The Perfect Subject - (Wesker x Reader) [ONGOING]

Chapter 10 - Never Having Known

The tumbling stones beneath my shoes tripped and tore at me, doing everything to slow me down. My aching and bleeding skull didn't make it any better. The hot sickly liquid trickled down my neck and soaked the backside of my shirt. When I looked back now, the sunrise was higher, the rays streaming through the trees of the forest that I had traversed through. Where Wesker was staggered, he was gone. A ghost. I felt the same haunting emptiness within my own heart; a hole penetrated just as Uroboros pierced him. The phantom of his presence tested my lungs as the damned things only gasped with a panicked breath.

I carried on, surging down the dirt road, reaching for the city, just far enough--never quite reaching--never quite calling--never having known--never having loved...

Groaning, I fell to one knee and cradled my head in my hands, easing the pain in any way I could. The virus within me slowly healed the wound, but there was something else that couldn't be. When I pulled my hands away from my face, they felt wet and hot, covered in a salty liquid. My vision remained blurry, but not because of my wooziness. Weeping quietly, I trembled to my feet, feeling the zappy numbness within my toes as they pressed against the ground. Where I knelt, several darkened dots decorated the dirt road, painted there by my tears.

I had to push on; Wesker could heal. He would likely try to catch me just before I reached the city, enjoying the chase, craving the deprivation of my hope, watching the storm cease all winds and rain within me.

The tumultuous feeling of wanting to escape was never ending: I could be free, cured, and stripped away from the toxic Albert Wesker. I knew it was the right thing--I mean, saving the world versus destroying it? The answer was obvious. Yet killing was not my forté.

Upon evidently injuring him, my eyes widened, my skin crawled, my heart ached. Was I afraid of committing murder or was it something else? This is all one giant game of gambling. I could risk my life roll the dice, fleeing to the city, freeing myself, breaking the chains--I suppose not chains, but rather the Uroboros tendrils that held me back. Or I could bet on a number, let Wesker roll that dice, let him choose my fate and control the strings yet again.

I shook my head, shaking the dice within my mind, scrambling the numbers, the thoughts, the turmoil and emotions. I bet on taking his life. The number side that turned up on this six-sided, dotted cube, counted the pace of my shuffling footsteps as I continued toward the city.

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I passed through the arches and onto the busy downtown streets, limping as people scattered and made way for me, likely disgusted. I knew I looked homeless or criminalistic, but it pained me knowing I couldn't ask for help from strangers.

Weirdly enough, I saw an illusion at the corner of the street. I knew it was one because my parents were there. How they got there, I don't know, but I shook my head to scatter the hallucination and fix my thoughts. Yet they stood there, staring at me. Then it dawned on me. This was the city my parents lived in. That's my real mother and father.

My mother was the first to dash up to me and hug me tightly, crying softly.

"Y/N, it's been months, and you haven't said a word to us!" she cried, pulling away and cradling my cheeks in her hands. "You look terrible, please don't tell me that something happened to you."

"Your mother and I came as soon as we could," my father explained, placing a hand on my mom's shoulder.

I pulled my face away from my mom and looked quizically at my dad. "What do you mean?"

"You texted us this," my mother flatly said, pushed her phone into my face. A text message from my number read, "Meet me at the corner between Maple St. and Willow Ln."

"That wasn't--" I started.

"Isn't this one big family reunion?" his amused voice taunted. Wesker circled around my parents and stopped between them and I. Only now was the emptiness of the streets apparent and quiet. Not one pedestrian nor car was in sight.

The wound that I gifted him had vanished, but the holes remained in his clothing.

I quickly backed up, prepared to fight, and was about to conjure Uroborod to defend my parents in any way, when Wesker was inexplicably faster then before. Swiftly, he grabbed my face, pushing his palm against my mouth and squeezing my cheeks and jaw painfully. I fell to one knee in agony and breathed hisses through the small space in my mouth. The suffocating feeling wouldn't allow me to think, to concentrate, to try and fight him off.

"Now I've got you on a proper leash," Wesker breathed, jutting his head at my parents as his men advanced from seemingly nowhere and circled them.

"Who the hell are you? What is this?" My dad demanded, pulling my mom close to him.

"That's a story for another time," Wesker scoffed. The men surrounding my parents herded them into a large armored van as they both yelled protests and called my name.

Wesker watched this, then turned his head back to me and released my face. He took of his shades, stared at them for a moment--silent--then met my eyes. I didn't dare move, for a single flick of my wrist could inspire Wesker to kill one of my parents. I knew what he was plotting.

"Y/N," he began. "You will come back. I think you're smart enough to understand what the consequences will be."

"What will you do with them if I do?" I cast my gaze at the ground, eyes burning with the threat of more tears.

"I will keep them under strict watch in a vacant house nearby the facility in Africa. Your escape had made it clear that our trip has to come early."

"I didn't want to hurt you," I whispered, the husk of the sentence escaping my throat.

Wesker raised an eyebrow and leaned in. "Then why did you?"

"I knew I had to."

"I do not blame you," he muttered, closer now, wiping a single tear that trailed down my face. "However, I hope it means you can understand why I had to take your loved ones along for the ride."

"They did nothing wrong," I protested, pulling away from his hand.

"They are your weakness. I asked you to trust me--to understand me. You did not. This was your own fault," Wesker sighed, placing a palm on my cheek softly. It hardly touched it, and my skin tingled under his phantom graze.

"You are my weakness," I sniffled, leaning into his touch so that it tickled my face no longer.

Before it could touch, Wesker pulled away, and gazed at nothing in the distance.

This was something I was afraid to admit. All those training sessions, the day he got a little too close, his efforts at trust... I enjoyed it. Denial was a close friend.

"Do not say such foolish lies," he firmly instructed me, the corners of his mouth twitching frivolously.

With that, he turned on his heel and grabbed the back of my neck, steering me towards another armored van. I was tossed inside it carelessly, and as the doors closed and trapped me within the darkness, I quietly wept to the rhythm of the van's hurling drive.

I sobbed on, leaning into the sharp turns, covering my face, just small enough--never quite hiding--never quite admitting--never having known--never having loved...

him.

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apologies for the late update. life got crazy! hopefully I can wrap up this story soon 💕