I.

Tina Grey didn't want to die.

She, just like every person on the face of the earth, knew that death was imminent—there was no way to circumvent the tragedy, whether it came in the form of an accident, natural causes, or just being a victim of circumstance. But the last part is what Tina had a problem with. In most cases, she made sensible choices that kept her from being a victim of circumstance: she didn't wander in dark alleys, she stayed away from high-crime areas, she always locked her door, and she mostly let someone know where she was going.

But today had been different from every other day. She narrowly escaped the cold clutches of death twice today. Dr. Killian surely would have killed her—or done something horrendously unthinkable—and Pyramid Head surely intended to kill her. But both times, she had been saved by good timing on the part of a reasonably tall, dark stranger. And now, she sat trapped in a room with a girl, who inexplicably was trying to kill them.

Just as Tina thought that everything was over, voices called to them from the other side of the door. Someone else was in the house—and if that was the case, then they had a chance to survive. Though by the looks of things up to this point, that chance was slim. Still, Tina held on to that small ray of hope, praying that they would find a way to open the door.

"Are you there?" Tina frantically called out as soon as she heard footsteps outside the door.

There was a pause then, "Yes—we're here. We've almost got the door open, just give us a minute," the same male voice from earlier replied. Then his voice became a muffled whisper, sharp but steady. Tina could tell he wanted to open the door, wanted to save them, though he didn't know anything about them.

Henry held his position between the strange girl and Tina. He knew that the snaking veins would simply pierce through him—that he was in no way a protective shield for Tina. Still, the chivalry in him kept him in place, despite the situation. He didn't know her by any means, but if he was meant to save her, then somehow, she would be safe.

By the moment, the scene became more horrific. A repelling stench seeped from the girl into the room. Accompanied with the metallic, sharp smell of blood and something else that Henry couldn't quite pinpoint, the air was thick and difficult to breathe. Henry figured that if they didn't die from the life-sucking veins, they would suffocate. Neither demise sounded appealing.

Tina pressed herself against the door and pulled Henry back. The veins were mere inches from his feet and snaked closer with every passing second.

"They're not going to open it in time," Tina whispered.

"They will," Henry replied. He managed to hide his own doubt from Tina—he didn't really believe they would make it. This was the end.

II.

Heavy footsteps shook the floor as The Butcher shambled into the attic. His obscenely oversized blade dragged behind him and tore a trail of wood splinters with every step. He loudly sniffed the air as he made his way toward the boxes.

Harry pressed his back to the stack of boxes, hoping for more time to figure out what they were going to do. The attic was large enough that they could simply take him on and dodge his attacks. But then again, this new enemy might hope that they do just that. There was no telling what abilities this new monster had, but Harry knew that they would be forced to fight for their lives.

He met Cybil's hard stare. She looked to him for a way out—depended on Harry to save their lives. But he also saw resolve in her expression. He knew that whatever he did, she would fully back him up, no matter what. Trust—there was an abundance of trust between them and that might be just the thing that would save them.

Harry gave Douglas a quick glance and returned his nod of approval. Now, both Cybil and Douglas left the situation in Harry's hands. But what were they going to do? Harry studied the attic for a moment but found nothing that could help them out of the situation—no windows to toss The Butcher out of, no hidden weapons on the wall, and no secret items to use against him.

Harry checked his gun once more, which also served as a sign to Cybil and Douglas. They were going to fight and take The Butcher down the old-fashioned way—filling the bastard full of bullets.

Taking one final, deep breath, Harry spun away from the comfort of hiding to face their attacker and began firing. However, the confrontation with The Butcher took a sharp turn for the worst almost immediately.

Henry hit their attacker with several rounds, which appeared to daze it slightly. Cybil and Douglas followed suit and began firing on him as well. At that point, it seemed that their battle wouldn't be much of a battle at all. However, after several rounds had been fired, The Butcher rushed at Harry and barreled him over. Normally, Harry would have been able to dodge such a telegraphed attack, but he really didn't expect to get hit by anything other than a blade.

Harry helplessly flew into a stack of boxes and they in turn fell on him.

"Harry!" Cybil called. She continued to fire but as luck would have it, she ran out of bullets. "Get back!" Cybil yelled to Douglas.

Cybil leaped back as the blade swung in a wide arc, barely missing her midsection. But The Butcher proved to be as quick with the blade as he was strong. Shifting his weight and moving forward, the blade pummeled downward toward Cybil's head.

She threw herself to the side as the blade ate threw the floor. Cybil heard something metal hit the floor and begin to roll. Glancing up, she saw the air coin rolling across the floor. Somehow, the coin had worked its way out of her jacket pocket.

"Shit," she grunted as she scrambled to her feet. Cybil dashed toward the rolling object, hoping to scoop it up then turn on her opponent, but just as she reached it, it hit an uneven spot in the floor then disappeared.

Cybil glimpsed down and saw a large crack in the floor that swallowed the coin effortlessly and silently. She couldn't see, but vividly imagined the coin tumbling through the floors into some unexplored, dangerous room. The coin was as good as gone—Cybil chalked it up as a loss. She had more important things to worry about, like not dying.

The Butcher yanked the deeply embedded blade from the floor and started after Cybil. She turned onto her back and scrambled backwards, never quite able to regain enough balance to stand and run.

A large stack of boxes halted Cybil's retreat and before she could react, The Butcher grabbed her ankle. She jerked back and kicked at his ankle, but he was too resilient and too strong. Like a rowdy toddler with an unwanted doll, The Butcher flung her across the room.

Cybil led head over heels before she bounced to an abrupt halt on the wood floor. She heard someone call her name, but it sounded like a faint whisper, drowned out by the dragging blade of The Butcher.

Darkness crept in from the sides of her eyes, threatening to envelop her in a helpless faint.

No! Not now—I have to stay awake—

Her limbs felt like lead moving through tar. There was no way she would be able to dodge The Butcher's next strike. She saw the blood and gore stained boots stop only a few feet from her. Her eyes followed the boots, up to the grimy clothes, to the unspeakable face, then lastly to the blade. The Butcher raised it high and held it there, savoring the preemptive rush of murder.

Cybil felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes focused on the blade. It took all she had to keep from screaming aloud or giving in to the overwhelming unconsciousness gnawing at her. The moment the blade began to bore down on her, she felt a hard jolt from her left side. Her body went limp and she rolled to a stop. Cybil heard something else tumble to a stop beside her.

"Douglas," she gratefully whispered as she gazed into the older man's gray eyes. He had reacted much more swiftly than a man of his age should have, but she wasn't complaining. That was the second time Douglas had saved her from certain death since she had first met him.

"Go help Harry, I'll take care of this guy," he winked at her.

"Bullets aren't going to work against him. Let me stay with you, you can't—"

"Don't tell an old man he can't do something—" his tone was suddenly more directive, leaving no room for argument. "Make sure Harry's okay, then we'll fight this thing together. I'll buy you some time."

Cybil felt a second wind give her strength again. She nodded in agreement, picked herself off the floor, and made a dash to where Harry lay, trapped underneath some wooden crates. As she ran, he hoped and prayed that Douglas knew what he was doing.

III.

"We were lucky to have run into those guys," Henry said. They now stood in a room down the hallway from where only minutes before, they were on the verge of being murdered by a strange young girl. Michael McNeal, Heather Mason, and Trey Harrison had come to their rescue just in time. But in the process, they had lost one of their own—Christine Mitchell.

The teens elected to continue on to find Christine, while Tina opted for her and Henry to stay behind. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important. Plus, she promised Heather that she would find Harry Mason and reunite them. Tina had no intention of breaking that promise.

She absently nodded in response. Tina continued to survey the room, when her eyes caught a folded sheet of paper hanging out of the book that Trey had thrown against the wall. Tina moved past Henry, snatched the sheet of paper from the worn book, and studied it for a moment. Her heart raced with anticipation but ached with trepidation—this was what she had been looking for but did she really want to see it?

"What is it?" Henry asked.

Tina opened it quickly. "It's a drawing," she replied, slightly perplexed.

It was a child's drawing in crayon of a family—father, mother, and two little girls. They were drawn beside a normal two-story house with a leaning chimney that most five year olds love to draw. Tina was remotely surprised at the nearly accurate color scheme of the people and house—no outrageous colors involved.

"It's just a child's drawing—looks like maybe at one time, the girl was normal."

Tina moaned internally at Henry's dry comment. She picked up the book she had plucked the drawing from and read the title, "History of Science and Reasoning Abilities, Volume 1." Tina paused for a moment then began searching the stacks of books.

"Henry, help me find volume two of that series."

Henry looked at Tina skeptically. "Hey did I miss something?"

"Maybe so," she ran her fingers along the books in the bookcase, hoping to come across the book she was looking for. Henry kneeled next to a high stack of books.

"Hey," he said. He moved some books to the side and pulled out a book similar in appearance to the other—dusty; dark maroon, gold bind. "It's the second volume. And—" he pulled out another folded sheet of paper. "It looks like there's something in here too."

Tina peered over Henry's shoulder as he opened the paper and smoothed it out on the floor. This crayon drawing was a little darker and slightly disturbing. It showed the mother and father as looming figures with sharp, jagged teeth hovering over the two young girls. Blue tears streamed down both their faces.

"I don't like this," Henry mentioned. An uneasy feeling crept through him, sending a shiver up his spine.

"How old do you think that girl was?"

Henry shook his head, "Not sure—maybe seven or eight. Why?"

"Look at the title and tell me if you see anything strange."

Henry looked at Tina for a minute, wondering if the stress of the situation had finally gotten to her.

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy, just look at it."

Henry sighed but read the title again. "History of Science and Reasoning Abilities, Volume 2. I don't think science and reasoning abilities would be something that a book focuses on though—they're two different topics. Reasoning abilities would have to do with the mind—more cognitive psychology stuff. And if that's the case, it wouldn't be in the same book as science, since there has always been a debate about whether psychology is really a science or not."

Tina smiled. "Well, Henry Townsend, you are smarter than you look—and I'm not even joking."

Henry looked at the title one more time. "What was the girl's name?"

"Tell me what you think."

"Science and Reasoning Abilities—Sara. The first letters of each word. So the real title would be, History of Sara."

"Henry, I think these drawings are some kind of clue to what happened to Sara. And somehow, I think that finding the rest will tell us what we missed."

Henry stood. "If she was seven or eight then there could be seven or eight volumes. Let's find them."

IV.

Douglas Cartland didn't know what the hell he was going to do.

His bravado was thankfully enough to ease Cybil into leaving The Butcher to him while she brought Harry back into the fray. So basically, he had turned himself into a decoy—nothing more than a timely distraction until they could formulate a new plan of attack.

What have you gotten yourself into this time, old man?

Douglas shook off the useless doubt and focused on The Butcher, who now peeled his blade out of the floor.

Think—there's got to be something you can use—

Years of detective work made his eyes keen—he could spot something out of place or something odd in about half the time it took most policemen. So, when his eyes rested on a dagger that pinned a scrap of paper to the floor, Douglas immediately went for it.

The weight of the dagger surprised Douglas, but he had little time to thoroughly examine it before The Butcher was upon him. With a flick of the wrist and a bit of luck, Douglas let the dagger fly from his right hand—it sailed through the air like a missile and pierced The Butcher in his throat.

The behemoth staggered back and fell to the floor. His dark, thick blood seeped from his neck and saturated the floor, leaving his corpse in a pool of the crimson liquid.

Douglas stood in disbelief for a moment that he had single-handedly taken down the bladed menace. The old man's still got it, he smiled to himself. He noticed Cybil supporting Harry who now had a slight limp.

"We don't have to worry about him anymore," Douglas motioned to the fallen monster.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, clearly embarrassed at being taken out of the fight so soon.

"There will be plenty of fights for you to make it up," Douglas replied.

Cybil asked, "Are you okay?"

He shrugged, "A few scratches—I've had worse."

Harry moved away from Cybil and put more weight on his ankle. "I think I can make it on my own now." He slowly made his way to the paper that had previously been pinned down by the dagger.

"What is it?" Douglas asked.

"Not sure," Harry turned the paper over in his hands. "It's just a number 760421."

"Maybe it's a code for something," Cybil suggested.

"Maybe..." Harry studied it for a moment before slipping it in his pocket. "We should—" he began but a flash of pain tore through his head. Harry fell to one knee and was only remotely aware of Cybil and Douglas rushing to his side.

Their urgent questions sounded distant and hollow, subdued by the blinding pain throbbing through his head. Then, he heard it—the siren. The weird siren from back then and he knew what was happening.

All three of them watched as the room went through a metamorphosis—everything became a twisted version of its previous existence. When it was all done, the trio found themselves standing on a grated floor, surrounded by rusted walls, and bathed in a strange odor.

"What the hell..." Douglas blinked hard, sure that he had imagined the transformation. But everything remained when he opened his eyes again. "What happened, Harry?"

The pain subsided and Harry stood with his gun drawn. "We're in serious trouble now—we've got to find Heather and Tina before it's too late."

"I don't understand," Douglas replied.

"It's the other world—it's taking over the normal world. Whatever's behind all of this is gaining power and it's only a matter of time before this becomes permanent."

Cybil checked her bullets and Douglas followed suit. Once they were prepared, Harry led them out of the attic back into the strange, warped version of the house.

V.

The crayon drawings made the pictures much more sinister than if they had been painted by some demented, schizophrenic madman that claimed to have seen hell with his own eyes. The sheer simplicity of the lines and vibrancy of the colors were almost evil and taunting in nature. As they studied the pictures, Henry and Tina moved closer to each other, not out of adoration but as a way to ward of the uneasiness that closed in around them.

"This girl, Sara and maybe her sister—their parents did something strange."

Tina interrupted, "I think they may have been a part of the cult in this town."

Henry continued. "They tortured or did something horrible to one or both girls. Then here's a picture of that orphanage, Wish House. Maybe the parents gave them to that weird place and something else horrible happened. Somehow, this guy adopted one of the girls, after the other ran away from the orphanage. I think everything was fine, until something happened, and the father found out something. He knew he had to escape, but somehow, I don't think he made it, and neither did Sara."

Tina sat back and thought for a moment. They were making a lot of assumptions based on these pictures, but she didn't think they were too far off. But if that is the case, who was her sister?

"I don't know, Henry," she finally said. "It makes sense in a way—but what if we're totally misinterpreting these pictures? Besides, this diary was written ten years ago."

"Which would make her about seventeen," Henry trailed off and appeared lost in thought.

"What are you getting at?"

"Not sure, but I think those kids might be in danger—bigger than even they know. We should hurry and find Harry Mason. We're going to need his help."

Before they could make a move, everything changed. The real world faded away like a dream, replaced by unkind surroundings and dark furnishings.

"What in the hell—?" he watched the stacks of books disappear, blood seep through the walls, and darkness creep in from all sides. He glanced toward the bookcase where a single book lay on the shelf. A strange light emanated out of its pages.

Quickly, Henry opened the book, titled Out of the Darkness. But when he opened it, he found that a hole had been cut in the pages to make room for a small flashlight. Henry took it out, warding off the closing darkness.

"What happened?" Tina asked. She held onto Henry's arm and kept her back pressed against the bookcase.

He waved the flashlight back and forth through the sparsely furnished room. "I don't know, but I think we're in trouble."

"Let's just find Harry and those kids and get out of here," Tina said.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Henry replied. They moved carefully to the door and stepped out into the hallway, unaware of the horror they would soon face.

Notes:

The people on the other side of the door and how Tina and Henry escaped are detailed in Silent Hill: Lost Souls—Chapter 20.

The coin Cybil drops actually is the fifth and final coins the teens were looking for—from here, it lands right in Michael McNeal's hands.

Crazyb1tch85: I got the rest of your review and thanks—I always look forward to your reviews!

Rodarian: No it's not the same house. I haven't had the chance to play restless dreams, although I did name the chapter in the other story, "Dream's End", which relates to that. I made this chapter a bit longer—but there is a lot more going on now, so tell me what you think.

Shortey: Yeah, the groups will be eventually meeting each other, though the circumstances will definitely be tense. Let me know what you think of the girl's story so far.