Chapter 8: Brick Colored Fluid

"I'm sure it was justifiable." She said calmly.

I almost didn't believe what I was hearing. "You're not going to…like… throw me out, or anything? I mean, I'd understand if you did-"

"Hush!" scolded Delia. "If you're being targeted by…that place… then I doubt you're all that bad."

"How can you have that much faith in me?"

She smiled benevolently at me. "I did my research. Many, many people were lost to that place. Even after the entire town's citizens disappeared, more people went in. Many were never heard from again, but some escaped. A few tried to tell people what happened, but nobody believed them. After awhile, Silent Hill became an urban legend. No one believes that it exists anymore." She grew angry. "But some morons decide on occasion to try to go into it. They're usually the ones who're never seen again." She laughed suddenly, and bitterly. "Who'd have thought that my dopey little hayseed hometown would become such a… nightmare."
I stared at her, transfixed by her story.

"To this day, a lot of people still don't believe me when I tell them that I was born in Silent Hill. I mean, when everybody died, everything that was in the town went with them. The records are probably all still there. The data files, the bank accounts…" she trailed off, a thoughtful look on her face. "A surprising number of people went there just after the mass disappearance. These people were looters, or thrill seekers. I remember reading in the newspaper that they were finding this guy's body for a month."

"Ew." Was all I could say.

She stood up, and motioned for me to follow. "Come on. I have quite the story to tell. I'll make us some breakfast."

I was certain I was at least a little green. "You really think I'll be able to eat- if that's how you're opening a story?"

She laughed at me! "Sweetie, trust me- you will!"

I grumbled incoherently, but followed her into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Delia surprised me. She just poured two glasses of milk, and stuck a bunch of Pop Tarts in the toaster.

I gave her a look.

"What, you thought I meant some big breakfast with all the trimmings?" she asked me innocently. "Please! I can eat when I'm talking about Silent Hill- but not that much!"

I snickered. What a gal!

"So," began Delia, "after the shit hit the fan, and me and the twins escaped, the first thing I worked on was settling into a routine. I mean, I had two little babies that needed me to take care of them; they depended solely on me to survive. Being only twenty, however, meant that this was going to be quite a bitch of a job for me! So, after we moved here, I got a shit job at…" she paused, obviously for dramatic effect.

I was never a patient kinda gal, so: "Where?"

"The King Oscar Motel."

I froze for minute, then laughed my ass off. "No shit?"

"No shit. The upside was that considering the situation, the owner let me live rent-free in one of the rooms. The downside? Med school and baby-stuff is so not cheap!"

"Bummer." Okay, I wasn't all that great at the sympathy-stuff. Sue me!

"So, two years had passed without much of a hitch. Life was a poverty stricken pain in my ass. Then, one characteristically boring day…"

I was passing through the halls with my housekeeping-cart-'O-doom, trying like hell to mind my own business. But, much to my chagrin, nobody wanted to keep their problems to themselves.

As I passed each room, I could hear the conversations within.

The first: "Damn you! How could you-"

The second: "But Mommy- I WANT IT!"

I could only hear moans coming from the third. I secretly hoped that someone was being murdered inside.

God, I was SO bored. Little did I know that my prayers would be answered when I passed the next room.

I heard someone chanting inside.

"Silent Hill is a silent hell. You go in you don't go out. Silent Hill is a silent hell. Everybody dies in Silent Hell!" chirped the person within; using a sing-song voice.

I froze. No fucking way…

My past had just risen up, and it was about to bite me on the ass…

Delia paused, taking a delicate sip from a bottle of flavored water.

"Dammit!" I fumed. "Maybe you should get into the movie business- you're fucking generous with the dramatic pauses!"

She just laughed at me! "It gets better. Little did I know that these two bitches that I worked with would be right near the door- ready to harass me…"

Suddenly, a voice behind me sneered. "Sounds to me like one of Carver's people decided to come looking for her!"

With a roll of my eyes, I turned to find Janice Gurecki and Violet Young sniggering at me. Janice never believed that I was from Silent Hill, and since Violet was her loyal flunky- she was quick to mock me too. The cows.

Violet tittered like any good goon would. "Yeah, maybe they should return to the loony bin together. Birds of a psychotic feather should always flock together!"

This caused them both to crack up.

"Ladies." I growled. I used that term loosely. "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

They gave me that weird, tittering, giggle again.

As much as I fantasized about drilling both of their heads open- if only to let the gas out- I kind of pitied them too. Though I couldn't figure out why.

Janice was thirty-four years old. She was MAYBE five-feet-two-inches tall. She was blond, and petite. However, she appeared to have some sort of skin problem. Her chin was badly pock-marked with acne, and her teeth were yellow from years of chain smoking. She also had immense, nearly black eyes. They weren't suited to her face and gave her the unfortunate appearance of an oddly-colored bumblebee.

And not the cute, greeting-card kind either.

Violet was gargantuan. I think she was the only woman I knew that was over six feet tall. Sadly, she must have weighed about three hundred pounds, and none of it was muscle. Her greasy red hair was tied into so tight a bun, that I noticed that the corner of her eyes had been uptilted slightly.

Ow…

"Isn't that one of your pals in there?" mocked Janice.

"What makes you say that?" I purred. Anyone who had known me would have realized this was my 'prepare to die' tone. But, alas, Janice and Violet were totally brain-dead, so:

"Yeah," tittered Violet again. God, I wanted to smack her. "so, if she's one of your freaky friends- why don't you go in there and deal with her?"

I recognized what they were doing instantly. The lady in the room sounded totally, grade-A, batshit, and they wanted me to be freaked out, and say how scared I was.

Yeah, right. I had two little babies to be a role model to. And taking crap from people like these two chuckleheads was so NOT a value that I had wanted to instill in my girls.

Without so much as uttering a word, I pulled out my key-card, and entered the room.

And I didn't even turn back to see how those two heifers reacted.

I knocked gently before entering fully. "Housekeeping." I announced, as was the standard.

Then I walked into the room.

I remember taking one look, and thinking, (Oh! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! CRAP!)

The first thing I registered was the walls. There were… THINGS… written on the walls. In a brick colored substance that I knew all to well-

-it was all over the walls. The little boy's room, the bunk beds, the knife that had skewered the newspaper article to the inside of the family room's closet-

I was stunned- to say the least. I read the things on the walls:

Samael.

The Holy Mother returned!

DahliadahliaDAHLIAistheevilone!

Harry the Hero saved the day.

Harry is the Father is Harry is

Then I noticed a drawing. It was a circle, and it had runes in it. In it's center was three more circles, each flanked with more runes. I recognized it instantly.

It had been tattooed into my stomach when I had come to outside the borders of Silent Hill. I even remembered doing research on it. Hell, a girl should know about what gets inked into her body.

It was the seal of Metatron.

I cut her off. "Somebody tattooed a cult-thing into you?" I yelled.

She lifted up her shirt, and flashed me her stomach. Yep, somebody did indeed.

She gave me a look, "Can I finish my story now?"

"Yes, your highness." I rolled my eyes.

I was so entranced by the contents of the walls, that I had completely forgotten that someone was in the room with me, until I heard some pretty deranged laughter.

"Gah!" I yelped.

Behind me sat an almost freakish-looking middle-aged woman. I realized that my entrance must have spooked her into this… stupor.

She just sat there, staring blankly into space. Her posture was extraordinarily rigid, and I flashed on women in history books, who only sat like that because of corset-induced discomfort. It looked almost painful.

"Ma'am?" I asked. "Are you alright?"

No answer.

She had short, graying blond hair.

Delia chuckled softly.

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"I remember for some reason, I was jealous."

"Of what?"

"Oh, you know! How blonds get to go that lovely shade of silver gray, while the rest of us go butt-tray gray."

I laughed.

"Anyways…"

It was greasy, and looked as though it hadn't been combed in a while. Her skin was pale, too. It gave me the worrisome idea that maybe she hadn't been outside in some time.

I shook off the strange ideas that flooded my mind, and continued to examine the woman. Her clothes were filthy, and she was covered in the brick-colored fluid…

That had been concentrated on her hands…

I ignored the tiny voice in my head that was screaming, "RUN AWAY!", and went into the bathroom. Wetting a rag, I returned to the bedroom.

I knelt in front of the woman, and began to gingerly wash her face. I took it as a good sign when she didn't attack me or anything.

"Hey." I said. "My name's Delia Carver. What's yours?

No answer.

Continuing to gently scrub the goop off of her face, I began to babble. "So, I heard you talking earlier. You're from Silent Hill?"

That earned me an eye flick. I went with it.

"I'm from Silent Hill too. So are my two daughters." I decided to check her reaction again.

Now, she was staring at me.

Slowly, I took her hands, and began to wipe them off too.

"So, who are you?" I asked again.

She stood up suddenly. She walked to the window, and peered out.

That's when I noticed her bag…

It was an old fashioned carpet-bag, made of thick, dark material. I stared at it for a few minutes, and then glanced at her.

The woman was still staring out the window.

(I can't get in trouble for this. She's obviously nuts! I'm just trying to put a name to the face!)

I opened the bag, looked inside- and had to bite back a shriek.

There were- BITS- inside the bag. I stared at the contents in horror, but strangely, my med school curiosity overtook me. And thank God for that. It gave me the ability to look at the mess with an almost clinical detachment.

It was just a massive… blob of gore. However, it appeared to be only animal remains. Small leg stumps; with paws still attached. A long, black tail. A scattering of black and white feathers, a lot of bones, and yes- that gray lump was an intact pidgeon head!

I noticed something that looked like a wallet poking up out of the gunk. Which is when my horror and nausea returned- full force.

(Oh, are you kidding me?)

Still keeping an eye on the woman, I bit back my nausea, and shoved my hand in.

(EwewewewEW- Got it!)

I grinned in triumph, and examined my prize.

It wasn't a wallet at all. It was a police badge, and it came with ID!

Inside was a picture of a younger, obviously more stable version of the woman. I read the name aloud.

"Officer Cybil Bennet. Brahms PD."

: AUTHOR'S NOTES : Phew! Finally done! I had hoped for something better, but alas, there was a time constraint. Plus, someone I know more or less challenged me to top the SH2 "Hand in the toilet" scene. Ta-da!

READ AND REVIEW! Pleeeeease?