Hi all. This is not my first attempt at an SH fic by far, but it is the first one I've actually worked on persistently. Be forewarned that I am probably the world's biggest slacker when it comes to writing, so don't worry if I don't update often. I WILL finish this thing even if it kills me.

Standard disclaimer thing: I do not claim to own Silent Hill, its related characters, subsidiaries, etc. Any characters you do not recognize belong to me. You can sue me if you feel so inclined but it won't get you much, aside from my boot up your ass, that is. :)

Prologue

Silent Hill, 1985

"Darling, I really wish you'd reconsider," Leonard Wolf's wife, Alexia, implored him. "She's just a child."

"Nonsense, the earlier the better," the gruff man replied. "I believe she was given to us for a reason. Surely God has a plan for her too."

Only a portion of this conversation was audible from Rachel's bedroom. She usually paid no mind when her Uncle Leonard and Aunt Alexia talked between themselves. She didn't understand half of it anyway.

"Rachel, time for lunch!" Her aunt's daily convocation never failed to bring the youngster scampering from her room to the open, airy kitchen of the family's spacious old farm house. The energetic 10-year-old with tangled brown hair and bright green eyes washed her hands at the kitchen sink, without having to be reminded for a change, and seated herself at her place at the kitchen table. She did not notice the furtive look passed between her guardians as they sat. She was too busy devouring the lunch her aunt had prepared; peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off, sliced diagonally (just the way she liked it) and chocolate milk. The milk was the first to disappear; usually Aunt Alexia was quick to urge her to finish it all, but she did not do so today, instead busying herself with the crossword puzzle in the newspaper.

"So, I suppose you're looking forward to going back to school in a few more weeks?" Leonard asked as he sipped coffee.

"No." Rachel stated vehemently, shaking her head. "I don't like school. It's boring and dumb."

"Mmm..." Was Leonard's haphazard reply as he perused the editorials, incidentally the only portion of the newspaper not commandeered by his wife. "I felt the same when I was your age. I never learned what I wanted to learn. Not until later on, that is."

"Rachel, you've hardly touched your sandwich. Are you feeling all right?" Alexia did exaggerate a little; only half the sandwich remained, which the girl pushed around her plate like a kitchen sponge. It was only then that Rachel noticed she did feel quite lethargic all of a sudden. It took quite a bit of exertion just to take a bite of her sandwich, and her arms felt as though they were made of rubber. She shrugged it off and continued eating, not wanting to alarm her aunt, but to no avail.

"Rachel, sweetie, you look pale," Alexia said, placing a hand on the girl's now-sweaty forehead. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Rachel nodded her head and thought she heard herself utter a response, but her hearing was suddenly garbled, as if she had water in her ears. A moment later a dull sensation of nausea set in, and just the smell of food made it worse.

"May I be excused please?" she thought she heard herself ask, and did so before receiving a reply. The walk down the long hallway to her room barely registered in her consciousness, but the sudden harsh shock of falling to the hardwood floor certainly did. A cry of agony from her own lips, as well as an oblique statement from her uncle followed her in her descent into unconsciousness:

"Go, my child. Find the Road to Paradise."

Some time later, Rachel awoke to find herself lying on the bathroom floor. Slowly the image of the toilet and the light blue fuzzy bath mat came into focus, and she shook her head as she raised herself up. She did not remember how or even when she ended up in here, eventually coming to the conclusion that she had fallen asleep in the bathroom for some reason. She got to her feet and headed for the door, only to find that it would not open. It was not locked.

"Uncle Leonard, I think the bathroom door's broken," she called.

No reply.

"Uncle Leonard? Aunt Alexia...?" Still no reply. The house was deathly quiet.

"Somebody help..." Rachel started to panic; she had never been fond of enclosed spaces. She shook the doorknob and pounded on the door with both fists, to no avail. Thinking quickly, she turned around and darted to the window, only to find that it too would not open. It appeared to have been nailed to the windowsill from the outside.

"Help me...!" Feeling herself starting to black out, Rachel turned to the sink and ran some cold water to splash on her face. She let the water run for a moment as she studied herself in the mirror, eventually looking down.

"Ah...!" She fell backwards into the wall at the sight of a thick red liquid that could only be blood flowing from the faucet. She closed her eyes and remained leaning against the wall for several moments, until she felt a strange movement against her back. She turned around slowly to find that the wall was crawling with huge insects.

"Get off me!" she screamed, slapping at the bugs as they skittered over her bare arms and legs. Some of them burrowed their way under her skin before she could swat them, and she felt them ravaging her body, feasting on her from the inside out. She stomped the bugs as they began swarming the floor and struggling in the refuse of the rapidly overflowing sink, but more seemed to appear out of nowhere to replace them. Desperate to get away from them, she leaped onto the toilet seat. She would soon discover that she was better off braving the insects.

"Wh...what's that...?" She stared dumbfounded as the toilet bowl she straddled was filled with a reddish-brown bubbling substance, from which a putrid bony hand emerged to latch onto her ankle.

"No! Let go of me! Help!" Rachel struggled against the remarkably strong grip, only to lose her balance and tumble halfway into the bathtub. She kicked and fought with waning strength until the rotting appendage finally surrendered, snapping at the wrist. The hand remained where it was, tightly gripping her ankle until she was certain her blood flow was being cut off. She remained lying in the tub, too weak to do much else. She almost relaxed, lying against the cool porcelain, until she turned her head. The rancid fluid that had filled the toilet was now gurgling its way out of the drain, filling the tub at an alarming rate. Before she could save herself, she was restrained by more ghastly hands that emerged from the fetid pool. She struggled but was promptly overpowered, and her screams stifled as she was submerged in the putrefied sludge. The substance filled her throat and lungs, effectively choking her. The faces of her beloved aunt and uncle were the last images to register in her mind before she was engulfed in blackness.