DISCLAIMER: Resident Evil © Capcom
PLOT: Post Resident Evil 5 - The world works to eradicate bio-terrorism. Not everything ended in Africa. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.
When she had been very young, life had been obliviously innocent. Mother and father were always so distant, always so busy with work, and she had been ignored. She was bored, and unhappy, and frustrated; she was very young, and she didn't understand.
When time had been made for her, those were days of endless sun glaring blinding in her eyes, of picnics spent under impossibly tall trees, of winters spent with games and steaming mugs indoors, of mom and dad looking less tired, less worn out, for one day.
When she had been young, but a little older, life had become simply understood; she was second best. It had come to her childish comprehension slowly over the growing years and she had childishly accepted it as the way of things. She wasn't happy over it, but it had become firmly understood at some point she couldn't exactly remember so long ago. It never troubled her as it should have, but that was one of the many miracles of being a child. Work came first. Before anybody or anything, work always came first. That was the unspoken understanding of how it all functioned, and it was a simple concept for a young child to gather.
However, she never felt that it was right.
Though, regardless of right or wrong, she loved her parents unconditionally, as children are wont to do. Her father, all hollow eyes and sick determination; her mother, a fierce will masked by quiet contemplation. She loved them both and felt that they loved her as well, if in their distant and forgetful ways, and that was good enough for her. Good enough for a child born into a secret and strange world.
So it came as a catastrophe to her young life when the secrets of her parents all-consuming lifestyle made itself known to her. They came in the form of her mutated father hunting her throughout the wasted remains of the city she grew up in. Of rotten flesh hunting in the festering grounds, spilling out of the contamination like a puss. She had been pulled from that reeking perdition by friends she would never forget, and who, for the longest time in her young life, she had convinced herself wouldn't forget her. But it became apparent that at some point they had forgotten about her somewhere along the way, and the law of second-best became cemented into her psyche.
With that firm understanding it had been easy to adjust to the new lifestyle she had adopted after being spirited away from the government's grasp. She had been traded absent parents for an absent imitation of a last living relative, her father's constant associate. The new change hardly mattered to her as profoundly as it should have, and she would later come to attribute it to shock.
In this way she had grown out of childhood into young adulthood and where she found herself now; rather direction-less in life and once again, for the second time in her history, completely alone.
She had come to understand recently that she had lost her last tie to anything remotely close to a living relative. She had received the notice through an old business associate she had met through the same company her own family had worked for. It was a rather small, secret world at times. The news came as a light shock, and though she felt the smallest irritation at being one of the last people to be notified, it was not surprising. Work had always been first, and she had always been a priority left for the back burner. Still, the concept of being alone in the world was unsettling, and thus she had naturally found herself flying back to the states and the only place she could trace back to her roots. The only place she could think to go.
Sherry Birkin returned to Colorado.
Schumann - Opus 15 "Kinderszenen".