Okay to start off not only did I not get any good sleep, I mean I think I only got a solid hour all together. Anyway I finally feel like I'm going to get the sleep I've been waiting all night for I look to the foot of my bed and my dog Dell vomits all over my sheets... Yay, what a wonderful birthday morning this is turning out to be. I just cleaned my sheets a day or so ago too... now I have to clean them all over again, uggh I just want my soft un-pukified sheets to curl up and sleep in right now, but I have to wait like 2 hours before I can. God, I hope nothing else like this happens today on my birthday. What a craptastic morning.

 

Broken Bottles and Memories (Viktor)


The darkness overtook Viktor as he entered his home. The overbearing sound, a door harshly meeting its frame and loose hinges resonated through the small clustered apartment. He simply stood where he was, surveying what stood before him in the little light that escaped through hastily covered windows. Breathe in, breathe out, air found freedom from between cracked lips. The room was cold, the way he liked it. It reminded him of days and memories long since gone. He took the first step, teetering, left to right, maneuvering over the numerous amounts of bottles that littered the floor, some empty some not. He was really letting the place go to hell. Viktor vaguely thought to himself. He felt his way through the much too small entry area fumbling for whitewashed walls with his one free but crudely bandaged hand, the other loosely griping a large new bottle, the weight of it reassuring him. It was his release for the night, his sanctuary from a never ending hell called life.

Viktor drunkenly scratched at his newly bandaged left eye, completely ignoring his strict instructions not to from medical staff. “I don’t give a shit anymore.” He slurred aloud furiously, continuing to vigorously rub at the tightly wrapped injury. In movement his hip scored against a side table he had not seen, an old forgotten injury burned anew. Viktor hissed, crumpling further into the table. “What a wonderful fucking life.” He managed to spit out through painfully clenched teeth. A broken fist was brought down, splintering the wood beneath. Viktor lifted his head from its crooked position, staring ahead of himself, at himself. He glared at his broken mirror image which hung above its duly broken companion of a side table. He gave another powerful swing at the mirror, adding to its injury. More winding splinters of glass emerged and new visages of a sneering Viktor joined the fray. He turned away from the image of himself and stalked out of one room and into another, bottles shattered under the harshness of his steps. Photos and trivial things of a past he could not remember where pushed to join the ruin that lay before him. Viktor soon found himself in the same place he found himself almost every night, aimlessly strewn upon his couch, one of the few pieces of decent furniture he owned. It was here he constantly found himself, washing away all his problems with the one constant in his life, alcohol. It was on this couch Viktor spent the majority of his alcohol filled off-duty time away from base.

Viktor let himself get comfortable, lifting the almost forgotten Vodka bottle into his line of vision. He was finally going to enjoy what he had been endlessly thirsting for while laying prone and forgotten in one of the hundreds of hospital beds that made up the medical wing. He wrestled with the bottle for a good while, a boyishly grin appeared when he accomplished his task. “Another bottle down the hatch.” He pointed the bottle to the dark ceiling and then began the process of downing it in a pace he had ingrained into his mind. This would only be his third bottle, the other two empty dropped and forgotten at the door with all the others. “Maybe just maybe I’ll get a decent night of sleep tonight.” Viktor stared at his Piano as he spoke as if speaking to it. It was the only clean and orderly object in the room. It stood there in its purity beckoning him, whispering to him to play it. He resisted and broke his stare with it. Viktor knew it wasn’t one of those nights, he knew it wasn’t going to be a good night no matter how much he hoped it would be. Just like Viktor knew he wasn’t going to get any decent sleep, no matter how much he drank. His nights, like always would be filled with a father’s dead eyes, head wounds, blood upon neat and crisply folded bed sheets, mournful sobs, and a mother slowly killing herself in front of her young and impressionable son. Viktor clutched at the pendant that hung from his neck with newly bloody fingers, a stolen reminder of the woman and mother before the chaos. One of the few things he could salvage from his old life before the men looking for money came and took everything else away. Viktor took another long swig from the bottle, an overly sarcastic smile over took his features. Yes, yet another perfectly miserable day in the life of Viktor Kozlov, how delightfully awful. Viktor finished off the last of his drink threw it to the ground pushing off of the couch, irritably stomping over the remains of the bottle and off in search for yet another.

THESE WALLS

 

Caryn sat alone in her containment room, the whole time glaring at whizzing camera that scoped out what was known as her room. She was naked and cold with only a small thin blanket to keep her warm, Caryn was not privileged enough to be warranted clothing. She was hungry, no starving to top it off, but she knew well that it would not be a good while before she was given her usual gruel to eat. Caryn hated the texture and taste of it, she didn’t complain though cause she knew he would just give her something worse. He being her father, the man she despised the most in the world. She knew he would make an appearance any time now, he always did. Caryn thought hatefully. As if on cue the door made a loud mechanical hiss and a very blonde middle aged man appeared through the new entrance, he strode in with a small skip.

 

“Caryn darling so glad you are awake, we have so much to do with so little time to do it! Up, up, up you go!” Caryn simply responded with a fierce look and she made herself more comfortable inside the sheets that were wrapped around her. Dr. Aislin did not like this behavior one bit, his off putting smile morphed into a vicious snarl. The man quickly stepped toward his oldest and only living daughter and grasped her by the hair, yanking her from the mattress the lay on the floor. Caryn hissed in pain and vainly tried to free her hair from her deranged father’s grasp.

 

“Now, now Caryn darling there is no reason to ignore your loving dear old dad. I think my little girl has been bad I can’t let this behavior go unpunished now can I? Hmm?” The doctor shook the young women dramatically while he spoke as if to show his point. Becoming bored the much older man threw Caryn across the small room. She screamed as she came in contact with the hard stone wall. Her father made a disgusted face as the dropped the hair that had been torn from her head.

 

“Good girls listen to their fathers Caryn dear, now be a good girl and stop crying like annoying bitch and come with your father!” Caryn slowly stood and approached her father. “Good girl. Daddy has lots of things to test out with you today.” Caryn ignored what her father said. Once again wishing she had never gone out looking for him.

Chris was seething in anger. How had Wesker found them?

 

“Why Christopher it looks as if you are not too pleased to see me. What a pity, I had been hoping we could settle what we started in Antarctica. I must apologize though for time is quite short at the moment and I must ask that you hand over the Aislin girl.”

                        

“You mean Caryn, what would you want with her?” Wesker chuckled. “You always were quite dimwitted weren’t you Redfield?” Chris growled and Wesker smirked wile Claire and a blind Caryn stood behind the scenes in the apartments kitchen. Caryn raised her head and looked in the direction she believed Claire’s face to be and began to speak as Wesker and Chris continued their glaring competition.

 

“Claire? Claire who is Wesker?” Claire looked down at Caryn, frowning, she didn’t know what to tell her. A scuffle was heard in the apartment’s living room, Wesker and Chris had begun their duel of fists, furniture was thrown astray as blows were exchanged. Soon Wesker had Chris pinned against the wall family photos crashed to the floor as he repeatedly beat his fist into Chris’ abdomen. Claire cringed she wanted desperately to help Chris, but he had strictly told her to get herself and Caryn out of the building and away from Wesker. “Caryn I’m going to try to get us out of here.” Claire whispered quietly to Caryn hoping Wesker wouldn’t notice them leaving while he was distracted with Chris. Caryn didn’t seem to get the indication to be quiet and replied loudly. “What about Chris? We can’t leave him, we have to help him!” Wesker turned to the two women, dropping the bleeding and barely conscious Chris.

 

“Dear heart don’t tell me you were going to leave without saying good-bye to your guest.” He bent down to pick up his sunglasses that had been torn from his face by a lucky strike from Chris. Wesker stopped his approach of Claire and Caryn when Chris weakly gripped the fabric of his pant suit, weakly trying to protect his sister and their new friend in any way he could.

 

“Christopher still fighting I see.”

 

Chris glared from his position on the floor spitting blood on blond mans shoes.

 

“Shove it, Traitor…“ Wesker smiled wickedly at those words and grabbed the brunette’s limp body at his feet.

 

“Now, now…That is no way to speak to a guest…” Wesker wagged a finger at him, almost as if he attempted to try the skin of a patronizing parent on for size. Chris snarled hatefully and writhed violently within his former captain’s grip. The older male could only chuckle at his powerless efforts, “You truly are something else, Chris. Still too ignorant to see the time to give in.”

 

“You love to hear yourself talk, don’t you?!” Chris growled, thrusting his knee harshly into Wesker’s stomach. The hard blow didn’t seem to affect him what so ever, he didn’t even recoil. Chris did not relent though he continued to pummel at Wesker throwing some hard solid blows at Wesker’s face breaking his sunglasses in the process. Wesker look fiercely at Chris his inhuman eyes glowing in annoyance. He quickly discarded the broken pair and pulled another from a hidden pocket of his jacket.

 

“When will you learn that you have no real chance of winning against me Chris?” Wesker was no longer having fun and his patience had finally run through. He easily dodged Chris’ next attack and grabbed the offending arm twisting it sharply into an unnatural position. Chris howled in pain gripping his now limp arm, he growled in a crazed rage. Chris threw himself at Wesker blindly, desperately trying to get some damage done. Wesker laughed and decided it was time start getting serious he had other things to do beside visit old friends.

 

"I am so very sorry, but it seems I will have to cut our visit short. I have far more urgent matters to attend to." Wesker's spoke with a biting chill as he seized Chris by the front of his jacket and, with very little effort, slammed the younger male's body against the opposite wall. Wesker stood in silence, observing the aftermath of his damage for only a moment. It had been loud leaving a large indent where Chris' body had made contact with the wall. "Such a waste..." Wesker mused softly, adjusting his sunglasses with diligent fingers before he started on his way. After original his target. "A waste of such spirit. Pity..."Chris lay motionless on a broken table, blood gushing from a large wound on his head.

 

“Now dear hear were where we?” Tears were pouring down Claire’s face. From where she stood she couldn’t tell if Chris was dead or alive. Caryn did the only thing she could do and gripped tightly to Claire not sure what was happening exactly. “I’ll be taking Ms. Aislin now dear heart.” He continued forward hand outstretched reaching for the trembling woman that had wrapped herself around Claire.

 

"D-Don't come any closer, Wesker!!" Claire began in a stressed tone, backing away further into the small kitchen area in a vain attempt to protect herself and Caryn from their approaching foe. Searching blindly, Claire's eager hands found what she was looking for...She pulled the large knife from behind her and pointed it daringly at her pursuer. She would not back down...

 

"Tsk, tsk dear heart. How unfair, bringing a knife into a fist fight." Wesker teased her cruelly, one more wagging his finger like some disapproving nanny. Claire watched him, her eyes clouded with a fearful hate before a cool absence within her fingers, she blinked. Empty space now replace where the knife once was gripped in her hand. Wesker moved fast separating both women before either could protest. Claire was thrown aside, into a table. Caryn reached sightlessly for Claire not understanding why she was no longer by her side. “Claire! What’s happening?” Claire groaned picking herself up from the broken remains of the kitchen table.

 

“Caryn you have to get away, run don’t let him get you!” Wesker was upon her now gripping her around the throat. “I believe I’ve just about had enough of you meddling Redfield’s for one day.” Wesker bashed the younger Redfield’s head into the nearby counter, she went limp in his hands, he dropped her quickly rounding on the remaining woman, the one he came here for in the first place. He blind eyes held the key to what he wanted. They swirled lazily with purple slowly replacing a once vibrant green.

 

“Your father is a repulsive man but brilliant none the less, I will have the power that your father has developed, I’ve already taken care of him all I need now is you to accomplish it.” Caryn shook in fear. Who is this man and what was he talking about? Why couldn’t she hear Chris and Claire anymore? What was going on? No one could answer her though as she was left with only the sound of measured footsteps and confusion.

 

To be continued…