A light poured forth from behind a cracked door, rapidly flooding the room as the door swung open.

William's eyes reacted to the light before he did; they involuntarily sprung open as his bed was bathed in the intrusive brightness.
His eyelids felt like they weighed a couple tons.

After a brief struggle with his facial muscles, he pushed his eyes back shut, emitted a groan, and turned onto his side.
It was then that he noticed the covers had somehow escaped from him during the night.

He opened his eyes again, only slightly, to attempt to locate the missing covers, and instantaneously he became aware of the door being open.
It was strange, he thought, because he always shut the door completely before going to bed.

Staring at the white light beyond the threshold of his room, William's mind momentarily ceased to function, as it often did in the mornings, before coming to the realisation that some outside force must have opened his door.

An expression of vexation befell his face as he sat up, legs over the side of his bed, and leaned toward his dresser to retrieve an undershirt. He found a grey one and quickly pulled it over his head.

Upon turning back in the door's direction, he saw something that nearly caused his heart to stop.

A figure, silhouetted in the light, stood in his doorway. From the outline, it appeared to be a young girl, standing about one meter tall and wearing a mid-length dress which ended in lacy trim.

Several thoughts spilled into his mind, the most logical being that this was his younger sister, and his family had decided to surprise him by stopping by.

I should have never given Mom a key, he thought. What is it, seven in the morning? On a Saturday?

"Sylvie?" He asked of the figure.
No response came.
"Sylvie, what are you doing in my apartment?"

The figure began to lift its left arm, hesitated, then continued. It, orshe, held a hand up as if to say "stop."

William rubbed his eyes and sighed impatiently.
"Are you here with Mom?" He questioned.

"Silent Hill." The figure spoke. Or at least, a voice spoke from the figure's direction. It was deep, raspy… not the voice of a young girl, and certainly not the voice of his sister.

"The hell…" William muttered. He wasn't quite ready for his brain to start acting up.
He turned his head to the left, stared out the window for a second at how it was still dark outside, and rapidly returned his gaze to the door.

The figure was still there, only now it was sitting down, as if waiting for him to do something specific.
"Silent Hill." It hissed.

William squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
"You're going to be gone when I open my eyes," he said in a low voice.
Much to his surprise, it worked; when his eyes opened, they were greeted by the sight of an empty doorway.

The image remained, however… though it didn't ring as sharply in his mind as the words.

"…Silent…Hill?"

Annie grimaced at the deep red fluid spreading across the floor tiles. With shaking hands, she reached for the handheld radio affixed to her waist.
She grasped it tightly as she brought it up to her mouth. Before speaking, she drew a deep breath, paused, and then began.

"William," she muttered into the radio.

"Yeah?" William's voice answered.

"Somebody stepped on a tube of paint in aisle twelve."

An exasperated sigh came from William's end of the channel. "What kind of paint?"

"Hold on," Annie said. She knelt down and, with visible disgust, used one finger to flip the tube over.
"Oil." She informed William.

"Dammit."

There was a slapping sound somewhere on the opposite end of the store. It began to get louder, and Annie recognised it as the sound of William's shoes hitting the tiles.
He always rushed to such "emergencies."
Within seconds, William flew into view, clutching a rag, a metal scraper, and some sort of petroleum-based cleaning substance known solely as "Lift Up."

She studied him carefully as he stood there, waiting to be directed toward the spill.
He looked unwell.

Dark circles decorated the underside of his eyes, and his hair was pushed away from his face in a manner that rendered it almost upright. It was apparent that he'd forgotten to shave the past few days.
Annie gave him a "what are you waiting for" look and he disappeared into aisle twelve.
She resolved to ask him what was up once he finished.

Minutes later, he emerged, victorious. He prepared to go off to his next task, but Annie blocked his path with her arm.
"You look like you haven't slept in a while, man," she started, sounding genuinely concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

In a low, conspiratorial tone, William whispered "Do you know anything about Silent Hill?"