((Hi there! JeniOctavia here. I needed to put a note on this thing. This story isn't mine, its my friend Joseph's, who's asked me to host this here. Don't ask his reasons, he just wanted me to. In any case, neither of us own any rights what so ever to Silent Hill, but he does write some kick ass fanfiction for it. And he loves reviews! Thanks! JO))
Silent Hill: Affliction.
Prologue:
"Good morning, Mr. Willowes. I see you've made quite a mess today.." Said the tall, mildly muscular figure of Dr. Carnby. The Doctor's narrow features and sunken eyes gave him an almost predatory appearance as he stared at the incoherent man sitting across from the door of the padded room.
Mr. Willowes could have been anywhere between 24 and 40. His hair had started to grey, and his skin seemed creased with ageless wrinkles. He stared at Dr. Carnby with the wide, lifeless eyes of a doll.
The room appeared to have been obliterated. The walls had been torn open, most likely with Willowes bare hands. Blood streaked the walls in many places, and fragments of fingernail could be found here and there.
"Tsk..." clicked Dr. Carnby between his teeth, giving a small smile. An indulgent smile for his prized patient. "I suppose we'll have to move you to another cell, then. Perhaps this time without the padding. Surely you can't tear corrugated steel apart with your bare hands. Try though you might...Oh, Nurse! Bring our Assistant for Mr. Willowes."
Dr. Carnby turned from the dimly-lit cell and exited quickly, his white coat trailing behind. As he disappeared from view, a horrifying figure staggered into view.
Twitching and writhing, a faceless creature stepped through the darkened doorway. It wore the attire of a Nurse, although it's clothes were horribly stained with blood and even more unmentionable substances. It's smooth, crimson-streaked "face" seemed to writhe beneath it's own skin as a mouthless gurgle rose from somewhere within the creature.
Mr. Willowes began to scream as the Nurse-Thing approached, climbing to his feet from his position on the floor and turning away, trying to scrabble up a wall with his blood-caked hands.
The Nurse-Thing's heels clicked sharply on the bared flooring of the room, it's erratic movements resembling a spasmodic tremor as it made it's way toward the screaming man, reaching out with gloved hands.
Behind the Nurse, another figure waited. It's bulk filled the doorway, framed in what little light was available. It's flesh was a sickly white, with muscles and gnarled veins bulging across what was visible. It wore a butcher's smock, or perhaps an apron of some sort, which covered it's torso. It's hands were gloved in elbow-length surgical gloves, each stained as crimson as it's final decoration: A visciously pointed, sloping helmet of pitted, rusted metal with small vent slats in each side.
The Nurse took hold of Mr. Willowes shoulder and yanked him bodily from the wall, throwing him backwards and into the grasp of the Pyramid Helmeted creature. It took hold of him by the throat and turned to face Dr. Carnby.
In the darkened hallway of the decrepit Brookhaven Asylum, Dr. Carnby's smile widened, his unnaturally white teeth gleaming. Perched on his aqualine nose, his glasses gleamed in the opaque white light of a nearby window.
"Come now, Mr. Willowes...As a fellow Psychiatric Professional, you must understand...Our treatment is for your own good. How else are we supposed to cure you of your obvious dementia?" Said Carnby, his grin widening even further, like some hellish serpent, his teeth appearing sharper than ever.
Dr. Myron Willowes, 32, Internationally Famous Psychiatrist and Author of three very succesful books on the subjects of delusional behavior and "Waking Dreams" could do nothing more than scream wordlessly.
After all, this was his third month in the belly of The Beast. His third month in the Brookhaven Asylum. His third month in the nightmarish half-world that is Silent Hill.
"Now," chimed in Carnby, "what say we see about that new room? Perhaps we can even find you...A Roomate..."