Chapter 6

It's official; I'm freaking insane. It's the only reasonable answer.

It was yet another humid, bleary day in Silent Hill. I was still stuck in the damned hospital. My only consolation was that, during my psychotic breakdown on the roof of the building, someone had gone to the trouble of changing the sheets on my bed.

Speaking of which…

You do remember the other day, right? When I panicked because I believed that my five-year-old son had been mutilated and, for God knew what reasons, attempted to have this poor slob, James Sunderland, bounced off the roof of the hospital…

Well, I had been so inconsolable that they doped me up with some kinda sedative, and I passed out. And, as usual, my brain tuned me in to the James Sunderland Channel.

I had laughed as the drugs started to kick in, on today's episode…

The first thing that I noticed was that there was a huge fucking hole where the ceiling should have been.

The second thing was that James was lying at my feet, alive and twitching.

My hatred of him forgotten; I was dumbfounded. "Way to put your back into it." I said, half-laughing.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't totally forgotten- the guy just makes it so easy to make fun of him.

Anyhow; he moaned, and staggered to his feet. Though there was almost no light, I could see that there was a slight trickle of blood running from his ears, and he was sickly pale. I concluded that he must have one hell of a concussion.

Then I saw the rest of the room.

Claudia had said that this was the "Special Treatment Complex", but I wasn't a total moron. This was where they locked up the crazies who were uber-crazy, like "I'll-kill-your-dog-and-wear-his-brain-as-a-hat" crazy.

Except for the black hole emanating from the ceiling, the place still seemed relatively normal…in an ironic sort of way…

James looked around, and then he did something that was a-typical James Sunderland: he tried to get into the four rooms.

All I could do was gape at him. "Jesus Christ, you know what Sunderland? I keep trying to like you, but you make it pretty fuckin' hard when you do shit like this!"

He went into one of the rooms. I started to follow, but the door swung shut; hitting me in the face…

Or rather, not hitting me in the face. It passed right through me.

This was definitely interesting now.

"Okay, so I'm Ghost Guy. I can deal with that. Especially if this means that I can figure out what the hell is going on!" I strolled right into the room.

James was standing just inside the door and he was writing something down. Since he was facing the wall, I turned to see-

A shit load of blood just smeared all over the wall.

And something was written in it.

I couldn't give a flying fuck if the directions to the Holy Grail were written in that mess; I dove out the door and waited for him there.

Within minutes, he came out; a sad expression on his face.

He went into the next room. I was pretty sure I wouldn't like it, but I followed anyway.

Before I got both feet into the room, I was already hearing gunfire.

James was emptying his shotgun into a nurse!

I was horrified, but then I studied the nurse. Her skin was putrefied, and there was this thing that on her back, twitching. She looked like a reject from a George Romero movie.

Not to mention the fire-axe she kept trying to bury in James' face.

"Well, I was gonna say to stop shooting her, but you're clearly doing her a favor. Carry on, then." I said.

Just as quickly as their battle started, it ended. The nurse sagged against the wall, then slid to the floor; bloody and twitching violently.

James stomped on the back of her neck. I heard a wet snap, and she went still.

Both of us solemn, we exited that room

He checked the other two doors, but they didn't budge. He peered into the little windows. He didn't have a reaction to the first, but he reeled away from the second, a nauseated and mortified look on his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you now?" I snapped. "It's not like whatever's in there can get you, I mean, shit; the door's stuck."

I walked over to the door and tried to walk through it, but only succeeded in bashing myself on the nose.

Rubbing my now sore face, I peered into the window.

The legs were the first things I saw. They were emaciated, dangling limply from the ceiling.

I felt my stomach turn. Whoever was in there had hung themself.

I kept staring at the body. I felt strangely compelled to see who this person was. Did I know them?

My eyes traveled upward. The filthy hospital issue clothes…the necrotic hands…an antique German silver cross hanging from the neck…

My blood turned to ice as I forced myself to see the face…

"EVELYN!!" I howled.

"Mr. Daniels! Mr. Daniels! Wake up!" cried a voice.

I jerked awake, but kept screaming wordlessly. Suddenly, I felt a jab, quickly followed by something cold seeping into my veins. More fucking drugs! I was enraged, "What in the hell did you just stick me with?!"

I turned to see that fucker Kaufman staring back at me. "A mild sedative. Not strong enough to knock you out, but strong enough to quiet you down." He replied haughtily, and then he left the room.

May 7th: No, no, no. It isn't possible. It can't be. It must be some kind of cabin fever- that's it! I'm just a little crazy because I haven't left this place in days! That's it, it's gotta be it!

A nurse came in, "Oh my!" she said, "How did you get that bruise on your nose?"