The usual disclaimer. As you might of guessed, I did not create "Silent Hill". Other, smarter people did - don't sue me. All you will get is my debt.
-----author's notes:
This story is told from 2 or 3 different perspectives. sooo whoever's name is at the top, you are seeing the story from their point of view. :)
This takes place 17 years after the events in silent hill 3
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
= ALLY =
Every day of my life, I've woken up, thinking I was dead.
It's not like, a nightmare. I don't remember any of my dreams. Not one in 17 years. I just wake up, and ... I think my heart is beating slower, I feel my lungs fill up with something. Sometimes it even hurts to breathe. I always taste dirt on the back of my tongue. Quite often I see my eyes cloud up in the mirror like a dead cats.
Actually, that's not half of the scary shit I see in the mirror.
Peering in a bit closer today, I could see the blood vessels in my eyes.
The blood.
It looked ... black?
So, just like many mornings before I sank onto the cold, dusty, barely white tile of my bathroom, and began to cry. Crying with the idea that I wasn't meant to live.
I wasn't very loud. I knew I shouldn't be loud otherwise -
"ALLYSON, You stupid, lazy, good for nothing WHORE get out of the bathroom this instant!"
My mom might hear me. Goddamn I hate that woman. She's fucking insane.
I took a deep breath, then got up and scrambled to get my stuff together. My hair was a knotted mass of red, blonde and black. A personal dye job gone streaky and bad. The circles under my eyes were extra dark due to some anti-sleep the other night, and my nose was pink with sniffling. Ah, fan-fucking-tastic. So ugly. Suddenly she started pounding on the door with something a lot heavier than her fists.
"Shut up!! I'll be out in a second ok?!"
Apparently, not good enough for her. The wooden door looked like it was bending a bit with each smack. I twisted the lock and had barely jumped back before the door swung open with enough force I expected there to be a large hurricane on the other side.
But no. No, no. Just my horrendously mood swinging prone mother. She was barley my height, about 5'5. 5'6 if you count in her grey blonde anchor woman immobile hair. Thankfully I didn't look anything like her. she had a gaping mouth and a blunt orgresque nose. She always looked like a fish to me. Mouth opening and closing all the time and no important sounds came out..
"Where you crying AGAIN?" I never cease to amaze her I guess.
"I'm going to be late for school, get out of my way."
She didn't.
"Oh boo-hoo, your life is soooo hard. We ask you to do soooo much around here. .... Or are you crying because no one asked you to homecoming? Is that it? Probably because you're so damn sullen all the time. You do this to your fucking self. If I had a dollar for every goddamn time I see you sulking around - " She was tapping a meat mallet on her palm as she lectured. Apparently what she used on our sorry bathroom door.
"Are you even listening to me?" She raised the wooden hammer. And a small voice inside me cried with joy.
Do it!! Do it!! Just give me a reason! My hand tightened around the small backpack I was holding. I thought seriously about just swinging at her and running.
Her hand fell back to her side.
"Get your ass to school. " Was her final witty comment.
I had to sigh. A bit in disappointment because she didn't give me a reason to hurt her, but mostly in relief she was gone.
As she walked down the hall I glanced back in the mirror,
I saw the hallway engulfed in flames.
And I smiled.