Cross the Line

Disclaimer: I think it's obviously a good thing, but I don't own silent hill.
(I wonder who does? Satan? I mean come on, It's not exactly a vacation spot now is it?)

A/N: Just for the record, at 3AM, I have a lot of weird ideas for stories.
Insomnia is good for story writing.
Sometimes I have good ideas, and sometimes I have paranoid, strange, or just all around weird ones.
...but then again, for every sweet dream, there's a twisted nightmare.
This is why I'm glad I have a Dream catcher in my room...on with the show.

The sounds of water, dripping from the rusted-out pipes above.

The cold air that cut to the bone.

The smell of blood, lingering from the scars of a long and fear-filled night.

It was a small room with a wooden floor, lit by a naked light-bulb hanging from the ceiling. A girl sat back against a wall, trying to stay awake.

Charlotte was fifteen years old. She had charming red eyes and hair down to her waist colored a light black, almost grey. She had pale skin, probably from the fact that she was a night owl, but sitting here now, she only wished she could see the light of day again.

Every noise around her filled her mind with paranoid fear. She held her arm tight, blood dripping between her fingers. Every breath she took grew strained. Sleep's tempting charm grew more and more appealing to her now-racing heart.

Charlotte hated the sight of blood, but she needed to find a way to stop the bleeding.

But if she made any noise would the things that had made her bleed return?

She was still in this horrible nightmare. Ever since she had heard the strange sound of a siren in the distance, it had been this way. She still heard the screech of metal dragging across the floor in the distance. Charlotte checked her pockets only to find her lighter, why she had this she didn't know. It wasn't even hers, so she stuck it back in her pocket and stood up.

Charlotte needed to find something she could use as a tourniquet. She looked around the room, she checked the cabinets by the door, she pushed everything off the table in the center. All she needed was a ribbon, some lace, a little rope, anything. There wasn't one scrap of cloth to be found.

She noticed a glass sitting in one cabinet.

Charlotte wasted no time; she walked over as quickly as she could and, silently, lifted the glass. She listened carefully, hoping, praying, they wouldn't hear her. She thought for a second, she couldn't risk it. She needed some way to muffle the noise...

All she could think of was her shirt. Charlotte hid in the darkness, she may have been alone, but she was still modest. Even with underclothing, she still didn't feel comfortable. She slipped out of the shirt she was wearing and wrapped the glass in it.

The cold air began to sting her skin as she knelt to the ground. Charlotte listened carefully, for she knew the impact would still make a loud bump. The sounds were distant, now was her chance.

She carefully and swiftly slammed the cloth-wrapped glass against the floor. She felt it separate in her hands and then removed the cloth. The glass had shattered, just as planned. She took the bigger pieces out and laid them on the floor, shaking her shirt clean of the rest.

She picked each piece up and had three altogether. Carefully listening to the noise, which seemed to grow closer now, she slipped back into her shirt and pocketed all but one glass shard. Charlotte cut a strip of cloth from the bottom of her shirt. She was already feeling dizzy from blood loss, but she knew she would make it. She then tied the cloth around her arm tightly, a short distance above her wound. This would at least slow the bleeding while she tried to escape.

The noise had grown distant again, Charlotte used this as her chance. She held the glass shard like a knife and slowly opened the door.

It was dark, but she could see just barely where she needed to go. Charlotte started running. she heard a low growl but didn't slow to examine its origin. Another door ahead was her escape.

She heard loud footsteps following her as she reached for the doorknob. Something grabbed her by the leg and pulled her down. Charlotte quickly turned over on her back to see a strange creature staring her down. It reached out and grabbed her neck and she drove the glass shard deep into its wrist. The monster jerked back in pain as she ripped through its flesh with ease.

She was not about to give up.

Charlotte quickly jumped up and pulled the door open. As she was closing it, the monster reached out again and tried to grab her. She simply slammed the door on its arm. She heard it screech in pain as she ran away.

Something ahead was shining. Her light to escape this hellish, insane nightmare. Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw something moving toward her. But nothing would stop her.

She ran faster.

As the light grew closer and closer she felt sure she had reached salvation. A creature from behind threw a lead pipe towards her and it struck her back bluntly. She fell over, losing her breath, the glass shards she had saved stabbing her in the leg.

The pain made her cringe in agony, but she would not surrender. Charlotte crawled with all of her strength toward the light and as more demonic-looking monsters began to crowd towards her, fear welled up inside her heart. She reached out towards the light as a creature grabbed her leg and dragged her into the darkness. The light began to shine brighter and the monsters cried out in strange unknown tongues.

Charlotte was bleeding horribly. She couldn't stay conscious any longer.

Her vision blurred, her breathing slowed, and the last thing she thought she saw was a hand reaching out to her.

"I'm still here waiting for you..." she thought she heard.

"CHERRY! HEY! CHARLOTTE! WAKE UP!" Cassie all but screamed, snapping her fingers above Charlotte's head. She suddenly jumped up and screamed, hitting her head on the wall behind.

"WHOA! CALM DOWN, CHARLOTTE! YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF! WHAT'S WRONG?" Cassie yelled, helping her.

"I... I had this horrible...nightmare? Where am I?" she said looking around.

"Where-? You're at the same condemned hell-hole you've spent half your life, where else?"

Charlotte thought for a moment, "... Orphan..." The word finally faded into reality.

She had been dreaming, hadn't she?

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