Had my ritual succeeded?

No, I don't think so – and as naive as it is, I don't want to think so anymore. But the impossible fact remains: I live with the ghost of my dead daughter. I can talk with her, hug her and tug her in bed just like I used to – and she talks with me, hugs me and smiles at me just like she used to. So what is she? Something brought to life by a god? Or by the so-called curse of that town? Her existence is a mystery to both of us; she knows something is wrong, yet can't name it. That's when my small apartment doesn't feel the same anymore – a few times she has come to me and asked:

''Mom, can we go back home?" with a puzzled expression. I answer:

"But we are there...right here, this is our home. Yours and mine."

Then she looks around slowly, distant worry buried deep inside her eyes and remains quiet. I know what she really wants, but then again I don't want to think about it – whatever that says about me.

Soon after we got back, I realized that other people can't really see her – even if seeing feels like wrong choice of words. In shops, on the streets and around my neighbours, no one acknowledges her. While her physical presence isn't completely unreal (whatever that means), others are unable to contact the person itself – only I can do that. And I can sense the difference; this disconnection between Fae and all other people, who are walking along the same aisle in grocery store. When I noticed this for the first time, a simple answer to every single question came to my mind: I'm insane – that is, mentally ill. But I don't really think so; I never did.

In addition to Fae's personality, she has Fae's memories too – at least most of them. Twice I have seen her standing in the bathroom, staring at the basin filled with water. I gently remind her that we shouldn't waste water like that; she barely reacts to my words. But once I suggest drawing together, the emotionless stare vanishes and gets replaced by a motivated smile – usually followed by her gentle remark:

''I didn't know you can draw.''

Could she remember her own death? I have tried talking about it indirectly, but she only gets confused. I can't spot any deeper anguish nor physical trauma in her – excluding a few cases of stomach pain, she seems healthy and happy.

What about Sam? On the following evening after our return, she wouldn't answer my phone calls. So I left her alone for a while and concentrated on Fae; taking care of her was my only priority. A whole week passed and Sam still didn't answer. We decided to visit her house together – Fae seemed quite excited about the idea. But no one was there: windows were black and interior got hidden beneath curtains. Another week went by without any signs of her; I got worried. Eventually Sam's closest neighbour told me something which I should have already known:

''You haven't heard about it? I'm sorry...they say it was suicide.''

Indeed.

Turned out she had killed herself – with strong opioids and alcohol. Her body was found from her apartment, and that happened a year ago, in September. The exact date made no sense to me: it was a few days before I left Allentown. In this regard, some kind of quiet acceptance is all I have: I can talk with Fae, so nothing could have stopped me from talking with Sam; not even trivial, unconditional facts. Was her death somehow related to the town? Another question which I can't really answer, but she seemed genuinely indifferent towards the whole topic – even after her death, as absurd as that sounds like. Once more, I'm left in the dark. And to be honest, I don't miss her nearly as much as one might expect. Sometimes that alone bothers me.

I will never know what really happened in Silent Hill, and neither will Fae. There is no explanation for any of this. Yet my point of view, which was necessary to form in order to stay sane, is the following: all the town's history, all my notes, the natives' ceremonies, that pagan religion, the red book with its crimson one and my attempted ritual – all of it was merely influenced by something nameless; something that lives in Toluca and the surrounding land. Whatever that something is, I survived it – and in some minor ways can even understand it – but Fae's origin remains completely unclear. To repeat myself: I don't know what to think anymore. However, I do know how to feel. A few months ago I started from facts, so let me end this with a last one:

I love her.