"Come on, Arelia, please talk to me."
They were walking down toward the bridge leading to Central Silent Hill. Arelia had been reserved and scowling for the duration of the trip, her only real movements to walk around Bishop's futile attempts to stop her. It had been an hour since they left the church, and Bishop could almost see the flickering of withdrawal beginning to pulse in her pupils.
Nicotine, nicotine, nicotine, nicotine...
"Arelia, please... I'm sorry, come on!" She remained silent. Bishop lowered his head. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
Nicotine, nicotine, nicotine, nicotine...
"Look," he said, trying to sound firm. "You know I didn't intentionally put your cigarettes in the wash. I'm sorry, but it wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind." He stopped in front of her and she stood before him, staring up at his stern face. "I've sincerely apologized many times over the course of the hour, and I've accepted the beating you gave me for the comment about dropping the habit, but I think it's time for you to either forgive me or walk away now." He waited for her response, features still cold and authoritative, blue eyes staring down into her bloodshot whites.
"Well?" he prompted. "What's it going to be, Arelia? Because no matter how tough you are, I know you don't want to wander around here alone." Again, Bishop waited. Again, he received a blank stare.
"Well?"
Nicotine, nicotine, nicotine, nicotine...
She side-stepped and walked past him.
"Arelia!"
In the middle of the bridge, off to the right, there was a control tower. Arelia climbed the steps easily with Bishop close behind. Before he could get to the door, she slammed it and clipped his nose. After muttering several nasty things concerning her mother, none of which were absolutely false, he opened the door and stood behind her as she inserted the key into a control panel. She turned the key; the machinery began to run. There was a switch next to the keyhole, which she flipped. The drawbridge lowered.
Bishop looked around the control tower and found a map of Central Silent Hill on an empty chair. On the desk in front of it, he found a medicine bottle. He pocketed the bottle and tapped Arelia's shoulder with the map.
"Here," he said quietly. She turned to take it, and when she did, he caught her hand within his. "C'mon, babe," he whispered. "I'm sorry." He squeezed her hand very, very gently. "Can you forgive me?" Arelia squeezed his hand in return, sighed, and nodded. Bishop smiled and hugged her tightly. "Thanks."
"Nicotine, nicotine, nicotine, nicotine," Arelia murmured, breaking away and heading downstairs. Bishop watched a moment, confused, then followed before he lost her in the ever-thickening mist.
It was a long walk over the bridge to Central Silent Hill. The shopping district of the small town was as foggy as any other part, and posed a larger threat: neither of them knew their way around. It would be easier to get lost, even with a map. And who knew what dangers lay within this new area?
Arelia looked down at the map as they passed the police station on the left. She was tempted to enter, as was Bishop. He tapped the map vigorously, pointing at the building with his other hand.
"We could find help there, maybe, and some proper weapons!" he said, as if convincing Arelia would be a great chore. Arelia moved the map out of his reach and took him gently by the arm, pulling him onto the sidewalk across from the station. Wordlessly, she pointed at a shadowy corner bordering an alley. Bishop followed her line of direction, but could make out nothing. Still she held her arm perpendicular to her body, straight ahead of her, ever-pointing to the alley. Bishop squinted, and still he could see no point of particular interest. But Arelia did not change position. He kept looking.
Finally, when he thought she may have failed to mention a catatonic condition, something in the darkness that the building overcast onto the asphalt moved.
Bishop glanced at Arelia, who remained positioned like a rigid weathervane. Her eyes were wide and staring, but no fear glinted in their irises. She did not blink. She just waited. He looked again, but the movement was gone now. After a few moments, Bishop let his focus slip and his vision blur. The thing moved again. His vision sharpened. Arelia's radio began to murmur.
It was a gorilla, or a bear, or some sickly combination of the two. The monstrous creature loped across the sidewalk opposite Bishop and Arelia, its long arms hitting the ground before its back-paws. It used them to swing its lower body forward, much like a gorilla would, and yet it had not the familiarity or body composition of a primate. Covered thoroughly in brown fur mottled with black and light reds, the thing resembled a grizzly, save for the head, which was disturbingly human. The face was obscured with thick black hairs, so that no features were visible. Around the head, the black faded to brown. There were no ears that Bishop could see from where he was standing. The beast looked around a bit before swing-trotting over to the other side of the station, like a savagely mangled and contorted guard. When it disappeared from view, Arelia lowered her arm.
"New place, new enemies," Bishop muttered, half unhappily, half nervously. Through his peripheral vision, he could see Arelia's short nod. "We'll check back later, maybe?"
"The old woman told us to go to the hospital before it was 'too late'," she said quietly. "I'm not entirely sure what that is in reference to, but I'm also not entirely sure I want to find out." She breathed in, a long and painful inhalation. "Things could get much worse. Much, much worse."
Bishop did not say anything. He watched Arelia's eyes finally blink. "In my nightmares I have seen this place. Throughout my restless dreams..." The phrase, as it trailed off, burrowed its way into the back of Bishop's mind, nestling there, waiting to be called upon again when the time came. "Throughout my restless dreams, I have run, cold and alone, through unnamed territories, demons nipping at my heels with venomous and malignant intent. I could have lived a thousand lives, fought a thousand wars, died a thousand terrible, torturous deaths... And it still would not have been this bad." She shook her head and looked around. "My nightmares were never this real."
Taking Arelia by the arm, Bishop began to walk with her down the street toward Alchemilla Hospital. "This isn't real," he said softly. "This can't be the true reality. This has got to be the distorted version of our Purgatory, right? Earth turned momentarily into Hell?" Under her jacket, Arelia's skin felt like dry ice, a burning and freezing frigidity. The cold leaked through the material as she shook her head again.
"This is where our guilt lives. This is where our true animosities are manifested. It is a man-made world; not in the sense that we built it with our hands, but that we built it with our selves. It is of our minds and spirits. These are the dark things that we all harbor: the irrational jealousies, the secrets, the lies, the hate, the forbidden love, the lust, the pain, the desire, the greed, the wrath, the rage, the savagery, the bestiality, the forgotten instinctive properties that have since dwelled only in the back of our brains. Biding their time." She slipped out of Bishop's grasp. He was both relieved and disappointed. "We're in their time now."
"God will save us." Even as he said it, Bishop looked disturbed. Arelia snorted.
"God is not here."
"God is everywhere."
"Hell is the absence of God."
"If this were Hell, why would we be thrust into it together?" Bishop demanded. "Why would two people who can at least tolerate each other be put in this place if not for the mercy of God? He has at least given us that comfort. Why would we both be here, if this were truly Hell?"
"To make it hurt more when we're torn apart," Arelia answered without missing a beat.
From the look on Bishop's face, it was evident that he had not been expecting an answer.