Written for 31 Days on Livejournal.
Title: Beginnings of Delusion
Day/Theme: August 4 - regret, that other form of hope.
Series: Silent Hill
Characters: James
Pairings: James/Mary
Warnings: Major spoilers for Silent Hill 2
Rating: PG
A/N: Set shortly pre-game.
"I didn't do it."
The curtains of the apartment were drawn tightly, blocking out all but the faintest amount of sunlight. James sat on the bed, an open bottle sloshing by his side. His bowed head shook slowly as he muttered.
"I didn't do it; it wasn't me. She was sick, wasn't she? Sick – dying. No wonder she died. Nobody's fault. Not mine at least. Those doctors, not taking care of Mary; if anything, they're the reason she's dead, not me. Never me."
Without looking up, James took another swig from the bottle. Mary was dead. She was dead. But she couldn't be. Mary was everything; she was the most important person to him. And for him to have –
"No!" His thoughts burst uncontrollably into speech. His hands clenched desperately as the muttering resurged. "Nothing happened. She was angry, and I was angry and then, and then – I left. I left and they told me she was dead. Yes, that's what happened. She died and I miss her. She's been gone so long; I can't help but miss her. What can I do without Mary? I don't –"
James broke off, a deep fog descending on his mind. What he knew was that Mary was dead, but at the same time Mary couldn't be dead. Because that would mean that – no, all that he was regretting was that she was dead. His beloved Mary…
Hours passed, and James didn't move. The light through the curtains changed, and still he was lost in a spiral of thoughts.
At some indefinable hour, a sharp tap echoed through his room, breaking the silence. James jerked his head up, visibly startled. "Someone … someone's at the door?"
James stood with a frown, his now empty bottle lying forgotten. When he opened the door, a small envelope dropped softly at his feet. Confused at the disappearance of whoever had knocked, James picked it up. It wasn't stamped or addressed; the only mark visible was a small word scrawled on the front.
MARY
Could it be…? James opened the envelope before he could finish his thought. A sheet of paper was folded inside, so he pulled it out. For a tiny, terrifying moment, the paper seemed blank. Then, as if his eyes had focused, a whole letter appeared. He stared at the words, a faint spark of regret over some forgotten deed lingering and mixing with longing. Mary was alive. He had to find her.