The bus ride must've lasted no more than maybe an hour. Fewer passengers were on by the time I was awakened by the jerk of a sudden stop. We'd flown from hell and landed in the city. Something inside said, 'This is the place'. We stopped at a big store (K-Mart or something) to let more people off. I finally got up the nerve to talk to the driver. "Excuse me," I said, my voice coming out mousey and forceful. "I need to get to a hotel but I don't know where it is. I don't have much money."

The little man smiled, saying, "Don't worry, Miss. I'll take you there. Just have a seat." He did just as he said he would. Traffic made the ride seem endless but he got me there. I made sure to thank him before stepping off. This part of the city could use some fixing up. But even with the cracked sidewalks and the graffiti covered buildings it was still more welcoming than my own home. Inside the woman behind the counter of the run-down MOTEL gave me a hard time. Eventually we came to an agreement (resulting in the loss of some belongings). I was in a room at the end of the row. The windows were dusty, a musty smell hit me at the door, and the room apparently hadn't been occupied in a while. I wondered when they last cleaned it. I didn't have the right to complain though. This place was saving me.

The TV had a few channels- the news, an all-days sales channel (you know, the ones where they try to sell you "rare and beautiful jewelry worn by today's celebrities and only for a price of…"), and an old black-and-white movie channel. While the movie rolled on the small black box I tried to improve my plan. First thing I had to do was get a job- though I wasn't sure how and where. Then, once I got the money, I could buy an apartment- maybe get some friends. It would be wonderful- a world without HIM. Was such a thing possible? It seemed so.

Around ten at night I went back to the front desk. "Excuse me," I said to the woman behind the counter. She looked up from the book she was reading. "Do you know any good places around here I could get a job?"

She licked her finger, turned the page, and said, "Try getting a newspaper. There's some right here." She rapped her nails on the small stack. "You're a run away, aren't you?" Since no words would come out I only shook my head. "Yeah, sure. They all deny it at first but I've seen enough of them to tell. Try the thrift store outside of town."

"…Okay, thanks." I took a newspaper back to my room. There were no thrift stores listed in the ads and all the open jobs required skills I didn't have. I decided that in the morning I would use a phone book to find the place. The mattress was cold and stiff as well as the pillow when I lay down. Even with the warmth of body heat neither object softened.

The next morning I found the thrift store. 'Gina's Thrift Shop' it was called. It happened to stand two stories tall, which seemed peculiar to me. What could be in a thrift store to make it so big? The door opened but no one appeared to be inside. Bells chimed to signal my entrance. "Just a sec!" a voice called from a door less room in back. The woman who pushed her way through the curtain had long black hair that skimmed her waistline. Her jean-jacket was open enough for her tube top to be seen and she had a jean skirt to match. She wasn't in any way surprised to see me as though she were expecting my arrival. "Here for a job?"

I stammered, "Uh, yes."

"Well come back here and I'll show you what you need to know. Are you staying at the motel?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I have somewhere you can stay until you get on your feet. My name's Trish. The shop is my mom's but I pretty much run it."

"Oh… I'm Angela." She showed me how to run the cash register (which was old enough to the point where you had to slam on the button to open it). Break was at twelve exactly.

"That's all you need to know for now. The morning is slow so you'll have an easy time catching on," she said. "After we close we'll go to the motel and pick up your stuff." I mumbled a 'thanks' before she disappeared. Few customers came and went until closer to break time. Then things sped up. I was surprised at the variety of people that came in. I suppose I got the same image everyone gets in their heads when they think of a thrift store: A place with grubby clothes where single mothers with at least six kids on welfare goes. The shop itself had some nice clothes in it at a decent price. Sure some mothers came in but so did fathers, teens, elderly, and single people. I had things figured all wrong.

"Angie," Trish called. "It's noon. Let's close for a bit and get some lunch. I'm buying." We crawled into her small car and cruised around until she picked a place. I felt selfish that she was paying for me. I insisted on paying her back but she only laughed. "Don't be silly, its just lunch. Tell you what, if you REALLY want to 'pay me back' then you can answer my questions." I followed her, holding the tray, to a booth seat in the back. "Okay, my first question… is your name really Angela?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Why?"

"Most of the people I run into give me fake names. I was just curious."

'A fake name?' I asked in my head. 'Guess I never thought of that…'

"Next question," she went on. "Why did you run away? And if you feel like you absolutely can't talk about it then say so. You don't have to do something you're not comfortable with."

I really wanted to tell her. Something inside me said she could help. But there was always the possibility that she wouldn't understand. Or maybe she'd understand it perfectly well like mama did. I didn't want everyone I met up with to hate me. But I didn't completely lie when I said, "My family hates me." I just didn't mention it was because I was a bad person. She nodded with some kind of hidden knowledge gleaming in her eyes. Maybe she knew. "Why do you want to help ME?"

"Well when I was about sixteen my best friend ran away from home because she was tired of her parent beating her up. She came across some trouble though and some sick bastard took advantage of her situation." Trish paused a moment to take a sip of her drink. Her gaze wandered over to the window. "I always figured it I went with her she would still be here… I try to help others in hope of making up for it somehow." Silence fell down like a curtain between us. For this I was grateful for I feared what she would've asked me next.

Gina's Thrift Shop closed its doors for the night around five. Trish helped me gather my things from the motel. As it turned out the second story of the thrift happened to be where Trish lived. To get up there we went around the side of the building up a metal staircase. "Usually my mother would be here to greet us but she's out of town," Trish informed me as she flicked on the lights. The main hall branched into different rooms: bedrooms, the kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a small study. "You can stay in the extra room over here." The extra room was a bland white and gray and practically empty except for the bed (let's not forget the squeaky ceiling fan). But I had no reason to complain. It was better than the motel. "Feel free to decorate it if you wish. I leave that to whoever uses it. There's a bathroom across the hall and my room is on the left of it. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Is it okay if I take a shower?" I asked.

She laughed a bit, "Of course. Towels are under the sink."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Angie." Along with clean clothes I took the jewelry box into the bathroom. I turned the water cold enough that it bit my skin and turned it red. The marks from the killer of the abyss turned purple when exposed to the chill. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I put my undergarments back on. Hw disgusting and gangly- covered in freckles, stringy hair, and everything that attracts HIM. Too bad I wasn't born a boy. One of the black handled knives slipped easily from its place into my hands. Light gleamed from the blade making it all the more tempting. 'The first thing I would get rid of is this,' I thought as I dragged the knife across my chest. It ate through the fabric of my bra and brought on the abyss. 'And then this.' Flesh screamed at the taste of metal above one of its most sensitive regions (even for a boy it would stir up the same reaction). I didn't have to give it much effort. Merely slipping it across did the trick. Spots fell onto the tile. But this was not enough. There were still enough places on my arm to contribute.

After the wounds were properly taken care of I went to bed. A feeling of joyful exhaustion came over me. However the dreams that crept in were anything but joyful. HIS face appeared with HIS mouth twisting into a demonic grin, which said, 'You can't run from me, Annjulahh.' HE laughed as HE forced HIS way in once again. I could've sworn it was real. Trish was right there holding me when my eyes opened. The room filled with my cries. She stayed even after I had calmed down. She understood the answers to all her questions.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" she asked in the morning. I nodded. "You think you'll be able to work today or do you need some time alone?"

"I'm fine," I said shaking my head.

"Okay if you're sure. If you need something, let me know."

Other than the dreams things went pretty well after that. Trish questioned me a little more now and then. I gave her what answers I could. She was very patient with me. During the time that passed it seemed freedom was around the corner. Trish burst through the doors one day back from her break. Nearly a month had passed since my arrival. "Angie," she said as she tried to catch her breath. The man being waited on finished paying for his items and hurriedly left. "Quickly! You need to hide. Here are the keys. Go upstairs to the house."

"What happened?" I responded worriedly.

"That man- Thomas- I SAW HIM." (She referred to HIM by HIS first name because she didn't feel HE was worthy of HIS proper parenting title). "He was at the gas station asking everyone if they'd seen you."

"But they don't know who I am."

"Angie, he had your picture with him. He knows you're in the city. Hurry now, go pack your things and wait for me. I have a plan. I think someone told him you were here. I'll try to lead him off. Then I'll help you escape. If it works I'll ring the phone twice. If not I'll ring it once and then you have to run. Take this." She put a wad of cash in my pocket.

"Trish-"

"Go. You can do this, Angie." I nodded and took the keys.

Upstairs I packed then hid with my things in the kitchen by the phone. Seconds dissolved into minutes. How in the world did HE find me? How come HE hadn't died from alcohol poisoning? Were mama and David with HIM? These questions circled around my head. But with each passing minute I regained hope. God had given me this chance. There's no way He would take it away right? The phone rang killing the silence. One ring. "Please, one more, please," I begged as tears threatened. "Please." It didn't come. I had to run. With my bag in hand I climbed back down the metal staircase. HIS car was parked right in front of the building. I turned and fled. As I rounded the corner I heard HIS voice call my name. HE began to chase me. People on the sidewalk moved out of the way but made sure to take a moment to stare. My legs were getting weaker with each block. Just as I passed an apartment building something knocked into me from behind. Both of us fell flat onto the sidewalk. Automatically my hands protected my face from the smack of the cement. I thought my bones would surely break under the weight of HIM.

"Get up," HE barked, taking a handful of my hair. HE won again. God must've been on HIS side the whole time. They probably got their kicks crashing my hopes down. I was going back to hell.

HE threw my stuff on the living room floor when we arrived. The house was quiet. David came down to announce that mama had gone. He refused to say where. Before he could be punished for disobeying orders he took off to his room. The door slammed shut hard. HE had a hold of my arm, twisting it behind my back. HE pulled me up to HI room where HE locked up all the exits. And then the punishment came. The clothes I had on were taken. A look of disgust crossed HIS face when HE saw my scars. HE was never sober enough to understand. From the closet HE retrieved a nylon rope and proceeded to tie me up. For the first time since I was a child, tears fell in HIS presence. Using a smaller portion, the rope was fed across my mouth almost like a gag. More tears came as HE slithered HIS way inside of me. I was filled once again with the abyss continuously or an agonizing period of time. After that I was left alone until the next morning.

I was finally released and allowed to go to my room. On the floor I found the bag with my jewelry box in it. All the contents were still safely inside, untouched by an intruder's hands. I slipped the largest black handled knife under my pillow. I tore some clothes out of my closet, put them on, and went downstairs.

David was gone- so was the car. He probably went after mama. The house was in a complete mess. Apparently without mama or me around no one even bothered to try cleaning anything. Dishes were piled up in the sink. Laundry lay in various rooms. The table was covered in all kinds of junk: papers, cups, bags of chips, some change, and beer cans. The dishes had to be taken care of first to make room for the cups in the dining room. Then I began to go through the garbage on the table. Most of it was junk mail to tell the truth.

But among the junk mail I found a brochure lying open. The words on it read: "Welcome to Silent Hill! Silent Hill, a quiet little lakeside resort town. We're happy to have you. Take some time out of your busy schedules and enjoy a nice vacation here. Row after row of quaint old houses, a gorgeous mountain landscape, and a lake which shows different sides of its beauty with the passing of the day, from sunrise to late afternoons to sunset. Silent Hill will move you and fill you with a feeling of deep peace. I hope your time here will be pleasant and your memories will last forever."

'Silent Hill?' I thought. 'Where is that?' More than likely that was where mama headed off. In order to keep her safe from HIM I hid the brochure with the knife. If I really wanted to see mama again, I'd have to make some kind of plan. HE would have to be out of the picture.

HE went through HIS routine without worrying about the two missing. Of course a majority of the time HE was home HE'D been too intoxicated to sit down and think about it. I kept everything picked up (this way I could avoid punishments more often). I didn't go back to school and to my knowledge no one tried to find out why. That just made things easier. I started feeling like HIS wife (almost as though mama never existed) and HE treated me as such. It sickened me. Every day I made sure to reserve time for myself to drain out the abyss. An uncontrollable rage replaced it a little more as time passed.

One night HE came home and went straight up to HIS room where HE lay in bed. I was in my own room looking through the brochure again, trying to picture this place that sounded so perfect. Every time I read through it I became lost in a daydream: mama and I moving into a nice little house the two of us have jobs and spend our weekends together. The brochure had pictures of a couple of the streets. One of the streets, Neely Street, had shops lining both sides of it. There was a pet shop, Lucky Jade Restraunt, Bar Neely's, Happy Burger, and Big Jay's (whatever that was). All of them had colorful, inviting signs. This Silent Hill had to be the definition of a perfect place. It was a daydream that could be fulfilled if the right steps were taken.

"Angela," HIS voice crawled from HIS room. It was the middle of the night. What could HE possibly want? I got up anyway taking the knife with me. The lights were off throughout the house. HIS room was exceptionally dark because the curtains were drawn. HE was lying in bed. "Annjjulaaah. Come here."

The point of the knife rubbed against the side of my leg. I could feel it poking my skin. I was nervous, as I said, "No." HIS body shifted in the dark so HE was sitting up. "I'm n-not listening to you anymore." Though I couldn't see HIS face HIS cold gaze stabbed through the dark in my direction.

"Don't talk back to me. Get over here."

"No!" I stopped rubbing the knife against my leg. Instead I held it against the side of my thigh. "Y-you listen to me." Anger stirred in my stomach, up my throat and spilled out of my mouth in the form of words. "You can't make me do anything anymore! I'm not going to let you push me around! Y- you can't hurt me or humiliate me because I'm leaving! I'm going to stay with mama!"

HE laughed, "You don't even know where she is. No one does."

"Yes I do. I'm not telling you where she is. You can stay here drowning yourself in alcohol and take your sick fantasies out on someone else!"

Now HE got up. "If you think you've been hurt before you have no idea. I'm going to-" HE'D been coming at me with HIS hands raised so HE could grab me. I panicked and stabbed forward with the knife. I knew it got HIM when HE cried out. Instinctively I pulled it back and aimed higher. That time a much different noise came out: a liquid gurgling sound. I just kept pushing it until HE fell over. Then I realized HE was dead. In a fit of rage I had killed HIM. I was free.

The air was still outside. Stars were glowing brightly in the black blanket of the sky. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk. With the brochure in hand I started walking. I followed the voice of that perfect place as it lead me to Silent Hill.