Silent Hill: Human
A Novel
by Drew Rogers
Based Upon The Video Game "Silent Hill 2" by Konami
Part One
A Plucked Violet
Chapter One
Red
There it was. It was all over.
I stared down at him, on the floor. Not at his face, but at his hands, contorted and grotesque. Those hands. I shuddered. I let my eyes travel over his neck, still pumping his vile essence all over my parent's bedroom floor. My hands were clammy, and I was sweating heavily. I began to tremble, maybe from the exhileration of the act, or from shock, or fear. Maybe it was a combination of all of them. There was no turning back.
What have I done?
He deserved it. Fucker.
The knife slipped from my hand and fell to the carpet. I stared down at it. The glint of the sunlight streaming in from my window. It was as if I was seeing it for the first time. It was beautiful, but kind of scary at the same time.
My thoughts cleared, and I slowly came back to life. I sighed heavily, and sat down on their bed, still mussed up from what had occured shortly before. I looked down at my clothes. They were stained with his blood. So were my hands.
He was on me. I had to get him off. Get him off. Get off me! Get off me!
I stood and walked shakily, but calm, mind you, into their bathroom, and turned on the sink. I left a crimson streak on the white plastic taps. I thrust my hands under the tepid water. The light pink water swirled slowly around the sink, and into the dark hole in the center.
Holes. I shut my eyes and let out a single loud, wrenching sob. I fell to my knees, and my wet hands slid from out of the sink and into my lap. I listened to the water running for a few minutes, then looked at my hands. They were still pinkish with his blood. I turned them over and examined my nails. There was still blood under my nails. I jumped to my feet again and scrubbed desperately under them, trying to rinse him away. But I couldn't. I couldn't.
"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I screamed. I began to cry again. Frustrated, I shut off the water, then stumbled back into their room. I wasn't looking where I was going, and tripped over him. I landed hard on top of him, and my face plunged into the widening pool of blood by his neck. I gasped, and scrambled backwards from him. My face was covered in him now. Some of it ran down my face and into my gaping mouth. I gagged and spit it out. I then looked at him and screamed.
Holy shit. He was dead.
I......killed him.
I continued screaming at the top of my lungs as I got to my feet and ran from the room. I took the stairs too fast and nearly fell down them. I managed to catch my balance but collapsed to the floor once I was at the bottom. I got sick all over the floor, then pushed myself into a sitting position against the stairs. My hair was in my eyes. I pushed it behind my ear. It was wet and greasy.
I needed to shower.
I got to my feet and made my way into the bathroom down the hall, near my front door. I decided on a bath. I was unsteady on my feet at best. I turned on the water, made sure it was a good temperature, then closed and locked the bathroom door. I pulled my blood-stained clothes off and threw them in a heap near the door. As the bath filled, I looked at my naked self in the mirror. I scowled as I took myself in. I was hideous. Disgusting. Worthless.
How had he found me attractive? How could anyone fuck me? I ran my hands across my abdomen. I was sore. I felt suddenly nauseous.
I got lost in my self-loathing, and before I knew it the bathtub was close to overflowing. I cursed and turned the water off quickly.
I stepped in and lowered myself into the water. The warmth felt wonderful on my skin. Rinse it all away, I thought, leaning my head back and breathing in the heat. I sat there for an indeterminate amount of time, then slowly lowered my head into the water. Everything went quiet. Even the buzz that accompanied silence was gone. I opened my eyes and saw the water was turned a light pink. I shuddered, and fought against getting out. I needed to get clean. My lungs began to hurt. I needed air.
Maybe I should just stay down here.
I reached my breaking point, and my survival instinct won out. I burst out of the water, gasping. I pushed my matted hair out of my face and leaned back against the back of the tub, my heart racing.
Mom and Brian would be back from the supermarket soon. My heart skipped a beat. I had to clean up!
I got to my feet and jumped out of the tub. I didn't bother letting the water out, and ran, naked and panicking, up the stairs back to their room. I wouldn't let myself look at him for the time being. I focused on the knife, still on the carpet. I picked it up and looked around, my mind racing. What should I do with it? Should I return it to the knife block in the kitchen? No, I couldn't do that. If they didn't find out it was the one she had used, Mom might prepare food for the family with it. The idea of eating food cut by this knife made my stomach leap again, and I doubled over. There was nothing left in my stomach, though, and I just dry heaved. I broke out in a cold sweat. I looked between my legs, behind me to where he lay. His head was tilted, and it looked like his eyes were staring straight up my ass.
"STOP LOOKING AT ME!" I screamed. I whirled around and buried the knife into his chest once more. I grabbed his head and slammed it repeatedly into the carpet. My rage subsided, and I retrieved the knife and retreated to the corner of the room. I curled my legs up to my chest and, still clutching the knife, began to rock back and forth, my eyes still on him.
Time passed. Once again I had no idea how much. I heard the deadbolt on the front door slide open and the door opening. My mother and Brian were home. I heard them chatting downstairs.
"Can you believe that cashier? Trying to short-change me like that?" My mother sounded irritated.
"I don't think she meant to, Mom." Brian always disagreed with Mom when she got pissed off at someone. It was like he felt the need to stand up for the person since they were not present.
"Yeah, right. How stupid do you have to be to not be able to give someone the right change. The computer tells her how much she has to give me. All she has to do is give it to me. I swear to God...."
I listened to them chat as they put the groceries away. Finally I heard my mother walk into the hallway. "Angela! Thomas! I'm home! Sorry I'm so late! I...." The footsteps stopped suddenly. "What the hell....?" I heard her say. She must have seen my sick all over the floor at the foot of the stairs. "Angela? Thomas? Where are you? Are you okay?"
I didn't reply, and I heard my mother rushing up the stairs. Seconds later she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes traveled around the room, settling first on me. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw me, naked and clutching a butcher knife, huddled in the corner of the room. She took a step into the room and opened her mouth to say something when her eyes finally shifted from me and to the mangled body in the center of the floor. My mother began to scream. I shut my eyes and began to laugh.