DISCLAIMER: None of the characters, nor music belongs to me.

Thank you for joining me, in all my failures, for another story. Haha. I'm not very good at keeping up with things, and this idea sort of came to me after playing Silent Hill, and going through some old idea. I won't bother explaining it, but here's a full summery.

Summery: Henry Townshend is a high school student with an over-active imagination. He sees things, but no one believes him. Teenagers are dying in duets, leaving behind the world with only one question: why suicide? Henry knows it's not suicide, he knows it's something else. Something has a hold on Seattle, and he intends to stop it. Stop it before it gets him too.

Feel free to leave comments, or what-not. This is just a little ditty. The chapters may, or may not be long. Most likely not, so expect a lot of chapters with a little bit of now on, all my notes will be at the END of the chapter. Thanks for reading.

xXx

ACT ONE

"For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast.
And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest. "
Lord Byron

Prologue
"I didn't hear you say I'm sorry. The fault must be mine."

Blood drops.

They fall to the floor. I can see each one. Drip. Drip. Drip.

They made a puddle in the tan carpet that was soaking it all up like a dehydrated man in the desert.

A body laying over the bed. Arms spread wide. Hair fanned out like dark wings from her head. Her eyes told me too many truths to be true. Her lips were parted in that surprised O.

Like she'd been caught in a lie.

Over in the corner. Against the wall. He sat there, as if he were in love with the wall. Like an Objectum-Sexual deviant, his lips pressed to the wall. I don't miss the broken tooth, or the way his head has been split down the middle. I don't miss the way his once gray shirt with the words "suck" written in permanent marker on, now stained in dark brown and red.

I don't miss the mirror. I don't want to look it, I know it will only suck me into another fantasy. But the words pressed over the cool surface beckon me, and I start walking over.

I feel the carpet below my bare feet. Rough. Not vacuumed. It tickles my toes. I walk around the red bloom from the bed, to the dresser.

Looking down, I place my hands there, knowing exactly where the girl had put them before. I'd seen her do it so many times before.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder. Like she used to do, before.

I smack my lips with my tongue. Like she used to do.

Lift my eyes.

And see the words, incidere iugulum of virgo of proditus.

I know what the words mean. I've seen them before. A year ago.

It was written in red lipstick. I could lift my hand and run my finger over the words. Smear the letters. Didn't erase the setting. Or the crime.

Just erased the words.

xXx

I ran through the park on my way back. My feet knew the ground, the setting well. The fall of the orange leaves, slowly twisting in the breeze around me, like fallen little flags of defeat.

The air was crisp, and cut my lungs, attacking me from the inside. Like a disease, it burned. But I couldn't stop.

People passed me by. I didn't see their faces.

Soon even the people would disappear into shadowy blurs.

Maybe someday I'd join them. Someday soon.