A mix of elements. I do not own any rights to silent Hill or any of it's characters.

Angela's burning heat. The heat of self hatred.
James' burdening rain. The rain of self delusion.
Eddie's biting frost. The frost of cold heartedness.
Laura's grasping mist. The mist of solitude

The room was rather a mess. The walls and ceiling crackled with fire where Angela stood on the stairs. James stood knee deep in perfectly clear water. The doorway was smothered with frost, where Eddie sat, staring past the other occupants into nothingness.

The heat of the fires her own mind could not help but stoke burned away at her. Like a bon fire on a summer night the breeze of emptiness has formed bigger brighter flames. She deserved everything. It was all her fault. She had run away, but they had dragged her back. She was their responsibility. She was their curse upon the world. It was their job to make sure she got what she deserved in the end. They were only right to punish her, how could she have done this? How could she have even conceived this vile act. And yet she had done it. She had sheared open her father's brief neck and her brother's long belly. She had slain two good men. And all for the sake of one wicked girl. She was a monster. Mama had called her a seductress, a witch. It was only fitting, then, what they did with witches. They burned. And oh, how she burned. She was spiraling. Brighter and greater flames drew upwards as she walked higher in preparation to tumble down. Down into the black pit where she belonged. Perhaps she was not deserving of the life of two men and would forget the world in atonement. Forget in the agony of flames. She would forget in the scalding hot shower she tried to wash her sin away with. But she would not forget the way it hurt to burn.

"Rain again today"

After all this, after so long. The water of his tears, the rain of his own clouded mind beat down against his heart. The sound was inaudiable yet clear as day. It echoed off into the distance, silently. It was hollow. It was hollow and futile and hopless. He had….god, He had….killed her. She had made him the happiest had had ever been and he killed her. Her murdered his wife. He was a monster. To kill was terrible on its own, but an ailing women, your wife. His wife and all in a effort to get back a life that had never had the chance to exist in the first place.

But as is the way with monsters, his monstrosity simply could not stop there. He ignored it, hoped it would go away. He ignored her muffled screams and feeble kicks. He forgot the smell of urine and feces slowly dripping out of her corpse and the muscle relaxed. She had asked to never be forgotten and he left her. He left her alone, in the trunk of the car, right outside the city limits. So far away from him, yet with him everywhere. In the back of his mind, following him. A ghost following him. Maria following him. Only a monster would kill someone and then kill for them. Beat, kill, destroy just to reach them. Just to hold them in his wretched arms, when he had killed her the last time. Only monsters did that. And at the end of the story the monster was gone, wasn't it? The only recipe for a happy end called for the death of the monster. For the hope of a happy end. He would let the rain of misery drown him if it called for the death of a monster.

BARK

It was the coldness of people that had made it possible in the first place. The cold hearted laughing and jeering and spitting. He could find no warmth in his home. Mom too wrapped up in herself to care, Dad too disappointed to even call him their son. The others at school had only grown worse over the years. Their words grew colder and colder until they were spitting hoarfrost. He was ugly, they said. Unlikeable. Useless. Worthless. He didn't matter. And the stronger one liked to show it too; He liked to show how much Eddie didn't matter. The icy shock of impact quickly blossomed into the fire of pain as their fists struck. He couldn't even squirm, with two people holding his arms back. He froze, unable to think with the pain tearing him apart. He could only lay there numb as he pulled himself together, long after they left.

Calls from school had started to come in shortly before he left. Windows had been broken in increasing numbers around the neighborhood and cars had more dents. They all suspected him without any proof. The taunting only got worse and he began carrying his Dad's gun around for safety's sake. Unable to find a job and miserable it was nearing the breaking point. And then that stupid dog came barking. It's long face raised in a condescending snarl. It mocked him with its very existence. And then it died. Now it was his turn. Now he could do worse than coldly laugh and jeer. He could silence them forever. He could dump their voices into a frozen abyss. They were dogs, lowlier than dogs. They were vermin to be crushed. He would enjoy the screams and pleas as he crushed them under his foot. Let the girth they mocked spell their own demise as each arm dryly cracked and each rib wetly snapped like the crack of a gun in his hand. So what if he was a little cold. It wasn't as if they mattered.

And in the end Laura wandered questingly around the confines of the windows let in bright , clean light. Nothing was there, not even her toys. She didn't even have to sneak between rooms in the hall; The Sisters were gone. The teddy bears had vanished, all of them disappeared. Her soft and slow footsteps barey disturbed the lingering mist. The silence smothered the singular girl. And in the end Laura was alone.

And an Angel called out over Silent Hill. And it was the end.