CHAPTER TWO

Dr. Smith strolled down the hallway of the hospital with two of his colleagues; another young man who looked to be about his age, but shorter and who wore thick glasses, and a woman in her mid-30s with her brown hair in a neat, tight bun. "I want to focus solely on Wyatt Waters," Dr. Smith said, gripping a manilla folder at his side.

"You have other patients to be concerned with," the woman replied, rather sharply. "Wyatt should not be your sole concern."

The other young man questioned, "How is his progress, any way?"

"His progress is...unchanged. He still claims there are monsters after him, but any tests we run on him show that he is completely stable. I just don't understand any of this...right now, we have him under tight surveilance. Hopefully, we can find something out that way," Dr. Smith informed, still clinging the folder at his side, occasionally glancing down at it.

The woman doctor looked at Dr. Smith questioningly, her green eyes trailing down to the folder in his hand. "Tell me, Dr. Smith, what is it you're holding in your hand so tightly?," she asked, with intrigue in her rather deep voice.

Dr. Smith held up the folder slightly and answered, "It's a case report made by Dr. Ward about Wyatt. Apparently, Dr. ward was so involved in his case, that he went crazy and killed himself. I want to know what sort of information Dr. Ward found out about Wyatt."

"Dr. Smith, I suggest you stay away from this case! Wyatt Waters is a deeply troubled man who has no salvation what so ever. He's been in this hospital for years, and nobody has ever been able to find out more than that fact. Give it up," the woman snapped.

"Yeah, Dr. Smith," added the man with glasses, "You're a highly respected doctor, and this sort of thing will only hurt your reputation."

Dr. Smith glanced back and forth between the two of them and remarked, "Youtwo are soundnig rather strange. Do you know something that I don't? ...You know it doesn't matter, because I'm not backing down on this case. I feel that I canreally help Wyatt through whatever it is that is troubling him."

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Wyatt glanced back and forth to either side of his head. He was strapped down to a bed; he could feel the belts on his forehead, arms, torso, and legs tightly binding him. His raspy breath echoed in the room, against the starch white walls. "Where am I?," he said, fear oozing from his cold, blue lips.

From somewhere in a corner, out of eyesight, he could hear a whisper. The words were inaudible, but the whisper sounded much like that of a child. It sounded sad, and low-pitched. It also sounded close to Wyatt, sending fearful chills up and down his spine.

"Go away!," Wyatt whispered sharply. "Get away from me, you monsters...leave me alone, please."

There was a giggle, and the air grew much colder. Wyatt could see his breaths as puffs of steam, rising from his nostrils.

Wyatt could feel hot tears formeing around his eyes. "What do you want from me? Why are you torturing me like this? Just let me be, please!"

Suddenly, as fast as Wyatt could blink, atop his chest sat a little girl. Her hair was matted and her face was stained with blood and dirt. She held a small knife in her left hand and with her right hand, she touched his forehead. "You can't get out of Silent Hill. It'll take you!" She then stabbed Wyatt in the chest, his blood splattering on her face. Some had managed to lnd on her lower lip and she licked it away greedily. "It has you..you can't get out." She then disappeared, leaving no sign of her presence.

Wyatt looked at his wound, which was spilling blood. He looked around nervously, trying desperately to escape his bondages. He stretched his legs, tearing his bandages open, and letting the blood spill from his leg wounds. Finally, realizing there was no way to escape, and feeling weakened from his ounds, he cried out with every bit of strength he had in him, "HELP ME! SOME ON PLEASE COME HELP ME!"

Just then, a beautiful young nuse-in-training stepped into the room. She gasped shrilly and nearly fainted at all the blood that had gathered onto the white tile floor. She then yelled shakingly, "Someone call the medics to room 312! HURRY!"

Dr. Smith heard the intercom calling for immediate help from medics to Room 312. He left his colleagues and ran the oppisite direction down the hallway, rushing to his patient.