...Fail chapter is FAIL! I guess...I hope this all comes out nicely. I wrote this while listening to Fiction by Avenged Sevenfold (a very SAD and beautiful song).

PS: Silent Hill = Konami (not me)

Dim light. Fuzzy figures...

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times, trying to adjust in the change of light. His head hurt...hell, everything hurt. Every inch of his body felt sore, as if he'd just got done running a marathon, lifting weights, fighting a boxing champion. Most of the pain seemed to radiate from his chest though. He felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and wacked him with it a few times.

The worn brunette let out a half-hearted groan, mostly from pain. He turned his head a little to the right - which hurt more then it should have - and stared at the empty closet. He turned to his left and was met with blackened and covered windows. On the dresser at the end of the bed was the doll.

It was his room.

Henry planted his hands against the bed and slowly tried to raise himself up, which he found was immensly painful. The photographer finally got himself into a sitting position, laying his head in his hands.

"What the...hell..." he mumbled low to himself. He slowly raised his head, taking in the various bandages on his body. Some of them were slightly bloody, others fresh. Henry tugged on one of the bandages, unwrapping the white gauze. On the upper part of his arm was what looked like the healing remains of a gash. A deep one at that.

His head began to pound as previous memories flooded his mind. The most vivid being Walter stabbing him repeatedly with a scalpel. Henry stared emotionless down at the bed sheets, his mind going a complete blank. Had all that really happened? Or was it just a dream...

It couldn't have been a dream. Henry told himself.. Dream don't leave you almost dead and black and blue.

If it wasn't a dream...then that meant that Walter was still around somewhere. Henry shivered involuntarily at the thought of his attacker nearby. What if he's in the other room... The brunette shook his head furiously, trying to dispell of the thought. Instead of dwelling on it further, he eased himslf from his bed as carefully as he could.

The room was just as it was before, comfortably lighted and welcoming. To Henry, it was sort of a space for sanctuary, for safety. But now he wasn't so sure it could protect him from what was waiting outside. Well, if I just keep sitting here, it isn't going to help anything... Henry reminded himself. The brunette turned towards the door, hesitantly taking hold of the knob. After a few moments of hesitation, he turned it, and stepped outside.

The soft swish of the fan running automatically caught his attention. Well, at least its working again. Henry vaguely remembered how stuffy the room became after the fan had fallen and broken. It had become unbearably hot, and it hadn't helped that the windows had been sealed shut.

The photographer slowly limped his way to the end of the hallway, forcing himself to peer around the corner. He let out a sigh of relief whenever he didn't see anyone. He's not here...

The brunette turned in the opposite direction, relief disappearing as the fear of seeing those damned chains entered his mind. He took in the fairly plain sight of the door, glad to see that the chains were, in fact, not there. Henry let out the breath he'd been holding and quickly stumbled over to the door. He reached out for the knob and placed his hand on it.

"Receiver." He heard the chilling baritone voice and froze. "What are you doing?"

Henry stood motionless, frozen in place. He's not here...he's not here...it's impossible. I just checked the apartment... Regardless of his stubborn thoughts, Henry forced himself to turn around slowly. Going against all logic, he was there. Dark blonde hair and piercing green eyes.

Henry stared in disbelief, shaking his head once in denial then again in disbelief. The shock quickly wore off though, and the same primal fear entered his veins. He turned away quickly, reaching out for the doorknob again. But he retracted his hand as soon as he reached out, taking a step back in renewed shock.

The once plain door he'd just set sights on a minute ago was once again chained from roof to floor. Henry continued taking slow steps backward until he collided with Walter. The brunette quickly turned and bounced back, his injured leg causing him to stumble and fall against the counter. He clenched his teeth, letting out several hisses of pain.

"Don't move." Walter warned him, taking a deliberate step forward.

"Get the hell away from me." Henry spat, ignoring the warning. He pulled himself back up against the counter, backing away again. "What are you doing here...what did you do!"

"You're hurt." Walter simply retorted. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Of course I'm hurt!" Henry yelled back at him. "In case you forgot, you did this to me!"

"Receiver-"

"Shut up!" The resistant brunette barked back.

"Let me ta-"

"You almost killed me!" Henry continued in his fit of rage.

"You don't under-"

"Just be quiet! You have no place to talk! You...you killed people! You killed Cynthia...and Andrew...Richard...and you killed Eileen, goddamnit! I don' want to hear your fucking mouth! Can't you just leave me-"

"Henry!" Walter finally raised his voice, cutting off the brunette who was beginning to enter a state of despondancy. Henry stared back at the taller man, eyes narrowed and hands balled up in trembling fists. "You don't understand. Just listen."

"Listen to what...?" Henry forced himself to speak through clenched teeth.

"You are...not..." The blonde struggled for the right words, trying to think of a delicate way to speak. "You are...no longer bound to the bonds of your flesh."

The expression of frustration and anger melted away on Henry's face as realization swept over him. "You mean...I'm not..." Henry trailed off, not wanting to speak the last word. It seemed like if he did, it would make it official. The brunette quickly tore off the medical tape and gaze on his neck and traced the cuts with his fingers. They read: 21121. He traced the patterns over and over again, as if making sure it was really what he thought it was. The photographer let his hand fall back to his side, eyes lowering as if in defeat. "You killed me." He spoke in a detached voice.

"Freed you from that cruel world." Walter corrected.

"I'm in the Otherworld." Henry infered, voice still emotionally flat.

Walter merely nodded, stepping closer to the brunette. "The 21 Sacraments are complete. But..."

This seemed to interest Henry, as he quickly urged him on. "But what?"

At this, the blonde's voice seemed genuinely sad. "I can't hear Mother anymore. I can't hear her sweet voice, Henry."

Henry felt a cruel smile cross his lips as he spoke mockingly. "Oh, so your little plan backfired, hm?" The brunette laughed - very uncharacteristically of him. "Maybe that's just God's way of saying that you were wrong all along."

"I did as The Holy Mother wanted." Walter interjectd, sadly. "I don't see why."

"I was talking about God, not that 'Holy Mother' bullshit those psycho cultists taught you. The real God."

This seemed to throw Walter slighty off. "The Holy Mother is the real God."

"A real God wouldn't want some psychopathic murderer running around killing people." Henry muttered darkly.

Walter disregarded the cruel comment, continuing. "What God do you worhsip, Henry?"

The brunette was openly thrown for a loop by the question. He seemed to deliberate for a few moments, chewing on his lip. Finally, he answered. "I don't worship any God."

"You're a nonbeliever?" Walter asked, completely taken back. "You don't believe in Paradise?"

"Paradise? Just what the hell is that?" The brunette asked rather vehemently.

"It's a place of no suffering." Walter spoke gently. "A place of no pain and no conflict."

"And it can only be brought upon by the Descent of The Holy Mother."

Henry turned towards the chained door, immensly startled by the new voice. Walter turned too, not quite as shocked as Henry, but rather offended that someone else had barged into his territory. "Who are you?" The blonde asked, voice chilling.

The woman opened the door, the chains sinking right through it as if they didn't affect her. She stepped inside the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Henry automatically noticed the strange apparel she donned. She wore a long black dress that hugged her midsection, then flowed out elegantly, hiding every inch of her legs. Her hair was copper black, long and straight, and flowing down her back. Her icy blue eyes were focused on both him and Walter, causing a pit of unease to form in Henry's stomach. Another cultists freakshow. The brunette thought in disdain.

"Walter Sullivan." The woman spoke plainly to the blonde. "I see The Ritual of the Holy Assumption was a success. The Wish House done a very well job raising you."

"You didn't answer me." Walter continued in his baritone voice.

"Ah...you're right. My name is Elizabeth Enseth. I was a part of The Sect of The Holy Mother. A contributor to the Wish House." The woman glanced at Henry, sending him a cold steely smile that sent shivers up the brunette's spine. "As it appears, you've completed The 21 Sacraments ritual."

"Skip the talking. What are you here for?" Walter asked again, voice matching the coldness of Elizabeth's smile.

"I assume you've had...'trouble'...with your Mother." Elizabeth walked further into the room, coming within close proximity of Henry. The photographer instantly took a retreating step back. "And I assume you are The Final Sign. The Reciever of Wisdom."

"Henry Townshend." Henry fiercly corrected her. He truely was getting tired of being refered to as title rather then name.

"Henry." Elizabeth spoke his name with such a slyness, it unnerved him. "So, Walter..." She continued nonchalantly. "Am I right about your problem?"

Walter sighed, almost as if giving in. "Yes...you're right. Mother...she doesn't speak to me anymore. I don't know what I've done wrong."

Elizabeth approached the blonde, casually placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. It grated on Walter's nerves slightly, but he didn't say anything. "Walter, you haven't done anything wrong, dear. It's just that your...'Mother'...hasn't been reborn yet."

"What do you mean?" Walter asked quickly, turning to Elizabeth.

"The ritual isn't complete, Walter. The Descent of The Holy Mother must take place first for you to be reunited with her."

The blonde eyed Elizabeth with softened emerald eyes. "What...are you saying Elizabeth?"

"You are Her son." The copper haired woman stated proudly. "The Holy Mother's Son. A conjurer sent to do her work. And he," Elizabeth continued, turning towards Henry. "He is Her messenger. It is through him that you'll be able to hear The Holy Mother's voice."

"M-...Me? Listen, lady...I don't think...I'm not included in any of this." Henry retorted stubbornly.

"But Receiver, you are. This was all destined to happen. It was Her will for you to be included in this. He, The Holy Son, and you, Her messenger." Elizabeth grabbed Henry's hand. clutching it tightly in her own. "Surely you cannot call this a simple coincidence! It's your fate, Receiver. Don't you realize? You're going to play an important part in bringing forth Paradise! It's a role in which you should be honored."

Henry jerked his hand out of Elizabeth's, scowling at her. "Honored? Honored in birthing the goddamn Devil?"

Walter turned quickly, roughly grabbing Henry by his arm. The brunette hissed in pain, feeling the soreness of his previous wounds. "Don't you dare talk about Mother like that." Henry stared at the blonde with intense shock, frightened by the steely hardness in his voice. He'd never heard Walter speak in such a violent tone before.

Walter quickly released Henry's arm, backing away with a slight expression of regret on his face. "For...Forgive me." Henry ignored him, merely rubbing his still aching limb.

"Now do you believe me, Walter?" Elizabeth asked, breaking the silence. "You still have much to do. You and the Receiver must come with me back to the place of Origin."

"Where?" Henry asked absent-mindedly.

"Silent Hill." Elizabeth clarified.

Henry snorted. "Silent Hill? What makes you think he-" Henry nodded towards Walter. "'is going to leave this damn room? After all, it is his 'Mother'."

"The Holy Mother is no longer confined to this room, but has not yet been reborn. Walter is no longer tied to this place." The icy-eyed woman turned towards Walter. "Right?"

"I don't...feel tied to this place any longer." Walter spoke in a monitone voice. "And if that's what Mother wants..."

"You can't be serious." Henry retorted, angrily. "If you think I'm going to Silent Hill, you're wrong."

"We have to go." Walter urged. "It's Mother's will."

"I don't care who's will it is. I'm not leaving." The photographer spoke stubbornly.

Walter took a step towards Henry, hands out. "Henry-"

"You're not making me leave, damn it!" Henry shoved Walter's hand away, backing up against the kitchen counter.

"Perhaps this might require a little force..." Elizabeth mused.

"Keep you damn nose out of this, lady!" Henry yelled at her.

"Walter." Elizabeth motioned. The blonde stepped forward grabbing Henry by his already aching arms and subduing him. But the brunette continued to struggle despite the sharp pains going throughout his protesting body. He tried to writhe his way out of Walter's grasp, but it was inevitable. Finally, after a minute or so of struggling, Henry felt a fist connect with his temple, making his vision blur and darken. His struggle fell quiet and soon the photographer went limp in the blonde's arms. "That was effective. Now, all childishness put aside...we should be leaving."

Elizabeth walked over towards the door, opening it for Walter. "The Order is waiting."

I hope I captured the same Religious tone we all hear in the games. It's my first time writing anything "religious" at all. I definitely had to pull up the Silent Hill wikia and research The Order and Rituals a good dozen times. But hopefully it all turned out good. Also, any opinions on Elizabeth's character?

And reviews are ALWAYS appreciated.