See Disclaimer in first chapter.

This is long ovdue for update, I apoligize but I've been busy what with University. It really took me a while to bring myself back to writing this but like I said I'm following through with this one. So without further ado...

Silent Hill: Death Becomes Him

Chapter 4

When he emerged from the shower room Richard became aware of one thing, one thing that he had expected fully but still feared absolutely. Blood, everywhere. The smell and sight of it repulsed him, he felt light headed even as he stepped into the hallway. He knew very well where he was and he knew that the answers to all his questions were buried somewhere in the bowels of Alchemilla Hospital, he was somewhere within those walls, his identity was waiting for him. Though part of him was as much repelled by the idea as he was by the bloodied corridors it was overridden by a still stronger compulsion to know the truth which had been denied to him so far, though crushed by his emerging memories he was spurred on by the idea of ratifying or disproving them. Perhaps this was some sort of reactionary survival instinct surfacing to soothe his much abused mind, regardless he began walking.

No other sound reached his ears as he paced along the abandoned corridors of the hospital, a chill ran up his spine despite the warmth of the place and he pulled his jacket close about him, in the trauma of his awakening he had not noticed that he was in his usual attire. He quickly lost himself in the labyrinthine hallways and yet at the same time he felt that he was getting closer to where he needed to be. He passed by the doors that lined the corridors, not daring to peer inside for fear of what horrors he may find, or what might find him. He walked and waited for something, anything, some kind of sign.

His foot struck something in the gloom, he stepped back in shock, his eyes darting down. Tentatively he knelt down and extended a hand, his fingers wrapped around something smooth and cylindrical. 'A flash light?' He stood up and flipped the little torch on, illuminating the gore covered corridor ahead. Almost as quickly he switched it off and tucked it in his inside jacket pocket, if it was a choice between fumbling in the dark and actually seeing such a place in all its depravity Richard thought he was far better off in the darkness. Ignorance is bliss after all.

Still he felt something drawing him on, as though he were following a map inside his head, some sense beyond his usual perceptions was directing him to somewhere he was unaware of. Then all of a sudden he heard a shuffle in the gloom, a footfall of some kind, his hand leapt to the light in his pocket, his head swam with terrifying images of deformities and they brought him to a stop. Did he dare reveal himself? The footfalls grew closer, they were just behind him now, he grabbed the light and spun around, clicking it on to reveal something he would not have imagined in his wildest dreams.

In the deepest, darkest recesses of his imagination Richard would never have imagined that he would see another human face.

The young woman at first recoiled from the sudden and bright light, but as she peered through her face resolved into an expression of mild anxiety, at the time Richard thought nothing of it and moved the light away, half illuminating the both of them. From what he could see she was wearing a loose turtle neck sweater and dark red, almost brown jeans. As for her face she a natural unadorned physical charm which clashed a tad with her homely clothing, just as her dark brown hair framed her pale features.

'S-sorry.' Richard stammered, overcome by his superlative good fortune at finding another living person in such a place, for at least a second all thoughts of guilt and self hatred slid away into the darkness where they belonged.

'No, that's okay, you just startled me is all.' she replied, her voice betrayed her obvious fear of something more than her expression. Richard could understand that, anyone in their position ought to be scared. They'd have to be crazy not to be. 'Are you... lost?'

'Lost? Uh, I just sort of found myself here.' The young woman before him looked him over closely, quizzically. 'Is... is something wrong?'

She withdrew a little as though shocked by the question. 'No, nothings wrong it's just... have you seen my mother anywhere around here?' Richard shook his head almost mournfully, he hadn't seen anyone and if the tortured figures he had encountered were real then it didn't bode at all well for anyone else. 'Oh, that's too bad.' The young woman turned to leave, heading in the direction she had come from.

'Hey wait, its probably not a good idea for us to be wandering around alone.' It wasn't so much that Richard was concerned for her safety, although that was a part of it, he couldn't bare the thought of being left alone. 'Besides I didn't get your name.'

'Angela.'

Richard sighed with relief as she paused, looking back at him, his expression lightened a little. 'I'm Richard. Could I... perhaps come along with you its just, well, I don't really want to be alone somewhere like this. It's this town, there's something wrong with it.' Angela simply nodded and then began walking with Richard in tow. 'So your mother, did she live here?'

There was a brief moment of silence before Angela spoke. 'It's complicated, I think she did but then, I think something happened, something...' she trailed off, apparently lost in thought, 'I think she called me here.' Although she couldn't see Richard cocked his brow at this, she seemed a strange young woman but at the same time he felt somehow reassured by a presence other than his own. They walked on in silence for a while, each aware of what was waiting in the dark for them but neither wanting to voice it, Richard was not superstitious and he had never been religious but what he had seen and experienced could only be described as demonic.

Rick paused, he touched Angela on the shoulder, she whirled and knocked his hand away sharply. 'Do you hear that?'

Angela stood and listened, there was a faint thumping coming from somewhere close by. Richard's heart sank, it sounded almost like... 'Footsteps?' Richard audibly gulped as the word left Angela's lips. Richard listened intently and it seemed as though the footsteps were dying away, he let out his relief with a soft sigh.

He hadn't even noticed his breathing had accelerated or that Angela was looking at him, clearly confused. He steadied himself and reigned in his breathing for what felt like the thousandth time since he had come to Silent Hill. 'We have to leave,' he panted, 'now. There must be a way out around here somewhere.'

He cast the light over Angela, standing away from him at the other side of the corridor. She looked vulnerable to him, though she didn't look scared as he did she seemed to him somewhat delicate, fragile. He moved the flash light down the corridor and half recoiled from the bloodstains before reluctantly moving on. He walked slowly so he knew Angela could stay close by, just as much for his sake as her own.

They moved almost silently, listened for thundering footfalls which might very well herald their doom. Suddenly he stopped.

Ahead of them where the corridor branched something was fixed to the wall. With its arms spread and pinned in place by long stakes through its hands and then driven through its leathery wings and into the wall it looked almost as though it had been crucified. The blank patch of skin where a face ought to have been was by now becoming a familiar sight but no less shocking as was its malnourished form. 'What is it?' Angela asked looking over his shoulder, Rick didn't reply, he drew closer, almost entranced. He reached up and jumped back as the deformed creature thrashed its head about, it was still alive. After whipping its head in vain it seemed to settle and its head dropped again as it had been when they'd arrived.

'We have to get out of here.'

Angela looked down both hallways to little avail, there was little to no light down either passage. 'We might have to split up,' she suggested. Richard didn't like the idea one bit but he couldn't argue the pracicality, he kept his mouth shut. 'I'll go this way.'

'Hey hold on,' Richard caught hold of Angela's wrist as she moves away, she jerked her arms and threw his hand off, looking very annoyed, 'take this.' He offered her the light he'd found, he preferred the dark anyway. She reached out and practically snatched the light without so much as touching his hand, without another word they both moved off down their respective corridors, Richard took the left branch. He moved as usual, quietly as he could, listening.

He wasn't far down the corridor when he began to hear it. The footsteps, heavy and irregular, the footfalls of his shambling brute of a nightmare. Hastily he tried the door closest to him, looked, he threw all his weight towards it but it didn't budge, the footsteps grew closer.

Rick crossed the hallway, trying the next door he came to which swung open, he practically fell through and swung it closed behind him, turning the lock and backing away before walking into something. He heard something shudder and backed up the way he'd come, now halfway between the door and whatever he'd hit he saw a light flick on overhead. It flickered a second before beaming out clear and strong. The first thing that drew his eye wasnot the table he'd bumped against, it was the quivering zipped up bag lay on top of it.

The footsteps seemed to have stopped but he dared not leave the room. That thing might still have been around. He moved towards the autopsy tabel and as he approached the shuddering ceased, had he imagined it? His hand moved almost of its own will to unzip the bag and as he did a gruesome deformed face leaped up at him. He staggered back and struck the door as the monstrous figure clambered out of its bag.

Nothing, not even the creature in the cell, had prepared him for this. The creatures skin was grey and baggy, hanging from the thing bony limbs and emaciated torso. Its sagging breasts hung down almost to its legs and it fixed its empty bleeding eye sockets on him as its mouth, covered by skin which had begun to split dispatched an ear shattering cream in his direction. The almost bald head was patched with thin wiry hair which looked almost like spider webs draped down the horrific visage as it stumbled towards him. Richard had frozen, the creature shambled up to him and quite simply placed its arms around him and tightened its grip, almost lifting him off the ground.

For something so seemingly weak its grip was like a vice and no matter how much he thrashed he couldn't break free from it. He wriggled an arm free and pushed back against the creature, it only held on more tightly, he pushed its head backward and managed to free his other hand. Gripping its deathly face he placed his thumbs over the empty sockets and thrust them in. The creature screamed and recoiled as it released him, he felt air rush into his lungs and nearly lost his balance. The creature bean to spasm and Rick saw his chance, he took up a scalpel from the trolley beside the door and threw himself at the monstrosity. They fell as a heap of flailing limbs and it was only after a long quiet moment that Richard rose.

Looking down on the creature he felt almost saddened, the scalpel protruding from its chest brought back a flash of a much older confrontation. A kitchen, a shuddering body and his blood splattered hands. He was rocked by the brief flash and with a moan he fell and blacked out.

The room in which he awoke was quite different from the one he had fought in. The tiled walls were not streaked in blood, no dirt or rust was present and it looked as though it could still be used, the glaring light above made his head hurt, perhaps though it was the thoughts hammering against that ever present mental barrier, so afflicted was he that the quivering of the body bag went unnoticed. He stood, propping himself against the wall and cradling his head in both hands, he removed them only to stare at his fingers, not stained with puss and blood as he had expected. It was only then that his eyes slid across the floor and found their way to the now still bag.

He thought he knew what was coming and he was hesitant to approach, he made for the door first to find something was holding it in place, something had it jammed. He turned back towards the bag, strode across the room and jerked the zip down. The face which surged up at him was less gruesome than that which had previously haunted him. As he stumbled back in shock Walter lifted his legs from the body bag and hopped to the floor, laughing all the time. 'You're really too easy. So are you enjoying your puzzle yet?'

'No, no I'm not enjoying this. I killed someone and I don't know why, my-- my head is tearing itself apart looking for answers which just aren't there! To top it all off I can't even tell what's real any more!'

Walter only smiled before fishing something out of his pocket and holding it out for Ricahrd to see, he read the key tag aloud. 'M. Kaufmann. This key is real. This is what's going to unlock the truth for you.' Richard took it slowly. 'You can find the other pieces yourself.' Richard was at the key in his hand as Walter crossed the room and slid down the bolt at the top of the door, he turned to find him standing in the open doorway. 'You better hurry up though, she wont last all that long without you.'

Rick looked at the key in his palm again and he raised his eyes to see that Walter had already started to go, he could only hear his quick but sure footfalls growing steadily fainter. 'Angela.' He slipped the key in his back pocket and stepped through the door, looking back momentarily at the empty body bag before pulling the door shut. The halls, like the room appeared in decidedly better condition, nor rust or blood and even though the lights were dim they at least worked.

Richard immediately slumped against the opposite wall as a white hot shaft of pain struck his heart, it only lasted a second but it was enough to nearly lay him low. Panting he pushed himself back up and trudged back toward the junction. There was no pinioned body awaiting him, he put a hand to his head, the evidence towards him losing his grip on reality was growing rapidly.

He didn't get far down the corridor when he saw etched in a dusty plate on the door the words 'Dr. M. Kaufmann.' He looked at the key again before sliding it into the lock. The door creaked as it opened and Richard looked through to the office dominated by a desk and several certificates of qualification all under the same name Dr M. Kaufmann. It was only once he stepped inside that he noticed the dust covered filing cabinet to one side of the room, a number flased through his head. 203.

Rooting through the files kicked up a lot of dust, but for the first time he got the sense that things were about to become clearer. All thought of Angela had faded for the moment, she might not have been in that room but his identity was buried somewhere in that dust. His eyes lit up as he came across the file he wanted, he flipped it open and disappointment instantly crashed down. Only a single sheet of yellowing paper was inside clipped to a photograph, a perfect copy of the one Walter had given him, he compared them just to be sure before folding them both and pocketing them. His eyes scanned the sheet as he read aloud.

'Patient 203-Note 2: Patient appears to have no recollection of the incident in Brahms or of subsequent events prior to his transfer to Alchemilla, possible trauma induced memory loss, most likely temporary. Patient has displayed violent tendencies probably absorbed from paternal influence, records indicate several incidents of violence connected with his father.

Patient 203- Note 7: Patient appears to be suffering psychotic delusions and hallucinations, affliction does not appear to have been stimulated by administration of any treatment and so we must assume that his psychosis is much more deeply rooted than first we thought. Closer observation is required.' Richard's hands shuddered as he held the sheet and all of a sudden he tore it in half, discarding the pieces on the dusty floor and cradling his head in his hands. Sitting down he leaned against the cabinet and pounded it with his elbow. With a sigh his head dropped to his palms again and only then did he think of Angela and of Walter's warning.

As he emerged into the hall again he moved with a slow and almost resigned pace, he looked like a wounded animal plodding on to its death and part of him thought that this might have been around the corner. For the moment at least he had a purpose and a drive, even if he seemed otherwise, he had to reach Angela. He would certainly lose control left to his own devices. Perhaps he would never find himself. Perhaps.