Disclaimer: This is the second chapter in my fan-fic. I don't pretend to own Silent Hill, Konami owns it, I'm just a fan of a really good game, nothing more.

And please review my story, I don't care if you're going to flame me or not, I like people commenting on my work. After all, if you're going to complain about how "bad" my work is, or how much it "sucks" and you don't review, you can honestly kiss my white ass...~_^

As I walked down the foggy road into Silent Hill, I saw nothing more. No more deranged beasts, but no people either. I figured that the place was abandoned, by the looks of the various houses I broke into, extremely quick. It was as if the people just up and left, like they just disappeared into the fog. I shuddered at the thought of people dissolving in the fog as I trod down the road, keeping eyes and ears open for any sounds.

I was examining some graffiti spray painted on the wall when I tripped on something. Pushing myself up off the concrete, I cursed and looked at whatever had been rudely obstructing my passage. It was a book of some sort, leather bound and thick with paper. I picked it up, only to find that the leather wasn't exactly leather; the binding was of human flesh.

Screaming, I dropped the book, shaking my hands madly as if to get the evil to keep away from me. In an instant, the radio in my pocket crackled to life and I heard something approaching from in front of me. Gathering my wits, I gripped the crowbar tightly in my hands like a baseball bat and waited for one of those freaks to come out of the fog after me.

Oddly enough, it seemed that nothing was near, no footsteps, nothing. I kept my position as I waited for it, the clammy feeling of bare, dead flesh against my own. Still, nothing came out of the fog, though the radio did not stop its restless screaming. I shifted uncomfortably, peering into the fog, still looking for whatever I had heard. The radio blared, and I swung the crowbar in circles around me, to fend off whatever might be trying to get closer.

An arm grabbed me from behind, pinning my own arms to my sides; then a second and third arm joined the first, and I felt breath against my back. Struggling, I managed to escape for a moment, only to be thrown to the ground, the beast on top of me. I felt the jagged teeth scrape against my back as it held me down with all those arms. I vomited what remained in my stomach from the last time I had puked, and struggled violently. I was scared out of my wits; I knew that there was no way that I was getting out of this mess.

One of the hands grasped the back of my head, and before I could do anything, smashed it into the concrete. The last things I saw before the black took over were my blood mixing with the yellowish green color of bile. Everything faded into black and I felt like I had died.

Black faded into deeper and more sinister colors, red hue peeking through the darkness. I felt as if my entire soul was being devoured by the darkness, my entire self corrupted by that black. I spun through that miserable abyss, fearing that I was indeed dead, not just unconscious or being eaten alive. Though, when one thought about it, being eaten alive wasn't exactly appealing either.

When I realized that I wasn't dead was when I felt a sudden pain in my head, sharp, like something was piercing the bone. I screamed, but no sound came out, and as I flailed, I did not move. Tears began to streak down my cheeks as I whimpered in fright. I hadn't been that scared in a very, very long time.

Jerking out of my state, I found myself still on the pavement, lying in a pool of my own blood, but there was no creature to be found. Patting myself down, I checked for the radio, which was humming unmercifully in my pocket, and the crowbar, which had been torn from my hands by the beast and lay a few feet away. I was relatively uninjured, my head was bleeding freely from a gash across my forehead, and my hands were bruised and battered, but I was alive.

Pushing myself up on my feet, I stood uneasily, looking around. My demented attacker was nowhere to be seen, not a trace that it had even been there, save for my splitting headache and vague memories. I stumbled down the road, ignoring the fog that swathed me.

My footsteps echoed, but after I had been trotting along for about half an hour, a second set of echoes joined the first. These footsteps were not like the monster's; there was no sickly squishing noise after each step, no groans into the air as it moved. Whatever this was, it either learned to shut up, bought shoes, or it was another person.

I stopped moving, the footsteps continued, and I waited, the crowbar held tightly in a hand. The footsteps paused and I could dimly make out a shape in the fog, standing on two legs, with something rather menacing held in its hands. I took a few steps backwards as I realized exactly what the thing was: a shotgun.

The owner of the shotgun decided to take a few shots at my feet, the pellets imbedding themselves in the asphalt. I yelled and threw the crowbar toward my opponent, resulting in a loud curse from the shadowy figure. It came closer and I saw the scruffy figure of a man, a shotgun at his side standing before me.

"You all right girly?" He said with a grin, looking toward the bleeding cut on my forehead. "Looks like you saw some of them freaky things too, eh? Let's find something to clean you up with."

I nodded my head and he started to walk away, beckoning me to follow. Without thinking I followed him, remembering to pick up my crowbar as I walked past. I didn't want to be caught unarmed by one of the creatures again, even though the burly man in front of me carried something I was sure could kill those nasty buggers.