::The Slain::
Chapter Four: Revelations
Kara sobbed for hours upon hours, shedding more tears than she ever had before. She hugged her knees to her chest, rocked back and forth, until her moans finally degenerated into soft, quiet weeping. She wished that she could go into shock and just lie there like a vegetable for a while until she came to terms with what she had seen. Of course, she wasn't that lucky. She had always cherished her ability to quickly process information and act accordingly, but how was she supposed to act now? Her best friend was dead, and she was covered in his blood. Even if there had been a way to somehow forget about that, what was going to happen next?
When squeezing her eyes shut and trying to make her mind shut down failed, Kara tried to sort out her thoughts and come up with some sort of a plan. She stood, leaned on the door against which she had fallen in despair, and surveyed what she saw before her. Graciously, whatever had infected the outside world hadn't yet made it into her precious house. Everything was just as she had left it not too long ago. Messy, sloppy, lived-in, comfortable, home. Not a noise could be heard - no morning birds chirping noisily, but also no unidentifiable growls. Fog pressed at the window as if begging to be invited inside, but it made no move to force its way in.
For the moment, Kara felt reasonably safe. She knew she couldn't let herself get hysterical, but she couldn't forget what she had seen earlier either. She had to have a clear mind in order to map out the best course of action, and she had to be prepared for what she might be faced with. Anything could happen, she reasoned. I don't know what happened here, so I have to expect the unexpected, like they say in cartoons all the time. But how can I do that? It's unexpected…so I don't expect it! I don't know who I can trust…I don't know if there's anyone left to trust. I wish Dad was here. He'd know what to do.
Of course! Dad! Kara wasn't sure if anyone in Silent Hill could help her. Obviously some incredibly screwed-up genetic experiments had gotten loose from their cage--
--or maybe the monsters stepped right out of my mind, out of my dreams--
--or maybe she hadn't really seen those creatures at all. Maybe some secret society of brutal assassins had decided to come torment the residents of Silent Hill. The exact problem didn't really matter. Kara didn't want to face Matt's murderer, no matter who or what it was. But whatever had been unleashed upon Silent Hill couldn't possibly have reached Brahms yet, right? Kara's mind was made up. She would go out into the town, and if she didn't find anyone who could help her, she'd pull her old skates out of the garage and roll the entire twenty miles to her dad's office in Brahms.
It won't take me more than two hours or so, and I just know Dad will be there waiting for me. I'll probably meet him in his car halfway. He'll hear from one of his friends at work that something terrible happened in Silent Hill, and he's already on his way to come get me. I can't depend on that, though…maybe he can't get through because of all the people trying to get back to their kids, or the government set up a roadblock or something. No matter what, I'll find him.
Kara wasn't too happy about having to leave the apparent safety of her home, but she told herself that it really wasn't any safer than outside. If something wanted to get to her bad enough, it was pretty easy to get inside. Nervously shivering with the prospect of some huge thing suddenly busting through the wall and crushing her to bits, Kara busied herself with the task of gathering supplies for the trip ahead. She opened her backpack and dumped its contents onto the floor. Neatness was the last thing that mattered today. She tiptoed through the house to her room, looking behind her with every step to ensure that she wasn't being stealthily followed.
She stopped in the living room, an idea occurring to her. There should be some sort of breaking news report on TV, shouldn't there? Kara hadn't thought of that before. The absence of people at school had made the impression that there wasn't anyone else around, though she had to admit that she hadn't checked the school very thoroughly.
She pictured the bulletin in her head. A neatly dressed woman sitting behind a desk would announce, as a dramatic score played in the background, "This is a Channel Five News special report. The citizens of Silent Hill fled in fear today when…" When what? Kara turned on the television in hopes that the clean-cut young newscaster would finish her sentence onscreen, but all she saw was static. Kara flipped through the channels and found nothing but a mass of snowy dots. There was no sound, no white noise, but that was hardly out of the ordinary after the rest of the day's events. Kara wasn't too disappointed. At this point, she hadn't expected anything to go her way.
In her room, Kara found a small green pocket radio. Like the TV, she couldn't get it to work, but she put it in her backpack anyway. As she neared Brahms, radio stations might begin coming in clear. Remembering the temperatures outside, Kara pulled a heavy black winter coat from her closet to replace the thin jacket that she wore. Then, she grabbed her purple plastic watch off of the floor and strapped it onto her wrist. She sighed when she saw that the digital numbers uselessly flashed "00:00", but she left the watch on anyway. Who knew…maybe the watch really worked perfectly, and she'd see that the second time she looked. She desperately wanted to change out of the blood-soaked clothes she wore, but the thought of being naked even for a moment in such a crazy nightmare place mortified her beyond belief.
Last but not least, Kara opened her jewelry box and carefully removed the only necklace she owned that wasn't made of flimsy, sparkly plastic: a delicate cross on a thin gold chain. She clutched it tightly in both hands, bowed her head, and whispered "Dear God…I need you now more than ever." Then she clasped it around her neck and walked quietly out of the room.
In the top drawer of the dresser in Dad's room was a gun. Kara didn't know what kind it was or how to use it, but she had to have some sort of protection. At the very least, she might be able to scare people away with the threat of a loaded weapon. The drawer was locked, but Kara knew that Dad kept the key in a shoe in his closet. She had noticed it there years earlier during a game of hide-and-seek with Matt. Dad had told her about the gun long ago - Kara supposed it was because he wanted her to always feel safe at home - but he didn't think she knew of the key's secret hiding place.
Kara approached the closet and stood there in front of the door for a moment, trying to get up the nerve to open it. She knew there probably wasn't anything crouched in wait inside the closet, and the outside world was far more frightening than this tiny room in the middle of her house, but she had never been a fan of small, dark, enclosed places. She held her breath and flung open the door, and she was surprised by the sight that lay before her.
The little brass key lay there on the floor right in front of her, as if she was meant to stumble across it. So what? That's not so weird. Dad was probably looking for his favorite loafers this morning, and he accidentally moved the key. Still, there was something strangely menacing about the appearance of the key. Kara tried to ignore the feeling of her hair standing on end as she picked up the key and went to the nightstand.
Kara slipped the key into the lock and turned it. There was the gun…but along with it came a very unexpected shock.
Alongside the pistol lay two items: a small plastic bag filled with some white stuff that looked like flour, and a few folded sheets of paper smeared with blood. Kara's hands shook as she lifted the bag to the light and looked at it. She was a smart girl, and she knew what this meant. I can't believe that. My dad would never ruin his life with drugs…would he?
Maybe answers lay in the ominous blood-streaked note. Kara wouldn't have touched it if she hasn't been so worried for her father. I can't trust anything else in the world anymore. I have to be able to trust Dad.
Kara unfolded the paper, careful to avoid touching the blood. Silly, really, considering she was covered in the stuff, but she didn't want to think about that. The note was in her mother's handwriting. Though Kara would have sworn moments before that she could never cry again after weeping so long for her friend, tears came to her eyes as she began to read. Dear David,
I have spent long, sleepless hours wondering just how to begin this letter, and worrying that you won't understand what I have to say. There's no easy way to tell you, I have to be straightforward: I'm going away . . . not to a better place, but to a place that will give me what I deserve.
The letter went on to tell of the darkness of Anna Sanders' heart. Kara couldn't possibly believe these things about her mother, but here they were, plain as day on a crisp sheet of paper that still smelled of Mommy's perfume. That melancholy scrawl brought to mind days when a much younger Kara sat next to her mother's desk, both girls writing letters to their best friends, one with a stubby red crayon and the other an expensive fountain pen.
But she wasn't really my mommy at all, was she? I was…adopted. I don't even know my own family…
The terror of forbidden secrets began to sink in, and Kara's mind flooded with questions. I can't believe it. She hated Michael. Mothers are supposed to love their sons no matter what…and it was her fault he was born that way! Now I understand why she killed herself. Those drugs must be hers…but she said she got rid of them all. But that means…Dad…
Kara was sickened by the blasphemy that invaded her thoughts. Her legs turned to jelly, and she fell onto her father's neatly made bed. Theories and possibilities swam through her head. Why had so much been kept secret from her for so long? She was mature enough to handle it, wasn't she?
Wait a minute. Whose blood was on that letter anyway? Maybe--
Before Kara could even manage to finish her thought, she was pulled out of her perplexed reverie by a sudden noise in the hallway. Thud, and then thud again, like heavy, dragging footsteps slowly inching forward.
Kara realized that she was quietly moaning "nooo…" under her breath.
The sound of labored breathing filled the house, both Kara's and the struggling gasps of whatever was approaching. Kara wanted to escape, run, hide in the closet, anything to get away, but she was frozen in place with a paralyzing fear.
A shape appeared in the doorway. It was much shorter than Kara, maybe three feet tall, but its horribly mutated features made it as threatening a presence as anything twice its size.
It was vaguely human in shape, but its skin hung loose on a withered frame. It moved with an exaggerated limp resulting from one foot twisted cruelly backward and bent behind it. It wore what appeared to be tattered grey rags, stretched and contorted over a lumpy, misshapen body. One arm ended in a blunt wrinkled stump, the other in two ragged, claw-like fingers that curled tightly around a sharp bloodstained knife.
The face was by far the worst of all. The eyes were dull and sunken, set too far back in the deformed skull. The nose melted into the terrible mouth, which was little more than a horizontal slash lined with rows of tiny pointed teeth. It was a distorted, horrifying monster, dripping with blood and covered in grime as if it had risen from a stinking dark grave. When Kara saw this creature, her eyes widened in a combination of surprise, fear, and pure regretful love.
Staring into the thing's face (or the lack thereof), Kara gasped. "Michael?"
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: Sorry this chapter started out a little slow. I hope I made up for it at the end. Thanks to all my reviewers so far, especially Ranchanthananalas, who helped me quite a lot with my recent writer's block. I've decided that "The Slain" will simply be a chronicle of Kara's adventures in Silent Hill, while a sequel will take one of Ran's ideas into account and explain what Kara is doing there. Don't worry, you'll see how it works out soon enough.
Even though I'm not supposed to do this, I have a question…should the sexual themes mentioned in the warning in the prologue actually be a part of this story, or should I turn that into another story entirely? I have two ideas, and either will work. It all depends on what the readers want. Maybe I should change the rating to R now..or maybe I should forget the sexual themes entirely, considering I'm only 15 and I really shouldn't even know about these things o_o; Anyway...now I'll stop confusing you and go write chapter 5.
~Ashley Michelle J. Pineapple IV
Chapter Four: Revelations
Kara sobbed for hours upon hours, shedding more tears than she ever had before. She hugged her knees to her chest, rocked back and forth, until her moans finally degenerated into soft, quiet weeping. She wished that she could go into shock and just lie there like a vegetable for a while until she came to terms with what she had seen. Of course, she wasn't that lucky. She had always cherished her ability to quickly process information and act accordingly, but how was she supposed to act now? Her best friend was dead, and she was covered in his blood. Even if there had been a way to somehow forget about that, what was going to happen next?
When squeezing her eyes shut and trying to make her mind shut down failed, Kara tried to sort out her thoughts and come up with some sort of a plan. She stood, leaned on the door against which she had fallen in despair, and surveyed what she saw before her. Graciously, whatever had infected the outside world hadn't yet made it into her precious house. Everything was just as she had left it not too long ago. Messy, sloppy, lived-in, comfortable, home. Not a noise could be heard - no morning birds chirping noisily, but also no unidentifiable growls. Fog pressed at the window as if begging to be invited inside, but it made no move to force its way in.
For the moment, Kara felt reasonably safe. She knew she couldn't let herself get hysterical, but she couldn't forget what she had seen earlier either. She had to have a clear mind in order to map out the best course of action, and she had to be prepared for what she might be faced with. Anything could happen, she reasoned. I don't know what happened here, so I have to expect the unexpected, like they say in cartoons all the time. But how can I do that? It's unexpected…so I don't expect it! I don't know who I can trust…I don't know if there's anyone left to trust. I wish Dad was here. He'd know what to do.
Of course! Dad! Kara wasn't sure if anyone in Silent Hill could help her. Obviously some incredibly screwed-up genetic experiments had gotten loose from their cage--
--or maybe the monsters stepped right out of my mind, out of my dreams--
--or maybe she hadn't really seen those creatures at all. Maybe some secret society of brutal assassins had decided to come torment the residents of Silent Hill. The exact problem didn't really matter. Kara didn't want to face Matt's murderer, no matter who or what it was. But whatever had been unleashed upon Silent Hill couldn't possibly have reached Brahms yet, right? Kara's mind was made up. She would go out into the town, and if she didn't find anyone who could help her, she'd pull her old skates out of the garage and roll the entire twenty miles to her dad's office in Brahms.
It won't take me more than two hours or so, and I just know Dad will be there waiting for me. I'll probably meet him in his car halfway. He'll hear from one of his friends at work that something terrible happened in Silent Hill, and he's already on his way to come get me. I can't depend on that, though…maybe he can't get through because of all the people trying to get back to their kids, or the government set up a roadblock or something. No matter what, I'll find him.
Kara wasn't too happy about having to leave the apparent safety of her home, but she told herself that it really wasn't any safer than outside. If something wanted to get to her bad enough, it was pretty easy to get inside. Nervously shivering with the prospect of some huge thing suddenly busting through the wall and crushing her to bits, Kara busied herself with the task of gathering supplies for the trip ahead. She opened her backpack and dumped its contents onto the floor. Neatness was the last thing that mattered today. She tiptoed through the house to her room, looking behind her with every step to ensure that she wasn't being stealthily followed.
She stopped in the living room, an idea occurring to her. There should be some sort of breaking news report on TV, shouldn't there? Kara hadn't thought of that before. The absence of people at school had made the impression that there wasn't anyone else around, though she had to admit that she hadn't checked the school very thoroughly.
She pictured the bulletin in her head. A neatly dressed woman sitting behind a desk would announce, as a dramatic score played in the background, "This is a Channel Five News special report. The citizens of Silent Hill fled in fear today when…" When what? Kara turned on the television in hopes that the clean-cut young newscaster would finish her sentence onscreen, but all she saw was static. Kara flipped through the channels and found nothing but a mass of snowy dots. There was no sound, no white noise, but that was hardly out of the ordinary after the rest of the day's events. Kara wasn't too disappointed. At this point, she hadn't expected anything to go her way.
In her room, Kara found a small green pocket radio. Like the TV, she couldn't get it to work, but she put it in her backpack anyway. As she neared Brahms, radio stations might begin coming in clear. Remembering the temperatures outside, Kara pulled a heavy black winter coat from her closet to replace the thin jacket that she wore. Then, she grabbed her purple plastic watch off of the floor and strapped it onto her wrist. She sighed when she saw that the digital numbers uselessly flashed "00:00", but she left the watch on anyway. Who knew…maybe the watch really worked perfectly, and she'd see that the second time she looked. She desperately wanted to change out of the blood-soaked clothes she wore, but the thought of being naked even for a moment in such a crazy nightmare place mortified her beyond belief.
Last but not least, Kara opened her jewelry box and carefully removed the only necklace she owned that wasn't made of flimsy, sparkly plastic: a delicate cross on a thin gold chain. She clutched it tightly in both hands, bowed her head, and whispered "Dear God…I need you now more than ever." Then she clasped it around her neck and walked quietly out of the room.
In the top drawer of the dresser in Dad's room was a gun. Kara didn't know what kind it was or how to use it, but she had to have some sort of protection. At the very least, she might be able to scare people away with the threat of a loaded weapon. The drawer was locked, but Kara knew that Dad kept the key in a shoe in his closet. She had noticed it there years earlier during a game of hide-and-seek with Matt. Dad had told her about the gun long ago - Kara supposed it was because he wanted her to always feel safe at home - but he didn't think she knew of the key's secret hiding place.
Kara approached the closet and stood there in front of the door for a moment, trying to get up the nerve to open it. She knew there probably wasn't anything crouched in wait inside the closet, and the outside world was far more frightening than this tiny room in the middle of her house, but she had never been a fan of small, dark, enclosed places. She held her breath and flung open the door, and she was surprised by the sight that lay before her.
The little brass key lay there on the floor right in front of her, as if she was meant to stumble across it. So what? That's not so weird. Dad was probably looking for his favorite loafers this morning, and he accidentally moved the key. Still, there was something strangely menacing about the appearance of the key. Kara tried to ignore the feeling of her hair standing on end as she picked up the key and went to the nightstand.
Kara slipped the key into the lock and turned it. There was the gun…but along with it came a very unexpected shock.
Alongside the pistol lay two items: a small plastic bag filled with some white stuff that looked like flour, and a few folded sheets of paper smeared with blood. Kara's hands shook as she lifted the bag to the light and looked at it. She was a smart girl, and she knew what this meant. I can't believe that. My dad would never ruin his life with drugs…would he?
Maybe answers lay in the ominous blood-streaked note. Kara wouldn't have touched it if she hasn't been so worried for her father. I can't trust anything else in the world anymore. I have to be able to trust Dad.
Kara unfolded the paper, careful to avoid touching the blood. Silly, really, considering she was covered in the stuff, but she didn't want to think about that. The note was in her mother's handwriting. Though Kara would have sworn moments before that she could never cry again after weeping so long for her friend, tears came to her eyes as she began to read. Dear David,
I have spent long, sleepless hours wondering just how to begin this letter, and worrying that you won't understand what I have to say. There's no easy way to tell you, I have to be straightforward: I'm going away . . . not to a better place, but to a place that will give me what I deserve.
The letter went on to tell of the darkness of Anna Sanders' heart. Kara couldn't possibly believe these things about her mother, but here they were, plain as day on a crisp sheet of paper that still smelled of Mommy's perfume. That melancholy scrawl brought to mind days when a much younger Kara sat next to her mother's desk, both girls writing letters to their best friends, one with a stubby red crayon and the other an expensive fountain pen.
But she wasn't really my mommy at all, was she? I was…adopted. I don't even know my own family…
The terror of forbidden secrets began to sink in, and Kara's mind flooded with questions. I can't believe it. She hated Michael. Mothers are supposed to love their sons no matter what…and it was her fault he was born that way! Now I understand why she killed herself. Those drugs must be hers…but she said she got rid of them all. But that means…Dad…
Kara was sickened by the blasphemy that invaded her thoughts. Her legs turned to jelly, and she fell onto her father's neatly made bed. Theories and possibilities swam through her head. Why had so much been kept secret from her for so long? She was mature enough to handle it, wasn't she?
Wait a minute. Whose blood was on that letter anyway? Maybe--
Before Kara could even manage to finish her thought, she was pulled out of her perplexed reverie by a sudden noise in the hallway. Thud, and then thud again, like heavy, dragging footsteps slowly inching forward.
Kara realized that she was quietly moaning "nooo…" under her breath.
The sound of labored breathing filled the house, both Kara's and the struggling gasps of whatever was approaching. Kara wanted to escape, run, hide in the closet, anything to get away, but she was frozen in place with a paralyzing fear.
A shape appeared in the doorway. It was much shorter than Kara, maybe three feet tall, but its horribly mutated features made it as threatening a presence as anything twice its size.
It was vaguely human in shape, but its skin hung loose on a withered frame. It moved with an exaggerated limp resulting from one foot twisted cruelly backward and bent behind it. It wore what appeared to be tattered grey rags, stretched and contorted over a lumpy, misshapen body. One arm ended in a blunt wrinkled stump, the other in two ragged, claw-like fingers that curled tightly around a sharp bloodstained knife.
The face was by far the worst of all. The eyes were dull and sunken, set too far back in the deformed skull. The nose melted into the terrible mouth, which was little more than a horizontal slash lined with rows of tiny pointed teeth. It was a distorted, horrifying monster, dripping with blood and covered in grime as if it had risen from a stinking dark grave. When Kara saw this creature, her eyes widened in a combination of surprise, fear, and pure regretful love.
Staring into the thing's face (or the lack thereof), Kara gasped. "Michael?"
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: Sorry this chapter started out a little slow. I hope I made up for it at the end. Thanks to all my reviewers so far, especially Ranchanthananalas, who helped me quite a lot with my recent writer's block. I've decided that "The Slain" will simply be a chronicle of Kara's adventures in Silent Hill, while a sequel will take one of Ran's ideas into account and explain what Kara is doing there. Don't worry, you'll see how it works out soon enough.
Even though I'm not supposed to do this, I have a question…should the sexual themes mentioned in the warning in the prologue actually be a part of this story, or should I turn that into another story entirely? I have two ideas, and either will work. It all depends on what the readers want. Maybe I should change the rating to R now..or maybe I should forget the sexual themes entirely, considering I'm only 15 and I really shouldn't even know about these things o_o; Anyway...now I'll stop confusing you and go write chapter 5.
~Ashley Michelle J. Pineapple IV