"Cheryl? Hey, Cheryl!"

Cheryl's head snapped up, only to find her boss, Marianne Johnson, glancing sternly down at her. "Oh, um. Sorry, I was just.. What is it?"

"You've been sitting there in a daze for the last half hour," Marianne remarked sourly, continuing to fix on Cheryl with a look of disdain, "Your shift ended five minutes ago. Now come on, get back to work."

Cheryl nodded and rose from the small table she'd been sitting at, and made her way back over to the bar, where she could see a whole line of customers, each one looking extremely impatient. "Finally," one of them muttered, bringing out a five dollar bill, "just gimme' a beer, sweetness. An' in the future, try not ta' be so slow, I've had one hell of a day an' I need a drink."

Cheryl gave him a cynical smile and snatched the dollar bill from him, throwing it into the cash register. She then proceeded to pour him a beer, and handed it over to him when she was done.

"Thanks, sweetness," the man mumbled, reaching out eagerly to take the full glass of beer from her. Cheryl watched with a raised eyebrow as he took a long drink.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Cheryl remarked as she began to serve the others, but all the time she kept her eyes on him. The others had been in here at least once, and she never forgot a face. But this guy, he was new. There was no doubt about it.

The man merely grunted in response and carried on drinking. Cheryl continued to glance at him out of the corner of her eye, and once she was done serving the other people who had been waiting at the bar, she fixed on him.

She just liked to get to know the customers. She didn't quite know why. It was just a habit she had picked up shortly after she'd started working here. How long had she been working here? Well, it had been around six months since she'd started. It wasn't exactly the job she had opted for, but the pay was decent and it was a good way to meet people, so Cheryl wasn't complaining. If it wasn't for her boss, who was a pain in the rear end, it would be the perfect place for her to be working at. It was just a small place downtown called Sal's Bar. Cheryl worked four hours a day, five days a week. She didn't really care about this, though. On her days off, she didn't usually have a lot to do, anyway.

Since moving back to Portland, Cheryl had lost contact with most to all of her old friends. She had even stopped contacting Douglas eventually, which had saddened her slightly, but she had wanted to try to start afresh, and she knew that keeping in touch with him would just bring back the memories of what had happened. Nevertheless, she sent him a birthday card every year without fail on his birthday, and usually a Christmas card during the holiday's aswell. Douglas must have realised that she no longer wanted them to stay in touch, so the weekly phone calls had stopped, and she hadn't heard from him since. The last time they'd talked had been around four months ago. Though she knew it was for the best, Cheryl still missed Douglas, and hoped he was doing okay.

As for making friends in Portland, Cheryl hadn't had much success. She had a small group of friends, and that was fine, but everyone else seemed to regard her as strange, reserved, and Libby had even quietly informed her on a night out several weeks ago that a friend of hers had called Cheryl "unstable". This was hardly a surprise to Cheryl, who knew she must sometimes appear that way. She was a thoughtful person, or a daydreamer to put it another way. She would constantly find herself in a daze, thinking about various things. Her friends would often tease her about it, but Cheryl didn't really mind. As far as things went, she was feeling rather content with her life thus far.

Brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Cheryl stepped aside as the bartender, Joey, returned from a visit to his mother, who was suffering from breast cancer. "Sorry I'm late," he grumbled, shivering as he closed the door behind him. He then shook the snow out of his hair and sighed. "Sorry you had to cover for me, Cheryl. I promise it won't happen again."

"You know I don't mind," Cheryl said softly with concern, feeling a rush of sympathy for Joey as he crossed the dark room and walked behind the bar. "So.. how is she?"

Joey sighed again. "She goes into surgery tomorrow."

"Well, that's good," Cheryl said with a sad smile, "Joey, she's going to be okay. The doctors have said she's going to be okay."

"Yeah.." Joey said, voice trailing off. Then he nodded towards the man who had just walked through the door. "Jefferson at three o'clock. You'd better go see to him."

Cheryl rolled her eyes. "All right.." she sighed, and after whipping out a small notebook, she walked out from behind the bar and over to where Mr Jefferson sat. She was always reluctant to serve him, and there was a good reason for that. Mr Jefferson would do nothing but moan about, well, anything he could think of. It was work, his wife, or a combination of the two. Sometimes he'd even start to ask Cheryl tedious questions, like why she was working at a dump like this at her age. As Cheryl approached his table, Jefferson looked up, adjusting his glasses.

"Oh, it's you," he said grumpily, "I thought you said you would leave this place and try to find yourself a better job."

Cheryl sighed impatiently, "What d'you want to drink, Mr Jefferson?"

"Yeah, too cocky to listen to me, eh," Jefferson sighed and glanced downward, "Just give me a tequila and tonic, and hurry up won't you."

"Whatever," Cheryl muttered under her breath, and backtracked to the bar. "He wants a tequila and tonic," she informed Joey. Moments later she returned to Jefferson's table, carrying his drink. "Here you go, sir," she said politely, setting it down on the table.

Jefferson sniffed, "Yeah, whatever," he mumbled, his eyes locking onto the glass, "It's always the same, ain't it, Cheryl. She never listens to me. Only wants to listen to that no-good brother of hers."

"I take it we're talking about your wife?" Cheryl inquired listlessly, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

"Who else," Jefferson grumbled, looking around the room, "Say, why's it so dull in here this afternoon? You guys are usually quite busy."

"Yeah, it'll probably start to get busier soon," Cheryl agreed, glancing absently at the clock on the wall, which read five o'clock. Things usually started to pick up at half past, and by seven o'clock the place was usually full. Luckily, Cheryl got off work at half seven today, and it was a good thing too, as she and Scott had decided to go out for dinner instead of ordering takeout yet again.

Cheryl had met Scott Taylor around eight months ago, when one of Cheryl's close friends Lana Thomas had introduced them at a party. They'd hit it off right away, and now eight months later, they were engaged to be married. Cheryl had been thrilled when he'd proposed, with a ring the largest engagement ring she'd ever seen no less. They hadn't chosen a date for the wedding yet, Cheryl had told Scott that she just wanted to take things slow and not dive into marriage right away.

At twenty-one years old, Cheryl looked like any other girl her age. She'd changed an awful lot appearance wise since her transformation from Heather Mason to Cheryl Mason, however. She now sported long, flowing dark hair, after deciding to revert back to her roots. At first it had been strange, seeing herself as a brunette, but then she had decided she actually liked it. She would often remember how she used to look, and it made her laugh.

"What are you smilin' about?"

Cheryl came out of her reverie and glanced sharply at Jefferson, who was eyeing her with suspicion. "Uh, nothing. Enjoy your drink, Mr Jefferson."

She immediately left his table without another word, deciding that she didn't really want the grumpy old man dampening her spirits. Scott was meeting her in a couple of hours, and she couldn't wait, though they'd gone out like this before. She was just excited to see him, as always.

She approached the bar just as a tall, eerily thin woman walked through the door. "You okay?" Joey asked her, as he finished serving an elderly man, "You seem a little out of it today."

Cheryl smiled wryly at him. "That's just typical Cheryl Mason behaviour, and you know it." She sat down at the bar and bent her head. "Anyway, you shouldn't be asking how I am, how are you? You know, I can cover for you for a couple of hours if you want to go home and get some sleep."

Joey shook his head, "I've already missed enough work as it is. Anyway, I doubt Marianne would want me slackin' off again, could cost me my job."

"But you haven't been slacking off," Cheryl insisted, thinking bitterly of Marianne, their highly strung boss, who always disapproved of anyone who stayed off work, even if it was for personal reasons, "Anyway, if she asks, I'll explain. She can't very well fire you for it, anyway."

But Joey remained adamant, "Nah, it's okay. Thanks though, Cheryl, you've been a great friend to me through this whole ordeal," his eyes glazed over with tears, "I just hope nothing goes wrong tomorrow. I hope this'll be the end of it."

"She'll be fine," Cheryl said soothingly, reaching across the bar and giving his hand a quick squeeze, "I'll have a word with Marianne, tell her to go easy on you."

"Well.." Joey sighed, "Yeah, at least it would get her off my back anyway. Thanks a lot, Cheryl, you're a great girl."

"I do try," Cheryl said with a smile, and they both laughed. Then, Joey had to get back to work and Cheryl had to get back to serving drinks, because the place was beginning to get more crowded. Cheryl only just noticed that the guy she had served earlier was still sitting there, but now he seemed to be watching her, as opposed to before when he couldn't have cared less about her. Cheryl wondered who he was, and where he had come from. She hadn't seen him around before, that was for sure. Still, there was something about him that unnerved her. Maybe it was the way he was dressed, in a large buttoned up trench coat. She wondered if he was a detective or something, but if so why would he want to talk to her anyway? It wasn't as if anyone besides Douglas knew of her experience in Silent Hill. Still, she couldn't help but wonder as she stared at him from across the room.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and she disappeared into the other room with Joey, who seemed puzzled as to why she was being so paranoid. "Joey, have you seen that guy in here before?" she asked in a low voice, describing the man at the bar to him. Joey took a peek, and shook his head.

"No, I've never seen him before," he said, sounding puzzled, "Why? Who is he?"

"I don't know," Cheryl muttered, "but there's something strange about him."

"If he's giving you trouble, I'll throw him out," Joey said with a serious look, but Cheryl shook her head.

"No, no, its okay," she insisted, "but just watch him, all right?"

Joey said that he would and they both returned to their posts. For a while the man stopped staring at her but he never moved from his place at the bar. Then, when he began to watch her again just under an hour later, Cheryl decided she could take it no longer and marched over to him.

"What is it?" she asked, "What do you want from me?"

The man glanced at her with no expression. "You're Heather, aren't you? Heather Mason."

Cheryl's eyes widened in shock. No.. how could he know her former name? "Who are you?" she demanded, "Some kind of detective? If you are, then you'd better ju—"

"Relax, relax," the man said hurriedly, obviously not wanting to make a scene, "It's not what you think, honestly."

Cheryl was still suspicious. "So, you're not a detective?"

The man gave her a wan smile. "No, nothing like that."

"Then what? And how do you know my name used to be Heather?" Cheryl asked, determined to get the truth out of him.

The man simply chuckled, "Ah, you're a feisty one I see. Douglas said you would be like this."

Cheryl froze at the mention of Douglas, and for a moment she couldn't speak. "How do you know Douglas?" she almost whispered, heart racing.

"I know him," the man said, "because he was my brother."

"Was?" Heather squeaked, and her mouth fell open.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but Douglas died a week ago," the man informed her quietly, "he told me I should come here to see you, and tell you myself."

"But.." Cheryl couldn't believe it, "How? I mean.. how?"

"It was liver failure," the man explained, "he's been ill for a while now, but he didn't want to tell you. Before he died, he told me to come here to see you."

Cheryl barely heard him. She couldn't take this in. Douglas.. why had this happened? They hadn't exactly been friends, but he had been the only one who had known what had really happened to her, and of the pain she had experienced. Now, he was dead. It was just such a shock.

"I'm sorry, Cheryl," the man said gently, laying a hand on her should as Cheryl sat down in the vacated seat next to him, "but I want you to know that he was very fond of you. He often said you were like the daughter he never had, and that he loved you. He really cared about you, Cheryl."

Douglas loved her? Cheryl was touched by this revelation. That the man she had barely known had cared for her so much made her even more heartbroken. "I.. I'm so sorry. I would've gone to the funeral, but.."

"It's okay, he told me not to come here until after the funeral," the man explained, "He told me he didn't want you seeing him.. like that."

Cheryl nodded and felt the tears forming in her eyes. "W-What's your name?" she asked, trying hard not to break down in front of him.

"It's Morris," he said, offering her a wan smile, "Sorry I was rude before.. I didn't realize it was you. Douglas described a girl with short, blonde hair. I guess you've changed a bit since he last saw you."

Cheryl tried to laugh, "Yeah," she said hoarsely, not looking up so he wouldn't see that she was crying. "Look, t-thanks for telling me about this. Douglas was.. I guess he meant quite a lot to me, though we haven't seen each other for quite a time."

"It's okay," Morris said, "Look; I can tell you're really upset. I'll get going now, and leave you alone."

"Okay," Cheryl said simply, "Thank you for telling me about this, Morris."

Morris gave her a sad smile and got to his feet. Then he turned and left the bar, leaving Cheryl sitting there alone. Joey approached her a few minutes later looking worried. "What's happened?" he asked, obviously being able to tell that she was upset, "Cheryl? What's going on?"

Cheryl sniffed and looked up at him. "Oh, it's.. just a f-friend of mine.. he d-died recently."

Joey looked taken aback by this, "Oh, wow, Cheryl.. I'm so sorry," he said, coming out from behind the bar to comfort her. "Do you need to leave? It's okay if you do."

Cheryl considered this. Yes, she did need to leave. If she stayed here any longer she feared she would start bawling, and she didn't want to start doing that until she was back home in her apartment. Cheryl wasn't the sort of person who liked to show that she was upset over something. Blinking back tears, she looked up at Joey and nodded vaguely.

"Yeah," she croaked, "is that okay? Joey, I don't want to leave you here like this.."

"It's fine," Joey stated firmly, "You just get yourself home, okay?"

Cheryl nodded and got slowly to her feet, though her knees felt like they were turning to jelly, and her ears were ringing. She briefly considered staying, but knew she had to go home for at least an hour to take this in properly.

After getting her things, Cheryl quickly left Sal's, and started back to her apartment. "Douglas.." she whispered sadly to herself, "Oh, man.."

The door was still locked when she got back to the apartment. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was coming up to half past six, which meant that Scott was due back at any moment. Cheryl almost wished he wasn't. She hadn't felt this way since the death of her father, and although this was obviously different, since she had not been as close to Douglas, it was still quite a blow. Douglas had been there for her that day, when nobody else had been, and he had been the one to comfort her after her father's death. It had been strange to hear from Morris that he had died. Part of Cheryl didn't really want to believe it was true. But alas, it was true. Douglas was gone, leaving her alone. He had been the only one who understood. Now she was alone.

She felt a pang of guilt for ending their weekly phone calls, but at the time Cheryl had been eager to spend more time with Scott, who had appeared to be suspicious of Douglas and had asked Cheryl many times who he was.

"Just an old friend," Cheryl had replied, and no more had been said about it. Scott knew better than to question her about it, but he also trusted her, and this made Cheryl love him even more.

Still, the fact remained that Scott knew nothing of her past life before moving to Portland. She'd never told him about it, had never really thought to, thinking what belonged in the past should stay in the past. If he knew, he would probably leave her, and Cheryl sure as hell didn't want that happening. She had managed to get her life back on track and didn't want what had already happened to her ruining the life she had fought so hard to have.

Taking out her key, Cheryl unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. She threw her jacket and bag to the side and shut the door, not even bothering to turn the lights on. She walked into the living room and fell into the armchair. She wondered how long it would be before the full impact of Douglas' death hit her. She found that she couldn't cry now, she just felt shocked, and unable to do anything but sit there and think about him.

He'd told her that she reminded him of his son. Cheryl remembered his words like she'd only just heard them recently. "You remind me of my son," was what he had said, and then he'd went on to tell her that his son was dead. Cheryl had seen him in a new light then, not just as the guy who had helped her out a little that day, but sort of as a father figure. Though she could take care of herself, he had made her feel just a little bit safer. And now he was gone, laying six feet under somewhere.

A few minutes later, Cheryl heard a key turning in the lock, and then the sound of Scott's footsteps. She heard the door slam shut and listened intently as Scott stifled a yawn. Then, she heard his footsteps growing nearer, and he appeared in the living room. Upon seeing her, he gave a small gasp.

"Cheryl?" he started tentatively, "What are you doing here? I thought your shift didn't end 'til after seven."

"I.." Cheryl started lamely, "had to be alone for a while."

"Why?" Scott asked, moving towards her, "What's going on?"

Cheryl wasn't sure whether to tell him or not. If she did, she knew he'd as good as smother her, and keep asking whether she was all right or not. That was just the kind of guy he was. Still, she couldn't keep it inside for much longer, so she decided to tell him anyway.

"A friend of mine passed away recently," she told him, looking away.

She heard Scott sigh, "I'm sorry. Who was he? Did I know him?"

"No," Cheryl said at once, "he was a friend from.. a long time ago."

"He?" Scott said, almost sceptically, then realised his mistake. "Sorry, Cheryl. I didn't mean that. Are you okay?"

What a question. "Not really," Cheryl replied curtly.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," Cheryl said quickly, not wanting to be alone anymore, "I'm sorry Scott, it's just.. he was a good friend, and.."

"You don't have to explain," Scott said softly, sitting down on the arm of the chair and putting his arm around her, "I'm just not used to seeing you like this, Cheryl. If I'm being honest, it upsets me to see you like this."

Cheryl said nothing to this. She continued to look away from him, and a few minutes passed before she finally had the courage to speak again. "Can we just stay in tonight? I know I said I wanted to go out, but with everything that's happened, I don't think I can."

"Yeah, sure," Scott said, though he sounded slightly disappointed, "Look, I'll give you a few minutes to yourself. I'll just be in there," he said, pointing to the bedroom. Cheryl nodded and Scott got up, and walked over to the bedroom, disappearing inside.

Cheryl sighed to herself as she sat there in the darkness. "Douglas," she started sadly, "Why the hell did you have to go and do this to me?"

She had the dream again that night. That reoccurring dream she'd have every now and then. In it, she would return to Silent Hill again, only this time something was wrong. This time she couldn't get through. The gate was closed now, and also locked. No matter how hard Cheryl tried to get across, she just couldn't. She glanced helplessly around, searching hard for another way in, but found none. She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, and suddenly Douglas appeared before her.

"You're a good girl, Heather," he said with a kindly smile, "You don't need to go there. Not anymore."

Heather? But her name was Cheryl. Her name hadn't been Heather for almost four years.

"You'll always be Heather to me," Douglas explained, as if able to read her thoughts, "I love you, as if you were my own daughter. Just don't do this to yourself, okay? You're going to feel like you need to return to that town. But that's not you feeling that way, okay? That's Alessa feeling for you, do you understand?"

Alessa? What did Alessa have to do with any of this? But wait, Cheryl was Alessa. Still.. what did Douglas mean by that?

Cheryl moved closer to him, and reached out to place a hand on his arm, but her hand simply slipped through him. She stared up at him, unsure of what was going on. Douglas simply smiled knowingly at her and began to fade out.

"No! No!" Cheryl cried, helpless to do anything but watch as he disappeared right before her eyes. "Douglas.. you can't do this to me.. not now.."

To her surprise, the lock on the gates broke off, and they slowly began to open. Cheryl glanced uncertainly at them, but as this was a dream, and nothing could happen to her, she walked through the gates, and into the town she had visited so often before in her dreams. It didn't look any different, either. There was still fog all around, and the place was empty. Cheryl couldn't hear a thing, not even the sounds of any monsters. She would actually have welcomed those sounds; the fact that she could hear nothing at all worried her even more. She kept on walking, unsure of where she was going. It was just a dream anyway, so what did it even matter.

After a short while, Cheryl became aware of footsteps close behind her. They were very quiet, but because there were no other sounds in the town she could hear them distinctively. She stopped in her tracks and stared around. The moment she did so, the footsteps ceased. She started walking again. The footsteps started again.

"Whoever you are," Cheryl yelled, "Come out here and tell me what you want!"

The sounds of the footsteps were replaced by the sound of heavy breathing. As Cheryl listened, she noticed that it was gradually getting louder. Eventually, it got so loud that it was as if whatever it was that was emitting the awful sound was right beside her. This was enough for Cheryl. She bolted down the road, not even sure of whether she was running to or away from whatever it was that was pursuing her, but not caring either way. She wanted this dream to end. It was different now, for she'd never been chased by anything in her dreams before. Though she knew she was dreaming, she was still terrified.

"Wake up," she said to herself as she ran, "Wake up, Alessa."

In a flash of light, the dream ended, and Cheryl sat bolt upright. She was awake now, and thankful to be out of there. Luckily, she hadn't woke Scott, who was sleeping soundly beside her. Still, something about the end of the dream was bothering Cheryl.

"Why.." she began, running a hand through her hair, "Why did I call myself Alessa?"