No romance. Gtfo.
Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill. If I did, various people would be dead.
The first call came five months after my sister died.
"Beth?" came her voice, small and afraid. "Beth, please... I'm so scared. I don't know where I am. I think I'm going to die. You wouldn't let me die, would you, Beth? Please...not your favorite sister. Beth, please, I–" And then the line died, and I collapsed in a chair and tried to rationalize with myself. It could simply not be possible; I had watched my sister die. I had watched the lake swallow her white body whole. I had watched her disappear into a place I dare not follow. I had seen her body as they carried it away. My mother's tears. My father's silence. And my guilt, eating away at my skin.
A few weeks later. Again. "Beth," she sobbed. "Beth, there are things–monsters–I-I-I tried to run but I think they're still coming for me. Oh, God, Beth, I'm going to die here. Why haven't you come? Don't you love me? Please..."
And the last one. This time it was not my sister–instead, it was a man, his voice raspy with misuse and surreal in a way. "Silent Hill," was all he said before hanging up.
Of course I knew of Silent Hill–what person in New Hampshire didn't? I knew it was merely a ghost town, abandoned for years. It was claimed unsanitary and unsafe to live in by officials, and no one dared to question it. I had seen the town once or twice, out with friends, when daring and alcohol pushed rational fear and hesitation away from our minds. And I had seen no ghosts, no figures, and certainly no monsters. All I saw were buildings, buildings, buildings, boarded up and sealed off and dead. The city was dead and silent, a ghost all in itself. Despite nothing physical being there, I still felt watched. Then, I merely assumed it was the alcohol in my system playing tricks on me. I had believed it, until now. Until my dead sister called, begging me to save her.
She was there, I was sure of it. I might be insane, but a situation of this kind needed no sanity. And if anything, I needed closure. Five months later, and I woke up in the morning still expecting to see Cara in her room, reading her books and drawing her pictures. You never expect someone you love to suddenly die and leave you behind, and when they do, it is nearly impossible for you to mentally accept it.
Normally, I would battle with myself, weighing the pros and cons of leaving to go to Silent Hill. But I had no time to consider the missing people, the rumors–the only thing that mattered was that my sister was possibly alive, lost, and she needed me.
I left in the middle of the night. I told no one where I was going, not wanting my parents to try and stop me. My friends would certainly try and talk sense into me, and I didn't want that, because it would work. I needed to leave before my resolve weakened.
I drove in silence–I knew if I turned the radio on it would make the situation seem more real and I would wake up from this thoughtless trance. I didn't need a map; I knew the way well from various trips and signs that I had memorized. The trip there took a few hours but I arrived with no trouble.
Slowly, it became darker and darker until my headlights could only illuminate a few feet in front of me. I slowed the car down to about twenty miles an hour, gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead. I was beginning to get nervous, and the feeling returned of being observed from a distance. Soon, I passed the sign that said Welcome to Silent Hill and I knew now that I could not turn back. I decided to park in the woods, just in case anyone went looking for me.
I got out of the car, securing my backpack and holding onto my flashlight tightly. I walked the road, sticking to the side in case there were any cars, which I had a feeling there wouldn't be any. The further I walked, the more opposing and suppressive the darkness seemed–my breath quickened and I sped up my walking. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't brought any weapons with me–what if someone–something–attempted to do me harm? Immediately I sought to comfort myself, saying that this town had been abandoned for years and that it was impossible for anyone to still be living here.
Still...so far my perception of reality had been smashed by the fact that a person I presumed dead was crying my name.
Soon, the town came into view, exactly as I remembered it–structures crumbling under years of neglect, cars left behind in the streets, and the consistent, suffocating smell of ash and destruction. As expected, it was completely desolate and deserted. Nonetheless, I knew I would have to find a place to seek shelter, because–by a quick glance at my cellphone–it was nearly four in the morning. I was tired. No music in the car had not kept my mind alert. If I was going to search for my sister, I needed to be fully aware and awake.
I didn't have to look for long–I found an old house, the door left open. It looked as if someone had robbed it recently, because furniture was broken and thrown aside as if the person was in a rush. I closed the door behind me, and made sure to secure it with a chair before I went to search for a bedroom, which would hopefully have a clean bed. I searched the rooms on the bottom floor, and found them all to be bathrooms and storage, so I went up the stairs and checked, on impulse, the first door to my left.
When I opened the door, I was greeted with a horrendous sight. There appeared to be a body laid out almost ritually on the bed, head propped up against the back frame and hands resting on the chest. The right leg was missing from the knee down, and blood was still fresh and flowing from the wound. The stomach was ripped open, and the intestines were arranged carefully about the neck and head. The stench of rotting meat and blood hit me instantly, and I supported myself by leaning against the door frame.
When I could not take it anymore, I stumbled out of the room and retched on the floor in the hallway. It took me a few minutes to calm my stomach down before I could look inside again and see exactly what had happened. I held a hand up to my mouth and nose to keep the scent back, and examined the body more closely. The tear on his (it was hard to tell, but by the general shape of the body and face I could tell it was masculine)stomach was ragged, and looked painful–whatever had done this, had done it slowly and perhaps had twisted its weapon around, to further torture the poor man. There was bruising all around the face, particularly around the eyes, suggesting a thorough beating, and both of his arms were broken–I could tell by the bones and odd swelling of the flesh. I didn't have any clue where the rest of his leg could be, and I didn't really want to find out.
Maybe it was the robber? But looking at my feet, I saw a blood trail leading right to the bed. This man was dragged, and possibly arranged. Waiting. For what? For me?
Impossible. No one knew I was coming to Silent Hill except me. And I couldn't exactly tell Cara I was coming to get her, considering that there was no number to call back to.
It was too much, all too much. I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me, as if afraid to disturb the dead man. I was so tired, but I was not too keen on staying in the same house as a man recently murdered. Considering the darkness outside, and the possibility that whoever, or whatever, had killed the man was still waiting somewhere...
Yes, for now, it was best to stay here. Stay here until I formed a plan. After all, I didn't know the layout of the town. I was completely lost. Maybe there was a map somewhere in the house? Though it seemed doubtful to me that a resident would keep a map in their own home, for their own town.
I felt sick again just thinking about the corpse, but I managed to stay calm as I found a clean bedroom with a thankfully gore-free bed. I made sure to secure this door as well before collapsing on the bed and dreaming restlessly.