Disclaimer: Silent Hill and all related materials are property of Konami.
Wake Up, Bad Dream
By: Nanaki BH
It was only October but it felt like the weather was already turning bad. I woke up that morning with freezing fingers and numb toes. Suddenly, October wanted to be a part of winter. If I could speak to October, and if it would even listen then, I would've told it that it wasn't invited to the winter party. When I got up and looked out the window, though, I was disappointed to see that it had already brought snow. What was I supposed to do? Tell it to take it back to the store? Well… it wasn't invited anyway. Just looking out there into that unnatural white void made me not want to step foot in it.
Winter was always depressing for me. A longer winter was synonymous with a longer depression. I lied back onto the bed instead; my dad's bed. I attempted to spent my mornings after my Silent Hill experience to the fullest usually. Still, there were some times when I would wake up with terribly vivid memories of that vicious nightmare still fresh in my head. I would try my best to ignore them. It would do me no good to dwell on them, I figured.
I was still overwhelmed with grief every time I walked in to see my father's empty bed. It was empty. He was gone. I didn't want to believe it; I had to, but the truth of it hurt me so much. He was more than just my father. He was the only constant person in my life.
With him gone, it was just me and me alone. I had no one. I had nothing. As far as I was concerned, I didn't even have a past. I wished my life could be like a chalkboard where I could just wipe clean all of the ridiculous and horrible things. As much as I wanted to believe my life was mine alone, I still couldn't. It wasn't that simple. My life was more than me. It was my father and Claudia, Vincent and Douglas.
Douglas. Right. He called me the day before. I'm sure he got my phone number somewhere; not from me. And I wasn't the kind to leave my number on a bathroom stall. He called to ask how I was doing. I stayed silent then for a while. He thought I hung up. I don't know. I don't know if you can call what I do "enduring" because I know I can't withstand the pain.
Where are you, dad? Are you bored without me? Do you even care about me now?
It was sad, the diaries he left behind for me to find. When I read them, I could hear his voice. The words would lift from the page and I would no longer see them; I would see his face instead. His eyes were bright and kind in my mind even as he spoke the words he knew to be his last. I knew I'd seen him sad before but none of my real memories of him were sad ones. Even when the words he used were laced with distress, the voice in my mind, the one I heard so often, was still reassuring. There's nothing to fear.
But I would still cry. It didn't make sense, but I would cry and I couldn't control my tears.
That day, as I watched the snow continue to fall, I thought about my dad. He wouldn't have wanted me to be depressed. I had come so far. He may not have survived, but I did. He would have wanted me to live. With a little bit of resolve in me, I got up from his bed. I wanted to find his letters. I crossed the room to the desk where he used to work. I expected to find them on the top of the desk. They weren't there, though, and I was surprised. I panicked instantly, thinking I lost them. I overturned almost everything on the top until I pulled open the drawer.
Inside, not only did I find the letters I'd previously received, I also found an unfamiliar diary. It had a lock on the front but it was open. I took a breath and opened it slowly. I closed me eyes and released my breath. Then I began to read.
"Cheryl, I bet you can't get enough of these. This one is all for you. It was an extra one I had lying around so I decided to entrust it to you. These first few pages are for me, though. I suppose you won't mind. You've probably been "treasure hunting" for them all over the apartment. I left it unlocked to make it easier for you. What's inside of here is important, after all, and I don't want to cause you any unnecessary trouble. Now, don't flip ahead. I know you're dying to hear what's so important but just… hear me out first.
"There are other people like you, Cheryl. There are many other people who had to live their own experience in Silent Hill. You aren't alone; God could never be that cruel. Many of the people living there arrived in Silent Hill by accident or coincidence and never left. At least, that's what I've gathered from reports and accounts from survivors. There's no guarantee that they stayed. It seems that no one's brave enough to go look for these people.
"There was one man, though. James. He was someone I took particular interest in. He also happened to be the only person I met with who was willing to speak openly about what happened and, for the most part, with a level head. He told me that he lost his wife and received a letter from her, dated after her death. It was impossible, he knew. But he had to go to Silent Hill to "meet her". He was driven by something beyond himself, something uncontrollable. When he arrived in Silent Hill it was nothing but barren streets clouded by fog and empty, abandoned buildings.
"He met a girl, similar to how I met you, Cheryl. Her name was Laura. Apparently, she met his wife while she was in the hospital and became her friend. James never knew about their friendship. She ran him around Silent Hill until he finally cornered her to ask her why she knew his wife. She led him to find a videotape… and he finally realized what it was Silent Hill had been trying to tell him.
"James killed his wife. Believe me when I say this, though: He is not a bad man. I have never seen someone with such sorrow and pain in their eyes. He cried when he told me and he made me swear up and down that I wouldn't turn him in. I didn't and you won't either. I would tell you where you can find him to talk to him for yourself, but there's no guarantee that you'll find him anyway. He and Laura move every now and then and by the time you read this, he's probably already moved from three or four different locations. But he's worth talking to. He's a person worth meeting. At least, that's how I feel."
The rest of his writing was messy and quickly scrawled. There was a small, noticeable water stain on the page, too. A tear? Had he been crying when he wrote the rest? I ran my fingers over it gently, wondering to myself what could have possibly been causing him pain.
I continued reading and my breath caught in my throat at the very first sentence.
"He and I began a relationship. When I first met him I only went back once to verify his story but it was that time that he asked me to stay a while. He asked me a lot about myself and, well, you know how I am. I was hesitant to tell him anything; concerned about your safety. I felt really comfortable talking to him and before I knew it, I spilled my whole life story to him. Really, I've never known anybody so much like myself. I had the time to meet his daughter a few days after that when she came home from public school in the evening. She reminded me a lot of you. You'll see what I mean. I hope you find it in you to pay them a visit.
"I guess I shouldn't leave this so open ended. By the time I'm writing this now, I've known him for three months. I'm sorry I haven't told you. If I'm still alive by some chance (and what a chance that would be!) then I'm so sorry for not telling you, honey. He's a wonderful man. I love you. I love him. I'm sure you'll love him, too."
I closed the book, having reached the last word of the last sentence, punctuated by a tear. My own this time. I should have been surprised or at least a little angry. That's the way any normal person would have responded. But I wasn't any of that. I just let the tears roll down my cheeks, elated that my father had found love again in the end.
Author's Notes: Aw. Heather got a little sensitive there at the end. I've been meaning to do a story with more than one chapter again. So, that means there will probably (hopefully) be a second chapter. Well, there should be. Otherwise you'll never know what it would be like for Heather to meet James. Crazy. I hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback's always appreciated!
