Cheryl arrived back at the apartment feeling more miserable than she had done in a very long time. Scott had disappeared, it seemed; she had looked everywhere for him but with no luck. She knew exactly why he had left. He was angry with her, no, that was an understatement: he was furious with her. Cheryl couldn't really blame him. After the way she had acted towards him, it wouldn't surprise her if he never came back at all.

Throwing her keys to one side, Cheryl stood there beside the door for a moment, before she felt her legs buckle, and she slowly slumped down to the floor, and buried her head in her hands. She felt like such a fool for telling him. If she hadn't, maybe things would be all right now. She couldn't bear to think that he had left her for good. He had to come back.. he just had to.. he was all she had left..

Still, there was nothing she could do now but hope that he would call her. She glanced across to the phone, which was sitting on the table. Cheryl half expected it to ring suddenly, but it didn't. Heaving a sigh, and feeling extremely depressed, Cheryl rose slowly to her feet, brushed herself down, and tried to ignore the fact that she just wanted to go and cry herself to sleep. She had been through so much in the last few years, and she wasn't about to give up on herself now. Scott would be back, she knew it. Well, of course she didn't, but she had to hope that he would be. For now, she would just have to wait.

Thinking of Scott, and what had happened between them, made Cheryl think of her father. It was strange, as she hadn't had the time to think about him for quite a while. She'd been so busy juggling her relationship with Scott with her busy hours at work that she just hadn't had the time. Now that she did, however, she felt like she didn't want to think about him, figuring that it would only make things worse. It upset her to think about him, and when she remembered that he was gone, and not coming back, it gave her an awful, yet quirky feeling.

"Heather? Heather!"

Cheryl couldn't stop herself. She slumped down against the wall again, felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What are you doing in there? You're going to be late for.. Heather? Oh, Jesus.."

He'd meant everything to her. Nobody else had even come close. It had just been them, for he'd never told her much about her mother. Not that Cheryl had really cared, because she'd been content with having him all to herself, but every once in a while she had thought to ask him about it. Still, she'd figured that the subject might have caused painful memories for her father, and so she'd left it alone, not realising that her biological mother had been the cause for both her misery, and also her father's. She wished she'd known about it earlier, because then she could have been more prepared.. she could have saved him.

"If you're smoking in there, you're grounded, you hear me? Are you listening to me, Heather? Get out here! There's something I need to talk to you about.."

She remembered it like it was yesterday. She'd been smoking in her room, again, and he'd given her yet another lecture of the risk of lung cancer, yada yada.. Cheryl had barely listened. Well, not at the time, anyway. But his words had come back to her several weeks later, and then she had felt terrible for being so mean to him. So then she had given up, and it hadn't been easy. Cheryl remembered having to throw out all of her cigarettes, much to her father's delight, but one night she had crept into the kitchen to grab a pack which she had hidden under the sink. Her father hadn't caught her doing so, but still, Cheryl had felt bad about it, and then she gave up for good.

She remembered the conversation they'd had, the day he'd caught her smoking again in her room. That conversation had puzzled her slightly, for he'd been acting mighty strange that day. Almost as if something was bothering him, and not just the fact that she had been smoking again when she'd sworn that she wouldn't.

No, it had been something else.

000

"Heather?"

"Yes, I'm coming!"

The door opened and Heather stepped out of her room, hardly caring about the fact that he could probably smell the smoke. Sure enough, she watched as his nostrils flared, and he frowned at her. "You said you were quitting."

"Yeah well.." Heather began exasperatedly, "You were a kid once, Dad. You know how it is.."

"I know that I don't want my sixteen year old daughter to be smoking," Harry said sharply, glancing her up and down, "That's what you're wearing? Y'know, you could try to look a bit more.."

"Oh, can it, Dad," Heather snapped, glowering up at him, "I can wear whatever the hell I like. Anyway, the last time I went to school wearing what you'd picked out for me, I barely lasted the day. So if it's all the same to you, I'll wear this."

Harry shook his head at her, disgusted, "I can't believe you. What happened to my little girl? What have you turned into?"

Heather rolled her eyes just as her cell began to ring loudly, "It's Phil. I'm just gonna.." she fished her cell out of her jacket pocket, but to her horror Harry yanked it right out of her hands. "What the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed, trying to grab it off of him, but Harry held it out of her reach.

"What I should have done three months ago," Harry said, "Now, you're going to be late. And if you want it back, you're going to stop smoking, just like I asked. Do we have a deal?"

Heather cursed under her breath and glared at him. "Whatever," she said coldly, looking away.

Harry looked extremely satisfied with this and folded his arms. "Okay, glad we got that straightened out. Now, hurry up, you'll be late otherwise."

Heather clenched her fists, trying not to lose her temper, which was something she did quite often, especially with her father. Then, realising that the battle was already lost, she sighed and recoiled. "Fine," she muttered, and started to turn away, when she felt Harry lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Heather," he started gently, "I'm just looking out for you. And yeah, I used to drink and smoke and even do drugs once upon a time, but that's not what I want you to do. I don't want you to follow in my footsteps, okay?"

Suddenly, Heather felt a strong pang of guilt. Staring up at him, she nodded, and then felt embarrassed. She wished she hadn't snapped at him before, and been so rude. She knew he was just trying to help her, and she was thankful for that.

"All right, then," she mumbled and, without even thanking him, or even turning around, she started towards the door and left the apartment, leaving Harry to stare after her as she set off for school.

000

It was getting dark when Cheryl finally woke up. She'd dreamt of something else besides the town, for once, although this particular dream had revolved around her father. It saddened her to think of him, and she wished she could think of something else besides him, Scott, or that damned town. No such luck. It was always one of the three.

It was nine o'clock. Cheryl groaned, knowing she would have to try to come up with a decent excuse for missing work that day. She was surprised that Marianne hadn't called her up about it yet. Maybe she'd been fired already. No, Marianne would make sure to fire her infront of everyone, just for her enjoyment. God, Cheryl just couldn't think straight anymore. She wished she could go back to sleep, but she was wide awake now. Groaning, she got up and walked into the kitchen, wondering whether to make herself something now that she was awake. Or maybe she should go out, just to get some air, or just do something. Maybe she'd run into Scott.

Of course not.

The moment this thought entered her head, the phone began to ring. Cheryl jumped at the sound of it, and held her breath. What if it was Scott? If this was so, then Cheryl would apologize profusely to him, tell him that she loved him with all her heart, and then she'd apologize again. Quick as grease lightning, Cheryl ran over and grabbed the phone up, pressing it to her ear.

"Hello??" she breathed, suddenly feeling quite faint.

No answer.

Well, that was odd. Maybe Scott was just hesitating. "Scott," Cheryl started desperatedly, "I am so, so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I don't care whether you believe me or not, I don't even mind if you think I'm crazy, I just want you to come home. Scott? Please talk to me. Are you--?"

There was a crackling noise from down the line.

Cheryl froze, and it was then that she realised with growing horror that it wasn't Scott on the other end of the line. "Who is this?" she hissed, temper rising.

"S..S..o..u.."

"What?!" Cheryl exclaimed, extremely perplexed now.

The voice was quite deep, and not one that Cheryl recognized. She tried to make out what it was saying, but with great difficulty. Whoever it was had decided to speak so quietly that she could barely hear them.

"S..S..South.." it started, "South Ashfield.."

"Excuse me?" Cheryl said flatly, not expecting an answer.

"South Ashfield Heights." The voice said sharply, loud enough for her to hear, and then the line went dead.

Cheryl could only stare down at the phone, wondering what the hell had just happened. South Ashfield Heights? What the hell was that supposed to mean? But wait.. Ashfield. Cheryl recognized it as the name of a town she'd visited with Libby a couple of years ago. But what did Ashfield have to do with..

Silent Hill.

The phone call..

Cheryl had no enemies, and her friends would never prank call her like that. It could only mean one thing— her past was coming back to haunt her, again.

She could have cried, but she was too afraid. Instead, she just glanced bleakly at the phone, before setting it down. She then fell into the chair behind her, and considered her options. The dreams.. she should have known something like this would happen. She should have known that she couldn't hide forever.

"Ashfield.." she whispered to herself, as she sat there, hugging her knees and staring off into space. She sat like that for a long time, before finally retiring.