Silent Hill 3: The Fourth Wall, or Heather's Worst Day Ever

Chapter 9: The High Princess

The belfry room had been a dead end, so we returned to the angel painting hallway. I listened for the sound of the crying little girl, and looked all over for the tiny footprints, but this wasn't the Nightmare Church. Temporarily stuck, James and Henry waited patiently in the corner while I poked around for a clue about what to do next.

My ever helpful monster was sniffing around on the floor underneath one of the paintings, and soon it had leapt up onto the canvass; pawing, and clawing, and whining incessantly.

"No, doggy thing. I don't think that's the right one. It's way too small." I pointed at the more familiar angelic painting where the hidden door should have been. I'd shoved it aside and found only a bare wall.

The Double Head's whines grew higher in pitch and annoyance until I finally wandered over. "Alright, alright... Let me take a look." I grasped both sides of the picture frame and pulled to the right. It wouldn't budge that way, so I tried left. It then slid rather easily, as if built on a mechanism. Behind it was a small key and a folded note scotch-taped haphazardly to the wall. I grabbed the key first and examined it.

This was the old model for my room key.

It was the brass key from the butterfly display case in my old room. I went ahead and tore the paper off the wall, and then unfolded it with an annoyed sigh.

Hiding things can be fun, but I'm not hiding from you. read the unsigned note, but I assumed it was from Vincent. The message was his style of cryptic obnoxiousness, though the real giveaway was the handwriting, which looked similar to the scribbling on the back of the Find the Holy One. Kill her? photograph.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I asked, after having read it aloud to the party. "And he should be hiding... 'cause I'm gonna kick his ass as soon as I see him."

Henry looked amused, and James pointed back over his shoulder and asked, "So that key unlocks the door we passed earlier?"

"Uh-huh, and it's cheating big time. This key belongs in Alessa's—well, my old room. So we've basically skipped past most of the level. I have a bad feeling about this..."

The Double Head and I traced our steps back to the conference room with the two men in tow. As we approached it, I felt a strange sensation come over me, and my stomach tightened up a moment before I opened the door—probably just some of my leftover psychic powers. Inside, we found all of the furniture in place, and no obvious signs of a struggle, but the Closer had collapsed in a heap. Dead.

I sighed heavily and walked over to crouch down next to it. "This is... pissing me off. Seriously. Finding them dead like this. It's like..."

"Like someone's doing your job for you?" asked James.

My shoulders sagged. "No... I guess you two wouldn't understand." I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I gave the Double Head a quick pat and moved over to the other door.

Down the corridor we continued, until we bumped into the locked door from before. The brass key fit the lock without a hitch, but I paused before entering. "Should we wait up for my da— Harry and Douglas?"

"I've been kind of worried about them..." said Henry quietly. "Did Harry even have any weapons in his inventory?"

"Depends on where he was in the game when I summoned him," James replied. "I guess at worst he'd have his handgun."

"There are still a ton of Nurses in Normal Brookhaven," I said. "But hey, he's probably got his steel pipe at least if he runs low on bullets. It's in that alley before the part with the Wizard of Oz keys." The idea of Harry killing my Nurses should have pushed all of my buttons in the worst way, but strangely... I felt okay about it.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, I thought, looking down. I examined my own hands carefully, turning them over and back. My orange wristbands and watch... my skin texture... everything seemed normal...

Am I really...?

"Heather?" It was Henry.

I was startled, but shrugged it off as nonchalantly as I could. "Ah-yup. Let's go through this door here," I said, turning the doorknob clockwise. "See ya on the otherside!"

"Heather..." said James gently. "Wait a minute..."

"What?" I huffed. "Let's just get this over with. No matter how weird it gets."

"Were you thinking about Harry?"

"No," I replied sharply. "And I'm not worried about him, either. If anything I'd be worried about Douglas." I was lying, but they couldn't tell.

James cracked a smile at first. "Heh, yeah." He paused, then continued, "I was just thinking how hard this game has been on you... thought maybe you might want to rest for a minute."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to him, one hand planted firmly on my hip. "What do I look like, Maria?" Then I glanced at Henry, who looked equally concerned.

"I'm designed to be tough," I scoffed. "And I'm not a child, you know. I might be fatherless for real now, but I can get through this game just fine. Hell, I still can't figure out why I decided to drag you two along. And it's creepy of you to be up in my business like this." I paused, darting my eyes back and forth between them suspiciously. "What's gotten into you guys?"

They looked at one another.

"It just feels a little too real to me..." Henry said in a low, solemn voice. "I guess when we go back to our games, it'll go away... but I keep having this terrible feeling..."

James nodded, looking back down the hall cautiously. "I feel it too... didn't want to say anything. And worse, I almost feel like a real person at times. Then I wonder if it's really just Vincent doing this to the game. Speaking of which, I wonder what he's got in store for you, Heather... Do you think he could he actually be dangerous?"

I reached for the doorknob again. "Well, I told you. He's a coward. I don't think he's even capable of holding a weapon... and the only things that can kill me now are the monsters." I leaned forward and thumped the Double Head on its side with my free hand, and it looked up at me adoringly. "And I don't see that happening anytime soon."

The loading screen cleared, and we found ourselves once again in alien surroundings. A spacious open lobby of some kind that I'd never seen anywhere in the game before. Eight worn, yellowish sofas lined the walls, four to each side with dark end tables parked next to them. I moved over to one. There were some magazines stacked on top. Nothing filthy this time, and a couple of them I had already read. The rest didn't look too interesting. I backed away and glanced up and around. There were no windows to be seen, but fluorescent lights hummed overhead, giving off plenty of light. A large circular desk made its home in the center of the room, decorated with a few unidentifiable leafy potted plants. It also held three dated computer monitors with keyboards and mice, and two white office phones placed on either side of an antique typewriter. Above the desk on two chains hung a black cloth covered sign, like the place had been abandoned, or perhaps, simply wasn't functional yet. The thin industrial carpet under our feet was a depressing blue-gray and the walls a shade of light gray with dark smudged corners. At least the environment wasn't too clean. It wasn't exactly un-Silent Hill-like, but it didn't feel quite right... like someone was copying the art style.

We passed the desk and moved on ahead cautiously, keeping a lookout for any signs of life. Off to our right was an alcove. A pair of vending machines were sitting against the wall inside, but they were dark and didn't seem to be plugged in. Against the opposite wall sat two more potted plants, a wooden bench and a "Stash Your Trash" garbage can. All stolen from the Mall, no doubt.

As we continued on, the building opened wider and the ceiling had extended upward. Above, domed light fixtures cast our short shadows on the drab carpet. The whole level was starting to look massive, and signs of construction were soon made apparent. Four long, dimly-lit corridors stretched out before us, each branching off into its own direction. The one on the far left was blocked off with some yellow caution tape, a wheelbarrow, and bits of scattered debris. A single identifying character displayed overhead: the number 1. The next was marked with a 2 and clear of any obstacles. 3 and 4 were to the right of that. Each length of hallway was filled with a varying number of mysterious wooden doors. The numbers were a no-brainer, really, but that didn't make them any less disturbing. The layout was weird and reminded me of a certain famous prison in Philly. Though the place looked relatively harmless, it just felt... sinister.

My head had been aching for hours, but the migraine came back suddenly—and with a vengeance. It throbbed its way to the front and settled right behind my eyes. I dropped to one knee and groaned as the dizziness returned, ready to torment me for another round. But then, there was something else. I gasped suddenly, pressing a hand to the front of my chest. I felt like I might puke again sure, but my heart was racing and it felt like I couldn't breathe. The Double Head whined and nuzzled its split heads gently into my right side. What in the hell is this...? A panic attack? How should I know? I'd never had one before, or any reason to. I coughed on the next inhale and James glanced back over his shoulder warily. He and Henry had wandered up ahead, and were now peering down their respective hallways curiously.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to shake it all off. I gave the monster a reassuring pat and stood back up as straight as I could manage. James walked back to join us, followed by Henry.

"Should we split up here?" James asked. "Maybe we all fight our own final bosses. Wouldn't that be something." He slid his hands down into the side pockets of his jeans, once again coming up empty. "Uh, well. Never mind."

I shook my head. "This is still Silent Hill 3. There's one final boss, and it's God. Well, just this once it might be Vincent... and you leave him to me." I pulled open the menu and put away my katana, and then selected and equipped my illustrious gold pipe, fully intending to cave Vincent's skull in with it.

"Fancy," mumbled Henry.

"Isn't it," I said, forcing a smile.

I led the team down Hallway 3, holding the pipe against my shoulder and checking out each doorknob with my left hand. A shiny brass nameplate had been drilled into the first door, engraved with my full name: Heather Mason. It was locked. "My room's back in the apartment," I muttered. "This can't be here." I twisted hard on the unturnable knob feeling irritated, and maybe a little violated, too. Even my sacred place had been desecrated in this madhouse.

Oddly, Douglas Cartland must have had a room some place in the game too, because that's what the name on the next door said. Also locked.

Leonard Wolf as well. His door opened, but there was nothing inside but a carved dark oak desk holding an old-fashioned rotary dial phone left off the hook.

The next one was boldly marked: Equipment Room. The lock is broken. I can't open this door.

James tapped my shoulder. "Hey uh, do you think Mary might have a room somewhere around here?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I guess. If you wanna go check it out, feel fr—"

He was gone before I'd finished my sentence.

The Double Head and Henry followed me closely down the hall while I tried out the rest of the doors. Audio Room. Broken locked. Corpse Storage. "Yuck," I said. Thank God that one was locked.

Father Vincent. Locked.

"Move." I told them (a bit scarier than I had meant to). They both backed up. A flutter of nervous excitement. I knocked on the door politely, widened my stance and readied my pipe. No answer. I gave the door a small frustrated kick. "Yeah, nothing is ever that easy," I grumbled, turning away. Henry just sighed and nodded.

Claudia Wolf.

I pressed an ear to the door and tapped softly. "Claudia?"

"It's open!" came a muffled cry, much to my surprise.

I shooed the Double Head gently aside and grabbed onto the doorknob. "Wait here, please," I told it. "And if you see any trouble bark like crazy, alright?" The Double Head gave an eager nod and a soft "Arf!" I stepped forward into the loading screen, and Henry went with me.

The screen went dark and hung up briefly, and in the blackness, my nose was hit with a peculiar smell. Like cigarette smoke being covered up by too much floral air freshener. We finally loaded in, and we were in Claudia's bedroom in the Church level, but...

"Hey, hold on a sec, I've got company," a voice said from somewhere off to the side. I spun around and there she was, reclining on her bed. One leg up on top of the other, resting back on two fluffy pillows.

"Claudia...!?" I rubbed my eyes for the bazillionth time. They were starting to burn.

"I'm going to have to call you back." She was looking right over my shoulder as she ended her phone call. "Sorry about that," she said, scooting to the edge of her carnation pink bedspread.

Her long blonde hair was now parted on the side, and pulled into a side ponytail—quite out of character. She still had no eyebrows to speak of, but I could tell she'd been experimenting with makeup, and a thin layer of pink gloss was shining on her lips. Her weird cultish attire was gone, but at least she was still clothed in black. She was wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans, and her top was covered in a half buttoned sweater coat. I blinked hard as I lowered my gaze. She was wearing shoes for the first time that I'd ever seen: black leather riding boots.

She looked...

...weird.

For Claudia, anyway.

"Who's your cute friend, Heather?" she asked, without so much as a glance my way. Her accent had faded quite a bit.

"Henry..." murmured Henry, "and you?"

Dammit, hadn't I just said her name twice?

"Claudia," she purred.

"Alessa," I corrected, trying not to let too much anger show through. "You're supposed to call me Alessa. And you were supposed to say your lines to me in the elevator hallway. And now we've got... ...issues."

I was on the floor now, taking it all in. The previously bare room had been fully furnished, and I was kneeling on wall to wall dark purple plush carpet. I saw white bookshelves, a matching vanity, and an entertainment center holding a ginormous flat screen TV. There were current gen game consoles and controllers with flawless cable management, and Blu-ray and game cases arranged neatly on the unit's shelves. Real life music and movie posters were hanging on the clean, lavender painted wall straight ahead, and with them some heavily pixelated framed family photos. I turned my head to the side, shaking all over. Three clothes racks were off to our right, overflowing with different outfits, belts, miscellaneous accessories, and purses. The mountain of shoe boxes in one corner of the room really set me on edge, and my heart began to pound with anxiety.

Although I had to admit, the clothes were pretty nice.

"Where's Vincent?" I demanded, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "Did he do this, too?"

"Oh, all this? Yeah, he gives me things... I think he's trying to win me over." She was leering at Henry, and sauntering her way over to him. "Don't think anything of it, though... he's not my type at all."

Henry took one nervous step backwards.

"Claudia, for God's sake!" I cried. "We can fix this right now if you just say the lines!"

She stopped in her tracks and looked at me. "What?"

"Tell me I need to 'remember my true self' and 'that which I must become' and all that jazz! Please!" I was pleading to her, probably needling over into the whiny range.

She frowned as she finally turned to face me, but Henry seemed relieved. "That's not going to do it I'm afraid," she said.

What.

"But God!"

"Heath—I mean, Alessa, it's your fault there will be no God. You haven't been leading us to Paradise with blood-stained hands."

WHAT.

"Wha..." I stood up angrily. "This isn't my fault! It was your damn script problem!"

She shook her head. "You already know your true self, so it wouldn't matter if I said the lines." She let out a bored sigh. "And you should know that in order to grow God within you that you have to give and receive pain. You have to kill monsters, you have to feel pain. Pain and hatred. On that end, I'll admit some fault, but really... we don't need God."

"WE NEED GOD, CLAUDIA!" I shrieked, like some kind of deranged Bible-thumper. "What in the hell's gotten into you?! Didn't Leonard ever call and give you a talking-to?"

She rolled her eyes and held up her smartphone. "He calls me all the time. Who do you think I was just talking to?" Then her face lit up with a smile. "Vincent's been mediating for us, and honestly, things are so much better now between us. He apologized and I've forgiven him for beating me up all those years."

Oh, how nice.

A horrible, hollow feeling tore straight through my chest, and my eyes started to sting even worse. "Wow... looks like you've got it all now, huh," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Cool stuff and an awesome dad who's still alive. 'Way to go Claudia'." My voice had begun to break up near the end, and a lump had formed in my throat. I bit my tongue as hard as I could while blinking back the impending waterworks.

"Heather..." said Henry softly, and I felt his hand rest lightly on my shoulder.

"Whatever. I'm happy for her, I guess."

Claudia shrank back a little, turning away to the side. "But I didn't..."

"Yeah, well, it didn't really change anything," I replied, almost tearfully. "But I'm fine. I'll get out of your face now."

She paused, looked at me again, and I could tell she felt something.

Pity.

There it was.

I grabbed Henry's hand off of me and dragged him along as I stormed back over to the door.

"Some 'High Priestess' you are," I shot at her, just before we loaded out.