Disclaimer: Don't own Silent Hill, so please don't sue me. All you'll get is my birthday money.

"Talking"

Thinking

Emphasis/Shouting

(Chelsea)

Creak.

Well, Mom's sure to have heard that. Lovely.

I mentally flinched after the heels of my combat boots hit the doorway leading into the dining room and, not wanting to witness my otherwise not-exactly-the-world's-friendliest-woman-to-be-around-in-the-afternoon mother to my current location, I swore under my breath before closing the door softly, an eerie click soon followed and deafened my strangely sensitive ears, causing me to wince as I grasped my face in my small hand.

For some bizarre reason, my home was deadly silent, the kind of silence in horror movies and video games that usually never turns out to be a good thing, but I did have my own style of martial arts at my disposal so I wasn't that concerned. But then a thought that hadn't occurred to me until I decided to raid the refrigerator, looking for a decent afternoon meal, and then it struck me once I finished preparing a sandwich: where was my father?

Daddy's supposed to be home today. His heart surgery isn't scheduled for until next week.

Silently hoping that he wasn't lying unconscious somewhere in the house without his medication at hand, I chewed thoughtfully on my snack as my heavy footwear – along with the chubbiness of my body, which only made my footsteps seem like minuscule earthquakes – mercilessly struck the polished wooden floor, and I had to clamp down particularly hard on my sandwich to avoid spitting it out onto the floor and letting out my colorful vocabulary in every language I knew.

I didn't want to rouse my father in case he was sleeping, though he was never like my dear Mum when she woke up or was forced to wake up, all he'd do was scold me gently, apologize before patting my head and returning to bed, I usually felt extremely guilty if I was the one who woke him up. But, as of right now in my life, my intuition suddenly kicked in, and then fear slowly began to settle in the furthest corners of my mind, but I hummed a melody to myself as I finished off my snack, dusting the crumbs off my hands while I climbed the stairs.

I paused halfway up the staircase, considering why I was suddenly acting all cautious for just because I didn't hear my father's usual homely activities the moment I stepped in through the front door, but I decided it wouldn't be considerably wise to wander about the silent house in my combat boots, and so I slipped my tiny feet out of my footwear. Smiling to myself, my stocking-covered feet padded along the carpeted floor as I drifted – silent as death – to my parent's bedroom, hoping, praying, that my father would be residing in his bed, snoring as he often did while he slept.

I sucked in a labored breath, my black nails shone in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the windows as I tentatively reached for the doorknob, only to recoil in either hesitation or surprise, but I shook my head numerous times and, after scolding myself for behaving like an overactive child, braced myself and grasped the cold steel knob in my hand, turning it and hesitantly poking my head inside.

"Daddy?"

(Sharon)

"Triple fudge, double caramel, and a layer of melted chocolate?" The fruitcake at the counter asked me for the hundredth time in the span of a minute.

Congratulations, buddy. I applaud you for winning the Global Punk Ass Award. What are you? Deaf, dumb, blind and stupid?

"Yeah, triple fudge, double caramel, and a layer of melted chocolate on a vanilla cone. Is that so hard for you to understand? And in case you're too stupid to realize it, triple means three times your regular amount, and double simply means twice your regular amount."

I mentally smirked to myself at the typical blondish reaction, my multicolored eyes slowly narrowed in amusement witnessing the stunned look he had on his face growing as his blue eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and I silently laughed to myself when he turned around grumbling about something to himself under his breath, which had smelled like the back of someone's ass to me.

A not-so-characteristic smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I leaned on the counter, my breasts hugging the splintered edges when I leaned forward and laid my head to rest between my arms, my fingers lightly rapping against the polished wooden surface in an annoying manner, which I was only doing just to piss the ice cream guy off for simply pissing me off like he'd done earlier.

I think he's muttering about what a bitch I am. Fuck face. Hurry up and make my ice cream.

I'd been called – and heard – worse.

I couldn't suppress the smirk any longer for it soon became plastered across my pale features, and I chuckled again while the insistent drumming sound of my white and black fingernails softly tapping on the hard wood was the only sound that filled the tiny ice cream shop. Well, besides Carla giggling hysterically into her frozen treat, obviously due to a joke Maria surely told her.

Blondie returns from the back about five minutes later, with the exact amount of toppings I specifically informed him of as many times as I had. Surprise, surprise. A primitive noise came from the back of my throat while he passed me my afternoon treat and I handed him the exact change; he hadn't been murmuring about me in profane language earlier, but, rather, I was being cheap.

Yum. Food. Maria, seeing that we were at last finished with our business here, wheeled around and ushered the still laughing albino out of Annie's Ice Cream Shack, leaving me to push open the door with my rear, due to me holding my frozen treat in both hands while my tongue took immediate delight at the numerous flavors being introduced to my taste buds.

Carla's pale features were beet red, and her shoulders were shaking violently as she recurred to chuckle to herself, occasionally sputtering out creamy tear-shaped drops of what remained of her chocolate mint chocolate chip cone down the front of her black and red shirt, and I paused before shoving half of my treat in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Damn... that must've been a pretty good joke Maria told her. At this rate, the kid's gonna suffer a heart attack... either that or she's gonna die laughing. And... oh, that's just fucking lovely. The Welcoming Committee Party's come to greet me once again. Oh happy day.

(Chelsea)

Okay, now don't panic, Chelsea. Panicking never helps. Best not to panic, because panicking always leads to pain, and pain is one of the many things you currently wish to avoid on your Hate List today.

Looking around my parent's bedroom I was, to say the least, shocked at the immaculate rearrangement and organization that made both Sharon and my room look like absolute garbage disposal sites; that and the spotless surfaces of the mirror and dresser at the end of the room, but other than the apparent fact that my father wasn't were I believed him to be, there was simply no reason for me to panic.

Absolutely.. no reason.. to go.. into a.. panic frenzy. I would NOT be reduced from a calm demenor to dashing around my parent's bedroom, bawling my head off just because neither of my parents were home; my mother I could care less about, but my father on the other hand wasn't exactly the greatest person to rely upon when it came to asking him when he'd be home. Your Mummy and Daddy aren't home and you wanna cry. Usually he'd be an hour or two late rather then on schedule like he rarely is, but that wasn't no reason for me to worry over him, was there?

It's times like this I wish I hadn't skipped school today. (1)

Flashback

"Miss Marquette, you're the fourth person to leave school today; who gave you permission to leave school grounds in the middle of the day?"

The fourth person to leave? Does she mean my sister already left with two other people? I didn't see her in English last period, so it must be her.

"Why, I received permission from the principal herself, Ms. Edwards. I have her signature right here on a slip of paper right here, if you don't believe me." I said half-heartedly, sticking my cursed tiny hands inside my pockets for the 'signed' note from the woman, and handed it to her.

Her icy blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, scanning frantically over the cursive handwritten note numerous times, obviously checking for any signs of it having been forged and, much to my amazement, the I'm-The-World's-Most-Arrogant-Bitch-On-Earth couldn't find any hint of my 'permission slip' being self-written by my hand.

I flashed Ms. Edwards my brightest smile, resisting all temptation to cuss her out until I was red in the face, but the smile plastered on my chubby cheeks slowly grew until eventually all my pearl white teeth glistened under the florescent lights humming above Mrs. Edwards' brown hair streaked with blonde streaks, making her appear older than younger.

The twenty-something year-old woman merely frowned at my feigned attempt to sweeten her up enough to grant me permission to leave this hellhole as soon as possible; mentally I was screaming at the egotistical blonde to let me be on my way, but then again I nearly choked on my silent laughter seeing the dumbfounded expression she had on her tan complexion when she held the slip of paper up to the lights. By this time, I was ready to screech as loud as my lungs would permit me to, hopefully until her ears began to bleed, at how too uptight she was, at how she had to suspect anyone and everyone.

Christ! I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be a forty year-old virgin at some point down the road in her miserable life, plus the person who would even want to get laid with her needs to get their head examined; whether they be man or woman.

Ms. Edwards was far too skinny to be considered sexy, or even beautiful, in my opinion. Or in anyone else's in the school, in that case. Plus, her personality even outmatched to that of a lemon, succulent enough to take a bite, but far too sour to return for second helpings.

"Well, Miss Marquette.. I don't know how someone like you managed to obtain permission from the principal to leave school grounds at halfway through the day, but I know you're up to something. Yet, I cannot prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that this handwriting is indeed the principal's, so you have permission to leave." She said all this in a single breath and with a slightly angered scowl on her tanned features, her icy blue eyes narrowed in that all-too-familiar, all-too-annoying suspicious glance of hers.

Bless you Sharon. Bless you for staying up half the night two months ago practicing the principal's handwriting.

I smiled at the young woman after she handed back the note back to me and, pocketing it safely away in the back of my cargo pants, readjusted my backpack on my beefy shoulders before gazing up into her narrow blue eyes, but she simply huffed arrogantly and I shrugged my shoulders. Halfway down the corridor, I stopped dead in my tracks hearing that banshee-like voice of hers echoed in my numb ears, bouncing off the walls and lockers before entering in one ear and exiting out the other.

"Don't think that I'm not onto your little game, Miss Marquette! One of these days, I'll come back to haunt you!"

Inwardly, I sneered at her weak little comment. Hell, my father could've come up with something better than that piece of crap. My pale lips absentmindedly tugged at the corners as the hint of a smirk, but my conscience was warning me that it wouldn't be particularly wise of me to wheel around and respond with a not-so-weak witty remark of my own, but I tilted my head sideways, my brownish golden hair obscured my eyes while my multicolored eyes leered into hers in a silent glare, and I was secretly regretting not having a hissy fit when I had the chance.

"Why, Ms. Edwards. I'm shocked to hear that you think of me in such an heartless manner! What made you think that I was toying with you in the first place?"

In a matter of no more than three seconds, the smirk that I concealed from her in the beginning slowly curled my lips into a full-fledged grin witnessing the pathetic blonde's mouth opening and closing shut like a completely bewildered fish out of water, Sharon was right; it's not the inside that has to matter, it's the person who you're dealing with that matters.

Fucking bitch... Just wait... next time I see you... you're dead. (2)

End flashback

(Still Chelsea's View)

Keys! Where does that useless mother of mine keep those fucking keys to that goddamn car?

I shrieked in frustration, driving my foot multiple times into the mahogany wooden dresser, no signs of pain was shown in my eyes despite the fact that my big toe ached like there was no tomorrow when I finished with letting all my rage out on my oh-so-dear-and-lovely mother's furniture; it was now past noon and I still hadn't found those godforsaken keys to the car.

My former pale complexion had deepened to a dark cherry red, due to my anger and hinting at my unsuccessful at locating where Mum hid the car keys this time, but I settled for not attempting to destroy yet another one of her vases, and I paced about the small carpeted floor anxiously, racking my no-good brain for soon my photographic memory would kick in.

"Keys, keys, keys. I need car keys. Need to find my sister and those two girls before they all get suspended for leaving school without permission. But I can't find them if I don't have a car that can't leave the goddamn driveway without those FUCKING CAR KEYS!"

Growling like an White Sheppard sensing danger, I curled my good hand into a tight fist and, with no discourtesy (on my part of course) regarding the pain I would no doubt experience afterwards or of my rage boiling swiftly, but surely, to the surface, drove it somewhat forcefully into the wall, pausing to breathe heavily.

Once I removed my aching fist from inside the wall, I saw that my mother's purse had fallen down on my parent's king sized bed covers. Looking upward a little, I smacked my forehead in embarrassment feeling more and more self-conscious of my ignorance that even though I should have remembered it sooner, rather than a few moments ago, my father had fashioned together a wooden hook shelf-like board up on the wall a while back and yet, like the idiot that I felt I was, I hadn't even considered searching the room more thoroughly.

Wait! If Mum has a purse... then, having a purse means she must have keys to the car!

"Keys, keys, keys, keys. Let there be keys here somewhere." I muttered, snatching my Mum's purse off the purple and green bedspread and dumping its contents all over the bed, not caring a few smears of lipstick stained the recently washed sheets and many oddly flavored scents flared my nasal area, causing my multicolored eyes to water.

Five minutes later I had checked and double checked the now scattered bottles, lipstick, and other numerous makeup containers that now lay strewn across my parents bed, but I still hadn't found the key and I was just about to give up in locating the keys when a tiny voice in the back of my head said Check the purse again.

... Why hadn't I thought of that? Frowning, I lifted up the purse by its leather dark sky blue spaghetti strap and tipped it upside down, shaking the tiny bag furiously and casting my eyes sideways, to see if any sign of silver glistened in the early afternoon sunlight which illuminated the entire room- giving it a light musty odor- in through the window; however, I had no such luck.

Sighing heavily, I threw the now useless purse aside and flung myself backwards, I was now lying in an eagle-spread fashion with my legs spread wide apart and my arms criss-crossed over my overly large bosom. I twiddled my thumbs in desperation while my exceptionally anxious mind became flooded with thoughts, many concerning my father's whereabouts and, though I wasn't ready to admit it to myself at the moment, I was beginning to get a little worried about my mother for the first time in ages.

"Okay.. you're home alone at," I paused to steal a quick side glance at my wristwatch, "Half past noon. Neither of your parents are home, and you just discovered thirty minutes ago that your 'big' sister had apparently skipped school, for whatever reason, with two young teens whom she'll probably transform into her sidekick delinquents. She'd better have a reasonable explanation when she comes home later, or else I'll be forced to make her ass cherry red." (3)

I smiled to myself at the thought of disciplining my sibling instead of our mother being forced to use the hole-y paddle on her vulnerable skin, like she had done on many an occasion when we were kids, but now that both she and I were old enough to understand what limits we were restricted to nowadays, I felt it was my time to give my sister a little lesson in obedience.

My smile was fated to fade away. Soon a dark scowl crossed my face remembering Sharon's sobbing voice, listening to her shrieking while I sat on the floor in our room with my hands pressed tight against my ears as I rocked back and forth like some deranged mental patient.

Flashback

Young Chelsea directed her multicolored eyes toward her bedroom door, her tiny hands darting up to her face and her fingers quickly wiped away any signs that she had been crying while listening to her sister getting somewhat severely disciplined downstairs, and she could do nothing to hid evidence of her painfully vivid pink nose, due to her crying as hard as she had been, Sharon most likely would be too distracted with rubbing her sore bottom to catch sight of her sister's bright pink nose, leaving a trail of snot behind on her wrist.

The moment Sharon stumbled into the bedroom after slamming the door shut behind her and locking it, her left hand – as Chelsea had mentally predicted subconsciously – immediately flew behind her, tenderly rubbing the blisters that would without a doubt leave behind faint scars on her pale skin. Sharon's black-dark brown hair fell down over her eyes, so Chelsea couldn't tell for certain whether or not her sister was crying- or had been crying while their mother disciplined her with her so-called hole-y paddle- but she watched on in silent observation while her sibling staggered in a seemingly intoxicated manner towards the spot on the cold floor where her sketchbook lay.

Chelsea's multicolored eyes widened with each passing second as her sister picked up the piece of charcoal and began to scribble away, in a matter of minutes black had devoured nearly half the crisp white sheet, but Sharon's small hand still recurred to drift across the page; Chelsea soon noticed that their room soon began to slowly darken, and her entire being was recked with silent crying and shivered in fear.

Sharon, however, seemed completely blind to The Dark that had appeared seemingly out of thin air, for the seven year-old child still sat beside her sister, her nimble hand still gripped the fat piece of dark charcoal between her tiny fingers while two lone beads of perspire trickled down the sides of her pale complexion, her dark hair was matted to her face.

Chelsea, having had enough of the madness, turned towards her sister and gently shook her bony shoulder, but received no response safe for the unnerving silence that loomed over the two siblings heads like a never-ending cloud of despair and, mentally sighing in disbelief at her sister's ignorance, grasped Sharon firmly by the shoulders, shaking her somewhat limp body a little too roughly.

Chelsea could only look on in mute horror and awe seeing her sister's multicolored eyes were now but a mere shadow of the timid, tranquil light she had grown to adore, but it seemed to the young girl that her sister wasn't really looking at her; although her gaze pierced her fear-stricken blue-green-gray eyes, it was as if the elder sibling was looking within the very depths of her soul it seemed.

"S-Sharon? Sissy? Are you feeling alright? You're looking a bit feverish. Maybe you're coming down with something?" Chelsea hesitantly placed her tiny hand on her forehead, only to withdraw back as if her sister had stabbed her; Sharon's skin was ice cold.

"... I won't let her hurt you, Chelsie. No one will harm my sister and live to tell the tale. You've protected me too many times for me to count, so now it's my turn to return the favor." Sharon's eerily calm voice fluttered about in the girl's mind like a whimsical butterfly, strewn with venom as every word came from her pale rose lips as her rant continued.

"I won't let Mommy hurt you. I won't let her. It's not our fault that we were born like this, right Chelsie? It's not our fault we're like this. Mommy isn't allowed to touch you.. because.. because Mommy's aren't supposed to do that stuff to their children. But.. but Mommy does.. so Mommy hates us. Yes, she does. Mommy hates us. She wants us to die; then she wouldn't have to be burdened by us anymore. Isn't that right, Chelsie? Mommy's never loved us.. just because we're different from all the other kids. But.. but you'll love me, won't you Chelsie?"

Chelsea opened her mouth to speak, but immediately clamped it shut the moment Sharon averted her blank, apathetic gaze to meet her shocked, terror-stricken eyes and soon she found herself ignoring, or trying to ignore as best she could, the silent tears trickling down her alabaster cheeks as she stared in mute observation, waiting to see what her sister would say, or do, next.

"Chelsea?"

"Y-yes, Sharon?"

"You'll protect me from the Monsters, won't you?"

"But.. but Monsters don't exist, Sharon. Mommy told us that-"

"Mommy's wrong, Chelsea. She's always been wrong. They exist, Chelsie. And you know what?"

"W-what?"

"They're all not very happy, Chelsie. Not happy with the way everyone's been treating us."

"I-I don't get it, Sissy. What do you mean-"

"They said that they're gonna come soon. They're going to come and get rid of all the bad people. The Lady in White told me so. She's nice, Chelsie. She said she's gonna protect us. Isn't it nice for another grown-up besides Daddy who promised to protect us?"

Chelsea nodded her head vigorously. "Y-yeah, Sharon. That.. that's great news."

Sharon smiled, for the first time in a year. "I knew you'd understand me, Chelsie. That's why I'm glad you're my only Sissy. I gotta go now." She said with a cheerful grin, staggering to her feet, not noticing that The Dark had now began to dissipate slowly from the bedroom, and instantly replaced with sunlight and the sound of noises from outside.

"Where ya going to?"

"I gotta pee."

"Oh... well.. Go on and pee then."

"Hee, hee. Chelsie, you're funny. Watch my drawings and make sure Mommy doesn't get 'em, okay?"

"Will do."

The moment Chelsea heard the bathroom door slam shut, she instantly cast her gaze downward at the splash of black adorned the formerly blank page, picking it up and cradling the overly large sketchbook between her small hands. Chelsea's smile slowly began to fade seeing the nightmarish drawing that was so life like although it having been drawn by her sister, Chelsea silently feared that the drawing would soon leap from the page and gobble her in one bite.

The creature's face was sunken inward to the point where it facial bones protruded in a sickening manner from within its darkened swollen features, its eyes were two simple bloody rounded indents; a sure sign that some type of abrupt object had no doubt gouged out the creature's eyes, twin trails of blood flowed steadily down over its charred, sunken face and caked its horribly burnt lips in a thick layer of crimson, making it look like it had eaten someone in a voracious manner; dining in a simple attempt to satisfy its appetite. It had no ears, if Chelsea could count the barely visible slits on the sides of its face that could pass for ears, but then again it had no eyes, so she couldn't really say for sure if it could be able to see properly if it did leap out of the page.

Its chest was decorated in numerous savage thick slimy black worms, either that or it was dried blood that had started to decay, which criss-crossed its overly large bosom but, on closer inspection, Chelsea saw that the wounds had been stitched up like the way a professional surgeon would do after an operation, and she shuddered absentmindedly seeing the faint scars on its charred legs, though the scars were practically invisible she was somehow able to spot them as clear as day itself.

Between its scrawny fingers that was its right hand, wrapped in bandages, no doubt as the result of a fire, or something of that nature. The creature held a butcher knife, stained from tip to hilt in fresh blood, and Chelsea easily spotted the minuscule droplets of crimson dripping down the knife's edge before falling down to the metallic floor.

Its clothes, in Chelsea's eyes, couldn't really be considered clothes to normal people; it looked a bit too tight to be considered comfortable with the way it hugged its disgusting monstrous form, revealing surprising womanly curves beneath the few spots that wasn't caked in mud or blood, but it seemed to be the remains of a nurse's uniform; stealing a quick glance at the creature's deformed scalp, revealing a small portion of burnt crusted black hair, she took notice of the nurse's hat with the lopsided cross.

And it frightened her. Even though she knew it wasn't real, something about the drawing scared her.

"How was Sharon able to draw something so.. spooky?" (4)

End Flashback

(Still Chelsea's View)

I rubbed my weary eyes vigorously, trying to make the drowsiness that suddenly plagued my mind and body disappear, but the moment I realized that I wouldn't be able to force myself to stay awake with me lying on my parents bed, I sighed heavily in defeat and soon found myself sitting upright.

My mouth gaped open in silent shock seeing the car keys lying on top of the dresser where Mum kept a spare assortment of clothes, and other personal belongings. I slapped my forehead, silently scorning myself for being such an idiot and, forcing my unwilling obese body to get off the comfortable bedspread, I growled softly in anger snatching the car keys off the drawer.

"Something tells me this is gonna be a very long, very annoying day. Sharon, you better not be Downtown again. I don't wanna have the Old Lady bitch at me for not looking out for you like she did last time." I muttered to myself, gritting my teeth in my barely contained rage as I slammed the bedroom door shut. Slipping back into my combat boots, I grinned somewhat evilly when I jumped off the front porch, landing in a cat-like position on the gravel sidewalk ignoring the slight sting feeling the tiny sharp pebbles digging into my palms and causing them to bleed tiny trickles of blood.

"First time I spilled my blood today. Oh joy." I hissed in a painfully sarcastic tone, gripping the driver side latch in my tiny hand while I forced the key inside, smiling faintly seeing that it was the correct one.

Sitting inside the driver's seat felt new and yet familiar to me, but I shrugged off the nostalgic sensation as best I could before guessing which key was the one for the ignition and, silently hoping it was the correct one, grinned maniacally hearing the engine beginning to purr like an overly content kitten. My joy was fated to disappear. No more than 10 seconds had passed, then the engine suddenly died on me for no reasonable explanation at all, but now I was ready to kill the first thing or person I saw the moment I got out of the godforsaken vehicle and, shrieking in frustration, I pushed open the car door, staggering over to the front of the vehicle and pried open the hood.

"Hmm.. let's see. What else could be ailing you this time, you piece of crap?"

My green-gray-blue eyes scanned the engine compartment, hoping that a sign of some divine miracle would point out the cause as to why the car suddenly died on me, the gas meter had been at full, the motor seemed to be in perfect condition, and nothing looked to show any signs of anything having been overheating, but I settled for not destroying Dad's car and instead ran my lukewarm hands through my thick hair, racking my brain for some suggestion as to what I could do next.

Something silver glinted in the sunlight, something that was stuck in the engine and so, believing it to be the cause of the problem, I reached a good five feet stretching my fingers in desperation for whatever it was, laughing softly in success feeling.. an envelope?

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, I carefully shook the sealed envelope, hoping nothing breakable was in since I had shattered enough mirrors in my life to promise me three lifetimes of misfortune, and now feeling incredibly stupid for standing out in the middle of a deserted street, and holding an envelope like it was a ticking time bomb.

"Gotta do what's reasonable I suppose. ... Wonder what's inside it. No.. I shouldn't look. It could be personal.. but, then again.. Why would Dad hide a sealed envelope in the engine compartment? Unless he wanted for me or Sharon to find it." I muttered, my eyes widening in bewilderment.

Silently thanking myself for having amazingly abrupt nails, a faint smirk crossed my face when the small letter fell into my waiting palm and, blowing off the aged dust, my blue-gray-green eyes drifted over the handwritten letter, slowly widening in not bewilderment, but astonishment. The letter only had two sentences written on the mold encrusted paper. Words that held hidden meaning.

Come home.. my child. Return to Silent Hill.

"Silent Hill? Where's that?"

Sorry for the long update, my faithful reviewers. Chels-chan if you're reading this... I didn't disappoint you, did I? Because if I did, then a thousand apologies, my friend. I don't like to disappoint people like you. People who appreciate my fics. I will update on my other fics ASAP.

1- Not one of your character traits I'm sure, Chels-chan. Please forgive me.

2- Remember the last bit Chelsea thought. It's foreshadowing.

3- Think of it as the siblings disciplining one another.

4- Also foreshadowing.