This is my first Silent Hill fanfiction and I wanted to write something based on the character Laura without writing as her. I have another idea for a fic but it's in prototype, I don't know whether to finish it as a side of this just yet.

This story is told through the eyes of an OC, with the idea that she has nothing to do with Laura or any other canon character she may encounter, in a sense she will be your eyes and ears however this chapter focuses on her simply as an explanation to her arrival in Silent Hill so please bare with me this is still essentially a Laura fanfiction.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have fun planning and writing it.

Critique would be much appreciated as well as any other thoughts you have to give. :)

I

I had not been in America long and though I had not expected myself to get along as easily as I had done back at my school in England nothing had prepared me for the potential manslaughter I got at this place.

No, it had not been nice back home either. I went to an all-girls state school and anyone who's been to those types of places in that part of the country will know what I mean. However I'm not into those 'nice' school either, yeah they're accepting and all but if you don't make a name of yourself fast you're ignored for the rest of the year and someone like me is expected to cause chaos. I don't blame them to be honest, I can't remember what my natural hair colour is any more, right now it's somewhere between red and brown, it's like straw at the ends too. My clothes aren't that nice really, and I never go anywhere without my gold jewellery even if I don't like it much either. It's a comfort thing. It's the survival uniform I adopted back then so I was not eaten alive by the hyenas in miniskirts and combats back home, once I'd suited it alright I was accepted, or rather, that me was accepted and I got by. Had to break a few hearts, smash a few teeth, you get it, at least I could say I was the one dealing the blows.

I'm not entirely sure why I had to leave, I don't think I really had to now I think about it but back then it seemed like the only option. One of those choices you make when you're –how do they say it – stuck between a rock and something. I was a lonely kid. I had people to lark around and go shopping with but I didn't really care for any of them, those nasty people. Nasty place. Nasty memories.

Whatever, I had known from the beginning that it would be too good to be true, to leave it all behind for the New World and not have to look back at it again unless the situation got dire which unfortunately would be sooner than expected.

I arrived at the apartment complex in West Virginia a little later than planned but there was no dramatic time difference, so why they could not tell me about it's closing was beyond me. It was not even my fault I was late, I was hassled on the way here by some loud-mouthed kids, about my age give or take a year, they did not like the way I looked and if I'm honest neither did I, I hadn't time to put on make-up and tracksuit bottoms are not exactly Gucci. Nonetheless they had probably guessed I was new there and used my appearance as an excuse, nothing new to any sort of harassment come to think about it. They hounded me until I forgot where exactly I was going and eventually I ended up risking it by asking them where the apartments were, they just laughed.

"The Heights?" they scoffed, "You gotta be kidding! Is she kidding?"

Helpful. I lost them in their fits of laughter and later thanks to the street signs and more helpful residents I found the place however my home in South Ashfield Heights was not waiting for me as I had hoped. I could have assaulted the superintendent, heck I nearly did but I left before he could call security, but who can blame me for yelling my heart out though? I was stupid, I should have had a back-up plan, asked for advice or something. It's not like I told anyone how I was arranging it, far too fishy. I hadn't spoken to anyone else nor did my plastered glare allow for anyone to but I was still paranoid, thought I heard passers-by following me and laughing and if I was honest myself I might have joined the invisible chorus. They weren't waiting for me and I shouldn't have told myself they would be.

My rucksack and I were grateful that they still had corner shops here if I needed a smoke any one time of my life it would have been then. Having bought a pack on my miserable excuse for get-by money I slumped against the graffiti brick work and inhaled through the cigarette deeply with closed unconcentrated eyes, tilting my head back I exhaled with the thought on what my next step would be. I couldn't go home and I couldn't go to the Heights, I couldn't even go to my friends' home, the reason I was there and my reason for making it so far into this joke. The latter I only had myself to blame for, at the time I had not figured so much though, I boiled over with hatred for the only I thought responsible and betrayed my woman exterior to punch the coloured wall grazing my knuckles and causing me to curse aloud. I wanted to cry long and hard but fear of those around seeing stopped me enough, I was not out of control and I was certainly not alone it was a central street after all. I don't know why I bothered I was already a laughable sight with a hooded head teetering on the fist that slid up the wall, back turned to anyone who looked. Hell, I probably looked like I was crying as it was and that's probably what drew the attention of a rowdy trio of what could only be described as shady goons.

It could not have been more comical seeing them stood either-side of the better-looking one grinning like hyenas giving me the once-over almost cheered me up and I was instantly smiling. The best one leaned forward to check my expression having been covered by my hair and hood despite us being the same height more or less.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking is bad for you and people around you?" he straightened and produced one from his pocket and set it between his lips, only taking eyes off me to light it. I rolled my eyes, I was never this easy to talk to I understood and I was told enough times but when you're so fed up you feel like a separate entity to your body you don't care what happens to the autopilot. I was getting attention, it was neither good nor bad from what I could tell so far but I was being talked to in some form, this was enough for me to become easy.

"It rings a bell."

"I just figured since you looked so pissed you might want to take care." The man puffed out smoke through rather yellowish looking teeth not unlike my own, unlike the rest of me this guy looked a few years my senior but it was clear he certainly didn't act it. He wore layered shirts, torn jeans and a sports hoody well with a boyish charm easily mistaken for youth he had already done with. Blond, matted hair contrasting with the longer styles of his friends who had either dyed neon flashes into it or dyed their hair completely red.

"Aren't you nice?" with a stern tone I glanced away, mainly to check if there was anyone else, everyone was walking elsewhere though.

"It's the kinda guy I am, you can't deny a nice guy a drink with you either, you look like you need it."

As naïve as it sounds I thought for some time that he really was doing it out of some misplaced sense of pity for me, I certainly was not particularly pretty especially compared to the pampered girls I kept seeing around this area so I had removed the idea he guessed me an easy lay until I noticed him walk that little too close to me whilst his friends picked up pace. I didn't know where we were going, only that it was a bar of some sort, the landlord whom they were familiar with. That would have been my cue to turn back and start off to the train station and onto the next train to Brahms.

It was not inviting but it was on par with the majority of bars back in England I'd say. Stuffy from smoke, though to critique this is probably hypocritical, cushy-looking seating which when experienced will actually give you backache as proved by the shifting punters, wooden bar with equally uncomfortable stools and a large man serving drinks along with a tubby but busty barmaid who has a fondness for dealing out pet names to anyone who makes eye-contact. This was probably the only time I felt somewhat nostalgic to.

"Hey there, Dan, what's up?"

"Hello darling, the usual?"

Oh it was too perfect, they seemed to be addressing the boy with the red hair pulled into a ponytail, out of the three I had found him to be the second chattiest and yet the loudest. Judging by the way he talked away to both the barmaid and barman, to which other clients at the bar began to slink back to tables, public houses were pretty much the same in the western world, this was only a assumption though.

"Who's the lady, pudding?" the barmaid asked the guy who had escorted me there with a coy smile. There was an awkward pause to which we shared looks that screamed 'As if we haven't asked names yet'. We gave nervous chuckles and I turned to the woman with a sort-of smile, "I'm Chelsea."

This minimal introductions made the woman's eyes widen with delight and some form of mock-awe, "Ooh, a Brit, get you, Tom!" She was already pouring us lager despite neither of us ordering and I immediately disliked her overenthusiasm.

"She ain't that posh." He laughed, I smiled politely not taking my eyes off the barmaid who took the drinks out of sight after an indescribable look exchanged by both her and this supposed Tom. It sent shivers up my spine, what had they both understood?

I feel so foolish saying it now though, it was too obvious even for me and I hadn't said anything. After a blurred night with images I can only pick up as laughter, drink and night time as well as the smell of smoke, sex and alcohol it was all too clear despite the sick and dizziness I had even before everything became too watery to follow. The last I remember completely without the kick of alcohol and drugs was sitting there in that pub wearing a half-aware smile with Tom's arm around me, lips locked on my neck and half-empty drink in hand.

Well there's the leadup! Don't be scared to fire away your thoughts. I don't bite. Much. If I do bite you it's a sign of lurve.