Is it me, or does Luis Sera from Resident Evil 4 remind me of Walter? It's just...creepy. I know that was random, but nyaaaa.

Silent Hill does not make me rich.

All Henry could do was stand there. Stand there and stare in shock. How the hell was he alive?

"You look surprised, Reciever..." Walter murmured gently. He studied him with his own emerald eyes, taking in the trembling form of his sacrament.

"Y-You...dead...You're supposed to be dead..." Henry whispred, voice shaking.

Walter smikred slightly, tilting his head slightly to the left. "Dead? Silly Reciever...Mother will never let me die. She protects me, just as she protected you." Walter stood up slowly from the bed, letting the shabby doll fall from his hands. "She's such a kind spirit."

Henry hesitated before realizing that Walter was advancing towards him. He forced himself to take a step back from the blonde, backing into the hallway. Walter followed him, nonetheless.

"Stay away..." Henry mumbled pathetically. He knew it was useless to tell him that. If it was that easy, he would have done it a long time ago.

Walter shook his head, continuing towards Henry at a slow pace. "You came back, Reciever. Do you know what kind of significance that holds? ...You don't?"

"Of course not." Henry forced himself to speak, eyeing the murderer with wary eyes.

"I means that you are tied to Mother. That you as a sacrament belong here, within her. And must I say, she is so happy to have you back." Walter's smirk faded into a genuine smile, but it only unnerved Henry further. The brunette's back finally met the wall of the hallway, causing him to turn and eye the wall. His eyes darted back and forth between the dry-rock and Walter, a flurry of thoughts racing through his mind.

"You shouldn't have run away...Henry." The sound of his name coming from the killer made cold shivers run down Henry's spine. He watched as the blonde reached inside his coat and slowly pulled out a scalpel, pointing the tip of it towards the terrified photographer.

"What are you doing...st-...stay away!" Th brunette managed to yell, actually raising his voice with another individual. Walter disregarded Henry's pleas and began closing the very small space between them.

Henry felt the panic completely take over. One second he was backed against the wall, and the next, he had shoved the murder back and darted towards the exit. Henry forced his feet to a skidded stop against the floor, eyeing his door with primal fear.

It was back. Those damned chains...

The door was chained again, blocking Henry's only escape. He knew it was useless, but he nonetheless started tugging at the chains, as if he could rip them straight off the door. The only thing that distracted him were the soft foot-falls coming towards him again. The photographer became motionless, his back turned toward the other man, staring down at the floor.

Walter didn't speak, obviously not phased by Henry's actions. The scalpel was in his hand at his side. Henry could practically feel Walter's eyes staring through him, through his very soul. It was so unnerving, like constantly being monitered by a surveilence camera. The brunette finally convinced himself to turn and meet the blonde. He had his hands balled up in fists, trying desperately not to let Walter see his trembling.

"Why can't you just leave me alone." Henry whispered across the small space. "Why couldn't it have been someone else...why the hell did you chose me?"

Walter's smile faltered and he stared, almost confused, back at Henry. "Do you honestly think that the sacraments were merely randomly selected people?" Henry didn't answer, merely staring back at the killer with an emotionless face. Walter sighed, moving the scalpel in a 'tsk tsk' motion. "Receiver, each sacrament has a special role in this. Each of you represent a part in the ritual. There are four parts to the ritual itself - The Four Signs." Henry lowered his eyes to the floor again, listening to Walter recite what he'd already read once. "The First Sign And God said, At the time of fullness, cleanse the world with my rage. Gather forth the White Oil, the Black Cup and the Blood of the Ten Sinners. Prepare for the Ritual of the Holy Assumption. The Second Sign And God said, Offer the Blood of the Ten Sinners and the White Oil. Be then released from the bonds of the flesh, and gain the Power of Heaven. From the Darkness and Void, bring forth Gloom, and gird thyself with Despair for the Giver of Wisdom."

"That's why you killed yourself..." Henry found himself mumbling. Despite the low volume, Walter heard it nonetheless. He nodded, continueing.

"The Third Sign And God said, Return to the Source through sin's Temptation. Under the Watchful eye of the demon, wander alone in the formless Chaos. Only then will the Four Atonements be in alignment."

Henry clenched his fingers tighter, voice strained. "Cynthia...Andrew and...Richard..."

"The Last Sign and God said, separate from the flesh too, she who is the Mother Reborn and he who is the Receiver of Wisdom. If this be done, by the Mystery of the 21 Sacraments, the Mother shall be reborn and the Nation of Sin shall be redeemed." Walter trailed off with a slight smile on his lips, studying Henry carefully. "Don't you see, Henry? This is what's right. We all need Mother."

"You killed Eileen..." Henry whispered through clenched teeth.

"I merely released her from the bonds of her flesh. I saved her from this cruel world - a world that doesn't deserve someone so kind as her." Walter's spoke considerably quiet now, voice trailing off softly. "Just as I want to save you, Receiver."

Henry heard one slow footstep followed by another. He immediatly snapped his head up. Walter was beginning to advance on him again. The brunette felt the familiar sense of fear wash over him again as he desperately searched for a way out. His eyes darted over to the kitchen drawer. If he could just get his hands on-

"There are no knives." Walter simply spoke, as if reading Henry's mind. "No weapons at all."

The brunnette's heart began to race even faster. He had to try and calculate what Walter was going to do. Perhaps if he could just get a hold of him...No, that was ridiculous. Henry knew he wouldn't be able to physically subdue the man, especially if 6 rounds from a fucking revolver didn't do anything.

He had to be ready to jump, to move out of the way. if he didn't...Henry inwardly cringed at the thought of being sliced up by a scalpel. Would a simple bullet to the head be too demanding of a death?

Of course not. It hadn't been that easy for the others.

It seemed as if Walter was just going to take his sweet time, movements so slow and measured. Henry was completely caught off guard whenever the man quickly lunged at him. The movement was so fast and unexpected. The photgrapher quickly tried to dodge to the side, but still felt a sharp stinging burn course throughout his arm.

He slid across the kicthen floor on his side, holding his arm which just seemed to being gushing blood. It ran down his arm in small streams, wetting the material of his shirt. The scalpel had made its mark, a rather deadly one at that.

The rusty smell and sight of blood made Henry slightly woozy. It was something he'd never gotten used to. It always made him sick.

Henry saw Walter turning towards him, about to lunge once more. He scrambled into the living room, pushing over a stool in an attempt to slow Walter down. The man anticipated it though, and merely stepped over it. Henry scooted quickly towards the coffee table and couch, reaching out for anything his hands could get a hold of. He found his grasp around a small vase, quickly tossing it at Walter. It cracked and shattered upon impact with the man's head, stopping him momentarilly.

He merely brushed off the small shards of glass, ignoring the cuts they caused with a smile. Henry kept pushing himself back as far away as he could. But Walter didn't waste any time and quickly approached him. The blonde took hold of Henry's shirt and jerked him up to his feet. It almost seemed as if he was helping Henry, but that allusion was quickly tossed to the side once he slung the brunette to the other side of the room. Henry crashed into the TV and stand, making the TV fall over and crack. The collision with his head and the hard wood made his vision turn white and fuzzy.

The brunette heard an amused laugh, as if the murderer was actually taking pleasure in doing this. Hell, it wouldn't be heard to believe that. He'd easily killed 20 people, including himself. Walter sauntered over to the stunned photographer, meaning to inflict yet another blow. Henry quickly smashed his foot into Walter's knee-cap, causing the blonde to lose his balance and fall over, head cracking against the table. Given the chance he had, Henry quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to put as much room as he could between Walter and himself. A hand lashed out, grabbing Henry's ankle. He lost his balance once more and collided with the floor.

But the brunette wasn't going to let himself be killed so easily. He struggled, kicking at Walter and freeing his ankle. Having no where else to go, he scrambled into the hallway.

Walter recovered himself quickly, a scowl replacing his usual smile. "You're making this unessessarily hard, Receiver." He quickly caught up to Henry, grabbing the back of the brunette's shirt and slamming him into the wall. The impact brought forth a pained yell from Henry. He reached up to his face, cradling what he thought was now a broken nose. And of course, there was blood. Walter pushed him hard, causing him to go stumbling and collide with the wall at the end of the hallway. He bounced off it like a pebble, crumpling into the floor like a broken doll.

Going by instinct, Henry reached out and tried to get to his feet once more. A boot slamming down on his arm stopped him cold, earning yet another pained shriek from him. He could have sworn he heard a crack. Walter lashed out again, this time kicking Henry in his side and rolling him over so that his back was facing Walter once more. It took his breath away, making the brunette wheeze for air.

More kicks ensued, each targeting a different limb, a different spot. It quickly wore Henry down, making him feel like a pile of trash. His arms felt like rubber hoses, his legs too weak to help him stand. All he could do was sit there and take the beating, praying to god that the man would just hurry up and finish.

One last kick to his ribs. Walter backed off, seemingly satisfied with his work. He was breathing deeply, as if he'd just gotten off a rush. Hell, he probably did. The blonde knelt down beside Henry, placing a hand on his most likey broken arm and turning him over. The sight was pitiful. Eyes closed tightly and lips practically trembling. He looked like a broken piece of equipment, no longer functioning. Walter sighed, almost regretfully. He grabbed the collar of Henry's shirt, ripping the first few buttons of it. The scalpel dug into the photographers skin, making crimson leak and run down his collarbone.

21121 - 21/21

Henry didn't respond to the cutting whatsoever. He was too focused on the other extremities of pain coursing through his body. His fractured, possibly broken ribs made it hard to breathe. The strong ache in his arms made it hard to think. He didn't care anymore. He'd welcome death with open arms if it could take the pain away.

Walter held the scapel in both hands now, staring down at Henry with almost sad, regretful eyes. "Now I free you from the bonds of your flesh. You'll no longer have to suffer...Henry..."

He plunged the scalpel into Henry's chest. Once...twice...three times. Over and over again. The pain was unimaginable, choking the life right out of Henry. His shirt was soaked with blood, a puddle of the crimson liquid pooling in the floor. It was bouncing off in little droplets, hitting the wall, splashing on Walter's face...

The last sight he saw was the blood-covered expression of pure sympathy on Walter's face as the man repeatedly stabbed him over and over again.

Ehehe...I tried to make Henry's death entertaining (in th sense that the readers liked it) This chapter was longer than I intended it to be, but oh well. :D I didn't want to completely rush through it and make things dull. I had to go over several death concepts for Henry and I noticed that no one had done this one yet. DEATH BY SCALPEL, I SAY!

Please review! :D