CHAPTER SIX
The halls of the sixth floor were silent, except for the ceasless humming of the florescent lights above. Wyatt's head rang with that humming, becoming rather annoyed of the nearly unbearable silence. Once again, nearly all the doors on this floor were locked tight. He trudged, losing hope, not finding even so much as another keycard to take him to another floor. His radio was silent, spitting out a crackle every now and then, but only because it was broken.
Wyatt looked to his left at a door that led to a break room. He put his hand on the knob and turned it slowly. Finally, a door that opened! He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The room was empty, and with no light, so he pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on. A table, three chairs, a microwave on the counter, some shelves were open, showing styrofoam cups and a stack of paper plates. Wyatt shrugged and looke back again at the table. There, he noticed a manilla folder with his name on it. "What is this?," he pondered aloud, picking it up. "My case report."
Sitting down in one of the chairs, he opened the file. There was a photo of him when he first entered the hospital, almost 6 years ago. Then, he pulled out some notebook paper with scribbled handwriting. "One of the doctors," he mumbled, "I can tell from the handwriting. They have a peculiar writing style." He then began to read it, with little trouble, noticing then it was from his past doctor, Dr. Ward.
Day 07: Wyatt, the patient I was assigned to, is still refusing to speak with me. He sits with a blank look upon his face, and he apparently hasn't slept in days. His eyes are rimmed red and they are bloodshot. His hand twitches nervously as it sits upon the table, and he hasn't even touched his coffee. All I can do is stare back at him. What is in his mind that is troubling him so?
Day 10: Wyatt is having bizarre nightmares. He keeps slashing at himself. He has cuts all over his arms and his torso. He claims that "monsters" have done this to him, but it is impossible. At least he is talking some now, but that is all he will tell me. He doesn't see these monsters, but he hears them and can feel them crawl on him. Perhaps hypnotism will be best to delve into the mind of this troubled man?
Day 12: The faculty still hasn't decided whether hypnotising Wyatt will be safe. So, I think I will have to this secretly...there's no way I'll ever be able to save Wyatt if I do not find what is that mind of his.
Wyatt paused his reading. "I don't remember any of this," he said. "Why can't I? It seems like smoe distant dream that only feels familiar to me. Why?" He then read on, his mind racing with questions, struggling to grasp the answers:
Day 14: The hypnotism went rather well I should say, although now i can't get the images from my mind. I was not only to successfully be able to hypnotise him, but I was also able to clearly see what he saw. In his mind...there was an altar...lit with many candles...robed people stood all around the altar, their hands raised high, as if chanting. There were voices, but they were just whispers and I could not hear them very well. Wyatt...I suppose he was the figure in front of the altar, and he turned to look straight at me and he smiled...it frightened me. The smile on his face...was haunting, and his eyes...reflected the candle light and the seemed to glow with a strange power...was he in a cult of sorts?
Day 18: Wyatt's images became more grotesque...there were corpses all about the altar,a pile of corpses with their skin tore completely from them exposing muscle and bone. Blood poured all around the altar and the fire grew more intense. Wyatt's smile faded as he dipped his hands in the blood of the victims and spread the blood on my face then his own. the other members copied him and as they did, they fell to the ground...and died. My vision also became very blurry and when I awoke, there was blood on my face and my hands and on Wyatt as well.
Day 22: They are everywhere...the monsters. There is one in particular that I see often...a little girl. She is a very troubled little girl, and she holds a knife in her small, rotted hands. Her eyes...they burn into my soul and they terrify me. She tells me Silent Hill will take me and it will take Wyatt, too. She promised she would return for me and send me to Silent Hill...Silent Hill...that name...so familiar...I've woke with cuts on my legs, and claw and bite marks. They are eating at me and gnawing on me...I can't rid myself of them! Damn you Wyatt, why did you bring them to me, why!?
Wyatt, put down the papers, his eyes full of shock and confusion. "What did I do that is so wrong...?" His voice then grew to a shrill yell, "Dammit all! Some one tell me!!"
"I'll tell you," said a small voice. "I'll tell you everything."
Wyatt's eyes shot toward the voice and they widened. It was her! The little girl! "Who the hell are you?," he asked, his voice shaky.
She smiled, running her fingertip down the blade's dull edge. "You mean you dont remember me? That's okay, because you will...you're a very very bad man Wyatt!" Her eyes pierced into his, full of a quiet rage that she pent up inside her small, dead frame.
"What did I do that was so bad? Tell me, I want to know. I want out of here1"
"You can't leave! Don't you see? You're trapped here...this is your gateway...the gateway to Silent Hill. All the terrible things you did brought you here...what you did to your friends...what you did to me..." She then bowed her head, gripping the blade of her knife tightly, her palms filling with blood.
Wyatt leaned down closer. "Wht are you talking about? I don't remember doing anything to anybody..."
Her eyes then shot back upwards and then in a blink of an eye, she stood before him, her nose nearly touching his. "You murdered me! You murdered me...you killed me...and for that, you're going to pay!"
The halls of the sixth floor were silent, except for the ceasless humming of the florescent lights above. Wyatt's head rang with that humming, becoming rather annoyed of the nearly unbearable silence. Once again, nearly all the doors on this floor were locked tight. He trudged, losing hope, not finding even so much as another keycard to take him to another floor. His radio was silent, spitting out a crackle every now and then, but only because it was broken.
Wyatt looked to his left at a door that led to a break room. He put his hand on the knob and turned it slowly. Finally, a door that opened! He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The room was empty, and with no light, so he pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on. A table, three chairs, a microwave on the counter, some shelves were open, showing styrofoam cups and a stack of paper plates. Wyatt shrugged and looke back again at the table. There, he noticed a manilla folder with his name on it. "What is this?," he pondered aloud, picking it up. "My case report."
Sitting down in one of the chairs, he opened the file. There was a photo of him when he first entered the hospital, almost 6 years ago. Then, he pulled out some notebook paper with scribbled handwriting. "One of the doctors," he mumbled, "I can tell from the handwriting. They have a peculiar writing style." He then began to read it, with little trouble, noticing then it was from his past doctor, Dr. Ward.
Day 07: Wyatt, the patient I was assigned to, is still refusing to speak with me. He sits with a blank look upon his face, and he apparently hasn't slept in days. His eyes are rimmed red and they are bloodshot. His hand twitches nervously as it sits upon the table, and he hasn't even touched his coffee. All I can do is stare back at him. What is in his mind that is troubling him so?
Day 10: Wyatt is having bizarre nightmares. He keeps slashing at himself. He has cuts all over his arms and his torso. He claims that "monsters" have done this to him, but it is impossible. At least he is talking some now, but that is all he will tell me. He doesn't see these monsters, but he hears them and can feel them crawl on him. Perhaps hypnotism will be best to delve into the mind of this troubled man?
Day 12: The faculty still hasn't decided whether hypnotising Wyatt will be safe. So, I think I will have to this secretly...there's no way I'll ever be able to save Wyatt if I do not find what is that mind of his.
Wyatt paused his reading. "I don't remember any of this," he said. "Why can't I? It seems like smoe distant dream that only feels familiar to me. Why?" He then read on, his mind racing with questions, struggling to grasp the answers:
Day 14: The hypnotism went rather well I should say, although now i can't get the images from my mind. I was not only to successfully be able to hypnotise him, but I was also able to clearly see what he saw. In his mind...there was an altar...lit with many candles...robed people stood all around the altar, their hands raised high, as if chanting. There were voices, but they were just whispers and I could not hear them very well. Wyatt...I suppose he was the figure in front of the altar, and he turned to look straight at me and he smiled...it frightened me. The smile on his face...was haunting, and his eyes...reflected the candle light and the seemed to glow with a strange power...was he in a cult of sorts?
Day 18: Wyatt's images became more grotesque...there were corpses all about the altar,a pile of corpses with their skin tore completely from them exposing muscle and bone. Blood poured all around the altar and the fire grew more intense. Wyatt's smile faded as he dipped his hands in the blood of the victims and spread the blood on my face then his own. the other members copied him and as they did, they fell to the ground...and died. My vision also became very blurry and when I awoke, there was blood on my face and my hands and on Wyatt as well.
Day 22: They are everywhere...the monsters. There is one in particular that I see often...a little girl. She is a very troubled little girl, and she holds a knife in her small, rotted hands. Her eyes...they burn into my soul and they terrify me. She tells me Silent Hill will take me and it will take Wyatt, too. She promised she would return for me and send me to Silent Hill...Silent Hill...that name...so familiar...I've woke with cuts on my legs, and claw and bite marks. They are eating at me and gnawing on me...I can't rid myself of them! Damn you Wyatt, why did you bring them to me, why!?
Wyatt, put down the papers, his eyes full of shock and confusion. "What did I do that is so wrong...?" His voice then grew to a shrill yell, "Dammit all! Some one tell me!!"
"I'll tell you," said a small voice. "I'll tell you everything."
Wyatt's eyes shot toward the voice and they widened. It was her! The little girl! "Who the hell are you?," he asked, his voice shaky.
She smiled, running her fingertip down the blade's dull edge. "You mean you dont remember me? That's okay, because you will...you're a very very bad man Wyatt!" Her eyes pierced into his, full of a quiet rage that she pent up inside her small, dead frame.
"What did I do that was so bad? Tell me, I want to know. I want out of here1"
"You can't leave! Don't you see? You're trapped here...this is your gateway...the gateway to Silent Hill. All the terrible things you did brought you here...what you did to your friends...what you did to me..." She then bowed her head, gripping the blade of her knife tightly, her palms filling with blood.
Wyatt leaned down closer. "Wht are you talking about? I don't remember doing anything to anybody..."
Her eyes then shot back upwards and then in a blink of an eye, she stood before him, her nose nearly touching his. "You murdered me! You murdered me...you killed me...and for that, you're going to pay!"
