in her chest.

"Someone who just fucking betrayed me…" she yelled, grabbing the glass on the night table and throwing it at him. He avoided it just in time. The glass crashed into the wall and shattered in thousands of pieces.

For a moment, no one talked, no one moved. She finally looked at him again. She had to finish her story, she needed it for herself.

"I could feel it within you… Than you were no different. I wanted to prove it to myself. I knew if I dropped you, I'd prove my point, you would lose control. And if you did, I'd stop loving you, and I'd knew I did the right thing. So I dropped you, and more I pushed you away, more you tried to push your way into me, more it proved me that I was right, that I was doing the right thing… I was terrified, I really thought you were gonna hit me, that you were gonna force yourself down on me that one night at your house. It hurt ten times more cause I desperatly loved you, but I was so scared of you, I was so scared to abandon myself to you… To make the same mistake twice… To scar myself even more… To trust someone that should not be trusted…" she stopped herself for a moment. "I wish I could hate you… I wish I could hurt you… I wish I could despise every part of you… But I don't! I just can't stop loving you…" she had spoken her heart crying the whole time.

"Fuck…" she finally let out, out of desperation.

She stopped talking for a moment, her cheeks filled with tears. Then, she looked at him again, a sore smile on her face.

"Isn't it amazingly cliché? I had the best guy in the world at my feet, and I fell for the bad guy…" she chuckled cynically.

She waited for any reaction from him, but he did not move, not even the slightest. In fact, she could barely say he was still breathing… After a moment staring at him, she felt dizzy, the alcohol and the emotions tiring her mind and body. Her eyes closed slowly, and after a moment dozing, she fell asleep…