Disclaimer: I do not own RE.
So did you guys hear? Jake Muller, otherwise known as the mysterious man assisting Sherry Birkin in the RE6 trailer is actually Wesker's son? Yep. Hey, remember that time when Wesker had a kid? Well neither did I. lol.
AngleInTheDark19: I'm really glad that you look forward to the updates! Thank you for supporting me through all of my hell. This story will get better and better, I assure you. So stick around and please don't fall off the face of the earth like my 10 other reviewers did.
Moonlight Shadow Huntress: Thanks!
Jalooloo: It's ok. You're not the only one that disappeared; I'm still missing quite a few of you guys.
Chris Coard: THANK YOU SO MUCH!
"An old Cherokee told his grandson, "My son, there is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, jealously, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth."
The boy thought about it and asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?"
The old man quietly replied, "The one you feed."
~Unknown
Chapter 25: Your Sickly Blood
I've gotten to that point in my life where sometimes all's I want to do is put a gun to my head, throw a rope in the rafters, take a knife to my throat, shove some pills down my gullet, or swallow one too many drinks. I can never have any form of peace or justice because my life is just one big fuck up.
I've already lost and Alex has won and to whom do I owe the pleasure of my pain?
Nicholas Wesker.
All of my hardships can be traced directly back to this monster. He planted the seed of evil in a woman down the street, unintentionally raised him to be a back-stabbing freak, left said woman down the street, fucked his unintentional son up, and died.
What a life.
All the while I waited. Waited as that sad, sorry little boy who just wanted daddy to come home and not smell like alcohol. We're not able to rely on others for assistance when all's they do is let you down. Yet, you continue to go back to them because you love them. I loved my father up until my mother died. I then realized that he was just a sick, twisted beast. He was dumped with the responsibility of a son and then expected to take charge.
Who was he kidding? That was a woman's job. Preferably, my mother's job. But now, she was rotting ten feet in the ground. The facts were all right in front of me, I was just too scared to look at them. Too scared to even think about the only outcome. When it all filed down, Alex and I would be the only Wesker's remaining, and truly, there was only room for one.
"Albert…" Claire said softly, "I can hear your teeth grinding from over here."
I looked up and sighed while I apologized. "What floor did you say she was on?"
"Ten."
For the time we had been walking which, I could deduct was for about twenty minutes, we encountered no Walkers. Just the smell of them or perhaps, the residual smell of them. Decay was not so easy on the nose or for that matter, the stomach. I hadn't eaten since this morning and who knows how long Claire's gone without food. I considered asking her yet, I thought that more pressing matters were at hand than her hunger. If Claire wished to address it, then I would concern it as well.
There was something swirling in my gut. Something that made my hair bristle on the back of my neck and goosebumps fleck my skin. I got cold; my body temperature dropped like a torpedo and my head began to swim with a horrid headache. I groaned and pushed my palm against my temple as if the cold touch of my flesh would make it go away.
"Hey… Are you ok over there?" Asked Claire, she addressed me with a worried look on her face.
I shook my head, trying to make the ache relent. "Yes…" I responded grimly. "Just have a damned headache."
Claire didn't stop with her worrying as I knew she would. "Do you want to sit down for a sec?"
I brushed off her question, "No. No that'll just waste time."
She didn't respond but inwardly I knew she was still concerned. There was a pleading in her eyes that I wanted to rectify. I didn't want her to worry. She was so bloody concerned for everything and yet, I could not blame her. She was as watchful as a mother wolf, powerful enough to stand up, and brave enough to tell me to halt. I thanked every deity I had for giving me Claire Redfield.
Still with my headache, we continued through the halls of the hospital, waiting until we reached the hopeful number of floor ten. Once we were on the ninth floor, my headache had become much worse. So bad, I thought my brains would begin to ooze out of my skull and join the rest of the carnage on the floor. What was causing it, I had that feeling again… the feeling that I was wrong about my estimations on how long I could survive without an injection. The fact was I needed one every day, twice a day. Otherwise, bodily terror would ensue. My nerves would be first, breaking down and becoming numb, next would be my bodily functions. If I had to take a leak, I wouldn't know it because of the nerve damage, if punched a wall of glass, I wouldn't feel the blood slipping from my veins. Then, and this was surly the worst part, I would lose all forms of my mindset. I would not be able to control my urges, my rage, my hate, my sadness. I would go through a mental breakdown and ultimately, succumb to death via, which I would most likely guess, self mutilation or suicide. Whichever would be most favorable that day.
"Your nose is bleeding," Claire pointed out.
I pushed my finger against my nostrils and felt the warm pool of blood exit. I ripped some paper towel from a dispenser on the walls among many others and pressed it against the flow of blood. There was a sharp pang in my skull and the blood came more violently.
This was a chain reaction.
I bolted ahead of Claire trying to find a supply room and once I did, I dropped my paper towel and fidgeted with the lock on bloody hands. I roared with frustration and snapped the lock, threw it to the ground and kicked the in the door. The only thing I could find while I was ripping bottles of pills of the stock shelf was a bottle of Vicodin. I could pop a few of those and maybe the pain would go away but it was hard to tell seeing that my condition was not that of a normal mans. We wouldn't stop climbing, for I wouldn't let us. I had to get my daughter out of this death trap otherwise; we would be swimming in a pool of the dead. I shoved the pills down my throat without any fluids to aid in its course.
I ignored her.
She was yelling at me and I ignored her. This very behavior mad her fidget uncomfortably for she knew I was doing it on purpose just so I could keep calm. Claire knew my nerves were on edge, the very way I walked in front of her gave off small signs of weakness and fear. She was apt to pick up on these because she knew the way I acted. She knew what made me tick, what made me shiver, and what made my gut grind. This was another situation in which I had no control of. My main goal was to get to flight ten, rip open the door to Kaya's room, and drag my Dear heart and my daughter out of this toxic vat of disgust.
A/N: AHH I know this is really, really short. I put it up here for a filler because I'm too busy to write atm. Trust me, I'm still here, I'm not stopping because some asshole degraded my work, I'm not stopping because I've lost reviewers, and I most certainly not stopping because I'm giving up. This will continue, you just have to give me a swell amount of time in between each chapter to expect the next!