My vision is fading. I try to keep fighting, to get a gulp of air, but my entire body burns as it shuts down. My legs buckle and I fall onto my knees. I need to breathe.

Finally, the kicking on the bed stops. My vision is almost black, but suddenly there's a rush of cold air going down my throat and I cough. I cough hard. My hands are still at my throat as I watch Blake lean back from the bed. As I try to regain my breath, she stares at what's done, at Yang's lifeless body, and then hastily exits the room.

I almost can't believe it. My eyes fall upon my lifeless body again. This can't be right. It's this town. It's-

I realize that my hands are still by my throat and I tear them away. But something doesn't seem right. I know that my hands were at my neck to try and soothe the pain, but…

I think back to Blake. I imagine the way her hands were on my neck.

There's a mirror in the hall. Without another thought, I run out, nearly tripping on my own two feet. I have to see. I have to. When I get to it, my heart is pounding away at my ears. But I take a deep, aching breath again before looking into it.

I look at myself. My blonde hair still has some odd spots that I missed with my hair dye. But I'm looking at my throat the most. It's hidden away behind my orange scarf, but there's one small spot that looks damaged. My hands shake, as if afraid to go towards my neck again. But I will them to move. They grasp the end of my scarf and slowly, shakily, they pull it down a little.

And I realize now that it's not my sickness coming back. I was never sick. Whatever it was ended on that bed two years ago. I just saw it. What I have on my skin doesn't match that at all. Purple bruises are all over my neck. Deep, dark, ugly bruises. And they look like they're in the shape of my hands. Cautiously, I move them back up, resuming the position that they were in before, in the position that Blake had on my neck. The truth hits me.

I've been choking myself. I don't know why, but the proof is there. What's making me do this? Why would I hurt myself?

Before I can continue with my thoughts though, there's a sharp sobbing sound.

It's coming from the mirror. I remember that I purposely avoided this mirror when I walked by it, and now that I'm in front of it my blood freezes. The sobs continue, heartrending and broken. Slowly my gaze turns upward, and it's not me looking back.

It's Blake. Her eyes are swollen and puffy, like she's been crying for too long. Tear streaks, bags under her eyes, drooping ears. All of it.

"You don't deserve to live." Her hands tighten around her own neck, and I can feel my own hands acting in unison. I try to fight back, but it's like my hands are a vice grip upon me.

"You killed her. You killed the one woman you love."

This is all insane. I feel my vision going dark again. I'm reminded of the last time this happened, and I try to move to break the mirror, but nothing happens. My body doesn't obey me.

"It should have been you that died, not her."

But according to what I saw I'm dead. Yet I'm also still here. It's impossible. It just can't be right.

My body goes slack and I fall backward onto my side. I cough again. I don't want to move. Everything just burns, and I need to make sure I'm breathing right. But as I breath, my mind churns. Ever since I left the motel, everything has been a mess. And to see all this? To see my own death and yet still be here? It just can't be.

But something Blake said in the hospital room rings through me.

"You'll be buried here. In Silent Hill. You'll even have an angel as a headstone. You always wanted one after all."

After hearing that, all I can think about is the graveyard again. That grave with the angel on it. I didn't see another one like it back there. On paper, it could be mine. But how can that be possible? I'm right here. My mind races as it tries to think, tries to come up with what the hell happened in that two year gap, but it's all blanks.

There's nothing in that gap. Just nothing about me. It's like I just woke up in that motel yesterday. Slowly rising to my feet, I feel my hands instinctively go down my body. I'm alive. I know that much. I feel pain, I feel sorrow, I feel anger. I eat, I sleep, I breathe. And for reasons I can't explain I bleed.

Dead people stay dead.

The sobbing is gone now, and when I look up at the mirror, it's just me, Yang, staring back. But what if Yang really is dead? If she died on that bed back there...

Then who am I?

There's only one place left to go, only one place left that can give my answers. I'm afraid to know what's there, but my feet begin to move towards the stairs.

I hear rain coming down outside. I don't think my hair dye is going to make it through that in one piece. It's cheap after all.