Hello everyone! This is my first Fanfiction story that I've actually finished, so my apologies if it is the worst thing you've ever read. But if you like it, then yay!
Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill 2, or any of the others Silent Hill games. Those amazing (and terrifying, and depressing, and so on and so forth) pieces of art belong to Konami and all the people in team Silent.
Death was not horrible, nor painful. It was peaceful and quiet, if you wanted it to be. You can choose to leave this life and it's memories behind. But he did not choose that blissful escape. Instead, James had chosen his own personal hell. He chose to remain in Silent Hill, another damned soul left to haunt it's barren streets and decaying buildings.
It really hadn't been that hard of a decision. Originally, James had intended to drive into the nearby lake with his dead wife beside him. He could not have continued living without her, could not have coped with the guilt and loneliness. But, before he lost consciousness as he drowned, he realized he could not be with her. At first, he had believed he was doing Mary a favor by putting her out of her misery, but that was only part of the truth. He had not just done it out of pity, but out of hate as well, hate for the burden she became. James knew that she must have hated him for what he did. He did not deserve to be in the afterlife with her. So, when it was over and he was dead, he turned away from that distant light that lead to whatever lay beyond death and retreated back into the darkness that existed within the town.
He was not the only spirit here. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of men, women, even children were trapped here in an inescapable horror. Evidence of the dark past of this cursed place was in fragments, and each small part was one piece of a giant puzzle, but James knew one thing for sure: the curse of this place only affected people who have committed some sort of crime. Well, at least for most cases. There have been innocent people that have been dragged into this nightmare, for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, James couldn't determine why any of the individual spirits were here. Every time he attempted to communicate with one of the others, he went completely unnoticed. They were locked in their own mind, tormented even in death. The spirit would just wander past him, eyes blank, sometimes completely silent or other times talking to themselves. Then it would disappear as quickly as it appeared. James didn't know why he kept trying to get a response from these people, even to this day, though he no longer went out and deliberately searched for them. He should know by now that he was, most likely, the only spirit that was aware of what was happening around him. Maybe he was lonely, but James couldn't even tell anymore. Since his death, he could no longer differentiate between his own emotions, all he could feel was a bleak emptiness. Either way, it didn't matter because they couldn't see or hear him.
The worst time though had been when he had found the ghost of Eddie Dombrowski wandering in the old Woodside Apartments. A long time ago (James was unsure of exactly how long ago it was, time was difficult in Silent Hill), he had felt compelled to take a trip into that place, and since he had nothing better to do James made his way through the empty streets towards the old apartments. As he dwelled through the second floor of derelict building, he heard low, hysterical laughter echoing from back down on the first floor. Believing that it was another person that had been trapped in this hellish place as he himself had, James went to investigate. What he had found was Eddie ('Who I hadn't seen in god knows how long ago. Not since… since I killed him...' he thought, feeling the familiar burn of guilt spreading throughout his being), wandering down the hallway, eyes bulging as he laughed at nothing. The chilling noise would haunt James for all of eternity. The worst part was that if Eddie had met such a terrible fate… what had happened to Angela Orosco? She had killed herself as well, there was no doubt about it, but where did she go after? Had she also had a choice to leave or to stay here, if that applied to everyone who willingly died here? Did she leave this cursed place and the terrible pain it had brought her behind, or did she hide from the the reprieve that she deserved? And what about Laura? She was an innocent little girl, so James knew that she did not see the town's curse, but in that letter Mary had written to Laura before her death, it had said that Laura did not have parents… God, there was so much that James could have done differently. He could have talked Eddie out of attacking him, could have taken his gun away, for god's sake! He should have convinced Angela to stay with him, to escape Silent Hill, even forced her if she wouldn't come, anything would have been better than letting her run off to kill herself! And he should have forced himself to stay alive for Laura's sake, to at least make sure she found a good family to live with, to make sure
('that she got out of this fucking hell alive, the town could have got her and admit it, you knew that but you were too weak, too scared, to protect her, you fucking coward, you could have helped her, but instead you just left her for dead you useless piece of shit')
that she didn't get lost because the nearest town to Silent Hill was miles away, and what if she got hurt? All of a sudden, a mixture of emotions hit James hard like a punch in the gut. Self-loathing, grief, and a dark, malevolent rage welled up inside of him, highballing through his spirit in the same way that blood would have roared in his veins when he was still alive. 'What the fuck gives this place the right to kill people? None of these people deserved this fate, damnit! I know that I deserve what I got, but not the others. They… they just made a stupid mistake, or were given no other choice! This curse… these supposed ¨gods¨ that live here, it's all shit, all of it. If there are gods here, they're demons. I swear that if I ever find the bastards, Iĺl strangle them with my bare hands, to hell with what they'll do to me.' James felt like hitting something, or someone. After his death, James still had done his best to avoid the monsters that would roam the streets of Silent Hill when the curse was activated, even after discovering they couldn't hurt him anymore, but now all he wanted was for one that could hurt him to pop up and attack him. James wanted to bash it's face in, to vent out his anger, to do something, anything that let him know that he could at least fight back against the town. It wasn't fair, dammit. None of it. Everything in his life that had happened to the people around him: Mary, Laura, Angela, Eddie- it just wasn't fair. Just as quick as it had flared up in him, the murderous rebellion had drained out of him, leaving James feeling cold and very much alone. Life wasn't fair. When fate dealt you shitty cards there wasn't anything you could do about it. James stood frozen as Eddie's form retreated into the darkness that consumed the end of the hallway, and then James ran. Ran away from that decayed place and the insane man within, ran away from his own relentless fears and regrets that constantly ate at his consciousness. From Laura, from Angela, from Mary, from himself- and from the one awful truth he couldn't bear to know. Just like he always did.
However, he could not escape from that bitter resentment he felt that day. More often than not, it lay dormant in James, but it was always there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, flaring out of control. The encounter with Eddie had changed him, shaking James out of the oppressive stupor he had been trapped in ever since this whole mess started. He no longer hid in the Lakeview Hotel, wallowing in his misery. James was constantly trekking through the town, exploring its buildings and streets, unearthing the secrets it held. He's been everywhere in the town, both the tourist and the residential areas. By now, he knew Silent Hill like the back of his hand, knew the best routes when moving through the streets and where the ¨hotspots¨ for monster activity as well. The only place that James avoided altogether was the Historical Society. The memory of the dark, winding hallways, the creatures that had stalked him in the blackness, the endless holes that dropped him deeper and deeper into the earth, generated a fear in him that was instilled too deeply into his mind. He's tried to bring himself to at least check through the building, reassured himself that the hole in the wall leading to the abandoned Toluca Lake Prison and eventually to that hellish labyrinth was gone, but every time he got close to the building, he chickened out. It was James's mentality represented in a nightmarish maze, a malevolent incarnation of his own fears, guilt, and repressed memories. Not only that, but a part of James insisted that it was his place, that red pyramid thing's place, and James hoped to never see that monster again…. Anyways, he used his knowledge of the Silent Hill's layout and the habits of the town's less than welcoming inhabitants when an unfortunate victim was called to this place. He knew it was futile to fight against the curse of the town, that he couldn't do much to help these people, but he still had to at least try. James couldn't just let it happen anymore, whether or not the person was innocent or was guilty of some crime. He was able to move, hit, or even break things if he focused all of his energy onto the task. He couldn't attack the monsters, but he could distract them and lead them away from the area that the individual was walking through. It was exhausting, but it felt good. The person never noticed his presence enough to realize he was there, but that was fine with James. He preferred it this way, being unseen, unjudged by the living. Despite his efforts, he could not enter the hell that the town morphed into when those sirens sounded. For some reason, he would still be in the ¨real¨ Silent Hill while the living people would disappear. Sometimes they lived, sometimes they never returned. When they did make it through the ordeal, he would feel a small sense of relief and something resembling joy. Then they would leave, and he would forget about them. But when they didn't… well, James would move on. But the memory would remain, and their face would join the others that continue to haunt him even after his death.
Now he sat alone by the shore of the lake, the place in the water where he had taken his last breath before dying just off from where he sat, sorting through his jumbled memories. He's been dead for so long that he was beginning to forget things. He could barely remember his father now, whom he had loved dearly ('Another person you had hurt by killing yourself, he added sullenly), could no longer picture his father's face in his mind anymore, could only hear his deep voice if he concentrated hard enough. James wondered if he was still alive, if he was happy. The few friends he had, the distant family members, he had nothing left of them. The memories of his time with Mary were fading too, James could still see her in his mind, but already her image was grainy, out of focus. A flash of her beautiful smile. The faint caress of her hand. The taste of her lips against his. All he had left of her, of the people he had most cared about, was fragmented, colorless memories, but he still clung to them frantically, the way a dying man clings to a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean. That's why James always came here, near the place where he drowned. When he was here, those memories came back into focus, if only just a little. But it was enough. A bitter smile touched his dead lips, the movement feeling unnatural after it being absent for so long. Even though a part of him wanted to let the painful thoughts slip away, to just forget, he couldn't. 'This is what I deserve for murdering my wife. For killing Eddie and Angela both. For leaving the people who needed me, and my family. To remember just enough for it to still hurt, but not being able to have them.' But deep in his heart, someplace where he no longer ventured, he knew that wasn't the whole truth. He kept the memories alive because they were all he had left. James stood up and stared at the lake for a long time, his translucent green eyes reflecting the dark, choppy waters, mirroring the emotions churning inside of himself. Then James turned to leave, his ethereal form swallowed by the white fog that blanketed the town. There he remains, self-condemned for a crime he has long since repaid.