A recurring dream had been plaguing Sarah for years, a dream of falling into a big black pit. She'd fallen so far she couldn't see the light anymore. The hole extended infinitely, time was lost as she descended further and further. Never trying to cry out or scream, she just got tangled in the sensation.
Eventually it would be more like sailing down a smooth sheet, slowly easing her out of her dread and hopelessness. The sheets disappeared though, and once again she was dropping into the void.
Her veins filled with icy apprehension as she tried to comprehend why she would have this dream, or what it could mean. She tried and tried but the suggestiveness of the sleeping state prevailed, stopping her from remembering anything about the rest of the nightmare.
Stale air pulled her eyelids open, a more claustrophobic type of darkness now about her. Her small yellow shirt was twisted around her torso, probably from rolling onto her side. She wasn't in bed, that didn't take long to establish, she could feel prickly carpet on the bare section of her back.
She felt around for anything that would pull her into her new reality. Metal scoured her fingertips, some of it in lumps, like she were inside some sort of appliance. The area was wide though, and smelt of rubber. She heard a car door slam off to her right.
Soon after the engine started, the vibrations alerting her, snapping her out of the groggy state. She felt her chest tighten as the car rolled out of a driveway and onto a road. Her breathing came back to her, heavier than ever as she flipped herself onto her stomach and got on her hands and knees. Her skinny arms and legs swayed a little as the feeling of the road transferred into her through the chassis of the car.
She pulled up her right hand and searched the pocket of her denim skirt for her lighter. She couldn't know if her eyes were open or not anymore, the darkness now nested inside her solitary eyeball.
Sarah tried to comprehend what was going to happen to her, who could have shut her in the car and where she was headed. The sound of tires on the road got louder, soaring in volume as the car sped along the highway.
She couldn't be sure how long she'd been in there, or how far along the motorway she was. Everyone hears stories about this sort of thing on the news, but Sarah had never thought it was going to happen to her. News reports about girls being abducted and raped and murdered were all she could think about.
She was sure she could hear sirens beyond the wall of sound, outside of the cage she'd landed herself in. The tires screeched and the vehicle slid sideways, launching her head into the side of the compartment. Her eyes watered, pain shooting up to her brain. She couldn't think straight anymore, she let her arms collapse under her as the car drifted down sloping roads, out to some river or lake where the driver would gut his catch and throw the remains into the water.
Her long hair now covered her face, her back to the floor now. She ran her fingers over the carpet around her as she stared off into the black abyss. Her short nails didn't catch anything; they just ran in circles over the prickly, Velcro-like floor. Her heart reached meltdown speeds, never missing a beat as she kept herself pinned to reality. She stopped stroking the carpet and reached down for her lighter and a cigarette, like a man before a firing squad. She let her thin fingers slip in under the sewn on pocket, pulling out a metal lighter and a thin, white, stick of tobacco.
Her lips were dry and had trouble curling around the butt of the smoke. The lighter was cool against her soft finger tips, her thumb pushing the lid back and then causing the first spark. Her arm struggled to lift the lighter; all of her energy was used up, even quivering a little as she held the smoke between her lips. She summoned her strength and pulled the lighter up her body, flame illuminating the dusty underside of the trunk. She looked closer at strange marks. They looked like someone or something had tried to claw its way out.
She banged her head as the driver sped up again, hitting a bump. She felt inertia pulling her body toward the front, before throwing her backwards again. The car appeared to be rolling down a bank, leaves were brushing the paint job and the sound of the road disappeared.
Sarah had pulled her forearms in front of her face to shield any further blows. Her legs braced her against the lid as the car levelled out, slowing down. Her heart started punching against her ribs, trying to escape the hellish nightmare which they had been stolen away to.
The carpet moved a little, metal objects coming loose and bouncing around the trunk. She once again felt something cold and hard hit her head and send her out of the darkness.
When she awoke the car had stopped. Sweating heavily, her head throbbed in pain. She took a second to wake up properly and rub her sore skull. The sounds of the road and the leaves were gone and she collected her lighter and smoke.
Her pulse ended as a feeling of mortality and vulnerability overcome her, punching her in the stomach. She could feel the cold again, but this was the cold grip of death, soon to be dragging her under. Her dreams came to mind; now she started to wonder if they were some sort of precognition, a warning, an omen.
She felt around trying to find the cold, the material answer to her problem. The tire iron found her palm and she curled her fingers around it, her soft hand conforming to the hard steel.
She thought about what to do next, should she try to escape or wait until her captor attempts to take her away. She'd always liked surprises and dared to go out first.
With new found vigour she searched for the catch to the boot. Soon she found the plastic coating, the rust and the steel, and she gripped the iron tighter. Once she felt like she could break the lock she swung. The noise was dulled by the plastic coating, but so was the blow. She swung again, and then a third time before she was able to push the door open.
Just as Sarah was about to open the rusty hinges, the fear seeped in through the broken steel, the sound of the lock breaking stuck on repeat in her head. Should she wait or not, she didn't know, the pros and cons of both side included death, rape but more importantly escape. She reasoned to get out; sure that staying would result in fatality.
The hinges squealed as she pushed the door up over her head. It was stiff and in need of repair, but she was preoccupied with living a longer life. The car only raised a little as she lifted her weight off it. Her single eye adjusted to the soft light, filtered by the grey air. She guessed the smoke was from the car, but she didn't care much for speculation.
Crouching her bony frame at the end of the dirty, cream colored car, she thought about which side to search first, deciding upon the driver's side. The tire iron at her side, she kept low on her way up the car, passing first the back door and then next to the driver's entry.
Her eyelids closed as she prepared to do what she had to do. She knew that she might have to fight, maybe even kill to ensure her safety. She flickered her eyes open and stood up, the steal cross ready to whack away at the skull of her captor. The front seat was empty, as were all the other seats in the car. Blood was smeared all over the steering wheel and the seat. She thought about the possibility he was waiting for her to do this, waiting in the thick smoke for her to make herself vulnerable, or that he had run off along the road to avoid capture.
None of the wondering stopped the wave of relief. Her fingers let the metal cross drop as she spun around to put her back on the car. She slid down the door until she was sitting on the ground. Her fingers crept into her pocket and she got ready to try another cigarette. She pushed it into her mouth and lit it, feeling more relaxed as she tilted her head back and snapped the lighter shut. She found the time to think about other things, about her career as a model and how she was going to achieve it, the kids picking on her at school because of her glass eye, all those years ago. Her face showed all of her twenty five years and then some, a large scar ran down the left side of her face, almost hidden behind her dark, greasy, shoulder length hair. Another scar just like it but more nasty looking ran down her left arm too, all the way to her wrist.
"Should have worn more appropriate shoes..." she thought aloud, light-heartedly. The words scratched her throat with every syllable, making her cough. Taking long breaths, she smoked the cigarette all the way to the butt before flicking it over her shoulder into the car window.
The strength to get up found her again, grabbing the tire iron as she did. She looked once more in the car window, this time searching for anything which could give her a hint as to what happened. The car was remarkably bare, not even the odd candy wrapper or hair could be found. She was now leaning in the window and searching with both hands. So far she had discovered that the keys were gone, she'd found some maps in the glove box and an empty can of cola in the back seat. She grabbed the maps and got out, sitting back in her spot at the bottom of the driver's side door.
She'd found three maps, one of Brahms, one of Ashfield Heights and the last a map of Silent Hill. The name Silent Hill was familiar, a holiday spot for her as a child. She remembered playing by the lake in amidst white flowers and hoped that she was at the resort town, simply for its close proximity to Brahms. She'd lived in Brahms all her life, so she immediately knew she wasn't there. The odd one out was Ashfield, a town which she'd only heard of on the news. She did know however that the only roads between Brahms and Ashfield went through toll booths and that someone escaping police would have a hard time getting through there. She studied the roads around her hometown, trying to figure out where she could be.
Putting the maps on the driver's seat as she got up, she could now see that she was on a bridge of some kind. It was made of concrete, although it disappeared into the haze. She didn't think the mist around her was smoke from the car anymore, it seemed to extend forever.
Clutching her tire iron, she made her way down the road, feeling that she might survive this yet, and hopeful that people would be looking for her. The fog made it hard to see much, but she just headed in the opposite direction she came in. Eventually, she reasoned with herself, she would see a road sign that could tell her where she was. She had no way of telling what time of day it was, she couldn't even see the glow of where the sun would be. The trees on either side of the road were thick, but eventually a fence appeared in front of them, raising her spirits higher at the thought of rescue. A property, a service station, an emergency phone, something, anything that could be of use was her goal. She crossed another bridge; this was one of those fancy ones that open to let boats underneath. It was deadly quiet, she could barely even hear the crunch of loose bitumen under her feet, the thick air felt as if someone was holding pillows over her ears. Eventually she found some arrows on the road. Her spirits lifted and she began marching down the road, even opting to walk on the footpath for safety. It must have been a few miles she walked, but eventually she found a sign. "Brahms 37, Silent Hill 2".
"Well, I guess I'm at Silent Hill then..." she breathed, dehydrated, yet satisfied that she would be able to get help. Her mind wandered, again to her topic most thought, her career. Ever since she was a kid, she knew she wanted to be a model. She would have done anything to become a model, but sadly her scars had kept her from her dream. But she hadn't given up yet, she knew that once she got back home it would only be a matter of time before they couldn't ignore her anymore. Maybe this little inconvenience could get her on TV or get her some sympathy modelling shoots. She was sick of her job, working as data entry at some office building. She couldn't even remember what the company was, nothing she did there meant anything to her and soon the strings and numbers she put in were meaningless.
The fog never thinned, maybe even getting a little thicker, probably the result of living next to the beautiful Toluca Lake. She saw a small light hovering off to her left, just in her field of vision. Heading toward it like a moth, she let herself think of rescue and getting home.
A sign stood in front of the small green building, remarkably similar to a house. It said "Silent Hill Historical Society", possibly the most boring place she could ever hope to be rescued.