Beloved of the Fog
Carl had kept the room dark ever since her disappearance. Things like his job and his friends, those he failed to keep. The pink clock on the wall read an hour past midnight. The second hand clicked incessantly. Stuffed animals filled a corner. Dolls filled another. A few clothes still lay scattered across the floor. He never touched them.
The sloshing of the liquid in the bottle joined the tick of the clock. Carl took a drink. His hands held the bottle at his waist. If he didn't see it then he wouldn't realize just how much of it he had drunk. Outside a single clap of thunder jolted the window panes.
"Storm's coming," Carl said. He chuckled. "Too bad my windows aren't rolled up." The sound of his voice was harsher than he expected. He took another drink to silence himself. Besides, his windows weren't up. He just liked to pretend he had other worries than about what had happened to his beloved Cameron. The minute hand on the clock continued its march. Rain came, and amid the sounds of water hitting the window pane Carl finished the rest of the bottle.
He tossed it to the floor. Dolls and stuffed animals hogged two corners, but the one by the door held only empty bottles of alcohol. The man looked away, down to the unicorn bed sheets. He ran his hand along them, remembering those times he had tucked her in and kissed her forehead. She always smiled when he did so. As his hand traced down the bed it stopped. A tiny circle of blood stained the sheet beneath his fingers.
The phone on the dresser rang. The sound jolted Carl up from the bed. He never wanted his girl to have a phone, but when her mother had died she coped by chatting for hours with her friends. That was why he got her the phone in her room. And it was that phone ringing now.
"Who the fuck calls at one o'clock in a thunderstorm?" he said, staggering toward it. He almost didn't answer. Couldn't you get struck by lightning or something? He'd heard of a friend who knew someone who had his hand blown off by a phone…no, it wasn't a phone, it was a shower. He shrugged. His head was far from clear. What the hell, he thought. He picked up the phone, more than ready to cuss out whoever happened to be on the other line.
"What the hell do you want?" he muttered into the receiver.
"Daddy?"
The man felt his heart lurch to a stop.
"Cameron?"
"Daddy, I'm sorry I ran away. Please, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, baby," Carl said, latching onto the bedpost to steady himself. "It's okay. Where are you? Tell me and I'll come get you."
"I didn't want to come here, but they made me, daddy, they made me come here."
"Where's here?"
Lightning struck outside, filling the line with static. Carl shouted his daughter's name a few times. No response. When the static abruptly ended no sound came from the other end.
"Cameron, are you there? Daddy's not going to be mad."
"I'm in Silent Hill," he heard his daughter say. "They made me come here."
"Who is they?"
The voice ended. There was no click, no standard sign of disconnect. Her voice just ended. He spoke her name again but was granted no response.
"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming the receiver down. The cradle fell to the floor, the cheap plastic cracking across the side. For a moment Carl stared at it, wondering if he had just imagined it. Cameron had vanished more seven months ago. Pictures of her face dotted telephone polls and supermarket doors for hundreds of miles in every direction. He'd even done a public plea on television. By the fifth month all the hope he had he drowned in alcohol. And now here he was, wasted and exhausted, hearing the phone call he'd been praying for.
Carl staggered through his home, flicking on light switches as he made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a stack of maps from a drawer and unfolded them.
"Silent Hill, Silent Hill…I've heard it before but I've never…there."
His finger halted on a small dot less than sixty miles away. He scratched the rough hairs across his chin. The name of the town was circled in red crayon.
"I'm coming baby," the father said. "Baby, I'm coming."
..v..v..v..v..v..v
Try as he might, he couldn't keep the car in the right lane. Half-folded in the seat next to him was the map, there in case he took a wrong turn. Before he left Carl had changed clothes, drank two cups of coffee, and grabbed a stuffed animal from Cameron's room. It seemed stupid but he wanted to have something of hers to give her when they met. The stuffed animal was a pink bunny, one that had come with a bunch of Easter candy. It sat next to the map in the seat like a dutiful passenger.
The rain made what might have been a difficult trip a nightmarish one. The windshield wipers of his car were pathetic, just barely keeping a sliver of visible sight on the blurry glass.
"How can I stay within the lines if I can't even see them?" he said to the rabbit. He glanced at it, chuckling. "You wanna drive? You've had less to drink than I have."
Again the rabbit said nothing.
"Yeah, you're right," he said, guiding his car around a turn. "I doubt you could reach the pedals."
A bolt of lightning lit up the sky before him, so bright and powerful Carl had to squint his eyes against it. When it vanished his entire vision filled with a bright yellow sign with an arrow pointing left. Carl spun the wheel hard in the direction, his heart pounding as he felt the tires hydroplane underneath. As the car spun he glanced out the passenger window.
Outside, standing between him and the safety railing, was a little girl waving hello.
And then his car hit the barrier. Carl wore no seat belt. He flew across the passenger seat, past the pink bunny and into the window. The glass cracked but did not break. Just before that brief flash of pain that would send him into unconsciousness Carl could still see that girl's face, smiling at him with eyes that held no whites, only giant black orbs that leered into his soul as if he were naked before her. When unconsciousness came he was grateful.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
The first thing he felt was a terrible pain across his forehead. The first thing he thought was a hope that the pain was from the alcohol and not the window.
"…daddy?" he heard a voice say.
"Cameron?" he mumbled, fighting to open his eyes. He managed to open his left eyelid. White light blurred his vision. A blur, small and childlike, hovered over him.
"You look like daddy," the child said. Carl felt his heart sink. That voice did not belong to his little girl. It was older and softer than how his precious talked.
"What happened?" he asked, feeling stupid as he did.
"You crashed your car," the girl said.
"Thanks. I can figure that out."
He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. He was sitting in the passenger seat. Across from him was a young girl. She had opened the driver's side door so she could peer in. Carl started to speak but then saw her eyes. Both the iris and pupil were a deep black. They filled nearly the entire eye, so that only the very corners showed white.
"Holy shit," he said, instinctively crawling back a foot. The back of his head smacked against the shattered glass, adding pain to an already pain filled area.
"You shouldn't say stuff like that," the girl said, giggling at him. "Otherwise I might have to wash your mouth out with soap."
"Really? I'll remember that." Carl looked through the windshield of his car, confused by what he saw. All across his hood was what looked like a thin layer of snow. It appeared to be daylight, most likely early morning judging by the thick fog that blanketed everything.
"What's your name?" Carl asked her.
"Tess," the girl said. She stepped a foot back into the street and batted her eyelashes at him. "Do you think it is a pretty name?"
"Pretty?" He shifted from the passenger to the driver seat, wincing at the pain that spiked up his back. "Sure, it's a pretty name. Very pretty, for a pretty girl. Are your parents around?"
Tess shook her head.
"I'm all alone."
"Alone? Sure, course you're alone. You're old enough to be alone." The girl took a few more steps back as he swung his feet out of the car. "How old are you? Twelve? Thirteen?"
"Fourteen," she said. She kept her head low so that her long black hair formed a curtain about her face. She wore a simple green dress, like something set aside for church or holidays. Her hands kept picking at the hem. "I act twelve sometimes. Sometimes younger. What is your name?"
"Call me Carl," he said. With a deep breath he stepped out of the car. He staggered once but braced himself against the car. He inhaled again, surprised by just how many muscles in his body ached. He hadn't been going that fast when he hit the railing…had he?
"Do you want to come with me to the town, Carl?" Tess asked. The man shrugged.
"Sure. I'm trying to find my daughter. I think she's there. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have seen her, would you? She's eleven, about a foot shorter than you, red hair…"
Tess only shook her head.
"I've never been here before. I came because I was asked."
"By who?"
"My daddy."
"Where's your daddy?"
Tess giggled.
"I shouldn't tell you where. It's a secret."
Carl sighed.
"Fine. I don't have time for this sh…crap. Which way is town?"
"Follow me."
She extended her hand. Carl took it, his eyes glancing about uncomfortably as if he were looking for someone to appear and accuse him of impure intentions. The two walked down the road, the only sound that of Tess's humming.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
"This fog should clear up soon," Carl said after they had walked for some time.
"It won't."
"Sure it will. Once the sun gets high enough it'll dry all of it out."
Tess giggled at him.
"The sun is high enough. Look up." He did and sure enough there was the sun, a barely visible orb obscured by fog and cloud.
"I'll be damned," Carl said. At Tess's glare he chuckled. "Sorry. I work, well, worked with a bunch of not-too-proper guys at the factory."
"Okay, just don't be saying fuck, alright?"
The man glanced at her.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Because it makes me excited." She giggled. Carl let go of her hand. Thankfully she made no mention of him doing so. The girl resumed her humming. After what felt like an hour the trees along the side of the road vanished. Two orbs hovered in the fog before them.
"What is that?" he asked. Tess only shrugged her shoulders. As they neared the outline of a sign formed out of the fog. The two orbs were dim lights pointed down at the words of the sign.
Welcome to Silent Hill.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
"Looks like we're here," Carl said. "And here don't look too special." A few buildings formed through the fog. They looked gray and defeated. He saw what looked like a convenience store. The windows were broken. The door was boarded shut. Next to it was a video rental. Old posters blocked all sight inside. Every poster was faded and drained of color. The man walked up to one of the posters and ran his fingers across the front. Gray dust smeared his fingertips.
"The town died not too long ago," Tess said, staring down the straight. Carl jumped at her voice.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Tourists don't come. Bad stuff happened here."
Carl returned to Tess, rubbing his arms as if he was cold.
"How do you know that? I thought you said you hadn't been here before."
"I haven't." She blushed and looked to the ground. "But I just know. I know lots of things."
"Do you know where the police station is, then?" Carl said, obviously not amused by her words. Tess giggled.
"You don't want to go there."
"One of the officers might have seen her. You want to come with me or not?"
"But you don't want to go there."
"Yes, I do."
"But you don't."
"Why the hell do I not want to go there?" Carl said, his voice rising.
"Because the man with the knife will stop you."
Carl rolled his eyes.
"Fine. You stay here or go do whatever you want. I'm going to try and find the police station…or anyone, for Christ's sake."
Tess stayed where she was. The smile left her face.
"Bye-bye."
The loud cry of a tornado siren erupted from the other side of town. Carl leapt back a foot, stunned by the horrid break in the silence. The fog thickened, so much that the few feet between he and Tess was almost enough to wash her away in white.
"It's just broke," he shouted to her. "Don't worry."
"I'll find you when it's safe," Tess shouted back. She turned and ran.
"Tess!"
The siren wailed again and again. He took a few steps after her and then halted. Something felt wrong with the ground. He glanced down. The dirt was crumbling away, slipping through cracks in a large steel grating. All around the light grew dim as if the sun was being hidden by a lunar eclipse, yet still he could see. Red light poured up through the grating, deep and hot. For one brief moment Carl thought he saw lava, and then within that lava he saw a chasm leading further and further downward, so far down his head spun with dizziness and he felt his stomach churn. And then the hands lurched their fingers through the grating.
Carl screamed. He smashed the fingers with his boots, his mind unable to believe what it was he saw. Hundreds of fingers leered through the grate, clawing and grabbing air. Only once did see a pair of eyes, orange and bloodied. He ran. The sick sound of flesh beneath his heels made him close his eyes. Blindly he ran down the street. When shrieks and wails filled the town like a chorus he covered his ears. He made it down two blocks before a small shape entangled his legs. He fell to the ground, thankful that stone, not steel grating, was below him.
He opened his eyes to see what had tripped him. Lying just beyond his feet was something akin to a child. Its flesh was pale and blue. Its head was hairless. It turned to face him, moving on all fours like an animal. Carl screamed when he saw its face. The eyes and mouth were sown shut. Its ears were cut from its head, leaving only two tiny holes. He didn't know if it was male or female. Where should have been genitalia was instead a bloody smear of hanging strips of flesh. The thing cocked its head at him.
"What the fuck are you?" he asked as he struggled to his feet. In response it reached up with its hands and tore off the stitches across its lips. Bits of flesh came with them. With its mouth freed it leaned over and vomited. A stream of red splattered across the ground. Carl put a hand over his mouth and fled. Inside the vomit had been shards of broken glass.
Through the town he ran, his eyes wide. All around were buildings he recognized. Hair parlors. Convenience stores. Small, tidy homes. An antique shop. All of them were soaked with blood. It ran down their fronts as if bled from the roof. The center of the street was covered with the grating. The holes were larger than when the town had first changed so that entire arms were reaching through, waving madly in the air. Carl ran across the sidewalk, unwilling to think of what would happen to him if he stumbled into the sea of arms.
He stopped at a crosswalk. A streetlight hovered above the arms from wire. The glass where the red light had been was broken, and from within rained down a constant stream of blood. On the other side of the street several of the blue children crawled. Carl watched as one came too close to the road. An arm snapped around and grabbed its wrist. The child fell to the road. More and more hands latched on, tearing and pulling. Bones broke. Flesh tore. Piece by piece the child was pulled through the grating. The last to go was its spine.
Carl vomited, no longer able to hold it in. He braced on a building for support. As more and more bile traveled up his throat he tried not to think of how the blood had warmed at the touch of his fingers. He resumed running when the blood of the building pulsated as if from a giant, beating heart. On the other side of the street the blue children followed.
"This isn't happening," Carl gasped as more and more children took up chase. "This isn't real. This can't be real." He turned a corner to see five more of the blue things blocking his way. The crawled toward him, their heads swaying left and right.
"Stay back," he said. He searched his jeans for a weapon of any kind. Nothing. Carl turned to run, but blocking his way was more than twenty of the things, crawling together in a silent swarm. He spun again and again, as if each turn he might see something different. The only way out was onto the street with the grasping arms. The image of the massacred child kept him where he stood.
A blue hand reached up and brushed his arm. Its touch was warm and dry. Carl watched, his mouth open and his hands shaking, as that child suddenly staggered back. Sickening heaving sounds came from its chest. Its head bobbed up and down. Its eyes bulged. At that terrible moment Carl realized what was happening. The child was going to vomit up the glass but its mouth was still sown shut. The child started tearing at its mouth but the stitches held. The scrawny chest heaved one final time. Blood and glass erupted from the things eyes and nostrils. It collapsed, its back legs twitching.
Several more children brushed his arms and legs. They too pulled back, tearing at their stitches and vomiting blood and glass.
"Stop it," Carl said, just above a whisper. The shrieks from the grates drowned him out. "Stop it, you're killing yourselves!" Despite this the children came, crawling over the dead bodies of their kin to reach up and grasp at his arms and legs. Carl pushed them away, knowing his slightest touch was poison. From around both street corners the children came, hundreds of them. Mounds of bodies formed barriers on both sides. The children that tried climbing around stumbled and fell into the road where the eager arms awaited. Carl leaned back against the wall, clutching his hands over his ears. All he could hear was the shrieks and wails and the vomiting and the breaking of bones.
At once it stopped. The children halted, glancing around as if they could still see through their sown eyelids. A single noise sent them crawling away, over the bodies of their brethren and even into the street if they found their path blocked. Carl heard the sound as well. It was the sound of metal scraping against metal. It came from around the corner. Carl climbed over the mound of bodies the other way, ignoring the horrible warmth of their skin. When he reached the top he glanced back. From around the corner he saw a sharp black piece of metal just above the mound. The scraping metal sound stopped.
He tumbled down the other side and ran when a blade longer than his entire body lifted up above the mound. The sound of it tearing down through the hundreds of bodies chilled his heart. He ran down the sidewalk, relieved he saw none of the blue children lurking about. Each building he passed he pondered entering. Perhaps he could hide, he wondered. The darkness within each kept him going. Out in the streets he could see. Inside he would be blind.
He found a walkway of steel across the street. On either side hands reached and groped. The shrieks called out for him. Carl walked in the very center, stepping foot before foot so that he stayed just out of reach of the fingers. When he reached the other side he collapsed to one knee. He had never been in great shape. The days of drinking and moping certainly hadn't helped. He gasped for air, feeling the sweat drip off him to the ground. From around the corner he heard the scraping of metal. Part of him wanted to flee but his curiosity, and his exhaustion, won. He had to see who was chasing him. He didn't know why, but he had to know.
The thing came around the corner, its weapon trailing behind. It looked like a giant, muscular man in an enormously grotesque mask. A butcher apron made of flesh covered his waist. Atop his head was what appeared to be a pyramid made of black steel. The weapon was an enormous sword, almost like an oversized butcher knife. Everything, from the blade to his apron to his mask, was covered with blood. The thing approached the walkway Carl had crossed. Carl took a few steps back, his chest growing light at the very sight of this monstrosity. It took a step into the road, then another. Hands snapped around and latched onto its ankles. The thing continued, the arms snapping and breaking. More and more latched on, and more and more were torn from unseen sockets. Halfway across the street it paused and hefted the enormous blade. With one arm it swung, severing all the arms to the things right. Another swing and the other side became nothing but a shower of blood and bone.
"What do you want with me," Carl asked, tensing his body to run. The butcher took a step. Its helmet tilted to one side. The sword lifted high above his head. And then the thing hurled it across the street. The man dove to one side. The blade buried itself to the hilt in the brick building behind Carl. If the thing was upset at missing it showed no sign, only lumbering forward with the same agonizing gait.
Carl ran. The thing with the pyramid head followed.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
Every building, every street, the same thing. Grates and fingers. Blood and death. Carl slumped to the ground, unable to run anymore.
"Bad stuff happened here," he chuckled, feeling much of his sanity slipping. "No shit, Tess. No shit."
No matter how fast he ran the scraping sound of the enormous blade followed. Even as he sat there he could hear it approaching. But he could run no more. Not just physically. He could not stand the sights he saw any longer. He closed his eyes and buried his face into his legs. Perhaps after a moment he would resume. If he was still alive.
The tornado siren blared in the distance. Carl glanced up, immediately feeling a change. The fog was returning, seeping up from the ground. All around the blood fell from the walls. Dirt poured upward from the bowels of the lava canyons, burying the grate and its holes. As the blood pooled upon the ground it gradually dissolved like a puddle beneath a hot summer sun. The sound of metal scraping against metal halted.
And then the town was the same as it had been when they first entered.
"Cameron," the father whispered. His girl was here somewhere, suffering in the same hellish world. "Cameron, you poor girl."
He got to his feet and looked around. Cameron had not said where she was at on the phone. Considering how there was not a soul around to ask, Carl felt an overwhelming desire to search for his girl but total helplessness at where to start.
"The man with the knife didn't want me to go to the police station," Carl said, remembering what Tess had told him. "Then that's where I'm going."
He walked through the fog, keeping to the sidewalk even though the streets were safe again. A few minutes later he heard a girl shout his name.
"You lived," Tess said, smiling at him from across the street. "I didn't think you would live."
Carl ran across the street to her and grabbed her wrist.
"How did you know about the man with the knife?" he asked.
"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked. She didn't seem afraid. In fact, she looked very much the opposite.
"No. Of course not. Just tell me how you knew of him?"
She shook her head.
"That's a secret. I won't tell you a secret until you tell me a secret."
"I don't have any…goddammit. Fine. You're coming with me. We're going to find the police station."
This time the girl made no argument, only accepting his grip about her arm with the tiniest of smiles.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
"Small towns always have a square somewhere," Carl said, scanning down each intersection they met. "Some place they can put a tiny park and a gazebo and some benches for old people. That's where the police station will be at."
"What is at the police station?" Tess asked.
"People. Cameron. Hell, I don't know. But that is where we're going."
"You sound like my daddy."
"Fascinating."
He picked up his pace, tugging her along.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
Half an hour later he found the town square, just as he had predicted. The trees were barren, though, and the grass was long dead. The benches were cracked in the middle. Where there had once been a gazebo was a giant pile of ash. A tiny justice building stood next to the park. Tess pointed but Carl shook his head.
"That's just the courtroom. The police station should be nearby." They passed a tax center, another movie place, and a thrift store. Tess paused at the thrift store and looked in.
"What is your girl's name again?" she asked, staring at a tiny mannequin in a pink skirt and white top.
"Cameron."
"Why did Cameron come here?" Tess asked, resisting the man's tug to continue.
"She didn't come here. She said she was taken here."
"By who?"
"I don't know. They."
"How did they get her?"
Carl pulled her from the window so she would look him in the eye. His anger helped him not shiver when those black orbs locked onto his face.
"No more questions, got it?"
She giggled. Strange enough, the sound scared him just as much as the scraping steel sound the butcher thing's knife had made.
"You do have a secret. She ran away, didn't she? Ran away from you, and it is your fault she ran."
Carl shoved the girl against the windows of the store.
"I said enough!"
"Are you going to rape me?" she asked. Again she giggled, and her eyes lit up with life. "You want to. We're all alone. No one will see you do it. And I won't tell."
"You're sick," he said.
"So are you."
Carl let her go and crossed the dead park. He sighed when he saw a tiny police station on the other side of the square. Its windows were shattered. Tess followed him at a distance as he tried the door. It was locked so he climbed in through the windows. Everything inside was a mess. Filing cabinets had their contents emptied to the floor. Desks were broken. Chairs were overturned. He searched every drawer he found. Inside one was a flashlight. He flicked off and on. The batteries were dead. Inside a drawer below it he found a fresh pair and popped them in. The light clicked on. The light was yellow and dim, but it was better than nothing.
Inside an upside down desk he found a small handgun. Carl frowned at all the dust covering it. He cleaned it with his shirt and popped out the clip. Empty.
"Let's see, ammo, ammo…"
Carl glanced back to see Tess staring at him from the window.
"What do you think was here I wasn't supposed to find?" he asked.
"You already have it."
He glanced down at the gun.
"Sorry, precious, but I like guns. More importantly I like loaded guns, so give me a minute."
He went further inside. There he found a quaint prison, consisting of only three jail cells. Storage cabinets lay overturned on the other side of the wall. Carl scanned their contents. He grinned when he found several clips, each holding twenty shots.
"If I need more than sixty shots I'm dead anyway," he muttered. He loaded a clip and thumbed on the safety. As he put the pistol into his pocket a picture caught his eye. It was a tiny Polaroid. He picked it up. In faded color it showed a muddy river, its banks swelled from a recent storm. Carl tore the photo in half. He left the police station, his heart racing.
"Alright, we need a plan, Tess," he said while exiting through the window. "I just want to find my girl and get out of here. You can…why are you here again?"
The girl looked down shyly.
"I told you, remember? I was called here. I think the town wants me."
"Bullshit. Towns aren't alive and they certainly don't make phone calls."
"Are you sure?" she asked, suddenly livid. "Isn't that what happened to you?"
"That was Cameron, not a town."
"But are you sure?"
Of course he was, but when he went to say it he found he couldn't. After what he had seen, did he honestly know anything?
"Fine. If the town did call you, what does it want with you?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know. I think it likes me."
Carl sighed and shook his head.
"That's wonderful. Come on, I'm starving. Let's see if we can find something to eat before that damn siren goes off again."
..v..v..v..v..v..v
The two scoured a small convenience store for something edible. Much looked aged and rotten. Carl found a can opener in the manager's office and used it to open cans of corn, beans, and mixed fruit. They sat in the middle of the canned food aisle, enjoying their meal. The two slurped their food as if they were drinking it.
"Why did your daughter run away," Tess asked. She kept her eyes to the floor. Carl sighed and sipped the sugary syrup from one of the fruit cocktail cans.
"It was just one of those things. She's only eleven. She packed up a few things of clothes and her favorite teddy bear and ran into the woods. After her mom died I babied her for awhile, spoiled her probably. She didn't like it when I started becoming strict again."
"Daddy never spoiled me," she said. She dipped her finger into a jar of apple sauce and sucked on it. "Daddy never did much of anything. He just fucked me."
Carl winced at her words.
"Please, don't say stuff like that."
"What? He did."
"Then just don't say it that way, it's just…it's not right."
"Fine." The girl took another taste of apple sauce. "Daddy just humped me good every night. Mommy died giving birth to me. She died because of me. I guess that meant I had to replace her as best I could, right?"
Carl shifted, much of his appetite gone.
"Where is your father?"
"It's a secret, remember?"
"You can tell me. I won't tell a soul. There's not even a soul here to tell."
Tess giggled.
"Promise you won't tell?"
Carl held a can of corn to his breast.
"I swear it."
Tess slid across the floor and cuddled up next to him. She sat up on her heels and whispered the words into his ear.
"I killed him."
Carl did his best to show no reaction. The girl sat back down and giggled.
"Why?" he asked.
"You can't fuck your daughter and expect to get away with it," she said. "Ever since I was nine he had been sneaking into my room. So I practiced. I prepared. I got him drunk one night, made him think I even wanted it. Aren't I sneaky?" She giggled again. Carl's blood turned to ice. "Afterwards he passed out in a kitchen chair. I took some rope and tied his arms and legs to the chair. I had been practicing knots so I tied him good. And do you want to know what I did then?"
He didn't but his head nodded anyway.
"I shoved shards of broken glass down his throat. His coughing woke him up, but it was too late. But I couldn't let him cough all of it up, oh no, that wouldn't have right. Guess what I did next?" She smiled at him, inviting.
"You sowed his mouth shut," he whispered.
"You're so smart," she giggled. "Both his eyes and his mouth. It wouldn't kill him immediately, but he kept choking on it. And then I cut off his dick and burned it in the fire. Daddy's still there. Silent Hill called to me not much after."
Carl stood, tossing his can of beans to the floor.
"I've got to find Cameron and get out of this town."
"Where will you look?" the girl asked.
"I don't know. I don't know where she'd hide. The last time she ran away she…"
He paused. Tess was staring at him, her black eyes narrowing.
"She's run away before?"
He shook his head.
"No. Not run away. We just lost her a bit that time, that's all. She was hiding in a movie theatre. It's all just a game to her; at least, it was before this."
"I saw a movie theatre earlier," Tess said, her voice soft. "When we were separated. Do you want me to take you there?"
Carl looked down at the girl and bit his lower lip.
"Yeah. Sure. Let's go.
..v..v..v..v..v..v
Author: Should have the second half posted sometime next week. Hope all of you who made it this far enjoyed what you read. And please post any and all comments. Heck, I'll even take flames. This is my first Fanfic...ever...so I'm anxious to see what I get. Oh yeah, and I don't own Silent Hill or anything like that. So no suing.
David.