Silent Hill Fanfiction
The echo of boots scraping across the stone startled Jeremy into attention, though only for a moment. After hours of waiting his lawyer had finally slunk into the station, and without hesitation went over the details of the upcoming trial. Of course though, he was mostly just curious as to why Jeremy had decided upon going with a plea of guilty, though it wasn't really any of his business, just for personal reference. Jeremy stared at the swinging light. At some point his lawyer left.
The cell was darker in daytime than at night, the chief thought it best to 'let the prisoners have some sunlight' through the dirty old fashioned steel barred window; the officers always liked to joke about how if the convicts could fit through those bars the light streaming in would take them to heaven. That pale disconnected light streamed in even now, but come evening the swinging light bulb overhead was turned on to cast its own peculiar brand of vision.
Coated with the grime and grit of years it cast off a strange brownish color, polluting the cramped space. Jeremy had had plenty of time to ponder why the bulb never stopped swaying; its looping path back and forth had been his sole entertainment for five days. Sure, the police were supposed to feed him, but sometimes they 'forgot,' and it was his lunch they forgot today, leaving his stomach as hollow as he felt.
It was his fault after all, even if he never had anything to do with her death itself. It was all in the papers, how a teacher had seduced his young talented student, raped her countless times against her will and forced her silence. Only the journalists could tell the story, neither he nor Kate, Katie to everyone but him, could convince the town of anything else. She was deluded, misguided, brainwashed, and he, a sick pervert, feeding off the town's good nature and youth. A thirty-one year old man and an eighteen-year-old girl, the age, the position of power, he used her.
They were right. He was wrong. Surely he must be, sitting here in a cell, the whole town knew better, the whole town was right, only he didn't know their love was wrong. At least, he thought it was love, the stolen kisses, the midnight picnics, the coffee house, where so many things had happened. It was while sipping a cup that she whispered into his ear how she'd like to stay at his place that night. Neither had been a virgin, and that didn't surprise him, not in this new age, not even Silent Hill could defend itself against teen sexuality.
No longer together, sharing a bed, exploring life, they were apart. She was hanging from a rafter in her bedroom at her parents house, well, she had been, though after five days she had surely been moved to a quiet lot in the cemetery where pretty daughters could rest, safe from perverts in jail cells. The trouble had begun when a coworker began to suspect Jeremy and began a quiet investigation. It was then that they got a subpoena and searched his house, finding pictures of them sharing private, but not intimate moments.
Silent Hill was soon agitated into a flurry of convictions and condemnation towards the pair. That was when the journalists began to run their stories, ignoring the couple's wishes. Because the relationship had started two years earlier, and he was still her teacher, he was arrested. In response she hung herself. A bit drastic, but in a quiet city like Silent Hill her life would never have recovered.
Supposedly busy elsewhere, the police arrived almost too late at his house. A lynch mob formed by righteous citizens had surrounded his house demanding bodily harm for his ruination of an innocent child. Only a few of the morally outstanding citizens left bruises, though he didn't think he could ever forget the elderly man who had spat upon him with such contempt before grinding a cane into his thigh.
The bulb had stopped swinging. Blinking his eyes, he tried to convince himself of the loss of constant motion. It must have stopped while he was thinking; he couldn't remember watching it slowly swing to a stop. Unsettled for no discernable reason, he stood up, and reaching forward to push it he paused. Through the grime he saw a reflection, something existing on the surface of the bulb that couldn't possibly be in the room. Slowly turning upon the surface was a circular valve, no, two of them, barely visible amongst the grime.
He flew backwards in fright as the bulb shattered. Pressed against the wall, sitting on the floor, staring up at the empty socket, Jeremy clenched his head as a siren began to wail.
The echo of boots scraping across the stone startled Jeremy into attention, though only for a moment. After hours of waiting his lawyer had finally slunk into the station, and without hesitation went over the details of the upcoming trial. Of course though, he was mostly just curious as to why Jeremy had decided upon going with a plea of guilty, though it wasn't really any of his business, just for personal reference. Jeremy stared at the swinging light. At some point his lawyer left.
The cell was darker in daytime than at night, the chief thought it best to 'let the prisoners have some sunlight' through the dirty old fashioned steel barred window; the officers always liked to joke about how if the convicts could fit through those bars the light streaming in would take them to heaven. That pale disconnected light streamed in even now, but come evening the swinging light bulb overhead was turned on to cast its own peculiar brand of vision.
Coated with the grime and grit of years it cast off a strange brownish color, polluting the cramped space. Jeremy had had plenty of time to ponder why the bulb never stopped swaying; its looping path back and forth had been his sole entertainment for five days. Sure, the police were supposed to feed him, but sometimes they 'forgot,' and it was his lunch they forgot today, leaving his stomach as hollow as he felt.
It was his fault after all, even if he never had anything to do with her death itself. It was all in the papers, how a teacher had seduced his young talented student, raped her countless times against her will and forced her silence. Only the journalists could tell the story, neither he nor Kate, Katie to everyone but him, could convince the town of anything else. She was deluded, misguided, brainwashed, and he, a sick pervert, feeding off the town's good nature and youth. A thirty-one year old man and an eighteen-year-old girl, the age, the position of power, he used her.
They were right. He was wrong. Surely he must be, sitting here in a cell, the whole town knew better, the whole town was right, only he didn't know their love was wrong. At least, he thought it was love, the stolen kisses, the midnight picnics, the coffee house, where so many things had happened. It was while sipping a cup that she whispered into his ear how she'd like to stay at his place that night. Neither had been a virgin, and that didn't surprise him, not in this new age, not even Silent Hill could defend itself against teen sexuality.
No longer together, sharing a bed, exploring life, they were apart. She was hanging from a rafter in her bedroom at her parents house, well, she had been, though after five days she had surely been moved to a quiet lot in the cemetery where pretty daughters could rest, safe from perverts in jail cells. The trouble had begun when a coworker began to suspect Jeremy and began a quiet investigation. It was then that they got a subpoena and searched his house, finding pictures of them sharing private, but not intimate moments.
Silent Hill was soon agitated into a flurry of convictions and condemnation towards the pair. That was when the journalists began to run their stories, ignoring the couple's wishes. Because the relationship had started two years earlier, and he was still her teacher, he was arrested. In response she hung herself. A bit drastic, but in a quiet city like Silent Hill her life would never have recovered.
Supposedly busy elsewhere, the police arrived almost too late at his house. A lynch mob formed by righteous citizens had surrounded his house demanding bodily harm for his ruination of an innocent child. Only a few of the morally outstanding citizens left bruises, though he didn't think he could ever forget the elderly man who had spat upon him with such contempt before grinding a cane into his thigh.
The bulb had stopped swinging. Blinking his eyes, he tried to convince himself of the loss of constant motion. It must have stopped while he was thinking; he couldn't remember watching it slowly swing to a stop. Unsettled for no discernable reason, he stood up, and reaching forward to push it he paused. Through the grime he saw a reflection, something existing on the surface of the bulb that couldn't possibly be in the room. Slowly turning upon the surface was a circular valve, no, two of them, barely visible amongst the grime.
He flew backwards in fright as the bulb shattered. Pressed against the wall, sitting on the floor, staring up at the empty socket, Jeremy clenched his head as a siren began to wail.
