Jennifer walked through the paper doorway and into a small, dark room. She could smell old shoes. "And whose closet am I in now?" she wondered, opening the door cautiously and peeking out. The room was ordinary enough. There was a nightstand with a lamp and a phone on it; that was next to a neatly made bed. Over in the far corner was a desk littered with scrapbook supplies and shreds of paper. A couple of pictures marked the walls and there were two windows facing out, though their shades were half-drawn. "Um…hello?" Jennifer called. She stepped out of the closet, swiveling her head left to right, scanning the room. "Really sorry I'm coming out of your closet…um…don't kill me?" she pleaded lamely.

There was no one in the room to remark on how dorky she sounded. For that, Jennifer was more than grateful. Her first move was to try to phone. She punched the numbers for 9-1-1 before bringing the phone to her ear—there was no dial tone, and upon closer inspection (meaning she yanked the phone off the nightstand) she discovered the line had been cut. Jennifer peeked out the windows; there was the backside of a brownstone staring back at her, and a partial view of an empty street. The pictures on the walls were various sites from around Silent Hill; a resident on a bike during a sunny day, some of the waterfront, an old store front. Jennifer went back to the closet to grab her ax; to her muted surprise, the door she had come in was gone. Still, she gave the back of the closet a good jab just to make sure nothing was going to come up behind her. She also checked under the bed and the desk. Luckily, there were no mirrors in the room. Shouldering her backpack, Jennifer headed to the only other door in the room, and stepped out into the hall beyond with great trepidation.

There was no blood or rust anywhere; just decidedly 'blah' cream paint on the walls and cheap gray carpet on the floor beneath her feet. There was a door opposite the bedroom Jennifer had just come out of. When she opened it, she discovered a very bizarre bathroom.

There was a hole in the wall that had succeeded in obliterating the mirror over the sink. The sink was cracked and parts had broken off; the pieces crunched under Jennifer's shoes as she walked further into the bathroom. The toilet was clogged, the water in the bowl brown and murky. The shower seemed to have exploded with blood; it dripped from the walls and pooled in the bottom of the tub. The steady plink plink plink of blood into the tub grated on Jennifer's nerves, and she reached out and turned the handle. It stopped, and nothing slithered up from the blood pool to grab her wrist or anything. "I don't know what the hell happened here, but I am so glad nothing's trying to kill me." Jennifer mused, examining the hole in the wall. It seemed to have been cemented shut, though the outer edges were decorated with the same strange runes that marked every other circle she had encountered that day. Examining the little armoire of towels yielding nothing except the smell of fabric softener. "At least the psycho who lives here does laundry." She said as she exited the bathroom. She realized she was talking to herself; that probably wasn't a good sign. But there was no other sound to be had, and even though her voice was shaky and her words stupid, they were something to be heard in that still, dead air.

The hallway to the main part of the apartment was blissfully short. Jennifer found a laundry room; empty of course except of the random junk people tended to store with their washers and dryers. The kitchen was empty except for some pots on the stove and a few glasses beside the sink.

The living room was unsettling. It was modestly decorated, most of the pieces from the Goodwill Boutique de la College Student (Jennifer had become an expert in that style of decorating in the past few years). The TV was dust free and nicely sized—she now knew where a good chunk of the decorating budget had gone. There was a record/tape combination player on the shelf, with a handful of books. A footlocker next to the TV deferred nothing more dangerous than a 9-iron; but that was lighter than the ax so Jennifer put the ax in the foot locker and gave the 9-iron a couple of practice swings. It was good in her hands, and if the head broke off, well then she had herself a nice stabbing instrument, now didn't she? There were more pictures of Silent Hill around the living room, including a picture of the apartment buildings towards the center of town—Jennifer wondered if that was where she was. "Southside's pretty bitchin'." She mused, disturbed that the thought of renting living space in Silent Hill had even pretended to cross her mind.

More pictures sat on a mini-bar next to the couch. They were of another tow-headed child, though this one didn't resemble Billy in anyway. This child had saddened and wide brown eyes and he stood before the Wish House. In the next he was a teen, standing alone near a woman whose blonde hair reminded Jennifer of the wig the homicidal maniac had been wearing. The third was the same young man again, slightly older in a cap and gown. He looked sane enough, but… "In this place, who the fuck knows…" Jennifer mused. "And I'm still talking to myself. Great…" Glancing around, she noticed the mini-bar had been moved sometime recently. There were still pits in the carpet from where the legs had dug in. Curious and ignoring the potential for serious consequence, Jennifer pulled the mini-bar away from the wall.

The smell of sawdust and fresh spackle invaded her nose. There was a patch in the corner that didn't quite match the rest of the wall, and on the short wall next to it, Jennifer could just making out the words 'Eileen never knew…'. "Who the hell is Eileen?" Jennifer shook her head and put the mini-bar back.

The sound of keys in the door sent Jennifer scampering back to the bedroom. She tripped over her own feet, and wound up sprawled face-down on the carpet. On hands and knees she scrambled to the corner of the hallway; the front door had slammed shut, meaning that someone had come in and would probably be keen enough to notice the bedroom door opening and closing.

With her back to the wall and her knees to her chest, Jennifer waited to be discovered…