I woke up with a fever. My throat still itches from the scratchy potato soup my cousin fixed for lunch. It was the only thing Liz ever had trouble cooking; she could never get the potatoes cooked well enough, or they were overdone. She never bothered to cut them up either, they were always in big lumps laying in unflavorful mush. She seemed to enjoy the plain dish. It always irritated my digestive system.
It didn't explain my fever though. It started about a week ago, when I ran into the tall man downtown. Liz had convinced me to go down to one of her favorite bars. I hated bars. They were always full of lifeless men chugging liters of alcohol and puffing pounds of tobacco. And if they weren't there for that, then they were trying to get some with a local slut. Liz and I argued on endless nights about it; she said it was just people getting away from their stress or taking a break. Some of them, but she was looking at too large of an invisible crowd.
Liz got into a lot of trouble on her fifteenth birthday. I was jealous; my birthday wasn't for another three months. It was a cool September morning, so I threw on a dark gray button jacket and headed out the door. I left my mom a note saying I was visiting Liz to wish her a good B-Day. I had always tried to let her know where I was going and what I was doing, but she was never at home for me to talk to her face to face.
The street me and my cousin lived on was named Pine Avenue. Everyone on the street liked to sleep in until noon on Saturdays. But unlike most teens, I enjoyed getting up at seven and starting my day. No one else was up and I had the whole morning to my lonely self.
I headed down the street to my cousins house. I loved the way the air felt and smelled in the fall. Every house had a tree in the front yard, and the color and smell of the leaves always gave it a harmonious feeling. The atmosphere had a sweet taste when it touched the toungue.
I reached the corner of her home. It was quite a nice house. It was a significent size and layered in several shades of perfect white. The window panels where in even shades of black, and the roof had been done in dark gray squares.
I exceeded onto the porch and gently pressed the small and round doorbell. It released soft chimes through the rooms of the immense home. I heard heavy footsteps trucking through the house. It was odd, since no men lived there and Liz and her mom where both a lean one hundred and ten pounds. I peered through the small window and saw a giant smug looking man proceed to the door.
The door flung open and a short wind blew my short black bangs behind me. My eyes widened a little and I leaned back a bit. My tiny hand was in a small fist and close to my chest. I found myself staring at the bulky and smelly mass of Rick Gerand.
"Heh," His skin looked strange. Had a weird pukey tint to it. "You must be Clara. Clara Rickettson. Heard 'lot about ya..." He spit when he talked, and it flew out of his mouth in brown lumps. If his smell and presence didn't kill me, I was sure my dad would when he found out what I was marked on my algebra test. I always thought square root was some kind of carrot.
"Umm... where's Liz at?" I pulled my hand down and brushed off my jacket. Rick shrugged and stepped out of my way, so I entered into the house. I ignored him and immediatly took off towards the stairs where Liz's room was sitting. My black boots where clanging in the sensitive home, it was used to fuzzy slippers her mom wore. I didn't worry though, if they let Rick bang up the perfect wooden floor with his giant toes then I could make some noise with my harmless boots.
I finally found my way to her room. The white door was still crowded with tons of art pictures that her and I drew. My pictures were always brighter and happier, while hers were smothered in dark colors and gave a gothic touch.
The door was cracked and I gently pushed it out of my way. If she was asleep I would feel bad for waking her. I stepped in onto her soft blue carpet and looked at her sitting up on her bed. The moment she heard me her head snapped up and she slapped an antique looking book closed. She held it clammed between her hands and carefully wrapped her fingers around it's title.
"What's that?" I knew I caught her doing something wrong. Her appearance was unusual; heavy black lipstick was squeezing her tiny mouth and her eyelashes where sticking together with what seemed like a pound of mascara. She usually wore a little eyeliner and a dab of eyeshadow; it made her look pretty. But this seemed to be her purposely making herself look unnatural. I narrowed my eyes and let out a worried whisper. "Lisa," She bit her lip and looked into her lap. "What are you doing?" I barely let the air out. She's not a trouble maker, but her rare mistakes were dangerously large.
"Clara..." Her eyes were over soaking themselves and her nose seemed to clog. I looked about her room to see what mess she cooked up for me. She started sobbing. "He's dead!" She dropped her pale face into her hands. Her make up was smearing. I stared hard at her.
"Who's..." I had no idea who she was talking about. Who was he? Liz lifted her arm straight ahead of her and pointed towards her closet. The door was shut and it looked mostly normal.
"He's...in there... I didn't... mean to..." She pulled her hand down and returned to her weeping. I focused my attention on the closet door. My heart was racing in my chest, but I kept calm. I slowly approached the closet door and my fingers were dancing below me. I tried to take easy and deep breaths; I needed to stay relaxed.
I placed my small hand tightly around the gentle knob. My palm was sweating and my grip felt warm enclosed around it. I noticed an unwanting and horrible stench. Could she really... have done this?
My slight tug let the door slide open. My eyes started to burn and I began screaming. A little animal was wrapped in cords and broken hangers and hanging from the top of the closet. It was skinned and the entire inside of the enclosure was soaked in blood. The creature's jaw was snapped and held open with several hangers. It's eyes were dug out and it was missing a toungue.
I fell on my back and I sobbed and shook uncontrollably. It was Milo. Milo was the little black and white dog Liz got on her tenth birthday. He was such a sweet little guy, he was always greeting the guests with a tail wag and his soft black eyes. I forced myself up and next to Liz on the bed. My screaming had her yelling and crying too. I snatched the book away from her.
"What is this! Lisa...!" I shook her out of it and started flipping pages through the book. It was in some foreign language; I couldn't read or understand a thing. "Lisa... what is this?" She just rocked her head back and forth. I held the satanic feeling object and watched her. "Can you... read it?" She squeezed a few more tears but she shook her head.
"No," She could hardly talk. "I found i-i-t in t-the a-a-tic... Grandma's box..." She took a deep breath and it seemed to pull her back together a little. "I tried pronouncing some of the words last night... and I started hearing noises in my closet... Milo was growling and barking... Clara he never barks! I was scared and I ran downstairs..." My hands were trembling while I held the book. It felt rough and my sweat wasn't hurting it. Liz continued, "After awhile... he stopped barking. He didn't come back down, and I was scared to go up..." I could understand that. I would have been frightened too.
"And you found him like this in the morning...?" She nodded and I let my nails pierce into the back of the dark writings. She watched me and we both heard her mom and Rick racing up the stairs. Liz jumped up and stumbled towards the closet. She shut it and turned back to me.
"Burn it." She commanded. I hid it in my jacket and she and Rick entered. I walked past them and out the door. Liz would come up with some crazy story and take care of Milo. I kept a secure hand around the unpleasant foreign art.
I had burnt the book to a crispy pile of ashes by noon that day. Liz had told them we got into an argument; and when the problems of Milo arouse... well, I started seeing lost dog posters around town. Of course, they never found him.
Liz started hanging around a new crowd and was introduced to the wonders of cocaine and sex. Her grades at school all gradualy forced themselves into the ugly shapes of failure. I found myself lecturing her and her mom wasn't doing much. She call me a cruel group of vocabulary words, but I still had hope in her and I tried to save her. She ignored me and eventually dropped out. I continued on and graduated with a solid four. My dad was proud, and I'm sure my mom would have been if she didn't vanish three months before.
I became a doctor and Liz ended up moving into my home with me. I wasn't married and didn't have any kids, so I had no trouble supporting her. She agreed to cook if I let her in with me. She was my cousin though; she didn't need to ask, she was always welcome with me.
I loved her, but her habits needed to be strictly slimmed or put to a dead stop. My scolding and yelling never did anything. She continued to drink, smoke, and seduce men to giving her cash. It disgusted me, and no man from the bar had ever entered my corridors. It was one thing that I would not tolerate.
And there was one thing I did, the only mistake I felt I had made in my life. Never in my life did I feel I was not doing my best, never did I feel I was doing something wrong. I did the most unthinkable and unforgivable thing a twenty seven year old would ever do. I killed my cousin.
I did not do it on purpose. I did it out of mere stupidity and idiocy. I would never hurt a single hair on Liz, I would never mean too. My choice is what killed her. And if I knew, I would have never took it.
Liz came in and was crying. She was upset because we never did anything together. I told her we could go anywhere and do anything, she just had to give the word. So I suggested we should go out to eat or to a movie. She suggested the bar.
"LIZ!" I turned away from her and started throwing the empty bags laying on the counter in the trash. She started to beg me.
"Clara! Come on, you've never been there once... not in your entire life!" She gave me a stupid smile and I snorted. I angrily grabbed an empty plastic bag and it knocked over a glass framed picture. It fell and shattered into a thousand pieces between us. It was a picture of me and Liz. I felt a lump in my throat and bit the back of my lip. Liz narrowed her eyes and the make up she wore lead the expression into a piercing look. I avoided eye contact with her and started to collect the shattered frame. "You just don't care. You only think of yourself, it's never about me!"
She was wrong. I never thought about myself. I was always thinking of the person next to me, if they were okay and were doing alright. And who was supporting her, anyways? Who paid the bills and bought the food? Who gave her a bed and a roof to shelter her? I wanted to shout back at her, but I caught my self and my thoughts. She wasn't my child. She was twenty eight and a grown woman. Yeah, on the outside. If I didn't give her money she'd be a helpless ten year old.
We pulled in to the small parking lot of a small downtown bar called Randy Lou's. Liz was wearing make up and tight clothing like a barbie doll, while I threw on my usual baggy jeans, boots, and my jacket. I wasn't very pretty, but her appearance wasn't exactly making me jealous. I'd rather be an ugly rich doctor than look like a skinny slut.
When we walked in Liz waved to about every no life in the place. I could hardly see and country music was roaring like everyone was nearing deafness. Men were huddled around a pool table and laughing in loud voices. I do admit seeing a few friendly and decent people who sat at the bar and talked close and quietly just so each other could hear them. But they were outnumbered by idiotic drunks, so it wasn't too comforting.
Liz introduced me to a group of girls resembling her outline and had the same taste in clothing. They didn't say hi, they just looked me up and down with a few giggles. I rolled my eyes and went to the other end of the bar. Ironically, Liz did not follow me. So much for wanting to hang out with me. She probally just wanted a ride.
The only difference this side of the bar had was their was no pool table. A few slot machines and a dart board, but they did not attract as much attention. I found an empty seat with only a quiet man in a faded blue sweater was sitting. I took the seat next to him and confused the bar tender by asking for lemonade.
"In a shot?" Her voice was high and annoying. She grabbed a tiny shot glass and I rolled my eyes.
"No... just a lemonade..." Her head tilted to the side, and it kind of made her look like a chihuahua. She then asked me if I wanted to chug it down with a beer. I raised my voice and slammed my fist on the counter. "NO! I just want a plain lemonade! NO alcohol!" Her eyebrows rose and she quickly poured the lemonade out of it's container and into my glass. She walked over to me and literally dropped it in front of me. I smirked and threw a few ones down. She took them and I said thanks.
I caught the man next to me chuckling. I looked over to him but turned away, not sure if it was at my performance or if he attention was on someone else. There was no one else around, so I assumed it was me. He took a slow gulp of his drink and turned to me. He had a soft eyes and a finely built face. He looked very calm, but lonely too. In a strange way, kind of like me.
"Give her a break," He said it loud enough to hear over the music. "It's unusual for her to serve non-alcoholic drinks at this time of night." He smiled and I smiled back. "Bad day?" I nodded and sipped a little of my beverage. He nodded back and held out a hand. "Henry Townshend." I took his rough hand into mine. It was very calm, and I saw no hint of nervousness in him. And he didn't look like the typical every day drinker.
"Clara Rickettson." He shook my hand and said my name was nice. I said I liked his too. He laughed and focused back on his beer. I watched him finish it off and he started to talk to me again. He asked a lot of things about me and I answered quick and short. I didn't care about myself, I wanted to know more about him. I asked him some of the same similiar questions, and he had some interesting answers.
"Where do you live?" This seemed to make him think. That puzzled me, it was pretty bad when you didn't even know where you lived. He shrugged and tapped his empty bottle on the counter.
"Well... no where, at the moment..." He finally replied. I blinked, but before I could remark he continued. "I used to live in a very... unnatural apartment. My stuff is still there, but I will never set foot in that town again. I got out, and I plan to keep it that way." I was puzzled. What was he talking about?
"Umm... what do you mean?" He took a deep breath and looked about himself. He leaned in closer to me.
"I've seen things no one wants to see. I've lived and walked halls and buildings no person would ever imagine to walk. I watched my friends die, and I watched them come back and try and kill me too." I was staring at him in disbelief. He stared hard at me and I almost laughed. "I lived hell and I escaped it. I won't take the risk of going back." I thought he was good looking until I learned he was pyscho. I put my lemonade down and got up.
"I think I should go..." He laughed and set a few ones in front of him.
"I'm not crazy, Clara." I gave a half smile and hummed. He shook his head. "But it makes perfect sense that you don't believe me. Thanks for listening, though." He wrote a number down on a half sheet of paper. "Call me... if you need anything." I took the number. He was talking like he was insane, but he didn't seem like it.
I walked over to Liz who was half drunk. "I'm ready to go, Liz." She just stared at me and laughed, so I took off towards the front door. She ignored me and kept laughing.
It was really cold outside. I squeezed my jacket around my body and walked towards my car. I stood frozen when I reached my once shine white car. Red letters from a bloody substance were soaking into the hood of the vehicle. My keys were clanging in my hand. I stood in front of it and tried to read it. I couldn't, they weren't real words and some of the letters did not look right to me. Unless... it wasn't English.
My heart pounded and a million thoughts raced through my mind. I saw the book, Lisa and her make up, the decayed enclosure of the closet, Milo. My breath was short and constant, and I felt a presence behind me.
It felt as if someone bashed the back of my skull with a bat. I fell onto the hood of my car and grasped the back of my head. It was pounding and I felt warm liquid touch my fingers. I screamed and a giant hand grabbed my shoulder. It squeezed it and I thought my bones were crushing under the grasp. I started screaming and wailing, and I felt this person or thing lift me high above my car. A fist slammed into my sensitive stomach and silenced me quickly. I choked up blood and my stomach felt hard as a rock.
She heard my screams. Liz heard them. She ran out of the bar, screaming my name and running as fast as heard small self could take her. I felt the thing drop my body and fear erupted over me. It was going after Liz now.
I forced myself to sit up and I yelled. I opened my eyes and ignored the pains in my head, shoulder and stomach. I saw a tall man in an overcoat, he was huge, ten times the size of my tiny cousin. Liz balled her right hand into a fist and flung it right into his forehead. I was amazed at her strength, she actually sent the giant sailing back a little. But it was not enough. Not nearly enough. The man laughed and reached into his coat.
Liz quickly responded with her best battle effort. She went for his eyes and continuously slammed her knee into his stomach. If I could have moved I would have helped her, but I had no energy left at all. But I actually thought Liz stood a chance, she was weakening him and he wasn't very intelligent. She was getting tired though, her movements were slowing. She kept going though. She kept hitting him.
When he had enough beatings, he removed a horrid weapon from his coat. I screamed for Liz the moment I saw the shine of the blade. He caught Liz by the throat and held her above him. He forced his massive arm forward and the blade sunk into my cousin's body. She screamed, and satisfied with her answer the monster slide it back out and picked a new part of her to stab. He continued to do it; again and again. I screamed and tried as hard as I could to get up and save her.
I ended up rolling off the side of the car, while I heard the bar doors open. The man laughed and threw Lisa onto the pavement. He took off and I dragged myself over to my only female cousin. She was slowly breathing and I managed to get close enough to touch her. Henry saw us and ran back in to call the police, while some of the other members from the bar came over to us. I leaned my sobbing and pained body next to Lisa's. I wrapped my arm around her and I leaned my cut lips close to her head.
"I'm sorry, Lisa... I'm so sorry... please... please Lisa..." I begged and pleaded for her to answer me. She did not and I continued to cry. I heard sirens from the road. It left relief on me, and that was my cousin's only chance of survival. Our only chance. I heard the vehicles pull up and I found my world turning dark and fading away. I was unconscious.
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Hope you liked it. My first SH fiction. Of course I don't own Silent Hill... I wish I did. x.x
REVIEW please:-D