I continued my painting and enjoyed the light breeze that blew in through my open window. It was springtime and the air was warm. The songbirds outside played a beautiful melody and loved to listen to them. It was peaceful and quiet in my room and I was lost in my own world as I mixed paints together to get a good color for the background.

My state of mind was interrupted when the doorbell rang. I heard my father get up and walk over to it. When the door opened, a state officer stood in the doorway with another man behind him. The first man was about as tall as me and wore his uniform with his display of weapons on his belt.

He smiled and said, "Hello, I'm chief police officer Ryan Bartlett. Is Tetsu Morris here?"

I stopped painting and felt a slight surge of panic. I remembered to remain calm and not appear to be nervous. My father said a few words to him and let him step inside.

I saw a figure in my doorway and I looked over to him. I straightened my back (I always slouched whenever I painted) and he took his hat off. He held it to his chest and smiled at me. He was probably in his fifties and had gray hair. He was scruffy with a few wrinkles and showed his patch to me to prove that he was chief police officer just as the other policeman appeared behind him.

"I don't know if you heard me say in the doorway," he said to me, "but I'm Ryan Bartlett, and this is Officer Wheeler. Are you Tetsu?"

I set my pallet down and said, "Yeah, I'm Tetsu. Can I help you with something? I already talked to the other policeman yesterday."

Both of them stepped in my room and looked at my paintings. The chief had a sort of glint in his eye when he saw Pyramid. I didn't know what it was- fear, surprise, nervousness, or something else, I honestly didn't know -but it was present for only a mere millisecond before it disappeared.

"This is interesting," he said and pointed to a picture of Pyramid holding a skin pelt. "Who is that?"

"He's a character from a book that I'm considering writing," I replied and stood up. "Why?"

"Scary," the chief said, then seemed to think about making remarks on my other frightening pictures.

I centered them around the emotion of fear.

"You're quite the artist," the other policeman said while he inspected my sketches of Pyramid and Mannequin. Then he saw the other monsters and raised his eyebrows at a drawing of Creeper.

"Thanks," I said. "Can I help you with something?" I repeated.

"Yes, um…these pictures, the one with the triangle-head-"

"Pyramid Head," I interrupted.

"-yes, him. He looks very similar to a picture that we found near the murder scene of three boys about seven years ago. It was a child's drawing, though."

"The other guy told me about that yesterday."

"He said that you didn't know anything about it," he said and looked at me gravely, "but it looks to me like there's some similarity here between that drawing and your…umm…Pyramid Head."

I felt my heart leap into my throat and I didn't know what to say, so I thought of the first thing that came to my head. "I didn't want to tell him because people think I'm crazy," I replied. "Crazy or cursed. Nobody comes to visit me anyways so these paintings are just…well…what I dream about. I'm not really self-conscious of them or anything."

"And what is it that you dream about?"

"Monsters."

"What kind of monsters?"

"These kind." I gesticulated to all of the monsters. "I guess I'm disturbed…I don't know, but I really don't care. People hate me, you know, and I suppose that always being a social reject has its own toll, huh?"

They were silent for a moment before one of them picked up my sketchbook and started to flip through the pages. He asked me, "Do you have a history of any mental disorders in your family?"

"Not that I know of. I don't think I'm crazy."

He set the book down and said, "Well, I think that our business here is done. Thank you for your time."

Before I could say anything more, they went out of the house.

I stood in my bedroom and allowed my heart rate to come back down. It was seven freaking years ago that I dropped that piece of paper, and now something bad was going to happen because of it. I just knew it.

I washed off my brushes and looked at myself in the mirror again. God, what had I just messed up on?

In case if you're wondering, yes, I'm using names of people and places from the Silent Hill games :3 I think I might even add in a few cameos of some other people. Maybe Officer Wheeler will be in here sometime XD