manufactured: (018. when i'm god everyone dies)
Albert Wesker ([personal profile] manufactured) wrote 2017-09-08 04:24 am (UTC)

Most of my early memories are...strange. It's likely that I was brought here from another country at some point, because there's no information regarding who I could have been stateside - so it was assumed by the authorities that I likely came from somewhere else. I don't know for sure, myself.

I know I spent a lot of time in cars and hotels, with a man I don't remember very well. My earlier memories all involve that sort of thing - the knowledge that we couldn't stay in one place very long, that we had to keep moving before we were found. [That I had to stay quiet, or everything would go to hell and it would be my fault. That he'd make sure I'd stay quiet if I didn't do it on my own - ]

He wasn't very kind to me - [hit me until I was unconscious or shut up, whichever came first, said that it would be my fault if something bad happened to me, told me I would be taken away and never see my family again] - but he seemed to want to keep me around for some reason I'm sure only he understands. [I think he was my biological father? That would make sense... Either way, he got what he wanted, eventually, after a while the reactions he didn't like stopped and so did the fear.

He glances upwards at that, to check to see if the text is still there; if his thoughts are going to keep presenting themselves...well, it's easier that way than trying to explain it.

I don't know what happened after that, exactly. He just disappeared one day. Perhaps he was arrested for something else, perhaps he picked a fight with the wrong person, perhaps he finally drank himself to death. I don't know, and I don't care.

I don't remember where we were staying at the time that he vanished - I think it was some sort of apartment. I just know I was alone for six days. I was five years old. The authorities found me eventually. They took me into the system and renamed me because they couldn't find any information on me or where I had come from, and I couldn't tell them. I continued to be unable to speak for about five years after that. It was well after I was adopted, at any rate.
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