Chapter 3: Also known as, the chapter of RAAAAAAPPPPPPEEEEE!!!!!!
Oh heavens, look at the time:) Now that we are done with our introduction, on with it….
PS: I promise you, I am not normally this demented. But I have a theory that playing silent hill for too long makes your mind explore weird shit. Please review.
Confession
Her throat was hoarse; panting, she edged away from the door and lost her stomach in a heap in the center of the hall. Wrenching, her body emptied itself in a foaming torrent. Her teeth grinding, she rose slowly, wracked with involuntary spasms. She could still hear the monsters churning outside the door. She turned around, her eyes landing down a long straight corridor bereft of light. An overhead lamp flickered in the distance, casting strange, inconsistent glow to a lobby up ahead. Her heart sank down into her hollowed stomach. She touched the gap on her arm; a long, bloody slit.
Oh god…
She ran her fingers over the opened flesh. Blood poured out with any application of pressure, running along the high ridges of her pulsing veins, from the tender underside of her bicep down to the crook of her elbow. In the darkness, the blood looked black, and smelled of copper. She clasped it, wiping her tears and dregs of vomit off her lips until clean with her other arm. Her eyes shifted from her left, to her right, and above.
The feeling of déjà vu intensified.
Rain stood rooted to the spot, her large eyes peering into the darkness up ahead, trying to discern movement. Although she could see nothing but the flickering light flashing it radiance upon rubble and the silhouettes of furniture, she could hear stirring and other noises surrounding her, but from nowhere identifiable. With her only option to go forward, clutching her wounded arm, she inched ahead on her delicate feet, making as little sound as humanly possible. Shaking badly, she pressed on, moved by sheer will, until the hall ended and opened into a large reception room.
It had been beautiful once. Saying that it had fallen into disrepair was a rather large understatement. The walls were in complete deterioration, whole pieces of stone and rebar in heaps on the once high pile of the rich woolen rugs. Entire pieces of wood were gone, ripped off of the very floor by unseen forces, with black shadows marking their former homes. From where she stood, the corner of the wall was ripped off entirely, marred by peeling wall paper and disturbingly large claw marks. Her eyes flitted to the right; the hall to the east of her was entirely dilapidated. Shifting along the wall, so slowly, she nudged her way to a set of double doors on the left and gently, so quietly, turned the handle.
Absolutely nothing. Jammed shut.
Biting her lip, her mind racing in insane directions, she desperately stared at the deteriorated frame of an antique lift ahead of her. Her skin crawled; this was absolutely a horrid idea. Illuminated by that ghastly flickering light, it horrified her. The glowing light of the operation button stared at her like an eye.
CLANG.
She started. Her head whipped around as she pressed herself deeply into the filthy wall. Where had the sound come from? She strained her ears, eyes peering wildly. She couldn't see anything.
CLANG.
-
Absolutely desperate, she leapt towards the lift. Putting each of her hands around the two sides of the rust covered lattice doors, she smashed the grate closed and punched her finger down over and over onto the only button glowing "4."
Looking back to the lobby, she could see an unearthly deformity sprinting toward her on bladed limbs. She screamed like an animal, flying backwards into the elevator as the creature lunged and landed a sickle ended leg into the wrought iron grate, peeling it open like tin. It was a quadruped of sorts; the headless torso of an emaciated man set atop arms and legs twisted back at the joints, tipped with wicked actuating knives. Pulling its blade back out of the grate, to her terror it opened its legs, almost suggestively, revealing a humanoid head dangling from where its testicles should have been – a monsters face with the fogged over eyes of a dead fish, with a small circular mouth full of razor-like teeth.
The elevator screeched to movement, lifting away from the ground and the creature, which had begun to busy itself with the trickle of blood she left behind. She felt like she was going to have a heart attack, pouring in sweat, hyperventilating; her mind failing her any words for what was happening. She was beyond logic, beyond thought. Her instincts coursed through her two directives; to stop the bleeding and hide.
The doors opened. She scooted out and pressed her back against a wall, her chest heaving with racing breaths. She closed her eyes, trying to control herself, but the sound of female breathing simply did not stop with her own. Shuddering, she listened, turning her ear to the close collection of sounds. She sank down to the floor, hair obscuring her shaking, petrified face as a new piece of hell moved into her field of vision.
As if on broken feet, with the sound of grinding joints and sensual, labored breathing stepped the form of a voluptuous woman from the hall obscured around the corner of her wall, if a woman was what you could call it. In the near complete dark, it was visible purely on the merit of its corpselike paleness. Long shapely legs clamored slowly, ungracefully on filthy white pumps, one foot and then the other, the wasp-waisted torso following at odd, stiff angles. Its soft feminine arms were held stiff at the elbows in strange, mechanical positions, bent at the elbow as if with rigor mortis, with one bloodstained hand grasping a rusted scalpel. What tiny light that existed bounced off of the demon's generous bosom, overflowing openly from the flesh-like rags of what was formerly the costume of a nurse.
Shrinking into the corner like an insect, Rain watched in horror as it approached the small pools of fresh blood she had left behind near the elevator. With the nauseating sounds of popping and grinding, more of them emerged from the darkness, twitching and spasming on uncertain legs, rasping dry breaths, armed with rusted pipes, wrenches, and other horrid things to join their sister. Her hands over her mouth, convulsing in fear, she watched as five of these monstrosities teetered nearer and nearer to her. Shrinking as small as she could, she watched helplessly, praying for a quick death until, as if by random, they all seized and halted, one right after another.
In what can only be called amazement, Rain stared at the collection of disfigured females, frozen in contorted positions like hellish mannequins. Minutes passed, waiting. Too scared to move, she merely pretended as if she were a part of the wall. Her eyes had been slowly adjusting to the darkness, and after a long time, she could discern no eyes on the demons – only a mound of melted flesh stretched over a once human face. And then it hit her.
They can't see me.
In a place such as this, where the rules of logic ceased to apply, she was lost as to what to do next. Cornered entirely, she had no option but to move forward. She tried to stay her breathing, thinking that if she could reduce her breathing, her pulse would steady and quit pumping blood down her arm onto the floor. She knew they could smell her. If she could just sneak past into one of the rooms down the hall, she could quietly lock the door and wait it out until morning, until she could see, if morning came in this backwards place at all.
She rose, determined. Careful movements defined her, and if there was anyone that could do it, it was her. Placing one delicate set of toes ahead of her at a time, she moved slowly, stealthily forward.
Just pretend they're statues.
The tattered dancer's strength was her focus. While her delicate, lean muscles could do barely a feather's damage to an attacker they were exceptionally controlled in their own right. She was aware of every fraction of position in her body, from the crown of her head, to her fingers and knees. The Nurses were grouped in a convoluted gaggle, sensuous limbs entwined. It was like trying to edge through a rose bush. Rain's grey eyes flitted constantly from face to face, checking for any signs of movement. Their cacophony of breathing was steady, uninhibited, and unaware. Like a bat in a cave, the ballerina's concentration allowed her to sense them on sound alone. She edged into them, vying for the control of her own fear. A long time ago, a friend had told her that she moved as though boneless – and that she did, moving inversely to that way of the rigid demons. Her head tipping back, she bent backwards while moving onward with her unnatural grace under the decaying, blade wielding arms such that her crown dipped harrowingly close to the rotting carpet with each succession.
A twitch!
She halted, frozen like them. The Nurse directly before her was beginning to seize, its neck and head flipping out at wrong angles. Rain remained still, staring, unwilling to yield, but the thing would not stop. Suddenly, it stepped sideways, agitating the Nurse to its left, which retaliated with a swipe of her pipe.
Suddenly the gaggle erupted in frenzied movement. The sickening swipe of metal on flesh, inhuman screams piercing the air, they descended upon each other in blind fury. Rain leapt onto the floor to avoid their crazed attacks; the girl lost in a demented forest of twisting, lurching heels and legs. She skittered forward on her belly through their riot, emerging from the group she leapt to her feet and did exactly the wrong thing.
Run.
The heads of five demon Nurses snapped up in sync to the sound of scampering prey, and in a split second they became as if one multi-bodied, slashing entity. The dancer bolted, screaming around the corner, her hair flying, erupting towards the first outline of a door. Locked!
"FUCK! OH GOD!"
The Nurses whirled nearer to her, a flock of rusty blenders. Rain flew further down the hallway and tried the next one – jammed shut! She looked back, they were advancing closer! Suddenly her eyes spotted a sliver of weak light further down the hall, a door was slightly open. On bruised feet she bolted towards it, the Nurses following her footfalls like bloodhounds.
The noise was enough to wake anything up.
From behind her, the sound of something huge collided into her pursuers.
The sound of wet organs spilled onto the floor.
Rain's sheer terror reached a new level as she exploded into the room. From above her came the watery luminescence of the coils of two or three old fashioned incandescent bulbs emanating weakly from an electric candelabra infested with spider's webs. A grand piano was illuminated in the far corner beside a soiled silk chase. Seeing a closet down the nearest wall, she tore past a shredded room divider and flew inside, closing the doors as quietly as she could. She backed up as far as possible, clasping both bloody, sweaty hands around her lips quivering with hyperventilation.
Oh god, oh god-
Not here.
From inside the familiar slits of the double closet doors, she watched in horror as a Nurse entered the room, flying closer, mad with rage – hacking and slashing with a speed unnatural to its form. It approached, filling her entire field of vision, tearing nearer and nearer to the closet.
It stopped, inches away. Through the center of its torso emerged the tip of an enormous, rusted knife which was at least a foot across. Laced with congealed blood, the monstrous clip point of the hellish blade exploded through the doors of the closet, a mere fraction away from her nose, sending splinters flying all over her.
It slowly retracted. As if all other sounds in the world had vanished, her mind was filled to its brink with the magnified squeal of rusted steel slicing through tender flesh.
The Nurse fell onto her knees, dropping its hammer.
From behind her stood the figure of a colossal man. He stepped heavily into the weak light, the incarnation of death itself. Glinting faintly, she could see the massive muscles rippling underneath the filthy, stained flesh of his torso as he moved his muscular arm back; the gargantuan blade scraping its hair raising scream as it slid against the floor. The injured Nurse jerkily turned backwards to face him and in one foul sweep the beast snapped her up by her throat and held her high above him.
Where the creature's head should have been sat an abomination of iron and steel – a vast structure perched upon his shoulders, forged into a complex pyramidal form by wicked hands. Flatter in the back, immensely long and pointed in the front, its sharp blackened tip swept down past his navel, which was framed by a skirt of stapled human leather.
The Pyramid Head tilted its abstracted helm, surveying the wriggling demon. His knife dropped with a massive clang; he reached with his bloodstained hand and grasped powerfully at the fabric around the demon's pelvis. In one motion he ripped the sluttish dress off of her, sending it crashing into the divider. Her little hat fluttered to the ground, the creature desperately convulsed for freedom, but her captor held her with predatory resolve.
Pulling the twitching demi-female close, he pressed his torso against the monster and seemed to draw in her scent. For an unsettling moment, they looked as if two lovers caught in an embrace. He drew a hand over the demon's voluptuous breast, cupping his fingers over it. The Nurse lifted her head, cooing softly. With a sudden deafening growl, the Pyramid clenched his steely fingers over the unyielding flesh of the freezing corpse and tore the skin off of the monster in one fell swoop.
The torn bag of flesh smashed into the wall beside him so hard it cracked. The candelabra was sent swinging, throwing wild shadows over everything. The Great Tormentor tossed the twitching body aside as if it was made of rags. The girl in the closet had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, as the man in the pyramid descended his unearthly gaze onto something irrevocably new.
The Tormentor's fascination with his own power doubled as he looked upon the utterly helpless form of the horrified girl at his feet.
So young…
Her wide eyes glittered with beautiful tears as she knelt at his mercy, her frail arms embracing herself, unable to tear her shuddering gaze away from him. He stared down at her, entranced for a moment by the movement of veins lying just beneath her fragile female skin. With a quick motion he snapped her out of the closet, holding her with one immensely strong arm by her hand-span waist. He fingered the soft white silk of her dress, a fabric so thin it clung to her sweat-lined body like a second skin. This close, it left nothing to his imagination; the hardened tips of her small nipples pierced the chemise, surrounded by the mound of a delicate ever-budding breast.
Fragile…
Drawing her near, he took in her scent deeply. His eel-like tongue emerged, savoring the salt of the bead of sweat on her wrist, mixed with the heavy perfume of fresh blood. She was a garden for his senses; intoxicated, he savored the honey-sweet taste of failure, of misery, the multivariate flavors of self- hatred. He tipped his head back, high on the intricate notes of overlapping sins; her unrequited lust for a married man, the soul-wrenching loneliness of being an orphan, the guilt of witnessing her mother's violent suicide.
He opened her mind like a book, each memory his play thing. He saw the young girl in her pink princess bed, waking from nightmares, screaming for her mother to save her from the monster in the closet. He saw the happiness of her youth torn asunder by her father. Through the filter of her memories he could taste the man's veiled hatred for the girl. He saw the weekend getaways for the family to Silent Hill, to this very hotel, always the mother's idea. A montage of sickening happy memories of child and mother riding the Ferris wheel at the amusement park spattered with the monstrosities of the girl's father.
For years the Pyramid had been aware of her presence in his world. In her dreams she always came back to this room, flitting like a moth to the flame in to the very closet her father used to make her watch him fuck his mistress in. Always evading and never catching, she was finally within his grasp.
The Pyramid probed her thoughts mercilessly, delighting in her ingrained fear of the dark, the child's memories of her father railing his young nurse, throwing hateful glances at the sepulcher containing the child he never wanted. Pyramid head saw a six year old crying in silence, still in her tiny tutu, desperately holding onto the fantasy that one day, she would be a beautiful ballerina, dancing for royalty in a far away place.
His pleasure was overpowering. Each vivid memory was like a stroke along his shaft. He could have came right there, but this was a rare find indeed and he did not plan to waste it. Delving further, he spied her convoluted feelings about the professor she barely knew, saw the man's hands slipping up and down the keys of the piano.
If he had lips, he would have smiled. He knew just best how to break her.
The Tormentor took her with both hands and dragged her across the room. Her struggling was pathetic, her fists beating his chest with barely more than a tickle. She didn't realize it was only exciting him further. He set her upon the top of the piano and in an instant, demonic wires emerged from its depths to restrain her at the limbs and throat. Under the power of their master, this king of obscenity, two more wires snaked out of the recesses of the instrument and wound their way around her tender thighs, pulling them wide open. Sensing his intention, the young woman pleaded desperately with the monster in her miniature voice with no avail.
Pleased with the brutal irony of his handwork, the great predator advanced upon the powerless girl. Her eyes widened in terror as she watched his member emerge from the depths of his clothing on its own accord, bursting between the staples of his skirt. It was frightfully large, with a vicious point at the head that resembled his sinister helmet. She felt the coarseness of his blackened hands grip her around the waist, pulling her close to him, tightening the wires. She could smell him this close, a cocktail of sex, rust, and sulfur.
The Pyramid aligned himself with her, nearly shivering with depraved euphoria. She was so warm. The sadist snaked his member up her soft thigh, edging under her now slatternly shift, penetrating the supple folds of her moist opening. As he probed further, as if his day couldn't possibly get any better, he soon discovered she was still untouched.
This surprised the sadist, with the thoughts she had harbored for the pianist he thought she had already known him, or any man for that matter. The girl cried out in pain – that horrific point. Her tormentor was beyond elated, he had dreamed of the day when he would have the rapture of desecrating something truly pure. So sick of rotten nurses and mannequins was he, putrid holes that felt no pain or pleasure. Only a human could fully appreciate the perverse mastery of his art.
He pushed in, sickeningly slow and deliberate, tearing through the membrane as leisurely as he possibly could. The girl shrieked in agony, tears streaming down her perfect face. He grabbed a handful of her luxuriant black hair and did it again, her cries intensifying. With satisfaction he did it again, and again, savoring the screams which only made him harder. Blood leaked out from their junction. With a dirty finger, he dipped it into the pool of crimson, held it up to her face and plunged it between her pretty lips.
Do it.
Obediently, the female sucked. Her warm slippery tongue tried to evade his skin but of course this was impossible.
Do I remind you of your father?
Coursing with shame, she tightly closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was somewhere else. He grasped her dainty chin and made her look at him. He thrusted again, harder. Her guilt was positively luscious to him; her eyes opened slowly, scintillating silver in the darkness, wreathed in tears. But he was a merciless creature.
You cannot lie to me, child.
She would not comply, he could sense her mind straining, unable to admit the horror of her repressed past. He penetrated remorselessly, slipping it nearly all of the way out and then forcing it back in, setting her broken membrane ablaze with white hot agony. She was so exquisitely beautiful to him in this moment, impaled at the end of him, on the Tormentor she had summoned to punish her own guilt-wracked psyche. Little did she know that it was her own hand that placed the pyramidal crown upon the monster's head, that it was she who had begged him in the dark to feed not off of her flesh, but her human soul.
Say it.
Slipping his hand deeper into her soft black hair he pulled with just shy of the force necessary to rip it from her skull. She let out piercing scream, her voice wrecked and cracking with tears she screamed the words he had placed in her mind.
"Forgive me Father for I have sinned!"
She could hear him laughing in her mind, she wept openly as he took her violently on the piano, unable to hold back any longer. He tore off her slip. Utterly exposed the wires lacerated her body, yet never enough to kill her. The Pyramid violated her pitilessly, slamming her onto him over and over. There was nothing she could do, no protest she could make. He made it last. Laughing quietly to himself, he would come to a stop, look her in the eyes, and start again, with completely sadistic relentlessness. This went on for hours, exhausting her, until in a final act of supreme malevolence he snapped the wires restraining her. He took her drained hands and placed them around his own shoulders, pushed her head beside his helmet and raped her in his arms.
In a moment of pure, ringing, unadulterated ecstasy the Pyramid had his orgasm. Streams of black semen poured out of them onto the floor. Clasping the female close, he steadied himself against the piano. Almost gently, he lifted her chin. Unconscious. Laying her indelicately on the ruined chase, the monster tucked himself away and rested for a moment, reveling in his work.
He let the afterglow wash over him. His hand gathering his great knife, the hellish gears of his mind turning away until the perfect solution revealed itself to him. Gathering her and throwing her over his shoulder with one arm, knife dragging behind him, he left the room where she had lost her innocence twice. He mused for a moment, what a shame it was that she wasn't awake, for he wanted to be painfully cognizant for what he would do to her next.
