R, just to be safe. Yay for Matt.
Everything is light.
Not the colours, not the hues, not the weight, everything is light, like it's from the Sun. It rips into the back of my retina, and I only notice when it starts to sting.
The sting is not from my eye. Two seconds of consciousness later, it hurts so bad I scream my throat raw. It feels like cigarette burns melting past skin into the adipose tissue layer, everywhere, in my neck, in the pits of my elbows, through the tendons of my heels and just everywhere, where these tubes have their heads in my muscles and veins. A mirror in front reflects all of me on a long raised chair.
Where the fuck am I?
I think I feel the tears slipping down my face, but the pain is just too numbing to decide what I'm feeling. On instinct, I reach for a tube in on hand and pull out a long needle slowly, hot and sharp, as beads of blood cling to it for dear artificial life. I don't even realise I've stopped screaming until the room is quiet. My lungs fill with the sterile, too-clean air of anti-bacterial detergent and hospital, only to breathe out at an unfamiliar shifting of my heart in my chest.
Where is Alice?
Matthew has never liked lies. He has never liked the concept of government conspiracies and politics, and he has never liked the idea of putting his sister in danger.
After he entered the Hive, the only thing he ever liked was the word 'safety' and knowing he was in it.
The Umbrella Coporation was too far gone with their research and development. Bringing it down would be his Luther King moment, but it was as near to his reach as the sky was. It was disgusting, the way that company dealed with the problem, sending their UBCS forces. With a motto like 'We'll Keep You Covered', Addison was hardly impressed with the fraud they were commiting.
When he found out that his sister was undead by encountering her in an empty office, he felt his life dissolve. She looked pale, quiet, and he thought she'd hurt herself with the one-sided limp, thought she'd greet him pleasantly when her cold, dry hand reached for his cheek endearingly...
...only to open her black mouth with a malicious hiss, unusually white teeth embedded in dark gums lunging at his shoulder. Then Alice saved him.
For the first time, he noticed her responsibility and endless reassurance. He didn't know why, but he thought she would make an excellent mother. In fact, he pictured her mothering his children, but the images faded once the reality of their situation kicked in.
He hated Spence the moment Matt laid his eyes on him. He hated him even more when Spence let the truth rise that he had let the virus loose, and was glad he died before they left.
On the way out to the mansion in the train, he felt the pain in his arm recede when Alice came to nurse him. She told him he was infected, but Matt couldn't care less, because she was stunning beyond the haze the virus pulled over his eyes. He could've, would've kissed her, but he didn't for fear of virus transmission through his saliva. He had rather lived without it than to have killed her with it. Within two hours of company from this mysterious woman, it was difficult to tell love amidst the constant danger. He wished he had kissed her before he got contaminated when the strangers in white wheeled him away on a stretcher and he heard her call his name. He wanted to shout hers back, but he was speechless, sweat coarse against his forehead and something moving about in his wounds.
As soon and the needles have all gone from the flesh, I feel myself roll from the armless chair onto the floor. My knees strike the ground first, followed by my chin. It's so cold. Maybe it's because I lie naked on the tiles. Maybe it's the virus. Maybe the needles have done so much as to graze my bones, and now that they're all out, the air rushes into the ugly human abysses. With all my strength, I crawl to the corner of the room and feel my organs shift again.
I can't stop moaning. I can't control myself. My body rocks from side to side, and I daren't look at the mirror, so I watch the muscles in my arm bulge, and see the wounds reopen to reveal bone-like protrusions with worm-like parasites squirming and curling around them.
Painless. Only because she is on my mind.
I cry for help.
My left shoulder seems to increase. I can feel it getting bigger. I can only stare at the light at the center of the ceiling.
Men dressed in white open the metal sliding door of white. Everything is white. They try to pick me up but I scream and kick, wanting to get out, wanting to see her, wanting to stop mutating. This time, a thin needle is jabbed into the back of my neck and it's a fucked up feeling as my body jerks. I scream before the final image of Alice slips into my head: Her wet auburn hair, her clingy red dress, her black shorts and her long legs. I love you, Alice.
Two wheezes come from my throat and my mind sits at the back of my head, watching through my physical eyes. Matthew Addison is dead.
The Nemesis takes over, and I can only watch him develop and tear out the throats from the people around him.
I can hear the Nemesis think.
Where is Alice?