Bless the Child
Disclaimer: I have just discovered that when you are bored, struggling with story ideas, you end up playing your old games, which in this case, happened to be Silent Hill 4. (Also Silent Hill 3 and Origins). I have come up with an idea that seemed interesting enough to make into a fanfiction. I have fancied Walter Sullivan's character and could never get a good fanfiction going with him. Until I caught on to his terrible back story. I felt so bad for him, being treated like a dog. This is for Walter, man! (P.S. I don't own any Silent Hill characters made my the original artists).
"When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, There's just something about you that pisses me off."
— Stephen King (Storm of the Century: An Original Screenplay)
"Go then, there are other worlds than these."
— Stephen King (The Gunslinger)
By: VampireQueenAkasha
"She was younger than me back then... She looked so happy holding her mother's hand..."
-Walter Sullivan (Silent Hill 4)
Chapter Eleven: Assumption
South Ashfield
Cold.
The cell was so cold as well as the many voices from other cells around him; sneering, filthy faces, icy, grabby fingers and cold shouting that did nothing but roll off of Walter's shoulders as if it were nothing at all.
"Sullivan!" a man hissed, from a cell beside him, "I'm gonna fuck you like I fucked your mother!"
On screen in the police offices, the image of Walter Sullivan was revealed for the entire world to see. "The unknown murderer of both Billy and Miriam Locane was apprehended and identified as Walter Sullivan, a 24-year-old white male. Little 's known about Sullivan, but he was charged with the murder of the two children as well as the other murder cases that have been filed in Pleasant River County. No news yet regarding Sullivan's trial date. More after this ... "
There was an interview following the announcement of a younger man, wearing khaki pants and a denim jacket. He tsked and shook his head, staring at the camera. "Yeah, I knew Sullivan," he said, "Quiet guy, kept to himself."
The man interviewing him frowned. "Did Sullivan ever show signs of murderous intent?"
"N - No. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to kill kids."
O
Walter swayed back and forth miserably, moaning and sobbing gently into his arm. Valtiel watched him on the bed, head shuddering and soft whispering words filling the man's head. Walter whimpered and clawed at his own ears, trying to rid his head of the noise.
"It wasn't me ... " he moaned, "It wasn't me ... "
"Sullivan!"
Walter snapped out of his gaze to look up dazedly at two police officers standing there at his cell. They scowled at him. "Come on, time to have a chat!" one of them hissed. He was bigger than the other and not at all pleasant on the eyes.
Walter was taken in handcuffs to be evaluated by Torch and Scotts. Torch seemed none too pleased to even LOOK at Sullivan, much less talk to him. He was going to play the role of 'Bad Cop' while Scotts played the role of 'Good Cop'.
Scotts took a seat in front of Walter, smiling pleasantly. "Walter Sullivan," he said, "Is that your name? Walter?"
Walter did not react at all to the name. Scotts held a manilla folder in hand and opened it up, looking at what Walter could guess was information of his victims. "Well, let me explain your situation here, Walter," Walter's eyes wandered toward Joseph Schreiber for a brief second before he looked back at Scotts. "You cooperate with me and I may be able to convince them that you should be treated medically. In a hospital. I believe that would be good for you."
Walter smiled lightly, his blue eyes glimmering with red. Behind him, Valtiel's hand rested on his shoulders, influencing the man once more.
"Do you ... sir?" Walter asked, softly.
"I do," Scotts replied, "But the authorities wanna put you with the general population. They don't care if you live or die."
No surprise. Walter had never been wanted even without his reign of terror hanging over his shoulders. "Oh, such a pity, officer ... " he crooned, smiling slyly, "I really enjoy their presence. It's quite fun to toy with the weak and the wounded. Your job certainly qualifies you for that."
Scotts furrowed his brow and leaned forward. "Walter, can I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
"Is there someone else living inside of you?"
Torch scoffed with disgust and shook his head. "Come on, Scotts!" he snapped, "The guy's just playing you!"
Joseph said nothing to agree with him because he was focused intensely on Walter's face. Something had changed about it. He was sitting with pride, with a malicious gleam in his eyes, like he was a completely different individual.
Scotts squinted at Walter and cocked his head. "I spent two years in psychology at the university," he said, "I know a mental disorder when I see one." He smiled now and Walter smiled back, almost as if he was feigning the man to get him to believe something entirely false.
"Is there someone who lives inside of you, Walter?" he asked again.
"Sometimes." the man answered, shrugging.
"What is his name?"
Walter chuckled softly. "He has many names, silly man ... " he whispered.
"Okay, does he know why you killed those people?"
Walter inhaled deeply and leaned back. Valtiel's fingers gripped tighter to his shoulders. "Why should I tell you?" he asked, smiling continuously.
Scotts frowned. "Because I want to know. I think everyone wants to know."
"No. You don't."
"Excuse me?"
"All you want to know is when I will be put away ... forever," Walter leaned back in his chair, fingering with the cuff chains in the middle of his hands, "But trust me, all will be revealed very soon. Very, very soon."
Scotts realized that he was losing the man. Well, he had to try one more tactic. He gestured to Joseph and the journalist brought ink blotch cards over to him. Scotts held one of them up to Walter. "Alright, tell me what you see Mr. Sullivan."
Walter stared at the blotch in front of him. A flash of memory filled his head of Bob's bleeding corpse inside the shed. Swallowing hard, he fought back a humane look before smiling darkly at the officer there.
"A pretty little butterfly," he answered, waving his hands back and forth.
Scotts frowned, not convinced that he was being wholly honest. He revealed another card. "What about now? What do you see here?"
And another memory. The severed bodies of Miriam and Billy Locane flashed through his head. Walter clenched his fist beneath the table before smiling again. "A nice setting sun ... " He sighed when the officer placed the cards down. "There are other men in here with behavior more extreme than mine ... doc."
Scotts chuckled softly and shook his head. "Of course, they're not famous, are they?"
Walter actually laughed gently at that, amused. "I like you, officer."
O
Later that evening, Joseph began to go through several books in his apartment regarding a possible multiple personality disorder in Walter Sullivan. He just couldn't believe that Walter could be driven by that sort of thing. He had more of an agenda, he was certain.
Dissociative identity disorder is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities (known as alter egos or alters), each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment. In the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems the name for this diagnosis is multiple personality disorder. In both systems of terminology, the diagnosis requires that at least two personalities routinely take control of the individual's behavior with an associated memory loss that goes beyond normal forgetfulness; in addition, symptoms cannot be the temporary effects of drug use or a general medical condition.
Individuals diagnosed with DID demonstrate a variety of symptoms with wide fluctuations across time; functioning can vary from severe impairment in daily functioning to normal or high abilities.
Symptoms can include:
* Multiple mannerisms, attitudes and beliefs that are not similar to each other
* Unexplainable headaches and other body pains
* Distortion or loss of subjective time
* Comorbidity
* Depersonalization
* Derealization
* Severe memory loss
* Depression
* Flashbacks of abuse or trauma
* Unexplainable phobias
* Sudden anger without a justified cause
* Lack of intimacy and personal connections
* Frequent panic/anxiety attacks
* Auditory hallucinations of alternate personalities (though these hallucinations typically posses a quality that makes them distinct from psychotic disorders or schizophrenia)
Patients may experience an extremely broad array of other symptoms that resemble epilepsy, schizophrenia, anxiety disorders, mood disorders, post traumatic stress disorder, personality disorders, and eating disorders.
It just didn't add up. With his capture and motives all together, Joseph had a feeling that something was missing in this puzzle. He reached across his cluttered desk for his journal and began to scribble note in place. A strange clatter stopped him and he looked over his shoulder. After a moment, he got up and walked into his living room, noticing a black, moldy spot that had appeared over his couch. With a grumble, he gathered some cleaning tools and began to scrub it clean.
He stopped and sniffed the wash cloth, grimacing at the putrid, foul odor. Was a pipe broken in the wall?
Joseph dialed the number for the superintendent and Frank came up in a short while to check up on the wall. He had his red toolbox with him and he began a quick analysis of the wall while Joseph watched him.
"Well... I don't see anything wrong with the piping," Frank said, "Could be mold ... " He turned and faced a disgusted Joseph. "I'll call the borough office tomorrow to have them come up here and do a mold test. That's the LAST thing this place needs is mold ... "
Joseph furrowed his brow and thought of something, just as Frank was starting for the front door. "Hey Frank?"
"Yeah?" The man paused at the front door.
"What do you think about this Walter Sullivan case?" Joseph looked at him.
Frank laughed quietly, but inside, he felt a little bit at unease. Ever since he had first seen the child, he hadn't felt right about him. "Glad the bastard's gone and locked up," he murmured, "One less maniac to deal with in this town."
Joseph furrowed his brow as the man departed. Something was off about him too. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. What could it all mean?
O
Inside the jail cells, the prisoners began to get very angry over Walter's soft whimpering sounds. He had his back to them as he was doing something out of visual range. Small, sputtering laughs occasionally echoed from him.
"Hey, shut the hell up, Sullivan!" a prisoner spat, "Tryin' to sleep!"
Walter giggled softly and continued to sway back and forth. What they couldn't see was him cutting numbers into the tops of his feet with a sharp object. 11 on one side and 21 on the other. A pool of blood was forming around his legs.
"Sullivan, I swear to God-"
Walter suddenly stood up, his eyes glittering red in the darkness of the cell. He grinned broadly at the man across cells from him and held up a spoon. "Hey, wanna see something cool?" he whispered, in a very, overly done fancied voice.
The prisoner looked confused.
Walter brought the spoon's end to his neck and he grinned wildly before jamming it deep into his throat. Blood gushed from his wound and prisoners began screaming wildly in horror and disbelief. Walter's body crumbled to the ground and lights began to flicker on. Security guards rushed into the scene to see what the commotion was all about.
" - OH MY GOD!"
" - What the F - What the hell?"
" - No, no, no!"
The guards looked over into Walter's cell and they gasped with horror. "Oh shit!" one of them cried. He looked at his comrade. "Call the chief!"
The sounds of chaos and discord as the guards tried to get the terrified prisoners in check faded away into the night, leaving the melodies of Valtiel's delighted moans at what had just transpired. He moved over to Walter's body and placed both hands onto his lifeless face.
