What was this, was he seeing red suddenly? Was that even normal for him to see? What did he know anyways; he couldn't even remember his own name. This, though, did not seem right at all, his eyes having from sticky, ooze stuck to his black lashes as he tried to blink.

With a small shift that seemed to conjure up much effort, he stood himself up on the black asphalt. He moved as though drunk, with sloppy steps and disorientation.

As he regained his composure, the teen wiped his lashes of the annoying liquid so his brown eyes could survey the foggy area clearly. He wiped his hands clean on his blue, denim jeans instead of his shirt, which seemed to be white at one time, was stained from the same color of the mystery goo. His black jacket, however, seemed untouched by this substance. This came as a surprise to the boy since it reached down to his knees.

Then the teen gasped, backing away from the discovery of the red. By his tan converse, also having splotches of red, was a corpse of a woman. She was in some blue uniform, her right leg was clearly torn off and her back showed nice sized wounds that went clear through. The red ooze formed a nice pool around her and where the boy had once laid.

"My god…" the boy muttered, feeling something wet roll down his face. What is this? What is going on!?"

He took a few steps trying to figure this out. What was this water on his face? Tears… yes they had to be from him crying. What was the red? Blood was the only word that came to mind. Then the word death crept in… it made him want to cry but… why?

"Why can't I remember?"

More tears started to flow down his cheeks as his memory began to restore itself. Death was some form of sleep, a sleep no one could awake from. It was sad too; you never got to talk to them again. She just needed more blood though right, cause then she'd be able to live. No, he could only think it was too much to lose to come back.

The boy could not take anymore; he forced himself to look away. What he did not realize was there was an even worse seen to see now. In this road (That's what it was, right?) was pure chaos. There was a blockade formed by an overturned van on its side. It color was mainly white with yellow stripes and a red cross. On the rooftop was a red light that seemed to be slowly fading.

Under the van was a man, in the same uniform as the woman, who was most likely dead also. From around him, blood and guts spewed out like water from a faucet. The teen just staggered toward him, his tear ducks forming more of that bitter water.

Suddenly, the lids closing the mans visions opened and aimed at the boy. He gripped at his ankle, which cause the boy to shriek out in terror and fall toward the ground. The teen began to cry more, fear possessing his mind as he screamed for help, trying to crawl away.

"Will you… shut up kid!" The man blurted out, coughing up bits of blood as his face showed intense pain.

"Who… who are you!?"

"God damn… lost your memory… in the accident huh?" The man chuckled a little, trying to appear friendly now; the pain, however, did not subside from his face.

The boy looked at him with a form of curiosity, yet he was scared out of his mind making his body shake feverishly.

"Alright, gotta make this… quick…" the man coughed up more of the warm blood, groaning in pain. "In the ambulance… your wallets in there… also get the first aid kit… and… the scalpel…"

'First aid kit? Scalpel? Wallet?" The boy looked worried, not knowing what any of those were.

"Once you get into town… trust none of those bastards! Be safe… don't die… don't let us die… in vain…"

The man fell limp, and his grip was released around the boys ankle. He could only scoot away, waiting for the trembling to stop.

Minutes had finally passed when he felt his fears flow away with the time. He assumed the ambulance was the white van, and was glad to see the words printed across the back doors. As the boy opened these doors, medical equipment fell out upon his feet along with a leather pouch.

"Wall…et?" he muttered to himself, staring at it before picking it up.

Open the pouch proved to show some contents he recognized. First he recognized the three dollar bills printed with ones. After that he found a key inside one of the slots meant for cards; a tag was attached with the words "HOME" written on it. Last he found an ID card that had a picture much like himself. He then instantly remembered his name.

"Jason Larson…" he muttered, reading from the card. "Age seventeen. My address is 1044 Koontz Street." He then looked up from the wallet. "That's where home is, isn't it?"

Something popped in his mind, some sort of image. There was a woman and a man standing alone in a dark room. There was some circular window near them also, letting in the only light. They were talking about something. Who were they?

Jason snapped back into reality. "First aid kit, scalpel… can't let the guy down now."

First he found the scalpel, a small blade he remembered from some medical shows he watched on television. Jason then proceeded to slash it around, knowing the man had intentions for him using it as a weapon. The man's words about the people echoed in his head as he practiced.

The next item was found shortly afterward, a white case with the words first aid printed on the top. There, with those words, was the same red cross as the ambulance. Inside he found items he began to recognize from the medical show: Gauze, bandages, ointment. To his surprise he also found a map of a place called Silent Hill.

"I'm going home. Something is waiting for me there."

As everything was found, he went back to the man, looking him over. Jason felt something inside him, words that were taking him over as he felt the need to say something to him.

"Thank you…"