DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING IN THIS STORY! WALTER SULLIVAN... NOT MINE! BILLY AND MIRIAM LOCAINE! NOT MINE EITHER! SO PLEASE KNAMI DONT SUE ME AND UNLEASH THE KONAMI DOGS OF SEATHING SUEAGE
The police announced today that Walter Sullivan, who was arrested on the 18th of this month for the brutal murder of Billy Locane and his sister Miriam, he committed suicide in his jail cell early on the Morning of the 22nd. According to the police statement, Sullivan used a soup spoon to stab himself in the neck, severing his carotid artery. By the time the guard discovered him, Sullivan was dead from blood loss, the spoon buried two inches in his neck. An old schoolmate of Walter Sullivan's from his hometown of Pleasant River said "He didn't look like the type of guy who would kill kids. But I do remember that just
before they arrested him he was blurting out all sorts of strange stuff like 'He's trying
to kill me. He's trying to punish me. The monster... the red devil. Forgive me. I did it, but it wasn't me!'." The schoolmate then added "I guess now that I think of it, he was kinda' crazy."
I didn't do it! But I did
I killed those children. I chopped little Billy into pieces. His sister stood there screaming. It was so fun. I loved every blood soaked minute. My axe swung swift and just. All the gore splashed on my face and pooled in the streets. They were 1 and 2 of 21. The new age sacraments I got her too. I showed them a good what for. They're gone now. The police can't understand. They can't tell. I'm dead.
It started when I was little. We don't talk about that place. Never about that place. I was told I would be special. Better than God. They told me these things, in their dark hushed whispers. They told me of the sacraments. I would pave the way for many great things they would always say. And then, one day, I did. They told me to go to work. They led me to the tool shed. It wasn't locked. That would deter me from my work. The tool shed held so much horror for me. The tools of my childhood were long since rusted with their years of disuse. The head cage, the screws, the torture of my younger years. The scars seethed and burned in me. I picked up the blood rusted axe
Then it came time to do the act. I've already told you what happened. But…. BUT I DIDN'T DO IT! The Red Devil, he comes to me. He whispers like the ushers of the sacraments. He whispers to me all the things he wants me to do to the poor, poor little children. All the terrible things. I took up my axe like a sword to the wicked. It whispered to me in his gurgled rasping voice, "Kill them little Walter, show them what wish house children do to those who won't say their prayers!" The Red Devil seared the images of their mangled bodies twisted and contorted in fear and pain covered in blood. More and more whispers and images like this came flooding through my mind like a plague of locusts gnawing away at my sanity. I held high over my head my mighty axe and charge little Billy Locane. Smacked him in the face with the blunt side of the axe, the opposite of where the blade is. That thick piece of metal that is puzzlingly perfect for cracking skulls. I hit the boy and I hit him hard. His head thrust swiftly to the ground. I chopped again and again every time His body separated itself as if in the process of Osmosis. With the boy now liquefied quite thoroughly I turned and looked on in a loving way towards dear Miriam. Little girl, she had quite a lot to live for. She would probably have been a good student, grown up nice and strong. But she has been put to… Better use. I saw that the little girl was in shock at the sight of her older brother, her protector, dead as a pile of bones and blood. I wasted no time on theatrics. No tears or words were spent on the little girl. I hacked her up just as I did her brother. I saw her writhe and come out of her shock. She screamed in pain and I howled in rage. The Red Devil screamed in my mind his breath burning my cranium. My psyche was melting as I splashed the pavement with blood.
This incident took no more than four minutes tops. But with my demented state ebbing slowly giving way to new clarity I dropped the axe with a clank and a thud. I saw the mess. I saw the blood slithering, snaking quickly down the sewage drain. The sirens wailed.
The police showed up. Many cars with flashing lights and an ambulance appeared on the scene. I dropped to my knees and put my hands behind my head. I was cuffed and taken to the Toluka county prison.
I was taken far down in the recesses of the prison. They beat me until I passed from consciousness. They wanted answers to questions that lay with the Red Devil. These answers were enveloped in the darkness of all of the secrets. Of that place, on the hill. They beat me twice more each time with more ferocity. It was there that the Red Devil took form. Not in our world. But another world. In the dark one. With my death the worlds would merge. Collide and infringe upon one another.
The next day I was taken to my new home at the upper part of Toluka county prison. No more was I beaten but my rage never subsided. My personal demon hounded, no, haunted me. It told me to die and to bring him upon this small New England town. I took my lunch in my cell and today's shit was some sort of soup. I took the spoon and drove it into my neck. I laughed and screamed! The guards took awhile to come and get me. They just thought I was crazy. They went to my cell and laid eyes on my body, life draining from it forever. They looked on in terror and shame. They were too late they didn't know.
I'm not dead. I've just… gone away. Some day… I may come back. I might stalk Nathan Avenue again. I may sulk in Bar Neely's one more time. Or maybe I'll burn in hell with little Billy and Miriam Locane. I'm not scared to die. I'm not scared to live. I'm scared I'll be stuck in this halfway point. This place! This hell. Silent Hill.