Author: First person view story. The picture is a ceiling tile that I drew when I was in school. Enjoy.

Disclaimer; I do not own RE, just most of this story.

July 9, 2010 (1:30 PM).

It was all.. a game, right? It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Why would someone say such a thing? It was all just a visual manipulation, played out by one's thoughts and imagination, from their mind.. right?

How could I have been so wrong? Why couldn't I see the truth that was so close within my grasp? It had alluded me until the bitter end.. The bitter end, you ask?

Let's just say.. things didn't turn out right. Nothing was correct again. A future that should have been filled with happiness was shredded, replaced by the abyss of torment and agony, stripped away by pain.. and lies.

The taunting realization of one's life flashing before their eyes? Of a light at the end of a tunnel? That's all true. It's not a lie. It's reality.

I doubt anyone else was aware at the time.

But I'm probably confusing you with my twisted.. written words. Would you like to hear my story? It's not a good story, especially for someone with a faint heart. You have to be strong.

Especially with a dark soul.. like mine.. Do you doubt my words?

It's true. I became 'twisted'. I became.. tainted.

I'm sure you're interested in hearing my tale, so I should probably get started with it.

Let me start from the beginning, when everything was filled with the facade of happiness and tranquility. With peace.

It was a warm, sunny day, mid-summer, around.. July 9th, 2010. This particular day was very mild in degrees, around 80. Typical, right, for a summer day? Yeah. I was a sophomore in high school.. and it was summer break.

I was sitting beneath the old oak tree atop the green hill close by my home. You see.. I live with my mother, my father, and my two brothers, a small family with the last name Wesker. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Sharing the same last name as a famous fictional character.. I thought it was cool at the time.

Marissa, my mother, was a typical housewife with a 'sense of fashion', as the towns people said. Oh, right.. I lived in this small city for as long as I could remember, though the name isn't important. I was more fascinated by the rolling hills, the crescent tops of the large mountains.. and the shimmering waves of the rivers at the end of the valley. School was just a distraction to me.

My father, Mark, was a travelling merchant. He dealt with all sorts of goods, keeping the family from starvation, but then again mother was rich. She came from the prestige family called Winchester. You may not know of them, but in our area they were famous for their hands in the power-battle. My grandfather was the mayor of the city. Odd how a merchant and the mayor's daughter get hitched.

But either way, back to my family. My two brothers.. Nolan and Derick. Nolan's the oldest. He was four years older then me. Derick, on the other hand, was 2 years younger then me. I was in the middle. Nolan was in the military. He was always off in some war, fighting for our protection here in America. Derick was studying to be a school teacher. He loved school, being an 8th grader at the time.

Let me write this.. as if I was there again. I'm going to relive it all.. just for you. So you'll understand what I went through.

Back to the story..

I remember the distinct warmth of the sun.. the gentle breeze, the swaying of the tree branches and the sweet smell of cinnamon.

I nestled back against the tree's bark, nibbling on a cinnamon cookie that my mother had cooked an hour or so before. I had a book in my free hand, open, my eyes scanning the words of interest.

Oh. That reminds me. I should describe 'me' as I was back then. This memory is from when I was 15, soon to turn 16. Sophomore, remember. I had worn a simple white and gold dress that extended to just above my knees, without straps, snugly fitted to my slender form. Gold trimmed white sandals hugged my feet. My hair was an extremely light brown, bordering between white and tan, reaching down just a bit past my bare shoulders. My skin was a typical shade of pink, neither tan nor pale. My eyes.. are as blue as the ocean.

I favored this outfit through my youthful years, but it wasn't that odd to wear a dress on a warm day.

My blue orbs had scanned the pages as I flipped through them, chewing bits of my cookie.

A sudden shaking sensation rattled my back as the tree shook. It wasn't a thick tree, so a strong man could easily shake it if he tried.

I jumped to my feet, whipping around to glare at the person responsible; Derick.

"Hey sis!" He was grinning, but why?

"What. Do. You. Want?" I snarled through gritted teeth. I honestly hated to be interrupted while reading, especially as involved in it as I had been.

He just kept grinning. "The festival is about to start. You're going to miss it." But as soon as he finished that sentence, his grin became a frown.

"What's wrong?" I asked, suddenly concerned. He rarely frowned.

"Uncle Frank's here." He muttered, looking away while rubbing at his arm. He was clad in simple black jogging pants, along with a black short-sleeved shirt.

My expression turned sour, a glare flashing across my features. "Great. Him." I sighed. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" I grumbled, grabbing up my box of cookies and stalking past my younger sibling.

"Sis.. please don't do anything rash this time, ok?" Derick was walking beside me, snatching the box from me to carry. I let him. I shut my book, the marker between my current pages.

'Last time' was when I had gotten so mad at my uncle that I punched him square across the face. His nose bled like a river.

"For your sake I'll try to be on my best behavior." I glanced towards him. Derick knew how much I hated uncle Frank. "But if he says anything.. I won't play nice."

Let me explain the situation with my dearest uncle.

The bastard hated me. He hated my guts. He hated that I was the only daughter of Marissa. You see, Frank is the oldest child of my grandfather, the mayor. Let's just say our relationship.. was horrible and the feeling was mutual. Every time he saw me he basically tried to play 'pick on', which is where he downgrades me not only because of my gender.. but because of how different I was compared to my family.

There had been one time, when I was a bit younger, the start of my freshman year.. and he had struck me for yelling back at him. Awful, right? Yeah.

I never forgave him, nor will I ever. I got my revenge for it afterwards with a clever prank I pulled. Suffice to say that he didn't suspect me of it. He doesn't think I'm smart enough.

But anyway.

That's the gist of our 'family relationship', but I don't let it bother me too much in general. Just when he shows up, really.

This particular day, mind you, was a very bad day. It was the town's festival for the Fourth of July. A bit late, yeah, but it was traditional. Five days after the actual holiday.

I remember Derick sighing heavily at my words, nodding. He understood.. and with Nolan gone over-seas.. I had to defend myself. In the past, Nolan would stand up for me. Frank never challenged Nolan. He was a lot stronger then our uncle, due to his military training, but when Nolan was gone.. Frank doubled his efforts against me.

We quickened our pace, arriving at the base of the hill and at the secondary street from the outskirts of town. We walked down it, in silence. Our home was just a few blocks over. A bit of a walk, but it helped us stay fit.

It didn't take long before we were stepping up the stairs to our two-story brick home, but just as I had raised my hand to grab the knob.. it had vanished, replaced by the grinning face of my beloved uncle.

"Oh, Derick! My dear boy, you've grown!" The deranged older man had said, scooping up my brother for a hug. I stepped past them both, heading towards the staircase that would take me to my room, but his voice made me stop in my tracks. "Saria, dearest, come here." When he spoke my name.. I hated it instantly.

You see, I was given a Hebrew name from my father, who was part such. My name meant 'a princess', but I was far from that.

I turned my body towards him, one hand touching the railing of the steps. I narrowed my cool blue orbs onto the man, arching an eyebrow at him. What the heck did he want from me?

"What?" I snorted my reply, not bothering to step towards him. Derick was standing beside him, looking at his feet like a beaten dog, but he was just nervous. He hated that our uncle picked on me, but he was too scared to stand up. I didn't mind it, though. I didn't want to drag him into this mess.

"Saria, I said come here." Frank ordered. He gestured in front of him, expecting me to comply.

I didn't move. "I'm not a dog." I snapped back to his 'order'.

"You might as well be." He scoffed, striding forth to grab my arm just above the elbow. He dragged me towards the dining room, where no one was, and towards the wall. He shoved me into it, pinning my chest to it with a hand on my back. I snarled angrily, pushing against the wall and his hand, but he was stronger.

"You heed me well, young lady. You will not disobey me. You will listen to what I say or I'll have Marissa get rid of you." He spoke into my ear, a dark note to his voice.

"You.. wouldn't dare." I whispered back, my eyes wide. I knew what he was referring to. Adoption.. or worse.

He had never mentioned adoption before. This must have been a newly devised plan to taunt me with.

"Try me, Saria." I shook my head at this. "Good girl. Now go to your room and do not come down." I simply nodded my head as he released me, giving me a firm push towards the doorway. I slipped through it, brushing past Derick who stood by the steps.

"Saria-" He tried to stop me, but I was already up the stairs, rushing down the hallway and into my room, the door slamming shut behind me.

It might not seem like much.. but this was only the beginning of my world. Do you still want to hear it all?

It just gets worse from here on out, growing in darkness with each turn of a page.. just like a twisted novel. There is no good ending, no 'happily ever after', no prince charming to save me. This is a story of betrayal, of destruction, of demons.

This is not a fairy tale.

Still care?