Silent Hill 2 – His Choice
Act I
James Sunderland walked slowly through the automatic doors of the large hospital, the tall white building standing amidst the surrounding area of homes and small businesses. He raised his shoulders as the sudden sensation of the hospital's cool air washed over the skin of his neck and rustled his blond, wavy hair. His dark green faux leather jacket usually kept him warm, but the sudden rush of air always seemed to catch him by surprise considering how warm the outside world is every time he visits. James slowly walked toward the reception desk, placing one hand in his jacket pocket and the other tightening around the stems of a bouquet or dark red roses. He looked at the young nurse at the reception desk, who was busily writing on important looking papers and taking calls. The nurse's hair was tied into a small bun with a pencil holding the strands in place. The bright white nurses cap with its small red cross contrasted the darkness of her soft hair. Her skin was slightly dark, her face small, her cheekbones high. James often thought she had a sort of "baby face," a face that always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. James watch her for a moment as her hands elegantly guided the pen across the paper she had been using. James walked directly in front of the reception desk and made a soft sound in his throat to get the woman's. The nurses lifted her head, looking into James' dark eyes, her own as blue as sapphires. James caught his breath slightly as he stared into her eyes, a few strands of her dark hair falling over her face gracefully. The nurse smiled at him.
"Hello, James," the nurse said, her voice bright and cheery. "How are you today?"
"I'm…well." James continued to stare into her eyes. James could do nothing accept to look at the woman, noting beauty, attractiveness and grace of her face, neck and dark skin. With every visit to the hospital, James always noticed this woman at the reception desk. He wondered if she had been chosen as the permanent receptionist, forced to busy herself with paperwork. Another part of him made the realization that perhaps he had made himself leave when he knew this particular woman would be taking her shift.
"How are you?" James asked.
"Oh, I can't complain," the woman said as she thrust her arms out in front of her curvy figure, stretching. The soft grunt that escaped her lips as she pulled her arms forward made the hairs on the back of James' neck stand on end. James looked up and down the woman's figure, taking in the image of her white nurses uniform fitted her figure almost perfectly. "Things have been so slow today. I guess I should be happy that people aren't breaking their arms or legs." She let out a high, sweet laugh. James smiled at her, watching as the woman began to play with the earring on her right ear.
"I'm here to see Mary," James said, showing the flowers to the nurse. "I brought her some nice flowers today."
The nurse's smiled faded slightly, her eyes showing a hint of sadness. "She could use those today, James. She's…well, you know." She handed James a brown clipboard which held a chart, the spaces filled by different scripts and signatures. James placed the bouquet under his arm as he reached for a pen, signing himself in on the clipboard the nurse offered him.
"Yes, I know…" James' voice trailed off as he signed his name. Mary was growing more emotional these past few weeks, often yelling at the doctors and nurses. "Has anything…happened?"
The nurse took the clipboard from James and clutched it against her chest. James' neck hairs stood once again. "No, James. She just gets upset. She yells and screams at the doctors and nurses. We've been trying to keep female nurses away from her room. She gets the most angry at them."
James sighed, taking the flowers in both hands. "I understand. I hope she hasn't been troubling everyone too much. I hope I could cheer her up a little."
"James?" the woman asked, reaching to place her hand on his. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, thank you." James reluctantly slid his hand away from the woman's soft, warm touch. Standing up straight, he smiled at the woman. "Thanks for the talk. I'm going to see my wife." Turning away from the desk, James walked towards the lobby's elevators, pressing his finger firmly against the "up" button. After a few short moments, James stepped inside the plain elevator, the sounds of subtle muzak filling his ears as the double doors slowly came together. The brief feeling of gravity pushing James's body down told him that the elevator began its ascent.
"Thirty five seconds," James whispered to himself. James had been making so many trips to see Mary that he knew how long it took for the elevator to reach her ward.
Mary Sunderland had contracted a fatal disease. The illness was relatively new to the medical world and therefore could not be properly treated. No one really knew what was happening to her. He could still remember his discussion almost three years ago with Mary's doctor….
"Mary's…going to die?" James was utterly shocked. He stared at the man wearing a large white overcoat sitting in a chair across from him, his arms folded neatly on top of the large wooden desk. The room the two men occupied was a traditional doctor's study, with bookcases lining the walls, several medical and college degrees nailed to the wall behind the doctor's desk. James had been sitting in one of the two cushioned seats positioned on the other side of the desk. Upon hearing the terrible news, James stood up and paced, stopping behind his chair. His hands gripped the backing tightly, his eyes staring at the complex flower patter of the chair. His heart felt as if it were being ripped to shreds. "You…you must be joking."
The doctor rubbed his mouth with his hand, took off his glasses and commenced with his cleaning ritual. Placing the glasses back onto his old face, the man leaned forward, his arms resting over the manila-colored folder which detailed Mary's death sentence. "I'm very sorry. I understand that this must be very hard to accept."
James scoffed. "You're damn right it's hard to accept!" James pushed the chair forward in anger, causing it to slam against the foot of the doctor's desk, knocking over a ceramic cup, spilling pens and pencils all over the desktop. James paced around the room, stopping directly behind the doctor, studying the various degrees from renowned universities and medical schools. He turned to the doctor, getting close to his face. His eyes were bright with frustration and desperation.
James slammed his fist against the wall, causing of the framed degrees to fall from its place on the wall. "But you're a doctor! It's your job to heal people!" His heart raced, tears formed in his eyes. "How can you just let her die!"
"Please, Mr. Sunderland, calm down," the doctor spoke in a calm and quiet voice. He stood up from his desk, and guided James to the other chair. When James was settled, the doctor picked up the chair that James knocked over. Placing it next to him, the doctor sat and rested a hand on James' back.
"As her doctor, Mr. Sunderland, I promise I'll do what I can. But you should know…there's still no effective treatment for her condition."
James buried his face within his hands, feeling his palms dampen as he cried silently. After a minute of complete silence, James rubbed his eyes and looked at Mary's doctor. "How long does she have?"
"I'm afraid I'm not sure. Three years at the most. Perhaps at least six months. It is very hard to say with certainty. We don't know what we are dealing with."
"Three years…six months," James couldn't believe his ears. "This isn't fair. What should I do, doctor?"
"Be with Mary, James. Be with your wife. Love her, that is the best thing she needs right now. She needs you."
James felt his body jump slightly as the elevator came to a halt. With a soft chime, the double doors opened slowly, revealing the white hospital hallway. The area was quiet, a soft thumping breaking the silence as his boots walked over the white linoleum floor. As James made his way down the hall, he could see a figure coming out from Mary's room.
"Ah, James," the man spoke. It was Mary's doctor.
"Hello, doctor, how is she?"
"Lovely day we are having today, aren't we? I opened up the windows in Mary's room so the breeze could come through. I'm sure she will appreciate that."
"Doctor," James took the man's arm, pulling him close. "Doctor, how is Mary?"
The other man sighed. "Not very well. According to my tests, she has just about reached her time. I would expect a few more days for her."
James hung his head in silence, his knees felt weak.
"We are going to let her go home. We don't normally do this, but I don't want her last few precious moments to be one of confinement in a hospital room, with cold machines telling her how much life she has in her. I think she deserves to go home."
"I understand. Thank you, doctor. Can I take her home with me now?"
"We'd like to keep her here one more night just to get things prepared. Sign the paperwork, pack her things, get her ready for movement. You understand, yes?"
"Yes, I do. Thank you."
"Go and see her, James," the doctor spoke as he walked past James, entering the room of another patient down the hall. James sighed softly, slowly turning the door handle and walked into Mary's room.
The hospital room was like those you see in the television shows. It was a large one-person room, with a large hospital bed in the center of the room surrounded by devices to measure the patient's life functions. A soft, pulsing beeping emanated from the machines. James walked over to a chair placed next to Mary's bed. She was sitting up looking out through the window at the far side of the room, her lower half covered by a blue, wool blanket. She was wearing a peach colored pajama top, a color that greatly contrasted with the color of her skin tone. Instead of having a smooth face that carried warmth and life, the disease caused her skin to grow dark and blotchy. Blisters covered the left side of her face, her lips dark and swollen. The space around her eyes was dark red. Mary turned to look at James, fire in her eyes.
"What do you want, James?" Mary asked, her voice razor sharp.
"I, uh…I brought you some flowers." James lifted the bouquet of roses, placing them on Mary's lap.
"Flowers?" Mary sounded incredulous. "I don't want any damn flowers!" She weakly picked up the bouquet and threw them at the direction of the open window, obviously trying to throw the flowers out of the room. She turned her head away from James, who felt hurt at his wife's action.
"Mary, please. The doctor's are going to let you come home tomorrow."
"Just go home, already, James. You don't want me to come home."
"What are you saying, Mary? Of course, I –"
"Look at me!" Mary yelled, leaning her body close to James. "I don't deserve to go home, I don't deserve flowers. Between the disease, drugs, I look like a monster. You wouldn't want a monster around you."
"Mary…" James looked at her, moving to take her hand in his.
"Well, what are you looking at?" She snatched her hand away from James' reach. "Get the hell out of here! Leave me alone already!" Mary broke down into tears, covering her disease-ridden face with her hands. "I'm no use to anyone. I'll be dead soon, anyway. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow…."
"Mary…please…."
"It'd be easier if they'd just kill me, you know?" Mary wiped her eyes, sighing. "But I guess the hospital is making a nice profit off me. They want to keep me alive." The woman let out a scornful laugh and then looked at James. "Are you still here? I told you to go! Are you deaf?! Don't come back!"
Mary turned over to lie on her side, facing her back to James. He could hear the soft whimpering coming from his wife, her body jerking as she cried. James got up from his seat, slowly walking to the door. He was about to leave when he heard his wife's voice through her tears.
"James. Wait. Please don't go. Stay with me. Don't leave me alone."
James rushed to Mary's side, taking her disfigured hands into his own, his eyes meeting hers. "I'm here, Mary."
"I didn't mean what I said," she spoke through her tears. "Please James, tell me I'll be okay. Tell me I'm not going to die. Help me."
James couldn't feel any more heart broken than he did now. He stroked his wife's hair, holding her close. "You'll be okay, Mary. Tomorrow, you'll come home with me. We'll spend the entire day together. Just you and me, like at Lakeside."
"James. I'm sorry."
James cradled his wife in his arms, stroking her hair. "Mary, don't be sorry. Never be sorry."
The couple held each other quietly, James slowly rocking Mary to sleep. When he could hear the slow breathing of her slumber, he placed her gently on the bed and proceeded to leave the room. Standing in the doorway, James took a long look at his dying wife, unable to stand to see her in her present state. He wish there was some way to ease her pain, to bring her peace. James left the hospital room and walked towards the elevator, drowning in his feeling of hopelessness.
"Thirty five seconds," James thought to himself.