Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Konami.

I wrote this story over the course several days, though I've had the idea for a while. My readers have been patient with the lack of updates for Mirror Image and Dark Descent, so I decided to give them this story in the mean time. I also feel it might answer for some readers the question of why I chose to give Alessa original characters for guardians in my other stories. The fact is that Harry harbored a grudge against Alessa for supposedly taking away Cheryl. I don't find it odd to assume he would act on it if given the chance.

This fic has nothing to do with my other stories. If anyone is offended by some of the themes presented here, remember that this is a work of fiction in the Silent Hill category. There are some disturbing themes, and for that reason, I've rated this an M.

Requiem

Part 1

June 3rd, 1988

Dear Claudia,

Hey, little sister. I bet you never expected to hear from me again. I'm sure everyone there probably thinks I'm dead. But I'm not, even though I sure wish I were.

Things would be so much easier then.

I can guess how horrified you must be at hearing that from me. Unfortunately, I'm not joking. I'm not really sure what to say. I'm just sitting here in my room, alone, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Every now and then, I look up at the clock to see what time it is. I don't want to waste any time. I have to finish this one last thing before…

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I know he'll be home soon. I want to get this done before then. If he catches me…

There's so much I want to tell. So much I want to say. I never thought I'd find myself saying this, but I wish I were back in Silent Hill. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much, if I had you there to help me. So much has happened and I'm just not sure where to start. Maybe I should start at the beginning.

I'm sure you know about what happened two years ago in Silent Hill. I don't know how, but you were always good at finding out things adults didn't want us to hear. One way or another, I'm sure you heard about it from someone else in that godforsaken cult. Yes Claudia, I said cult. I see things so much clearly now. But please, don't take this as a sign to put down the pages. I would hate for my last words to be wasted on the eyes of the other people who might see this letter. I don't care about them. By the time they see this, they won't be able to do anything about me. All I ask is that you read this letter to the very end.

Like I said, I'm sure you know what happened. However, I doubt you know the full story behind those events. What happened there in our hometown changed my life, and I owe it all to one man, Harry Mason. My father.

I can just imagine your surprise. My father? How is that possible? I didn't have a father; all I had was Dahlia. Well, that used to be true, until I turned seven. That was when everything fell apart.

Let me tell you a story. I know you're probably too old for fairy tales now, but humor me. Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived alone with her mother in a quiet little town called Silent Hill. This little girl was different from all the other kids. She had powers no one else had. Her mother always told her she was special, and everyone at the church they went to believed it too.

But the little girl's life was anything but happy. She got teased and picked on everyday at school. The other kids were mean to her – they hated her because she was different. They called her a witch and worse, and they beat her up and made her cry whenever they could.

Any of this sound familiar? It should. But I digress.

The little girl only had one single friend, another little girl named Claudia. Claudia's father was a friend of her mother, and the two girls spent as much time together everyday as their parents would let them. It was Claudia who made things bearable for that girl at school. But things were still terrible there and everyday the little girl suffered.

Things weren't much better at home. The little girl's mother didn't care about her. She only wanted to take advantage of the girl's power and she didn't care how if she hurt her in the process. She beat her daughter badly, sometimes leaving her crying in her room with her arms and legs and her chest black and blue. But the little girl still loved her. She didn't know any better; all she wanted was to be with her mommy. She didn't know the punishments weren't her fault – that her mother was just mean and evil.

One day when the little girl was seven, the worst thing possible happened. There was a terrible accident in her house and the boiler in the basement caught fire. Only it wasn't an accident. The little girl's mother set the fire on purpose. You see, the girl's mother belonged to a religion that worshipped a terrible God. Now they wanted to bring that God into the world so that they could ruin the lives of everyone they didn't like. And with the little girl's special powers, they decided to use her as a sacrifice.

They burned her alive while she cried out for help. But the fire didn't kill her. That wasn't what they wanted. Instead they used her as part of a ritual to summon their order's God. They'd already implanted the girl with the seed of their God years ago, before her mother even gave birth to her. All they needed now was to force that essence to awaken and cause the little girl to give birth to it. There was only one problem. God was in her womb…but the little girl was too young. She couldn't deliver "Her".

The Order wasn't expecting that. And now that they were faced with that dilemma, they had no idea how to deal with it. The little girl was left in a coma from her injuries, barely clinging to life with her entire body covered in hideous burns. Eventually the girl's mother and her followers decided to just leave her like that, in the hopes that her pain would feed the deity inside her; make her power grow. They put a magical spell on her to keep her from dying, and then they left her to rot in agony in the basement of that hospital, until one day, she might be strong enough to give birth to their God.

But the little girl was special. She could do things no one else could with her mind. And despite being left in that terrible coma from her wounds, the girl found a way to live. She took everything she could from her own soul, and she used it to create a whole new person. Someone who would have the life she didn't. Someone who would be loved the way she wasn't. And she made sure that baby would be found by just the right person.

That person was Harry Mason. He was a young writer passing through the town with his wife Jodie when they found the baby left by Alessa on the outskirts of the town. The couple wanted a child of their own, but Jodie wasn't able to have any. When they saw that baby lying near the road, helpless and alone, they knew they couldn't leave her there. So they took her with them.

They named her Cheryl. They raised her like she was their own. But Jodie eventually got sick and passed away, leaving Harry and Cheryl all alone. It was just the two of them now, and they soon became each other's world.

Seven years passed since the first little girl was locked up in the hospital's basement. Cheryl continued to be raised by Harry, living a very happy life with her dad. And all the while, the girl who created her suffered in agony. She was fourteen now, no longer a little girl. And her powers had grown since that fateful ritual. They had never been stronger. Then one day, something happened that nobody except the girl's mother expected: she woke up. And now those who tormented her and burned her were going to feel her pain. She had suffered in silence for seven long, agonizing years, and now those in the cult were going to suffer just as she had.

At the same time, Cheryl and her dad were on their way to Silent Hill. They'd been wanting to take a vacation before the summer was over and Cheryl had to go back to school. And for some reason she couldn't explain, Cheryl felt drawn to Silent Hill.

You know what happened next, Claudia. The incident that I'm sure people are still talking about the Order. I'm sure you've heard one version or another of what transpired from some member of the cult. But since I doubt the version they've given (indirectly or not) is accurate, here's the real story.

Most people think there are three layers of reality: Earth, Heaven, and Hell. Four if you count Purgatory. But the truth is there are more. There are worlds and places that you wouldn't believe. And when I woke up from my coma, burning with rage at what was done to me, I was able to tap into one of those places. And I took control. Harry called it the Otherworld. I just call it judgment. I dragged as many of the conspirators behind what happened to me there as I could, and once they were trapped in that hell, I killed them for what they did. Doctors, nurses, cult members – I didn't care. They deserved to die, and if I didn't punish them, no one else would. I killed them one by one and I turned them into the same monsters they were now running away from. Until only a man named Michael Kaufmann was left, the director of that accursed hospital. Him and my mother, the monster who sentenced me to that living hell.

That's right, Claudia. I don't care what anyone else has told you. I don't care what Dahlia herself told you. Dahlia was evil. Her followers were evil, none more so than Kaufmann. I'll go as far as to say our entire order is based on nothing but evil. I'm telling you this not as a heretic who's been brainwashed by an outsider (as I know he'll tell you if your father finds this letter), but as someone who has seen the truth behind our religion. Although, I guess it's really your religion now.

It was terrible, Claudia. Those seven years trapped inside my own body…they were the worst thing in my entire life. I don't care what they've been through, nobody, and I nobody, on this earth can even begin to comprehend what it was for me in that hell. "God" tore my mind from the inside out. He (yes Claudia, He, not She; yet another of the Order's lies) ate at my soul everyday, transforming my subconscious into a never-ending nightmare. I thought I would never escape that horror; that I would be trapped there with that horrible monster forever. Our "God" is poison, Claudia. It almost destroyed me, and I owe it all to Dahlia. That wretched hag doesn't deserve to be called my mother. She never did.

But God was strong too, and no matter how hard I tried to get revenge on Dahlia and her puppet Kaufmann, that demon held me back. It warped everything around me, switching between the 'real' world and the nightmare that had once been only in my mind. Yet I fought him anyway. I wanted to die, to stop all the pain once and for all, and to stop the pain that I knew would befall on the world if that creature were to be born. Yet I couldn't kill myself. Because despite everything I had been through, all the pain and suffering and loss I'd experienced, a part of me still wanted to have a chance at real life. I wanted to live.

To make a long story short, I later found out that Dahlia had been counting on my awakening. And when Harry and Cheryl came to town, everything went exactly as she'd planned. The Jeep they were traveling in crashed and they were immediately separated. Cheryl was drawn to me and so she started roaming the town alone, eventually falling right into Dahlia's hands. Meanwhile Harry explored the horror I had inadvertently unleashed on the town, plowing through the monsters I had created from my worst fears.

I have to admit that most of those creatures were there on purpose. I knew Dahlia was manipulating him in some way, and as much as it pained me, I had to keep Harry away from me. I couldn't let it reach me and have both of us fall into whatever Dahlia had planned.

In the end, I might as well have sat back and let him. I came within a hair's width of getting killed. Ironically enough, I would surely be dead right now if it weren't for Harry's interference and some, shall we say, unexpected assistance. When Kaufmann…well, how can I say this? At some point, Kaufmann must have realized Dahlia was only stringing him along. Somehow, I don't know where, he obtained a weapon that he planned to use against her. I don't know much about it, except that it was some bizarre potion that was supposed to exorcise demons. And he planned to use it against me, Dahlia's little vessel for her God. I don't know what was in it, but the stuff actually worked all too well.

Never had I felt such excruciating pain as when that demon tore through my back. Not even when I was burning alive in my home. It literally ripped through my insides from within, and I'm sure even Kaufmann was horrified at what the result. I didn't just feel like I was going to die, I knew I was going to die.

I think I lost consciousness right after that, because I have no idea what happened next. All I remember is a voice whispering at the back of my mind, telling me not to be afraid. It wasn't human, but it sure wasn't the God most of the world worships either. I'm pretty sure of that. I think one of the other gods from that place must have interfered for one reason or another. I guess they're not all monsters. Or maybe it was just some unexplainable battle between deities and I was just an afterthought. Whatever the reason, by the time I was aware of what was happening, both Dahlia and Kaufmann were dead, Harry had shot down whatever the hell that thing inside me was, and whatever place we were in was collapsing all around us. Not to mention, somehow I had been completely healed from the monstrous assault on my body.

And once again, it was just Harry and me.

Oh, didn't I tell you? Shortly before all that happened, Dahlia shared with us something even I wasn't fully aware of: "Cheryl" didn't really exist. Not in the sense of being a complete person. She was me. When that fire virtually took my life, my powers didn't form a new person out of nothing. Cheryl was always linked to me, because she was literally an extension of me. Impossible, you say? Were I a normal person, I could agree. But then, I'm hardly a normal person, am I?

It's hard to explain. Even I don't know the full extent of what I did. All I can say is that somehow I managed to literally split myself in half. Cheryl was the part of me that was still an innocent little girl, blithely ignorant of the horror behind her existence. Meanwhile, my 'other self' was left to suffer inside my comatose burnt form, fully aware of the nightmare the demon inside me was making of my mind. Nonetheless, we were still more or less the same person. We were one and the same, she and I – two halves of the same soul.

Harry didn't know that and neither did I. But Dahlia did, and how she figured it out I have no idea. Perhaps it was her "God" that told her. Who knows? In any case, hearing about it was easy. Taking it all in, that's a whole different story. Harry certainly didn't understand it and he instantly tried to deny it.

But I didn't. The proof was in my mind. From the moment "Cheryl" disappeared thanks to Dahlia, I now had all the memories from my time spent as her locked in my brain. I remembered everything that happened while 'she' was with Harry. Most astounding of all, I felt the same deep love for Harry that Cheryl did. Not surprising, I guess, given that I was living vicariously through her.

I can't tell you how happy I was in that moment, after the fight finally cleared. All my life, I wanted someone to love me. It was for that reason I was excited when I sensed Harry coming to Silent Hill. Even though I was unaware of Cheryl's true nature, I did sense that whoever she was with treated her with love and respect. And maybe that got my hopes up a little too soon. I figured if Harry treated Cheryl with such kindness, surely he would show me the same kindness and compassion once he discovered the situation I was in. Of course I didn't count on Dahlia and her God almost ruining that with their manipulations. But no matter. Cheryl had been absorbed back into me forcefully through Dahlia's magic, but I still must have been thinking like her. Because in that moment, all I could think of was that my daddy had come for me. He had saved me, just as I knew he would.

For his part, I'm sure Harry didn't know what to think. He must have been wondering still whether this was some bizarre nightmare. No doubt he was wondering what exactly happened to his little girl.

But you know, I think he took pity on me. Seeing me lying there all bloody and weak. I didn't have the strength to move. And when I called out to him…I called him Daddy. I guess that sparked something inside him. He picked me up from that cold iron floor. He cradled me in his arms and he got me out of that collapsing nightmare.

He took me home.

Home…that's a tricky word, isn't it? Some people think of home as just a house, a place to live at. But a home is so much more. The old saying is true, "home is where the heart is." It didn't take me long to realize I never had a home before. Not in the sense of a real one where you feel secure. My heart was never with Dahlia, because no matter how much I tried to love her, she never loved me in return.

But Cheryl…Cheryl did have a home. Her home was with Harry, the father who loved her more than anything. And I was Cheryl. Which meant that Harry was my home now. I cried when I realized that. After all these years of heartbreak and loneliness, finally I had a home to call my own.

We spent the next few months adjusting to each other. It was hard at first. I didn't feel like talking much. Neither did Harry. We were both struggling to deal with what had happened. In his case, he was also mourning the loss of Cheryl. That I didn't get. I tried to explain to him what happened, that Cheryl was just a part of me and she hadn't really died. She just became one with me again.

He didn't believe me, just as he didn't believe Dahlia. I guess it's not surprising. How unbelievable it must be to have a teenage girl stand before you and tell you that she's the same little girl you were taking care of only a few months ago. But what angered me was his complete refusal to even consider the possibility. So many times when he brought her up, I wanted to shout at him, "Dad, can't you see? I'm right here!"

But I didn't. After all this time, I finally had someone to take care of me, and I didn't want to screw it up. So I kept quiet. I let him go on about Cheryl all he wanted and I never said a word. I figured maybe he just needed time to come to terms with everything that happened. And once he did, he would be ready to love me just like he loved Cheryl. After all, we were the same person, weren't we?

We moved shortly after the incident in Silent Hill. Harry didn't want to stay in the home he shared with Cheryl. Too many memories. Besides, we both thought it might be better to start anew. It would be much harder for anyone from the cult to track us down that way, and it would give us a chance to move on.

It wasn't easy. Harry had to explain Cheryl's disappearance and my reappearance in a way that people would believe, but wouldn't motivate them to dig deeper into the story. To be honest, I still don't know exactly how he pulled it off. All I know is that it worked. We changed our last names and moved to a smaller apartment in Portland.

I didn't go to school. How could I? I hadn't been in school since I was seven. I had a lot to catch up on, and there was no telling what effect dealing with the stress of a normal school would have on me – I wasn't exactly in the best emotional shape. I was angry and depressed at what happened to me, and sometimes I didn't want to go on. I wasn't ready to deal with the outside world yet.

So instead Harry enrolled me in a special program so that I would be home-schooled. It was nice of him to do, but even then, I could tell what he was thinking: that he wouldn't have needed to go through so much effort if it had been Cheryl who was with him.

I think maybe that's when I should have realized that things would never be okay. Harry was all I had and I didn't want to lose him. I wanted so badly for him to like me. So I started doing whatever I could to get his attention. I helped a lot around the house. I tried to give him ideas for his novels. I always helped, or at least tried to, when it came time for us to make dinner; I even made him breakfast a number of times all by myself. I studied as hard as I could with my home school courses. I even started calling him Daddy, just like Cheryl always did.

Nothing worked. I soon became aware that no matter what I did, I would never measure up to Cheryl. Harry didn't want a teenager with a world of emotional issues, he wanted the little girl he was familiar with. Ironic, isn't it? Me being unable to measure up to myself.

Nonetheless, I did what I could to help out. I smiled when he talked to me and I lit up with joy whenever he gave me the rare hug or a kiss. One thing he did do was always tuck me in. I guess it was just a habit left over from Cheryl, but whatever the reason, it was one of the few things that indicated he might actually care about me. Or so I thought.