I also should mention, since this story IS a crossover with Silent Hill 4: The Room, it's also something of a sequel since it takes place after the events of the said game.

Which ending? ...The "best" ending. XD But the spoilers won't happen yet. I will say when it does and warn about spoilers. :) So, if you haven't played the game yet, or are currently playing it (like you hyperlutz21!) and don't want to be spoiled, go play it first. X3 Or if you don't care, then keep reading!

Who is leaving the notes? Henry, of course! Just like how Joseph Schreiber did the same in the game.

The ghost featured here is Walter's tenth victim, Eric Walsh. He was a bartender in Bar Southfield at the time of his death.

"G-Get away from me! Please!" Sally cried in terror, backing away from the floating human. She could only surmise that it was a ghost. So unlike the ghosts that normally haunted the town and the graveyard.

The ghostly spectre floated toward her, groaning, and reaching its arm out toward her. She could identify that it was a young adult male, his stomach drenched in blood, with a hole in his chest, which she could see now contained no heart. Her eyes widened, disgusted. She struck the ghost with the steel pipe, and he made a sickening noise that sounded like he was dry-heaving. It was almost hard for her to do now, since upon getting closer to the ghost, her headache worsened. She struck it again, then once more to the head.

After a few more hits, the ghost finally fell to the ground. She knew it couldn't possibly be dead, but knew it was out for the count. Since the ghost was on his back, she suddenly noticed something odd about it. On his chest, near the gaping wound, were numbers. She frowned, and leaned down a little bit to see them better.

Upon closer inspection, she could see the numbers were: 10121

"One-thousand one-hundred and twenty-one?" That didn't sound right. She suddenly saw that the one between the zero and two looked more like a forward slash. It dawned on her as she studied the numbers, that it actually meant to say ten out of twenty-one. 10/21 "...Ten out of twenty-one? ...What does that mean?"

She had a pretty good feeling that she didn't want to find out.

Deciding to take at least a minute or two to relax, if she could, Sally went through the hole to get back to her room. She didn't even need to second guess, she had a feeling that since the hole was the same as the first, with the red-ring circles and symbols, it had to lead back to her room.

XXX

When Sally awoke in her bed (again, wondering how in the world THAT happened), there was a knocking at her bedroom door. Quickly, she flounced out of bed without finding her balance, which led her to fall down. Picking herself up, she hurried to the door and peered through the peephole.

"Sally! Sally, if you're in there, open up! This has gone on long enough!" It was Dr. Finkelstein. She could barely see the top of his head, given that he was quite short and confined to a wheelchair. "Come out of there this instant!"

"Doctor, is everything all right?" Jack suddenly came into view from the right side.

Sally again pounded on the door with her fists. "Help! Get me out of here! Help! Jack!"

"My boy, I don't understand what's happening here." Dr. Finkelstein sighed. "She hasn't said a single word ever since she locked herself in there five days ago."

Five days ago? That meant it was still the same day, then. Sally gave up pounding on the door, they couldn't hear her. No matter how hard she tried.

"Oh." Jack looked and sounded very disappointed by this. His eye sockets were downcast in a saddened expression. Sally could feel her heart breaking, if she had one. "Well...I have a little letter for her. I decided to bring it over to her in person."

He disappeared from view as he bent down. Moments later, he was back in view again.

"There, I slid it under the door. Hopefully she'll receive it."

"Good thinking, my boy. If I know Sally, the only person she may only ever listen to is you." Dr. Finkelstein remarked.

"Now Doctor, that can't possibly be true. She would surely listen to you, too." Jack said, but he was looking at the door while saying this.

"Not likely. Come now my boy, let's get back to the lab." She could hear the doctor wheeling away.

Jack lingered, looking at the door wistfully with longing. "I hope you're okay, Sally...please come out soon. I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jack... I love you..." Sally uttered, tears in her eyes.

Moments later, Jack disappeared from view as he followed Dr. Finkelstein back to the lab. Sally looked down at the floor, seeing two pieces of paper, along with a bloody letter. She picked it up, trying to read it, but it was far too bloody and ineligible. She frowned. How in the world did THAT happen? For one thing, Jack was not one to crack jokes like this. Especially since he looked more worried than anything, and he was never one to give in to being silly when that happened. On top of which, if Jack played some kind of joke or trick, he was always tasteful and humorous. But this wasn't funny. And she knew Jack a little bit better than to think he would give a piece of paper smeared and covered in blood to a friend who had supposedly locked themselves in their room for five days.

Something was really wrong with this room. Whatever it was, it caused a letter from outside to become bloody to the point of being unable to read it. She placed it on her table, none the less. Then she went to the other pieces of faded out, reddish, but still legible paper.

The first one (earlier date) read:

I soon realized I wasn't the only one who had this happen. If anything, it had nothing to do with me. This entire room was, for lack of a better term, cursed. I soon realized it really could have happened to anyone who happened to move into Room 302. If not me, then the next tenant, for sure.

Joseph Schreiber, the man who lived in Room 302 before me, was the first to have this happen to him.

June 13th

Sally shuddered a little. She wasn't sure where this place was or who this guy the note referring to in the note was, but she could clearly see whoever wrote this had gone through what she was going through right now.

Walter Sullivan was the man responsible for this. I never knew the true crux of his involvement until much later, since at first, his name was only mentioned either from the door, or when I saw his name on one of Joseph's earlier diary entries.

I swear this being isn't even human anymore, despite that he looked like he was. If not for the Hell he has caused to so many people, myself included, I might have felt sorry for him considering his back story. I would never wish that on anyone. Especially since later on, he was manipulated by the cult.

The headache is coming back again, I'll write more later.

June 14th

Walter Sullivan.

Sally looked at her door again, seeing the message of Don't Go Out! Walter!

"...Walter Sullivan... Is that the same Walter this bloody message is telling me?"

She had a pretty good feeling that it was. This Walter Sullivan was responsible for this? It didn't make sense.

But given the notes she was getting, which seemed like diary entries, it sounded like whoever was writing these had gone through the same thing. Locked in their room by some mysterious unseen power. She took the entries, along with the first one she'd gotten earlier, and placed them into her scrapbook for safe keeping.

With nothing else to do, she picked up the steel pipe and headed on back in through the hole, hoping to get more answers. If that was possible.