Just call me butter, 'cause I'm on a roll! Reviews are greatly appreciated.


Silent Hill, 2005

"Goren...paging Detective Rachel Goren...hey Goren, wake up!"

Rachel opened her eyes to find herself at her desk, with her feet propped up. A half-smoked cigarette smouldered in the ashtray next to her feet.

"Shit." She bolted upright and grabbed it immediately, salvaging what little there was of it left to smoke. Her partner, Barry Albert, smirked at her from his place at her side.

"Rough night?"

"Well...no..." She ground out the spent cigarette and reached for another from the pack on her desk. "I was just thinking."

"Do you always snore when you're thinking?"

She flashed him a choice gesture as she stretched her arms. "Don't you have someone else you can go pester?"

"Well yeah, but you're my favorite." He smiled and dropped an envelope on her desk. "This came for you while you were over here, uh, brainstorming."

"Hmm..." She picked up the envelope. On the front, written in flawless script, was her full name: Rachel Lynne Goren.

"Huh...well whoever it is knows how my middle name is spelled." She opened the envelope and pulled out a handwritten note.

My dearest Rachel,

You probably don't remember me, but I've been watching you. I know what you have overcome to get to where you are now, as well as the immense strength and resolve you have gained as a result. I also know that something is afoot in this town, something that will test every skill you have learned, as well as your sanity. But there is no doubt in my mind that you will be able to handle it, Rachel. As a matter of fact, I'm counting on it. I know that none of this makes sense to you at the moment, but give it time. In time you will come to know everything. At that time, we shall meet face to face. But until then, I will continue to watch you from afar. Don't let me down, Rachel.

"The hell...who left this, anyway?"

He shrugged. "It was just lying on the front desk. Sounds like someone's got a secret admirer."

"I'm sure someone does." Rachel rolled her eyes and tossed the letter to the desk. "That's a little creepy, but I've seen worse. I'm not too worried yet."

"You don't get worried until you find someone spying on you in the shower, right?"

"Well I'm already used to seeing your face outside my bathroom window, Barry." She chuckled at his mock injured expression, until the snipe-fest was interrupted by her ringing cell phone.

"Goren," Capt. McDaniel's voice assaulted her ear. "I need you guys down here in South Vale post-haste."

"South Vale..." Rachel muttered absent-mindedly. McDaniel kept talking to her, but she was lost in thought. South Vale, her old neighborhood. She hadn't returned there-at least not voluntarily-in nearly 15 years, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"What's up?" Barry asked, noticing her lost expression.

"I'll explain on the way," she answered hurriedly, motioning for him to follow her outside.


The house had not changed a bit in the past 15 years. Just the earthy, slightly musty smell of it was enough to bring Rachel's memories flooding back. For a moment she forgot that she was here to investigate a possible crime. For the time being she remembered long-lost summers, days spent riding her bike in the neighborhood, evenings spent catching fireflies on the front lawn, helping Aunt Alexia cook dinner, listening to Uncle Leonard's stories...

"Rachel..." Barry's voice cut into her daydreaming. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." She thought she heard herself answer.

"Are you gonna be okay with this?"

"Yes," she answered with more conviction. "I'm a professional. It's my job." She walked across the living room, her boots landing hollowly on the scuffed hardwood floor. Capt. McDaniel waited for her by the stairs.

"It's not a pretty picture, Rachel," he said, his expression grim from behind his dark glasses.

"I like a challenge." Rachel marched up the stairs, perfectly pokerfaced, but her resolve quickly disappeared when she entered the bathroom.

"Holy shit..." She mouthed the words, not wishing to alert the others. Alexia, her beautiful, gentle aunt, was slumped over in the bath, her nude body concealed from view by the blood-tainted water. Her white-blonde hair mingled with the crimson pool as her head flopped grotesquely to the side, exposing a bit of a nasty looking gash on the back of her head. A chill coursed down her spine as she stared, and for a split second she remembered that day; the day when it was her lying in that bath as it filled with bodily fluids...the day she too stared death in the eye. Unfortunately, unlike her, Alexia had been unable to look away.

"A neighbor heard what she thought was a scream from the house," McDaniel's voice entered her subconscious, bringing her back to reality. "Said she came in to find her like this, assuming she fell. I just happened to be driving by when she ran outside to flag me down."

"Hmm..." Rachel didn't dare utter a word; she could already feel her throat choking with emotion. The emotion was guilt. When she was young she couldn't wait to grow up, to start her life and be completely independent. In the process she forgot that her aunt and uncle would grow old one day. They would reach a point when they were no longer able to take care of themselves. If she had been here to help, maybe her aunt would not have taken a fatal fall...

That was when she noticed it.

"Huh..." She kneeled down to examine a towel lying crumpled on the floor next to the bath. It was completely soaked with bloody water, as was the floor.

"Check this out. Surely she didn't slosh bloody water all over the floor if she fell."

"Hey, yeah," Barry said as he moved to her side. "And look at this." He pointed to her neck, revealing linear bruises on the pale skin.

"Ligature marks...from the towel, maybe," McDaniel observed.

Rachel remained silent, her brain automatically recreating a crime as it always did, though this time she tried to stop it. No use; the scene played itself out in her mind like a movie. Her aunt entered the bathroom in her robe, having already drawn a warm bath. She had just taken off her robe and hung it on the door when she was suddenly struck from behind in the back of the head with extreme force. She tumbled face first into the bath, momentarily stunned, then surfaced in time to find the water being stained crimson with blood. Raising a hand to the back of her head, she felt a nasty gash. Before she could recover to turn around and face her attacker, she was attacked once again from behind, this time with a bath towel wrapped around her neck like a garrote. Too weak to fight back, she tried in vain to scream as the life was choked from her body. Just as she was starting to black out, she felt herself being hoisted, then dropped roughly into the water, her head striking the edge of the bath. She took the opportunity to scream before everything faded to black.

"Well Miss Psychic Detective? Do you have a scene to re-enact for us?" Barry asked.

Rachel nodded slowly. "Someone wanted my aunt dead. And I think I know who. The only question is why."


Two days passed. Finding herself unable to concentrate at work, Rachel reluctantly took a few of her vacation days-that was to say, Captain McDaniel insisted that she take some time off. In that period of time she went through three packs of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka-and she had never been much of a drinker to start with. She was engaged in this rare indulgence when she received a phone call late in the afternoon.

"Hello, may I speak with Miss Rachel Goren please?" a soft-spoken female voice said.

"That depends, what d'you wanna sell to her?" Rachel asked before dissolving in a fit of tipsy giggles.

"I..." The woman hesitated. "Miss Goren, my name is Christy Iverson. I'm a nurse at Brookhaven Hospital."

"Brookhaven? The mental hospital?" Rachel sobered up rather quickly at this.

"Yes, I'm contacting you because you're listed as a family contact for one of our recent admitted patients, Leonard Wolf."

"Leonard...?" A chill coursed through her at the mention of her recently-widowed uncle.

"I wanted to touch base with you, since you're listed as his only living relation, and in the event of his release it might be necessary to do so into your custody."

"Okay, slow up a second there, Nurse Betty. When exactly did all this happen, and why am I just fucking learning it now?" She was not typically an angry drunk, but she felt that having both discovered and buried her murdered aunt in the course of the past three days was a good enough excuse to be a bitch.

"I...I'm sorry, Miss, but we have a strict confidentiality policy here. I cannot disclose any of Mr. Wolf's records to you."

"Well then why don't you do me a favor and bite me." With that, Rachel hung up the phone and collapsed backwards onto the sofa, clutching her head with both hands. Almost immediately she felt remorse for going off on a woman she didn't even know, who was just doing her job, but receiving such unexpected-not to mention suspicious-information after the stress she had been through had been more than enough to push her past her limit. She remained where she was for several moments, until a knock at the door forced her out of her funk.

"Barry..." she muttered as she peered through the peephole of her apartment's front door. He rarely visited unless he was seeking a drinking buddy, and even then he seemed more nervous around her than when they were at work. Usually she was fairly indifferent, but she was reluctant for anyone to see her in her current state. Nonetheless, she let him in, knowing he probably wouldn't leave her alone if she didn't.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said as he walked inside. He paused and looked around with an awed expression on his face. He acted as though he had never been in a woman's apartment before. She was a bit of a slob, as evidenced by the empty cigarette packs wedged in the sofa cushions and her laundry draped over the kitchen counter, but she really had nothing to hide.

"Eh, I'm alright, considering."

"With a little help from an old friend, I see." He eyed the empty vodka bottle on her coffee table, and she was slightly embarrassed.

"I'm not used to having all this free time," she said in a half-assed attempt to make an excuse for her binge drinking. Anybody in her position, no matter how strong they were normally, would do the same, she was convinced.

"This is probably a dumb question, but...is there anything I can do?"

She studied him curiously, and fought the urge to smile. He almost looked cute shifting from foot to foot and running a hand nervously through his slightly graying hair. It was hard to believe that someone who could be so meek at times was responsible for protecting her life, but she never doubted him for a second.

"No, I'm good...but thanks." She struggled for something else to say before the situation could turn awkward. "So, any leads yet?"

"Well...yes and no. The only other evidence of anyone besides Alexia being in that house was her husband. And...well..."

"He was recently committed. I just got a call about it."

"Right..." He hesitated, as if he intended to say something else but couldn't get the words out.

"What? Come on Barry, don't hold out on me."

"Well...okay, you remember during the investigation when you said, 'Someone wanted my aunt dead, and I think I know who'? What exactly did you mean then?"

She looked at him strangely. "I don't remember saying that..."

"Well you did say that. And your hunches are never wrong, you know."

A sudden twinge of anger flared up within her. "Wait...are you saying you think that my uncle...?"

"I hate to be the one to say it, Rachel." He was trembling at this point. "But we can't rule him out until we hear something from him, which might prove tricky because he was just committed to a mental hospital. I don't think I have to tell you of all people how suspicious that seems."

"My uncle would never kill anyone." Rachel said sharply. "The strain must've been too much for him. He and my aunt...were so close..." She clutched her head with both hands, her entire body quaking with barely checked emotions, until finally she sighed and ran a hand through her messy hair. "God, I don't need this shit..."

"Hey..." He took a step toward her and put both hands on her shoulders, a gesture that took her by surprise, but was not altogether unwelcome. "I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have brought that up now. This has to be tough for you. That's why I'm going to handle things while you take the time you need."

"But it's my job. I have to be able to handle things like this. I can't have other people having to do my work for me. I have to do this."

"But that's just it. You don't have to do it alone. And for what it's worth...I would help you even if it wasn't my job."

She reluctantly met his eyes, and drew a ragged breath. "Well...I guess the investigation will go on, whether I like it or not."

He smiled. "Well it'll be a lot easier when you're back with us. But not until you're ready, of course."

She stepped away and walked over to the patio door, reaching into her pocket for a cigarette en route. "I'll be back in a couple days. Believe me, I'm more than ready. This is boring as hell. I don't know how unemployed people do it." She looked down to search her pockets for a lighter when she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

"The hell...?" She bent down to pick up a piece of paper that had been slipped halfway under the sliding door. Not just a piece of paper; an envelope, addressed in the same manner as the one that had been mysteriously delivered to her at the station three days ago. Inside was another note.

Dear Rachel,

I cannot even begin to imagine what you must be going through right now. I wish more than anything that I could be with you during this difficult time, but I'm afraid it is not yet time for us to meet. In the meantime, I'll offer you some advice you would be wise to accept. You must go and see him. I know it will be painful, but I also know how incredibly strong you are. And as absurd as it sounds, you must believe me when I say this will all make perfect sense to you very soon. One more thing...you must remember that I believe in you, Rachel. Always.

"Okay, this is getting fucking weird," Rachel said. "Somebody is fucking stalking me, Barry."

"Damn, Rachel, this could be more serious than you thought," he said. "Maybe it's not a good idea for you to be alone."

She rolled her eyes and blew smoke at the ceiling. "So what, you think I keep that around because it makes me look cool?" She nodded to her gun lying on the kitchen counter a few feet away. "I'll be fine, Barry."

"I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't implying anything. It's just...even the best of us let our guard down every now and then."

She shook her head, embarrassed once again at her outburst. "Don't worry about it. And don't worry about me either. I'm fine."

"Got it." He let out the breath he had been holding. "You know, they might be related. This case and those weird letters, you know? Maybe they'll help us out."

"Maybe." She stared vacantly at the note in her hand for a long time before carefully folding it up and placing it back in the envelope.

"So what're you gonna do? I mean, before you come back to work."

She paused thoughtfully, turning back to the window and the view it afforded of the post-rain fog that settled lazily at street level. "I'm going to Brookhaven tomorrow. To see my uncle...our prime suspect."