My name is Naomi and I abandoned my family.

For what it's worth I tried hard to be a decent mother and a dutiful wife, but the unfathomable stress of battling a dual diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder and postpartum depression was too much for a weak woman like me to handle all at once – at least not in the impossibly small borough of Addlesburg, Pennsylvania where everyone knows your business and every woman over the age of 23 is a barefoot Stepford style stay-at-home mom.

Welcome to the picturesque and practically perfect community of handsome, cat-walk ready, churchgoing young parents. All except for yours truly. As a conventionally unattractive and socially awkward 24-year-old, I wasn't exactly invited to many moms' nights out. Most days I'm fine with solitude, but today the isolation has been particularly miserable.

I leaned my weight forward on the dirty mop to keep myself upright and awake. After 16 continuous hours home alone feeding, burping, clothing, re-clothing, diapering, and wiping up after my infant son Cody I was covered in every human body fluid imaginable.

My husband returned home at half-past 9 pm, stumbling drunk across the threshold, smelling like dollar-store perfume and stale beer – yet again. This time I blacked out after spewing vitriol and spittle at his obnoxiously smug and blotchy alcohol-flushed face.

"Why the fuck did I even marry you, you weak-willed bastard?!"

I handed him my son and ran out the front door.

"Yeah? Well fuck you too, bitch!" He slurred.

When I awoke, I found myself behind the wheel of my red 2013 Toyota Yaris nursing a cheap bottle of bourbon whiskey and driving as far away from that claustrophobic house as a quarter tank of gas would take me – which was roughly 80 miles in the formidable driving conditions up and down steep mountain passes and though Pennsylvania's heavily forested parks.

The winding switchback roads were ominous and dark, even pitch black in some areas on the empty highway. I white knuckled the steering wheel as I tried in vain to wipe away the grime of sweat and tears stinging my eyes and clouding my vision, which was already hampered by the darkness.

The heavy rain and powerful wind gusts battered against the car windows, shaking the doors and rattling me to my very core. The odometer read 95 mph, make that 100 mph.

The radio signal cut in and out and the meteorologist's already muffled voice was mottled beyond recognition. "Ton..t…flood war…expected till…. Ta… shelter…[static]" Click. I twisted the knob and turned it off to concentrate on my personal pain and self-pity.

I had a death wish and smashing headfirst into the fogged-up windshield was a perfectly dramatic way to go for this failed mother of one. I flew past a rickety weathered sign, barely catching what it read. Welcome to Silent Hill.

'That creepy ole town where the mine fires have been burning underground for the past 50 years? Hopefully there are still businesses operating up there. I'm in dire need of gas.'

Right on cue the engine sputtered and the car started to slow down as the rain picked up. It lurched forward one last time and then halted. Officially out of gas.

"No, no, not now for fucks sake!" I beat my fists against the wheel and protested the gods of bad fortune. I had two choices: stay put in the car until morning in hopes that I didn't freeze to death overnight or walk into town and with a bit of luck find a seedy motel that still had a vacancy. I only had a soggy $50 bill to my name so the cheaper the accommodations, the better.

After deciding to leave the car for higher ground and a warm bed, I took stock of my inventory of lifesaving necessities. Cellphone? Forgot it during my epic meltdown. Flashlight? Nope. Food? Not even a cookie crumb left in the baby's car seat. I swallowed a string of curses and opened the front driver's side door. Stepping out into the cold rain felt like falling face first into an icy pool. I closed and locked the door.

The rain drops stabbed my face and soaked my clothes as I hugged my body and began my ascent towards Silent Hill. 'Wait a second," I stopped to look around. 'Where is the town and why can't I see any lights in the distance?' My dark hair clung to my face, obscuring my vision. I peered down the long and empty stretch of road going uphill.

Splash, squelch, squish…

My feet sank deeper into the pudding-like mud with each step forward. After a just a few meters I'd lost my leather flats. I turned around to dig them out when I heard something rustling in the brush.

Twigs snap around me.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Nothing.

I squeezed my mud caked feet back into my shoes and continued to make my way up the curved, gravely roadside…'Something's not right.'

A sharp movement in my periphery caught my attention and I glanced over my left shoulder.

I could barely make it out through the screen of heavy rain and fog, but I could've sworn there was a disgruntled looking woman hunched over kneeling next to my car. She was rocking back and forth cradling what looked to be baby to her bosom. Her brown smock and dress were dirty, dingy and torn.

"Oh my god, she must've gotten lost in the storm."

I turned on my heel and stumbled back towards her. As I approached, the woman's head snapped to the right to face me and she abruptly looked up. That's when I noticed her twisted smile and pale, sickly skin. It looked stretched and decayed. My own eyes met her empty black sockets and even blacker under eye bags.

"Miss? Do you need help?" I approached slowly, sidestepping in case I needed to about-face and run.

She stood up, spasmed and screamed. Loudly.

I grabbed the sides of my head to protect my ears from the debilitating shriek that reverberated off the tree tops and scattered the birds hidden amongst the branches. As soon as the ear-splitting sound ended I took off, tripping over my feet in my haste. The cacophony of flapping wings drowned out the sound of my shoes rapidly hitting the pavement as I ran up the hill in the middle of the road.

Another shriek sounded in the distance behind me, but I dared not look back.

I kept my eyes forward until I could just make out the dark outlines of buildings in the distance. Click, click, click. My heels on the smooth street was the only sound I heard. No sound of rain drops on the trees, or wisps of wind, or car engine sounds…It was eerily quiet.

The rain had been replaced with slow falling snow. It didn't seem to melt as the flakes touched the ground. 'Or is this ash from the coal veins underneath the town? If so the air isn't safe to breathe.' I'd have to find shelter fast to reduce my exposure to carbon monoxide. Best to watch where I step too. The ground above the coal mines is prone to collapse.

My lungs were burning from exertion when I finally reached the shadowy town. I jogged past a dilapidated cemetery that had seen much better days. The headstones were covered in a thicket of weeds and the gate, or what was left of it, was rusted red and twisted as if it had been trampled by a horde of the dead. Adjacent to the cemetery was a great stone staircase leading up to a larger-than-life brownstone church with limestone accents.

'Finally, my luck is improving. There's a light in the steeple.' I climbed through the bent fence and carefully navigated the haphazardly placed headstones, damn near invisible in the cool mist, slowly making my way to the first landing.

Before I could reach the stairs, an air raid siren atop the church wailed. I halted in my tracks and ducked down to take cover in the overgrowth. 'What now? Why would a church need a warning system?'

I peered over the dandelions. A crowd of people dressed in muted gray and blue ash coated garb came from all sides of the clearing to clamor for sanctuary behind the church's large double doors.

As I watched them from my hiding spot, the world around me began to twist, convulse, and turn into a hellish nightmare. The patina from the bronze grave markers below my fingers peeled away and lifted into the air exposing dark oxidized metal beneath.

The greenery that hid me from sight died and decayed. The asphalt on the street decomposed, revealing grimy metal grates and large fans underneath. Scattered screams could be heard from everywhere and nowhere. And throughout these horrifying changes, I was frozen in place.

The crowd filed into the church and the massive doors were closed behind the last stragglers. "Oh god, come back…"

I felt the first tendrils of impending doom creeping up my spine. Somehow, I managed to get to my feet and sprint towards the church gates. I ran fast, too fast to notice the half-buried headstone.

My left foot hit the tip of the stone and I tumbled forward face first onto the grates. I writhed against the ground from the searing pain of rusted metal against my cheek. Through the tears and initial shock, I noticed an incredibly large figure inching its way towards me from the other side of the churchyard.

Once my vision cleared, the being slowly came into focus. It was a tall man, sort of. He was built like the god Adonis himself, with the alabaster skin of a Greek statue. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his muscled chest and tapered waist. As my line of vision traveled up his defined pectoral muscles I gasped in horror. Atop his head was a large serrated metal hexagon with the sharp angles of an executioner's mask.

Despite the apparatus' girth, he moved fluidly, only slowed down by massive knife he dragged behind him; it made an ungodly screech as it scratched against the ground. Wrapped loosely around his hips, showing off his toned "V" shaped abdomen was a long leather hide asymmetrically stitched together to create an apron. I couldn't help but notice the masculine bulge straining against the fabric as he moved closer.

I struggled to stand up, but my legs were unsteady from fear. Now he was so close I could hear his labored breathing from inside the pyramid. One step closer, then another, and another.

At a mere five feet away, he faced me and stilled. Not one muscle twitched. There was an uncomfortable silence, not just between us, but in the air around us. A supernatural stillness that felt overbearing and isolating at the same time.

At last, I gathered the courage to get to my wobbly knees. The executioner closed the distance between us. He towered over me – my god, he must be nearer to 7 feet tall. My face was painfully close to his groin, but his commanding presence rendered me senseless; almost as if I should wait for a direct order to stand before him.

I reached out to touch his leather-clad leg to remind myself that I was not dreaming, having fallen asleep behind the wheel of my car along highway 54 East.

When my fingers made contact with his apron, the visceral feeling of the rough rawhide and his warm thigh beneath the fabric confirmed that all of this is real. The executioner relaxed at my touch and released a guttural moan through the slates of the helmet which gave his voice an unearthly metallic quality.

I took a chance and asked, "W..what do you want with me?"

The executioner responded by dropping his great knife and quickly and unexpectedly grabbing my throat. He lifted my small frame nearly three feet off the ground. His calloused thumb rubbed against my neck as I tried to pry open his vice like grip. I coughed and gasped for air, unable to inhale.

His helmet tilted down, suggesting that he was looking directly at my stomach – which was still slightly rounded after giving birth to Cody just three months prior. The executioner raised his other hand to lift my rain-soaked sweater and touch my abdomen. I bucked against his grasp, certain he intended to remove my intestines.

Slam!

I was wrestled to the ground and he positioned his hard body on top of me, straddling my lower legs and holding my wrists above my head in one of his larger hands. I thrashed against him, keenly aware of our intimate proximity, but the executioner held me still.

As I lay panting and tired from the struggle he resumed his ministrations by gently caressing the skin above my womb. His touch was soothing, and I let my guard down too soon. Within seconds, an excruciating pain coursed through my abdomen and radiated to my lower back. My skin felt like it was on fire.

Tears pricked at my eyes as a silent scream escaped my open mouth. The burning sensation last for little more than a minute.

When he finally removed his hand, I looked down to see a tattoo-like intricate glyph of three small circles encircled by a larger sphere. Blood trickled down my sides from where he etched my skin. The symbol was the last image I saw before losing consciousness and succumbing to the darkness around me.