For longer than she cared to remember, Maria wandered had wandered these streets. Silent Hill. It was a name that held a sort of mystery but also a familiarity, as though she had never known anything else. Increasingly, she began to wonder if this was the case, if she had simply sprung into being in this town and would never be free from it. This, of course, was all James Sunderland's fault. She knew enough about her role now to realize that he had created her. He alone. Damn him, with his infuriating lack of self-worth and his stumbling words and tender-to-hateful-and-back-again looks. It was like he never knew quite what to think of her and, consequently, she never knew what to think of herself.
For the first few weeks after James' departure from Silent Hill with Laura at his side, Maria felt lonely. It was a deep and penetrating ache in the pit of her chest and stomach, something like a hunger that no amount of food could ever fill. Not that she even needed to eat. All she needed to do was be, exist and torment with her very presence. She missed James, but she could not be sure why. It wasn't even as though he had been particularly fond of her, even if she had been fond of him. It was just that his presence had been comforting in a way that nothing else was, warm and alive and human. There was nothing else here that fit that description. She missed his warmth, missed pressing a little too close to him when they passed down a dank, narrow corridor together and feeling the heat of him and the little thrill she got as her closeness made his heartbeat pick up a little. It was little things like that that she missed, little reminders that she was more human than those monsters. Because as inhuman as her very nature was, she did human things like cry and yearn, things like love. Things like hope. Silent Hill, however, was enough to suck the hope straight out of anyone, and fast.
In the end, it all came down to simply existing, to pretending that it was enough to scrape by day by day without dying. Those monsters still menaced her, as though they didn't recognize that she was one of them, didn't feel her connection to the town. She was, she supposed, little more than a manifestation, an extension of James' guilt, and the town and its demons fed on his guilt like gluttons. So it only made sense that this town wanted to feed on her, too. By and by the town and the time she spent in it took most of her consciousness, most of her humanity, and she relinquished it gratefully. No longer did she cower in fear of the monsters that tried to tear her to pieces. Armed with the revolver she had retrieved from behind the wall and the cleaver she kept in her boot, she coolly dispatched them as they came, a game of survival. The only time she felt the break in her lull of numbness was when he made his appearances.
It was a wicked little game of cat and mouse they played, she and that Red Demon, that horrible abomination of sin and guilt and pain, sexual frustration and agony all rolled into a living, breathing creature that stalked her relentlessly. Even after James was long gone, after there was no one to punish, he came for her, sometimes when she would expect it, and others when she didn't. More often than not he did not come for her when she was asleep, preferring instead to chase her down the corridors and, she assumed, feed on her fear. He was like the coldest, cruelest, most inhuman part of James that existed only in his darkest moments of rage, and that part was magnified a thousandfold, given life, given the power to kill her. James had called him Red Pyramid Thing. Maria chose to call him Pyramid Head, not out of any sort of deep meaning but because such a ridiculous name took away just a bit of the fear she felt toward him.
Because even in all her numbness, when she thought of him, saw him, there was still fear. When she heard a scrape in the darkness, the shapes around her shadowed and hulking and more often than not looking like him, the fear woke her up. The fear made her feel alive. As sick as she knew it was, he was the only thing she had left anymore. She had the upstairs of Heaven's Night to sleep in, hunched in her chair, and she had the first aid kits that helped her survive when a monster wounded her, but those were small comforts. The insurmountable terror that she felt when she saw Pyramid head was a large one. It assured her that she could still feel at all, and that was certainly something. It was bizarre, the way she was grateful for the terror he stirred up in her. Increasingly, she loved it, loved being chased through the dark. She didn't love death when he finally caught her, goring her on his Great Knife so deep that it felt almost like penetration. No, she didn't love that part. But a strange and not-so-human part of her loved the chase.
Maybe that was why she continued to venture out of the relatively safe haven of Heaven's Night, for that thrill. That strange, dark animal thrill he somehow brought out in her. She could feel it now, reverberating through the spaces in her body where memories should be and making her shiver as she heard the cold sting of metal on metal, the telltale scrape that made her heart beat faster.
There was a grunt, an inhuman, horrible grunt that reminded her just what kind of monster it was that stalked her. At the moment, she was in the old hospital. Brookhaven was such a quaint little name, not at all appropriate for the place with its rotting walls and floors, nearly everything covered in blood and rot and rust. However, Silent Hill sounded quaint too...
As the scraping grew louder she ducked behind a pile of rubble in the hallway, heart beating hard in her throat. She didn't love this in a conventional sort of way; she was terrified and she wanted nothing more than for it to be over. But she did love the electric little thrill that the terror produced, the reminder that she lived, that she still had a heartbeat that fear could make quicken. Maria adored the reminder of the woman she had once been... or maybe she hadn't. She had been happy once, been alive once, wrapped in soft pink sweaters and in James' arms. There was so little left of that life, of the innocence and joy of it all. Now she was a dark and depraved woman, a monstrous sort of thing that thrived on the obscene and lived in the dark as easily as any cockroach. But the one parallel between her life and the life she believed she had once led, her life as that Mary, was that they both felt fear. Fear of oncoming death. The circumstances didn't matter.
The scraping was almost deafening now, and looking out of her little nook Maria could see the end of that horrible bloodstained sword through a small gap between old smashed gurneys and cardboard boxes filled with something that smelled terrible, like rotten flesh and lakewater. She drew back to her previous hunched state and watched his shadow dance on the wall across the hall from her, his horrific metal helmet and broad shoulders casting the sort of distinct shadows she could never forget.
It was beginning to fully sink in, as she watched him trudge down the hall, looking for her like a hungry beast, that this was a sickeningly tragic little game they played. The shadows of two people who had once loved and lost was all they were now, even if they were only the magnified extremes of their human counterparts' sins. James Sunderland had killed his wife, and so Pyramid Head endlessly chased Maria, the embodiment of that very same woman, killing her repeatedly. It was a neverending and exhausting cycle, but, Maria couldn't help realizing, that such was the nature of Silent Hill. The whole town seemed to work on a cycle. She had watched so many others play into the cycle; that blonde girl with the short temper, the delusional soldier who hunted so steadfastly for his brother, the escaped convict pursued to no end by a correctional officer. One by one they played out their respective roles, and through it all she and Pyramid Head continued on their own cycle outside of their small and hateful worlds. Something between she and this horrible monster, this brutal James that only she could ever hope to understand but still did not, seemed bigger than their little struggles. It seemed more... significant.
A sharp gasp rose up in Maria's throat as Pyramid Head swung the Great Knife with one of his bizarre grunts, knocking most of the rubble that shielded her body out of the way and leaving her wholly exposed. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn't even noticed him pausing beside her hiding place. Perhaps what she had been thinking had reached him too, somehow, because rather than lifting the knife again to bring it crashing down on her skull, he simply looked at her. Or, she assumed he looked at her. There was really no way to tell for sure. Cautiously, Maria stared back at him, the animal terror still pounding away in her chest. She didn't know if he had eyes or even a face under that helmet of his, but nevertheless she swore she could feel his eyes on her, boring into her. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Now that there was no chase, no impending doom, no life, she was actually a little annoyed with him. Fear drained away and made way for impatience. Slowly, she climbed to her feet, not wanting to crouch before him any longer, and shifted a hand to her hip in a cockier pose than she had meant to.
"What do you want?" she asked rather boldly, her voice reverberating around the corridor. There was a horrible gurgling sound as a nurse was attracted by the sound of her voice, tottering around the corner on rot-speckled legs, her torn old uniform splattered with blood in varying stages of dryness. Pyramid Head pivoted on the spot, swinging the Great Knife as easily as a child would swing a doll and cleaved the nurse in half. The bottom half of her kept walking even as her putrid, foul-smelling (she could smell it even from here) blood splashed the wall beside her and her top half flopped to the floor. Then her legs and pelvis toppled uselessly to the side as well. This finished, Pyramid Head turned his attention back to Maria. She tensed her muscles to run, but he simply stood still, the knife, dripping with fresh blood now, still resting benignly at his side.
"What do you want?"she asked again, even bolder. Because it was pretty obvious he didn't want to kill her; she'd already be dead if he wanted her to be. He was mostly the supreme being around here for the sole fact that he could kill much more efficiently than any of the others. It was only power to the extent that mindless monsters could have a hierarchy. Not that Pyramid Head was mindless. There was definitely intent in that stare he was fixing her with right now.
For a time, there was silence, and then Maria heard a voice. She felt it in her head more than she heard it, really, and she got the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't actually being spoken out loud. It spoke with a slightly growly tone, rough and low and menacing. It didn't take much figuring to realize it was Pyramid Head who was making her hear the words. 'You aren't afraid of me anymore'.
Maria paused, and something about the fact that he would say that was almost comical, though she was in no way foolish enough to laugh at Pyramid Head. That was a death sentence and she knew it without even trying. She thought on his statement instead and came to the conclusion that he was right. Running from him brought more of the childish, electric thrill of tag now than actual fear. There was that brief flicker of terror as he closed in on her but otherwise, she was more or less going through the motions. With a sigh, she nodded.
"No, I'm not. We're too used to each other Ja—Pyramid Head. There's nothing scary about... about... being killed over and over and knowing I'm just going to come back anyway," shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Maria looked cautiously up at him, knowing that the blade could come down and strike at any moment. It didn't.
'You're not afraid of me,' he repeated, and the voice in her head sounded far away suddenly, almost tinny. One scarred, bloodied hand raised up and he held it out to her in some bizarre gesture of goodwill or... she wasn't entire sure what it was supposed to represent. 'We need to fix that.'
Maria paused, taking a step backward so her back nearly pressed the wall. She could smell the ancient blood caked to it that had mixed with the rot to bring about a very pungent scent that was the very essence of Silent Hill itself. The cold of the wall somehow managed to radiate through the thin red material of her cardigan. Always putrid, always cold. So very like Silent Hill.
"Excuse me?" she asked, just to be certain she had heard correctly. He had never really bothered to speak to her before (if this did indeed even count as speaking), and so she could sense that this fear, this terror she had always held for him, was something important. If he was willing to break his vow of silence for this, then it had to be significant.
Pyramid Head didn't bother to repeat himself. 'Come here,' he instructed, not kindly but coldly in a way only a monster like him could speak. Maria shrunk back a little more, trying to impress upon him just how reluctant she was to come anywhere near him. Pyramid Head did not speak further, did not repeat himself. He simply lifted the Great Knife and slammed the blade of it on the ground just once. Maria watched as it cut a trough in the ground, splitting the tiles around it like they were made of soft clay and sending long cracks and splinters across the floor. A threat. Some of that old fear returning Maria hurried toward him, wanting to be spared of whatever unspeakable thing he would do to her if she did not comply and simultaneously dreading whatever unspeakable thing he was going to do to her now that she had.
Stopping just short of Pyramid Head, Maria trembled slightly like a leaf in the wind. For a moment the two beings just stood near each other, and then Pyramid Head reached out to grip her wrist. It was not a gentle grip by any means, his strong fingers clenching down on her tiny appendage and making the bones pop as they ground together. Maria made a tiny sound of pain, something she had never done in front of him before; usually he killed her with one single strike, and there was no time to make any noise. His reaction was fascinating. The pressure on her wrist ceased, though those fingers still held it, and she swore she saw a shudder go through him. A shudder.
"Don't like that, do you?"she asked. She swore she saw Pyramid Head give the tiniest, most imperceptible shake of his enormous rusted steel helmet. "That why you always kill me so fast? Don't like the thought of hurting me?" Maria was amazed that she was being this cocky and was still alive. The grip on her wrist tightened once more and when she let out a sound similar to the first one immediately the grip loosened and Pyramid head's other hand, still holding onto the Great Knife, came up and smoothed down her cardigan on her upper arm with the backs of its fingers. That kind of touch, the gentle and not at all murderous brush of fingers, was completely confusing. She was tempted to ask him just what the hell he was doing, but she couldn't because she wasn't even entire sure she was talking to the same monster anymore. His mannerisms were completely different now and he let go of her wrist and let the Great Knife clatter to the floor, something he would never do in a million years, she was sure. His hands gripped her upper arms, but gently, and she swore he was looking right now into her eyes. A cough ripped through her body and Pyramid Head gave another tiny spasm. His touch was no longer harsh and demanding, but clumsy and awkward like he had no idea how to touch something.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, but he didn't ask her. It was out loud but Maria was sure Pyramid Head didn't have the facilities to speak in such a clear, human... stumbling voice? No, no the words seemed to be seeping more from memory than from his tongue, though it was clear they were still coming from him in a sense. He squeezed her arms gently at appropriate parts of the words. "That cough... it's not getting any better."
"What are you..." she began, but somehow her hands were coming up to fall on his shoulders, strong and cold under her hands, his skin rough and scarred and slick with blood. "I'm fine. Please don't worry so much..." it was her voice, so why did the words feel so wrong coming out?
"You're not... going to die, right?"
"Of course not," she uttered softly, though she honestly had no control over the words, and then Pyramid was folding her in his arms, holding her close against his broad and bloody chest. She didn't even notice the blood that smeared her cheek. The smell of rust and blood and death that she could smell emanating from his skin was fading rapidly, his skin warming under her cheek, his arms tightening around her. Suddenly the dank hospital corridor was lightening, filling with sunlight and ornate wallpaper, windows that overlooked the lake and they were both laughing cheerfully as he picked her up and twirled her around.
"I'm sorry," James Sunderland told her brightly, putting her down and adjusting her pale pink cardigan for her as he smiled a bit sheepishly. And where did that helmet go, where did anything go? But why was she worrying about any hospital, or any Pyramid Head, whatever that was? She was on vacation with her husband. She didn't need to be worrying. So what if the cough didn't seem to be going away? It was just a cough. Just a silly cough. "I shouldn't be thinking about things like that."
"No, you shouldn't," she scolded him gently. "We're on vacation, James. Let's have fun, okay? You promised we would have fun! You promised you wouldn't worry the whole time!"
James laughed, and he looked oh god so much younger when he laughed before he killed her killed Mary killed Maria killed Mary he looked so young and so handsome and so alive, and what was this ache in her chest? What was this strange tingle as her mind switched back and forth from room 312 in all its sunlit glory to some horrible dark place stained with blood?
"You're right, I promised," James agreed with a smile, leaning in a bit shyly and kissing her. "I love you, Mary."
Mary Maria Mary it didn't matter her heart leaped anyway, her hands found the front of his green army jacket and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and making them both giggle a little at he walked her over to the big, comfortable bed, running tickles down her sides as he did so and she was whispering an "I love you too" against his lips. And they were in the bed and he was hovering over her, kissing her, touching her, loving her, making her feel warm and safe and perfect in a way no one else ever had, no one else ever could, the way his hands caressed her as though they had known the feel of her body since the dawn of time. Maria Mary Maria Mary gasped against the perfect little place in the curve of his neck as he made love to her, hands in her chestnut hair and his lips pressing little kisses to the sweaty curve of her forehead now and then as they gasped and whispered together.
Afterward they were a happy, laughing ball of tangled sweaty limbs and kisses that came between giggles and more giggles, smiles, embraces. His clear green eyes met with her brown ones and there was that silent, unspoken promise that he would always love her, and god he made her feel safe, wanted... in a way no other man ever had. And then all around her the hotel room was darkening, it was different and strange, fading to blood and rust, to rot and mold and dampness, loneliness and despair. And then Mary was Maria again, or Maria was Mary... it really made no difference what name she called herself by, she reminded herself coldly. She was dead either way. When she was fully aware of her surroundings once more, she was lying on a pile of twisted, rusted gurneys beside Pyramid Head, her skirt hiked up around her waist. With an angry, indignant shriek she pulled it back down and scrambled to her feet, trying to get re-accustomed to the vast difference between floaty floral silk and gleaming pink leopard print vinyl.
Pyramid Head stirred too, getting up from the resting place with a tiny grunt, the kind he had made so long ago when James shot him with his useless bullets in that long hallway. Maria's blue eyes glared daggers into him, but the anger was short-lived and gave way to something like exhaustion. It wasn't his fault, not really. He couldn't help it if their souls were inexorably linked, whether they liked it or not. For a moment the two of them simply stood there, and then he strode over to her with long, purposeful strides. When he reached her he bowed his head slightly, lowering that enormous pyramid before her.
'Take it off' he invaded her head again, and she hesitated for a moment before an impatient growl full of rage ripped through her consciousness. Apparently he was as disconcerted by their unconventional little coupling as she was. 'Now!'
Maria complied quickly, grabbing hold of the bottom lip of the helmet. She had seen him struggle with it time and time again in the past but for her, it came easily off, though slowly in all its weight. Maria found herself itching with curiosity about what lie under that helmet, what sort of face the beast who stalked her with an insatiable need to spill her blood looked like. As the metal slid away, Maria let it drop to the ground at what she saw.
Any illusions she might have had about his humanity were diminished at the sight of what lay under that helmet. Where there should have been a mouth there was a long, vertical tear with a tongue lolling out of it sickly. Rather than eyes there were two horizontal lines of stitches holding them closed, his nose was crushed in, bleeding everywhere, and the hair was so caked and matted with blood she could not make out color nor length. Maria gasped, stepping backward. Somehow she could tell that if the face was not quite so mangled, it would have resembled James' perfectly. It seemed fitting.
Somehow, this monster being unmasked rendered him newly terrifying. Stumbling a bit, Maria took off down the hallway, though she didn't make it far. Pyramid Head was close behind and he struck the side of her head with the flat side of the Great Knife, knocking her to the floor.
Maria rolled onto her back and saw Pyramid Head staring down at her, Great Knife raised above her in a stance that was perfectly poised to run her clean through. She blinked and then he was James, standing over her in the softly lit bedroom with a pillow in his hands. And then it was that horrible creature once more, tensing, knife twitching.
"I love you, Mary..."
James lowered the pillow.