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

Chapter 5 - Trust

"Isn't it key when it comes to trust?"

With that, I set him off. Wesker snatched my wrist and pulled me with such a force that I was halfway across the table. As I was about to try and sit up to scramble away from him, he pressed my forehead into the table. I yell out in pain.

"Yet again, you test me," he hissed between gritted teeth. I could tell he was leaning in closer, because his words circulated next to my ear. "Yet again, I offer you amicable words, and you take them and run."

With a final grunt, Wesker pushed my head into the table as he released me. I fell back into my chair and held my head carefully, rubbing the bruises and scratches left behind. He snatched up the tablet which was now on the floor and promptly left the room.

Before closing the door behind him, Wesker half turned toward me and murmured, "As for trust--I'll start by giving your parents your 'paychecks.' You are not working, but they won't know that."

As the slam of the metal door rang in my ears, I sat in the chair, staring blankly at where Wesker had sat. To Hell with trust.

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Despite the bitter tastes left behind by our "trust" conversation, I suppose Wesker was somewhat understanding of it. Despite his tough and stubborn demeanor, he still took the time to visit my room. Of course, I was still poked and prodded by people who saw me as nothing more than an experiment, but even they began to respect me more. I was able to achieve their gradual kindness by simply "yapping" to them all the time. Doctor came to take a blood sample? I'd rant about my old fear of needles. Assistant was trying to pack up and leave the room? I'd detail my various internships to him.

When Wesker would visit, it'd be tense as ever. However, he would bring that same damn tablet and offer me news about my family. I'd tried talking to him beyond that and establishing the "trust" he was looking for, but to no avail. I suppose he's also petty.

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"Y/N, wake up," Wesker shook me awake from a nap I was taking. It was difficult to pass time, so sleeping had become habitual. "You have a test today."

"What?" I groggily sat up, rubbing my eyes that ached in the fluorescent lights.

"Come with me," Wesker was already at the door, not even looking at me, but at that tablet again. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he was tapping buttons furiously.

I quickly followed behind him, allowed into the halls for the first time. We walked for several minutes, yet no conversation took place. Simply the occasional cuss or huff from Wesker, clearly agitated by something. I didn't dare ask; his temper would be shorter than my attention span if he was already pissed off.

I was led into a large room and instructed to stand in a specific spot. Wesker left along with the guards and doctors that were curiously watching me. On one side was something similar to an announcer booth, and I could see the doctors and Wesker watching from inside. Across from me was a large garage door.

"Begin," Wesker's voice resonated within the spacious room through a loudspeaker, making me jump for a moment. Suddenly, the garage door across from me began to open, and four people in medical gowns nervously walked out of it holding automatic rifles. I backed up into the wall behind me fearfully, aware that I was about to have several magazines unloaded into me.

"The fuck you expect me to do!?" I yelled, glaring at Wesker through the glass. He was grinning, and leaned forward to speak into the microphone for the loudspeaker.

"Kill."

Those were words I was suddenly triggered by. My survival instinct also urged me to fight these people who were likely also forcefully put here. I'm sure if they didn't shoot me, worse would happen to them.

I felt myself becoming agitated, conflicted with killing innocent people but doing it to live. I slowly advanced towards them, feeling a strange amount of energy surging through me... as well as that awful slimy sensation of Uroboros. As all four raised their shaking guns when I approached, one of them was unmistakably recognizable. Megan.

Before I could even react, a bullet was lodged into my shoulder. Searing pain roared as my flesh and muscle contorted from the impact. With that I had to attack. I dashed forward faster than I had anticipated and approached the first person with ease. I had no combat experience, but my speed was enough to surprise them enough. Trying not to kill him, I punched their ggu, thinking I could knock the wind from him and leave him incapacitated. What I didn't expect was my arm to travel all the way through, showering his blood onto his comrades behind him. They all screamed, including Megan, and I quickly pulled my arm back out and took a step back, appalled by whatever had just happened.

As his gun clattered to the floor next to his lifeless body, the others finally wiped the hot blood from their eyes and took up arms yet again. In a fury, I felt uncontrollable, launching myself towards them with a thrill and will to survive. Those terrible black tentacles swirled around me and helped propel me forward. I killed the second and third person easily and I couldn't stop. I didn't know why. I didn't want to kill, and yet here I was, doing it without any effort.

I wanted to cease this, to stop fighting... but as my body continued to take steps towards Megan, the last one alive, I felt myself grow more exhausted from fighting whatever has driven me to kill. Without any thought, my body clasped her face with my hand and tossed her. She tried getting to her feet, but I was already on her, kicking her legs and effectively breaking them. Megan's screams filled my ears and drowned the tremendous hammering of my heart. As she looked at me, making teary eye contact, I grabbed the sides of her face and bored my eyes into hers. She opened her mouth to speak, lips cracked from dehydration.

"Y/N, please--if you're going to kill me--" Megan stuttered, tears streaking the blood on her face, "--just know that I loved you. You made everyday at work--"

Before she could continue, my body forced me to twist my hands, snapping her neck.

One moment, I'm standing over her body, analyzing the damage I have done. The next, I'm sitting next to her, all control over my body given back to me. Despite the painful gunshot sounds all over me, I hugged her to my chest tightly and screech, tears flowing down my face as hers remains unchangeable.

Wracked with heaving sobs, I curl over her body and cry with everything within me. I killed my best friend. Even though I had done it--even though I had caused this--even though I was stupid enough to put her in this situation... I blamed someone else.

"Wesker!" I screamed, mixing my voice with gutteral cries. "You motherfucker! This is far from 'trust!'"

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