Author's Note: I do not own anything within the Resident Evil Universe, though I do own Hannah/Annabelle/Melody.
I am new to the world of fanfiction, and this is my first story. It is the first installment of a quartet that I will write, but I really need the reviews and constructive feedback on fleshing out characters, emotions, and action.
Chapter Six: Dying Was Easier
Annabelle tried to breathe, but it hurt like fire in her lungs. She moaned as her mind recalled what had just happened. It was hard to work out what happened when. She saw her favorite tree when she was a child, saw her father take measurements of every part of her body, saw her mother staring at her in triumph, felt the pain of a needle, felt the anger of her victory taken away.
Something was bothering her eyes, making them water. Touching her face, she gingerly ran her fingers over her eyes. Oh yeah, the contacts. She popped them off her eyes and rolled onto her side. Slowly getting on her hands and knees, she reached up to the desk edge she remembered being above her. Her mind was starting to solidify events, the linear quality making more sense.
All her nerves were alive, some screaming, some feeling fuzzy, as she pulled herself upright. Dying was easier than coming back to life. Looking up she saw the mercenaries, and the business end of their guns. Then, she saw Wesker, who was focused completely on her. Then she saw her parents.
They stared at her in wonder and amazement. Not towards their who just revived from death, Annabelle knew that. They were proud of themselves.
Annabelle continued to stare at them, waiting for a feeling that was buzzing at the edge of her mind to become clearer and stronger. Slowly it built: rage. She thought she was in a rage before, but it was nothing compared to this. This was pure and destructive, and it was exhilarating. Annabelle straightened up fully, staring, not knowing her face was contorting.
Slowly the looks on her parent's faces faded from pride to fear. Annabelle looked again at Wesker, thinking that she wanted nothing more than to rip her parents apart and not caring if they saw. Wesker brows came together sharply in surprise, and Annabelle suddenly felt a strong feeling of agreement. Wesker and Annabelle stared at each other for a moment before Wesker's arm snapped out, his fist slamming into James' face. Annabelle did not even bother to feel surprised at the sudden motion that was little more than a blur. At that moment Annabelle lunged at her mother, face feral as her fingers curled, clawlike.
James swooned to a nearby table, moaning as he clutched his face, blood falling in a trail on the ground. Elena screamed when she saw her daughter move at her, and raced out of a side door. Annabelle started chasing after her until she saw the door slam shut. She started shaking in her rage. It was mindless, taking over her body. The world seemed to thunder in her ears, a pounding almost too terrible to stand. It was too much for her to hold.
A scream ripped through her body, tearing her throat as she slammed her fists on the table. The pressure that had been building within the rage suddenly bloomed out of her. She had this feeling of first contracting tightly, then expanding like an explosion in her mind. Then, to her utter shock, she saw the glass in the room shattering outward towards the walls, furniture crashing into the walls, while the mercenaries, Wesker, and her father all slammed into the wall. Her body was the central point from which everything flew away.
She understood. That was what her mother injected her with. The serum to enhance mental abilities, it was flowing through her veins. Her focus turned away from the outside world as she fell within herself. She already felt different, more open to the world. She did not quite feel her body as a shell. She understood her parent's plans as well, as clearly as if she heard their thoughts while they thought of them. She was to telepathically influence Wesker, to make him do what they want so they can rule the world.
Annabelle started laughing, and could not stop. That is what this was about? Her parents were morons. They gave her immense power because they knew it would take immense power to make Albert Wesker do what they wanted, but they never stopped to consider that Annabelle was an individual, not just a tool at their disposal. They never stopped to question who Annabelle would use that power on. How like her parents to not see that.
Well, she would make sure they saw that, before they died.
She heard someone stirring in the wreckage of the lab against the wall opposite her. Glass twinkled at it fell to the floor. Breathing heavily, she watched as Albert Wesker alone stood up. He was covered in cuts and gashes.
She waited for Wesker's reaction. She sincerely doubted he was the type to take being slammed into a wall well. "Sorry," she told him.
Wesker raised an eyebrow. "For what?" Before her eyes she saw his cuts and gashes heal. He moved over to the body of her father. "Dead, like the mercenary." He turned back to Annabelle. She could see Krauser getting up sluggishly from the wreckage. So they're the same, or at least similar.
She did not know if it were because she was psychotic, cut off from her emotions, or simply uncaring, but Annabelle felt nothing for murdering her father. Instead, Annabelle turned back to the door her mother escaped through. It looked like crumpled paper, the force of her psychic shockwave punching it in. It seemed weak enough to maneuver. Moving to the door she told Wesker, "Take what you want. I don't care. I am going to go kill mother."
She tried pushing the door off its hinges, but the metal was still too strong for her. Concentrating, Annabelle tried to psychically move the door, only she had no idea how to. Of course it did not so much as budge. After ten minutes of trying and working up a sweat she stepped back and growled in frustration.
"Allow me." Wesker's cool, cultured voice sounded behind her before he stepped into her vision and kicked the door. Annabelle watched the door fly off its hinges, raising her eyebrow in appreciation of Wesker. Thanking him she left him and Krauser behind to do whatever they wished.
Annabelle followed the mental trail her mother left. It was surprisingly not difficult, but it made her wonder why she could not move the door. It was clear she had telekinetic powers, and it seemed she had some sort of odd empathy that allowed her now to chase after her insane mother. She shook her head, deciding to ponder that later. Instead, she doggedly followed the trail to the mansion's rooftop.
Elena was there, sifting through a metal attaché case. Annabelle had no idea when Elena was able to grab it, but it did not matter. Looking at her mother, Annabelle began to feel some of that rage build up again. "Hello, Mother," she greeted lightly.
Elena whipped around, eyes narrowed. "You are not my daughter," she whispered, venom dripping from every word. "My daughter is a lady. You are nothing but common trash."
Annabelle blinked, and blinked again. Elena spat at her and turned back to her case, picking up various syringes and muttering to herself. "Look at me," Annabelle whispered. Elena did not react.
"Look at me," Annabelle repeated this time, louder so the rustling wind could not carry her words away from her mother's ear. Elena continued to ignore her, her mutterings becoming faster and more frantic. "Look at me!" Annabelle screamed.
A force of psychic energy blasted at her mother, buffeting her. Elena turned around in fear, fear that was quickly replaced with anger when she saw Annabelle.
Annabelle refused to be ignored this last time by her mother. "I am your daughter! Not some pretty picture in a magazine, not some…some graceful fictional lady in a story about castles and knights in shining armor. Me! Me, mother. You gave birth to me," Annabelle's voice cracked, but she refused to cry. Now was a hell of a time to lose control. "I am your daughter, not any of those symbols or books or good behaviors. Remember? Hannah?"
Elena's eyes were a dark blue in their insanity. They blinked rapidly. "Hannah?" she whispered. Annabelle nodded. Elena swayed where she sat, her mouth working silently. Then her face hardened into a stone mask. "Hannah died. I have a new daughter now, a proper lady for a proper society where a proper mother can be properly proud."
I have insanity in my family. Annabelle got angry. "I never died as a child, though you did your best to kill who I was. And I suppose you succeeded, because I am not Hannah anymore. Nor am I Annabelle, that is for damn sure." It was the first time she swore. She cherished it briefly. "You cannot fabricate a daughter when a real one lives. But, you did."
Annabelle slowly approached Elena, kneeling in front of her. Elena leaned back from her, growling. Annabelle shook her head at her truly insane mother. "A life for a life, Mother. You took mine, so I am taking yours. I am sure a part of you in there is begging for death as an alternative to existence as a crazy woman." Annabelle shrugged. "Who knows, you may even see Father again." Annabelle smiled into her mother's face.
Elena leapt suddenly at Annabelle, wailing, whites showing around irises. Annabelle did not expect it and fell backwards under the older woman's weight. Elena wrapped her hands around Annabelle's neck and squeezed with all her might. Annabelle couldn't even gargle.
That rage was coming back rapidly. Why did her mother keep killing her? Annabelle reached up and boxed her mother's ears, praying the move she had never done before in her life would work.
It did. Elena crawled off her, crying out in pain. Quickly Annabelle stood up and backed away from the insane, murderous woman. Checking behind her to make sure she wasn't about to fall over the iron railing of the rooftop, Annabelle heard a hateful scream erupt.
Spinning her head around, Annabelle saw her mother once again race towards her, hate in her eyes. Annabelle did not even think, she just felt that same contracting and expanding feeling in her mind. Suddenly, Elena was flying in the air and over the railing, disappearing.
For a moment Annabelle could not breathe. Then, she raced over to the railing her mother flew over. Down below she saw her mother's broken body. Annabelle let out a shuddering breath, and felt free.
After a few moments, she turned back to the attaché case her mother was fiddling with before she died. There were syringes with strange colored liquid around it. Carefully she packed the syringes away and locked the case, carrying it downstairs with her.