A/N: Hey folks, just a brief reminder that this fic is review derivative, in other words, you don't review, I don't write, so help a fella out huh?

Chapter 3: The Cure for What Ails

All thoughts of cryptic little girls and lurking danger forgotten, he bolted down the steps ahead of him, clearing whole flights, moving from landing to landing.

Quickly he reached the observation area, the small path that led past the lake, dotted with small enclaves and benches it had always been the ideal spot for couples. He and Mary had found it no exception.

James searched desperately, trying to mentally peel back the fog.

There standing right in front of him was the silhouette of a woman, a woman who he hoped was, in more than his mind's fancy, the perfect match for Mary's height and build.

"Mary!", he said, dashing forward hopefully, his pace slowing as he drew closer, some of his exuberance lost. There was something out of place here…

Slowly she turned around and lounged casually against the steel guardrail. Her face was a heartbreaking mirror image of his late wife, but everything else…

"No, your not", he sighed dejectedly.

"What's the matter?", she asked in a playful tone, cocking her head to one side and pulling her shoulders back a little more, "Do I look like your girlfriend or something?".

"No,", he answered quickly, eyes instinctively going to the areas her movements highlighted before he pulled them back to her face… Mary's face, "My late wife".

Pushing, lazily off from the rail, she pace coyly around him, checking her perfectly manicured nails and adjusting her revealing red cardigan and pink leather, leopard skin mini-skirt as if on parade.

"It's uncanny", he said disbelievingly, watching her as she walked, "You could be her twin, only you hair and clothes are different".

That was an understatement, Mary wouldn't have been seen dead looking the way this woman did.

"Sorry to disappoint you", she said, taking up her place against the rail again, "I'm Maria by the way".

"James", he replied simply.

Sorrow welled up inside him, he had been so sure that he had finally found Mary after fleeing through this unreal nightmare landscape… His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scrutinised Maria's appearance a second time. What were the odds of finding someone who was a carbon copy of his dead wife waiting exactly in the right place to run into him.

"What's the matter? Don't you think I'm real?", she asked as if reading his mind. Taking his hand she rubbed it gently against her cheek, "See? Feel how warm I am".

James jerked back as if stung, stepping around her quickly and backing away.

"Why did you come here?", she asked inquisitively, a smile lighting her face as she watched James' growing discomfort.

Just like a cat toying with a mouse, James thought with a trace of anger.

"I'm looking for my wife", he replied coming to a halt.

"Your wife?", she asked puzzled, playing her finger playfully across her bottom lip, "I thought you said she was dead?".

"She is… I think, but…maybe not" he said trying to think how to explain this to a stranger, "I got a letter from her a couple of days ago, it said she was waiting for us, in 'Our special place'".

"And that's here?", Maria asked looking round at the drab and lifeless environment sceptically.

"This whole town was our special place", he explained patiently, "But the park was the only place that really stands out in my mind… That and the hotel, that place will always stand out in my memory".

"I bet it does", she said teasingly, an edge of mischief entering her smile.

"Do you no if its still there?", he asked trying to ignore her last comment but feeling himself blush.

"The hotel? Yeah it's still there. Nathan Avenue is the only way there, I wonder if that video tape's still there…", she added quietly, gazing out over the lake for a moment, taking her eyes off him for the first time since he had arrived.

"Thanks", he said gruffly, turning to leave. Surprisingly, he felt no of the worry or guilt he had when he had been separated from Angela, or even Eddie, brief as their encounter had been, only a desire to be away from this strange woman.

"Hey", she said, realising that he was about to leave, " Hold up, I'll come with you".

"What?", he asked, debating over it for a moment, wondering if there was someway he could be without her disturbing presence, but finding no acceptable reason to refuse, especially in a place as dangerous as this, " Yeah, sure… I guess".

Maria's smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure anger, "What do you mean 'I guess'! You were just going to leave me here with everything that's wandering round in this town!".

"N-No", he stammered taken aback by the force of her outburst, "I, um, just… Sure, come on lets go".


And just like that James suddenly found himself no longer alone on his journey.

The next few minutes past in silence as they made their way up Nathan Avenue. James cast occasional looks at Maria, but all of her earlier anger seemed to have abated, in fact she was almost skipping along with carefree energy.

James hadn't seen such a drastic turnabout in emotion since those last few days with Mary…

"Hey James look", she said breaking into his reviver, "Over there".

James followed her line of sight and saw a little girl disappear into the entrance to a bowling hall up ahead.

"Laura", he almost hissed, his face darkening slightly as he started sprinting to catch up.

"You know her", Maria wheezed from next to him.

"In a matter of speaking", he replied, coming to a halt outside the doors.

"You go in", Maria said leaning against the wall next to the door, "I hate bowling".

"What are you talking about?", he asked, wondering what on earth had prompted such a strange comment, "It's not like I'm planning to play a frame or anything".

"Whatever, I'll be out here when you're done".

Grunting in vexation, James went inside.

Like everything in Silent Hill the interior was in an advanced state of decay, rusted trophies and shattered glass lay in random arrangements across the floor. Used to this by now, James barely registered each crunch under foot as he carried his search into the next room.

"So, did you find the lady you were looking for? What did you say her name was, Mary?", came a voice from the next room, the bowling hall proper he guessed.

Eddie?

James pushed open the door to reveal a modestly sized bowling area consisting of five lanes and what used to be a small bar area by the looks of it.

Sitting at one of the score tables, a pizza on his lap and Laura balanced on the side of the table, was Eddie.

"So what you do", she was saying, "Robbery, assault, murder".

"No, nothing like that", he said not looking up at her, "I just ran cause I was scared, that's all… I'm always doing that".

"Ha", she barked, leaning closer, "Your just a big gutless fatso aren't you".

"Now why'd you have to say a thing like that?", he asked indignantly.

It seemed James was the only one this bratty little girl had an attitude problem with.

"Laura", James said gently.

Looking up sharply Laura's eyes lighted on him and she let out a startled squeak before hopping off the table and running to the other end of the room, disappearing out of another set of double doors.

"Damn it Eddie", he said jogging over to where the rotund man sat, keeping his eyes on the door Laura had run out of, "Why'd you let her run off like that?".

"What the… oh James, its you. Run off? Oh you mean Laura, she can take care of herself, said a big slob like me would just slow her down".

"And that's a reason to leave a little girl running around alone in a place like this!", James demanded.

Eddie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Hey get of my case ok".

"Get of your case", James mimicked, "There's something seriously wrong with this place and your sitting here stuffing your face!".

"Hey I don't need this from you, you got me, get the hell out of here!"

"Forget you", James spat with disgust, walking back out of the bowling alley and outside. He was instantly aware that something was wrong, Maria was nowhere to be seen.

"Maria!", he shouted, concern entering his voice despite his earlier misgivings about Mary's doppelganger.

"Over here", Maria panted from his right, emerging from around the back of the bowling alley, "A little girl ran past… I tried to stop her… but she was to fast for me, come on, this way".

James followed her as she sprinted through the bowling alley's car park through a mesh wire gate and down a narrow alleyway.

"She went down there", she said when they reach the seeming dead end of the alley. Frowning, James searched the alley wall until he found a narrow gap between it and the building to his left, a gap just large enough for say a child to fit through.

"Is there any other way through there?", he asked Maria.

"Yeah", she replied pointing almost lazily at a bolted door leading into the building to his left, "Right through there".

"Yeah but it's locked", he pointed out, "I don't suppose you've got the key do you?".

"As a matter of fact", she drawled with another one of those smiles.

Reaching into the top of her boot, Maria extracted a small bronze key.

With a mild clang the heavy lock dropped to the floor, but that still left the main lock. Reaching a hand toward her cleavage she gave him a mock shy smile and turned away. Unable to resist James found himself levered up on tiptoe to watch her pull out a small key.

Opening the door she gestured for him to go through. The area behind the door was stacked full of crates of old wine, those that had been left open reeking of vinegar, the only space that was clear was that directly at the bottom of the small stairwell to his right.

"Up here", Maria said, closing the door and making her way up stairs. James followed her up the stairs, dodging abandoned crates and boxes, until they reached the second floor. The narrow, dank corridor had several doors only one of which was open, the light from beyond it bathing the corridor in a neon pink-red light.

"In there", he guessed, walking ahead of Maria through the door… and into strip joint.

"Look familiar?", Maria inquired teasingly from behind him.

"No", he answered too quickly, though unsure why. He would have remembered ever coming to a place like this in Silent Hill.

Maria didn't say anything, just gave him a knowing look and walked past him, hoping onto the stage and giving a little twirl around the pole before hoping down and walking behind the bar.

James coughed and shifted uncomfortably for what seemed the hundredth time since meeting her.

Maria laughed at his embarrassment, setting out two glasses and pouring out two shots of whiskey.

"Drink?" she asked, as if that were the only reason they were there.

"No thanks", he replied, it wasn't that he didn't drink, far from it, it was just he had learned a long time ago that it didn't help, besides there were more immediate concerns, "I think we should get going if we want to catch up with Laura".

"Fine" she sighed, tossing back the drink in a single swallow and opening the club's main entrance. Without waiting to see if he was following Maria strode out into the mist and down a long set of steel stairs. Massaging his temple with the balls of his fingers James followed out onto the street.

"Where to now?", he asked tentively.

"She went down there", Maria said, pointing to her right. When James didn't move straight away she crossed her arms impatiently, rolled her eyes and started walking.

James hung his head.

Being married all these years he had forgotten how difficult some women could be to get along with, especially when you didn't have a marriage to them to temper their impatience.

He caught up to her a few moments later and they walked once more in silence, a silence amplified by the town that made them seem miles rather than centimetres apart. He was just working up the nerve to strike up a conversation when he saw Laura up ahead. She was standing outside a darkly oppressive construct of stone and steel, a building that radiated menace in a way that made James feel as if he were starring at the lair of some terrible and ancient beast.

It was with some shock that he noticed the sign nailed hastily to the huge, reinforced concrete barricade that seemed to be passing for a wall. The sign simply read, 'Brookhaven Hospital'.

Of all the possible uses for this building he had considered, hospital was certainly not one of them, but of course hospitals were far from his favourite places ever since…

Laura turned, her eyes sliding across Maria and widening as they rested on James. Spinning back she darted forward and into the silent hospital. James and Maria bolted forward as one, reaching the rusted double doors that would allow them into the building at the same moment.

The door Maria pressed against swung open with barely a squeal, James' on the other hand did not. An unknown period of enduring rain and snow without maintenance had rusted it shut and it made James aware of this fact with bone jarring certainty.

James rebounded violently, his upper back and head striking the concrete with blinding force. The world spun violently and his vision threatened to fail him as everything he saw became distorted for a few seconds, somehow darker, before he could bring it back into focus.

James rose slowly, letting out a small whimper as he probed his damage skull for sign of serious injury.

"Hey Maria", he said, choosing the correct door this time, "Does my head…look ..bad to…".

He trailed off as he took in the corridor in which he stood.

Mould and what might once have been paint covered most of the walls except where it had run to pool on the floor in grimy, stinking, rancid puddles.

"Maria", he called tentively but no one answered.

Taking a few careful paces and turning on his torch, he ventured further into the darkened halls. A few minutes was all it took to confirm the first floor was devoid of life, door after door was locked of in someway barricaded as if someone had been desperate to keep whatever lurked behind these age blacked doors were it was.

Of Maria or Laura he saw no sign.

This confused him greatly, he hadn't passed out and he was certain Maria wouldn't have run off without him, she was quite adamant on the subject of being alone.

That didn't help his current situation however, the fact was that whatever he may have thought she was gone, and Laura with her. It was engrossed in such thoughts James found himself before a small steel door, secreted away in a side corridor beneath a small neon light that fitfully flashed the word 'Exit'.

Pushing down the handle, fully expecting the latch to catch or for the door to refuse to budge he was surprised when it swung open without a whisper. Stepping cautiously into the darkened stairwell beyond, he strobed the torch up and down the stairway.

A large iron grating covered the stairs leading down into an area simply labelled B1 and after following the stairway upward in a familiar pattern; James soon found that only the door that would open was that leading to the roof.

He stepped out into the biting air and gasped in surprise.

The sky was black, not the usual comforting pin-pricked veil that he was used to, but a solid, oppressive darkness that swallowed any light that strayed too far away from the light that clung grimly above the roof exit. James looked around but found nothing except a small diary lying discarded on the floor. Lifting it carefully it felt terribly frail beneath his fingers. Gently opening the first page he began to read:

May 9

Rain.

Stared out the window all day.

Peaceful here - nothing to do.

Still not allowed to go outside.

May 10

Still raining.

Talked with the doctor a little.

Would they have saved me if

I didn't have a family to feed?

I know I'm pathetic, weak.

Not everyone can be strong.

May 11

Rain again.

The meds made me feel sick

today.

If I'm only better when I'm

drugged, then who am I anyway?

May 12

Rain as usual.

I don't want to cause any more

trouble for anyone, but I'm a

bother either way.

Can it really be a such a sin to

run instead of fight?

Some people may say so, but they

don't have to live in my shoes.

It may be selfish, but it's what

I want.

It's too hard like this.

It's just too hard...

May 13

It's clear outside.

The doctors told me I've been

released - that I've got to go

home.

I --------------

The last few pages had been torn out, or perhaps they had rotted away, it was hard to tell. There was something strange about the entries, it was almost as if as he read them he could here the author weeping softly as he writ. His sorrow echoing around the cramped confines of a poorly lit room with no exit…

It was almost as if a faint echo of this mans sadness remained behind here where he had come for refuge from himself.

At first James was unsure if he really heard the sound, a dim screeching like the wail of distance siren. It is said that because we are so rarely exposed to total silence, the human mind will seek to fill such moments with simulated noise to comfort us. It was to this end that James assumed that what he heard was of no consequence, but soon the volume of the noise began to rise, quickly becoming painful.

Turning to flee, James found himself face to face with the creature from the apartment building. In its hand was a weapon that vaguely resembled a large, blood stained knife of impossible proportions, it was easily half James' own size and weighed enough to cause the monster to slouch to its left as it dragged the weapon to bare on James.

With a demonic, metallic howl it swung the gargantuan blade toward him. Scrambling backward, James felt the subtle displacement of air as it passed bare centimetres from his neck.

James angled toward the door but the creature cut him off with startling speed, forcing him back against the steel mesh fence that surrounded the roof. He searched desperately for a way around the monster but found that it had boxed him in between the fire escape and some sort of locked power utility room.

As it loomed closer James thought of Mary, lost and alone somewhere in this town… and of Maria. As if angered by something the pyramid headed creature took one last vicious swipe at him. Although it was futile, James cringed back instinctively, colliding with the fence as he did so. Year of abuse had weakened the fence to the degree that it gave as he hit it, sending him plummeting away from his certain death and into the blackened, uncertain depths bellow. James felt strangely serene as he fell, no matter what happened next he was finally free, free of his responsibilities, of his sadness, of his gu-

Pain exploded in his spine as he hit the third floor roof, rotten timbre and plaster giving way beneath him, slowing him enough that he lacked the momentum to continue his descent when the floor of the third level chose to intervene.

James bounced as he hit and he felt something in his chest crack.

He let out an involuntary cry, rolling onto his side as he did so and intensifying his pain. Fire spider-webbed across ribs, curling him into a foetal position. James lay there for what might have been minutes, or days, with only his mind numbing pain for company, he couldn't tell.

Eventually the pain subsided to an agonised throbbing and he was able to prop himself up against a nearby wall.

James hugged himself as he lent against the comfortingly soft wall… too soft in fact.

James peered into the dim room in which he found himself. Its four walls were huddled claustrophobically together and covered in a thick discoloured white padding. Pushing himself upright with great difficulty, he felt his way around the cramped walls, searching desperately for an exit but only encountering seamless padding.

"Trapped", he panted, suddenly finding it hard to draw breath, "No way out. Hey! Someone let me out! HELP!".

James sank to the floor, his legs suddenly unable to support him, "Please," he whimpered, "Somebody… help me".

No one came, he was alone and trapped in this place, and would never be saved.

"Now", he thought he heard a feminine voice whisper through the darkness, "Perhaps you'll understand…"

Maria's eyes opened slowly, reluctantly, as if merely keeping them shut was all the protection she needed. She forced them open but had to blink a few times to reassure herself she had succeeded.

Darkness surrounded her, complete shadow, unbroken by light or sound. It made her feel like a child again, lost and alone in a vastness she could not comprehend. The illusion was shattered when her probing hands found a wall, its cracked, mildew coated solidarity lending her strength.

Maria tried to remember how she had come to be here… she remembered seeing the girl, Laura, run into the hospital, she had given chase, she and James both had, she had run through the doors but James hadn't followed, she remembered a loud bang as James' door had refused to open and then watching with unreasoning terror as the door she had entered through had slammed shut, cutting him off from her.

She remembered the next frantic moments as a blur, screaming for James' help, for him to rescue her from the dark, from the isolation, remembered how she had cursed him for his inability to save her and then… falling. Now she was alone again, alone, trapped and useless just like before…

Before when?, she thought, fire wracking her skull as she tried to remember.

Why couldn't she remember? Even that thought seared her mind with tongues of crimson agony.

Maria drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Alone. Always alone. Maria wept softly, hoping someone would hear her. If they did, no one came.

"Do you wish to be free?". The voice came as such a shock in this forsaken town that James feared he had invented it to keep himself sane, in which case he was surely mad.

"I said do you wish to be free?", the voice demanded again, this time with an impatient edge.

This was not the voice he had thought he had heard a few minutes ago, no, this was rough, deep, masculine.

"Who are you?", he asked tentively, if this was not his imagination he needed to know.

"I… am a guide, by profession", the voice replied with a twist of grim humour that unsettled James' already fleeting nerves, "One who could show those who came here the full unseen splendour of our little town, or rather that was my boast".

A half mad, sputtering laugh echoed from outside James' cell, "How little I really knew… but that is the past and this is now, and I offer my services to those who wish them in this abode of the damned. On the scant chance I may save another as I failed to save myself".

"What do you mean failed to save yourself?", James asked cautiously.

"Worry not my lad", the voice replied and James could almost see the gesture of dismissal, "As I say that is the past, and there will be plenty of time for that. Now I repeat, and this will be my last offer. Do you wish to be free?".

James considered the offer. Yes he certainly wanted out of this place, but he couldn't bring himself to trust a man, at least from what James could discern from his voice, who was quite clearly mad, and professed to having already failed to protect himself… whatever that was supposed to mean…

"How do I know-", he began.

"No, no, no!", the voice cried, "No time, choose quickly, I am not the only denizen of this place, as you may know, and they are likely to offer a much different form of release. Choose".

James knew what he was referring to, the strange and distorted monsters that plagued this town, he had no intention of letting them find him like this.

"Ok" he said, "Get me out of here".

"You're sure?" he voice replied, "Once you start down this path there will be only two ways to reach its end".

James hesitated for a second before confirming his decision, "Very well, you have chosen… follow the crimson path".

With a disturbingly loud squeal, the wall in front of him swung open on concealed hinges. James fumbled with his torch for a few minutes before he was able to turn it on, harsh bars of light illuminating the darkness.

James rose and carefully edged out of the cell, shining the light back and forth as he went. There was no sign of the owner of the voice that he had heard in his cell, but the meaning of his clue was instantly apparent.

A large and disturbingly fresh trail of blood, half a meter wide curved away from his cell and under a door on the opposite wall. On top of this gruesome trail was a leaf of green paper, like those used for prescriptions. James lifted it, making sure to use the corner that was not in contact with the red fluid and held it up so he could read it:

Patient Name: Joseph

Case History: Serve Schizophrenia, Depression, Multiple attempts at suicide

Doctors Notes: Joseph is a highly intelligent, attentive and usually helpful young man

who unfortunately has become bound to bouts of depression or rage as

his condition decays. Probable cause has been traced to a recent

attempt to unlock the repressed memories believed to be the cause of

his condition. Because of this we have been forced to isolate him until

such a time as he feels ready to continue his journey. I still believe we

did the right thing. It is better to live free than in the prison of ones

own mind…

James flipped the sheet over, discovering more writing, just legible beneath the blood.

The potential for this illness exists in everyone, under the right circumstances anyone might be driven like him to the 'Otherside'. No, that phrase can't possibly convey exactly what I mean. After all, there is no wall between here and there in this place. It exists on the border of worlds real and unreal, on a nexus of horrors. It is a place both far and near.

Some say it's not even an illness, I can't believe that, I'm a doctor not a philosopher or even a psychiatrist, I have to believe I can understand this, that I can get out of here before I go mad.

But sometimes I have to ask myself this question. It's true that his imaginings are nothing but the inventions of a busy mind, but to him there simply is no other reality, furthermore he is happy there.

So why, I ask myself, in the name of healing him to we seek to drag him back into our own reality, and what might we bring back with us…

James crouched there for a long time as he considered the words before him.

Otherside?, he thought, Is that what's happening here, is this town being invaded?.

His eyes were instantly drawn back to the slick red trail passing beneath the door he presumed led out of here. A shudder ran through him, aggravating his already tender ribs. If this was an invasion then he needed to find Maria and escape.

And what about Mary, a small voice whispered at the back of his head.

Guilt flooded through James, he had not even considered trying to find his wife, or Laura for that matter.

Standing awkwardly, he hobbled over to the door and eased it open, drawing his gun as he did so. The corridor outside was in as bad a state as the rest of the building, although here and there a sputtering neon light continued to fight the insidious decay.

From somewhere ahead he heard sobs, echoing forlornly along the unforgiving concrete walls. James moved toward them silently, his time in this place had taught him the value of caution.

He approached the T-junction ahead and he carefully poked his head around the corner.

There, haloed under the pathetic, stuttering light was a young woman in a nurse's uniform. She was hunched over on the floor, her back to James and her shoulders rising and falling in time to her irregular sobs. Her uniform was tattered and bloody and the small bob of brown hair he could see was greasy and matted.

"Are you ok Miss", he asked lowering the gun and stepping closer when she didn't answer, "Excuse me, are you ok?".

Slowly her sobs trailed off and she stood upright awkwardly allowing James to see the long, thin metal pole hanging in her hand. The light above her finally gave up, illuminating her solely by James' torch.

James found himself raising the gun and aiming at her without thinking. She turned to face him, causing James tense with fear. Her face was a distorted mess, her cheek and part of her upper lip were missing giving her an ugly, permanent grin. The eyes had swollen shut, crusted over with dry blood and her skin was an unnatural grey. Walking gawkily as if her ankles had been broken and improperly reset, she shuffled toward him, pipe raised above her head as if to strike.

Without thinking James pulled the trigger, dimly aware that the gun wasn't loaded. The resulting recoil shocked him as a bullet tore free of the barrel and plunged straight through the distorted creature's forehead, dropping her with a sickening splatter.

He hugged the wall as he walked past the mass of rotting flesh that used to be a woman, trying to shut out the sight and smell of the corpse and focus on the gory trail ahead.

Another minute in Silent Hill, another horror.

James followed the corridor to its abrupt end and through the double doors on the left. Another faceless corridor greeted him and another of the hospital's former employees. He found himself drawing and firing once more before he was completely aware of what he was doing, dropping the creature before it had time to lunge.

James strode down the corridor firing indiscriminately at everything that opposed him, feeling oddly disconnected from the events taking place in front of him. He continued his dreamlike rampage, wondering idly if the constant level of horror had finally desensitised him to the point that he could just end the lives of these pitiful creatures without a flicker of conscience and also, where were the bullets for such a murderous spree coming from?

This thought brought with it enough confusion and uncertainty to clear the mental haze surrounding him and bring him back to himself.

James gasped in horror as the full scope of what he had just done assailed his every sense. Bodies littered the floor, numerous puncher holes adorning heads and torsos, some still writhing in agony as the last of their life-blood drained away.

The blood… the blood was everywhere; every surface was coated in a thick layer of rank smelling fluid.

My god, James thought, hand clasped over his mouth as he tried to back away from the carnage he had wrought, What have I done.

He had read about people who went to war experiencing a kind of cabin fever that led to them killing friend and foe alike without ever recognising their actions until told of them later.

Had he finally broken under the strain?

A loud ping sounded behind him, spinning him round, his gun arm rising instinctively to train on the empty elevator that had opened behind him.

James panned his torch around the elevator before stepping inside. The interior was startling clean, pure white walls only partially touched by the mildew and rot that had infested the rest of the building's structure.

A simple bronze plate was the only thing that broke the hypnotic purity, but the writing was too small to read. Stepping closer, James shone the torch on the plate and squinted to make out what on closer inspection turned out to be a crudely scratched message:

In memory of Jennifer Caroll,

She lived in horror and tragedy before finding ----

nd -----,

She will be missed…

What kind of a memorial is that?, James thought.

The name also tickled at something from his memories, but what?

James felt himself swallowing hard as he recalled; Jennifer Caroll had been the name of a woman in LA who had supposedly murdered her 6 year old son in the middle of a custody battle with her estranged husband, Joesph Caroll, after he had tried to get them to return to their home town of Silent Hill…

A loud metallic clanging announced the closing of the elevator's thick steel doors as a bright light temporarily blinded him. J

ames held up his arm to shield his adjusting eyes and fumbled blindly toward the car's control panel, flicking the torches power switch as he did so.

As his eyes slowly became accustomed to the light he could make out a small, winking amber dot at the base of the panel. The light turned out to be an indicator showing what floor the elevator was bound for.

James could just make out the number one, and a hastily scratched word next to the button saying; Truth, between flashes before the car screeched abruptly to a halt and the lighting cut out, plunging the car back into darkness.

There was a diminutive ping and the door ground open, locking halfway.

Not wasting any more time than was necessary to turn his torch back on, James squeezed between the gap and out into the corridor beyond. James hunched over panting as he furtively scanned the corridor for any sign of attack. Had it really been so long since he'd seen something in this place work as it was supposed to that it could panic him? Well, more or less as it was supposed to anyway.

James calmed himself, firmly stamping down any traces of fear that tried to worm their way into his gut. As soon as his calm was restored he set about exploring this new section of the hospital in which he had found himself. As was all to familiar by now he found a succession of doors that refused to open or turned out to be containing some lurking terror, all except one.

The faint musical tinkling of a child's laugh echoed from behind a set of old hospital beds drawn together to form a crude fort.

"Laura", he asked, carefully peaking over the top of nearest bed.

Laura lay on what remained of the tiled floor happily adsorbed in dancing a tattered toy bear across the floor, accompanied by muttered narration.

"Laura", he said again, perching on the edge of one of the beds and waving a hand in front of her eyes.

"Huh?", she said, following the hand back to its source, standing and planting her tiny hands on her hips when she saw who had addressed her, "Oh, it's you, what do you want?".

James shook his head ruefully, her attitude hadn't improved at all, who did this kid think she was, running around a place like this alone and insulting everyone she met.

"It's dangerous Laura", he said, trying to sound reasonable rather than impatient, "We should get out of here".

Laura rolled her eyes but stood anyway, hoping over the 'wall' of her fort and trotting over to the door.

"Well?", she asked, "What you waiting for?".

Not waiting for a reply she opened the door and stepped outside, James having to scrabble to catch her before she could take off up the hall.

"Right", he said motioning her to follow him back to the elevator, "perhaps we can finally-".

"Oh no!", Laura shouted, frantically digging through her pockets for something, "Where is it!".

"Where's what?", James asked, confused and annoyed. This brat had long since gone past the point of trying his nerves.

"My letter!", she shouted at him, "The one from Mary! I must have dropped it, I gotta go back and find it!".

"That's a lie!", James bellowed, his anger surprising even himself before continuing in a more moderate tone, "I mean you couldn't have... Mary…".

"Fine!", she shouted back, "Don't believe me, but I'm going to find it".

"Laura", he said as she began to sprint off up the corridor, "Hold on!".

James caught up with his longer legs quite quickly to find Laura up on her tip-toes, attempting to peer through the dirt obscured glass of a rusted set of double doors.

"Is it in there?", he asked pushing her aside none to gently and using his hip and shoulder to batter the nearest of the doors open.

It's not possible, but maybe… just maybe I'm not the only one who got a letter. Just what are you thinking, Mary…

The inside of the room was dark, but thanks to his torch James could make out that this had once been some sort of examination room. A tattered surgical curtain hung from its broken pole across a rotting examination bed. Dry blood covered the bed and what might have been a hand protruded grimly from beneath the edge of the curtain.

"You sure it's in there?", he asked, a surge of fear tempering his earlier eagerness.

"Yes", Laura replied impatiently, "In the back, by the typewriter".

James shone the light in the direction she indicated, picking out the edge of an aged desk and the remains cluttered atop it, an obviously broken typewriter amongst them. Shuffling forward with rising dread he edged toward the desk.

Bang!

James spun back to the door, just in time to hear the sound of a lock clicking into place.

"Laura?", he said, walking over to the door and trying the handle. It refused to budge.

"Haha," she laughed, the top of her face just visible through the glass, "Fooled you".

A low rumble echoed from the far end of the room. James twisted toward it involuntarily, his torch giving the vague impression of something human sized moving across the ceiling above the desk.

"Laura!" he said banging on the door, attempting to sound authoritive but only managing strangled fear and desperation, "Open the door!".

"Why should I?", she asked sarcastically, "I'm just a liar right?".

The thing on the ceiling seemed to be attracted to the sound of their argument, pulling it's grotesque, skinless form across the ceiling lattice's and into the arc of light cast by James' torch. The creature hung vertically before him, the absence of skin emphasising its abnormal muscular structure, an unnaturally thick torso and arms dwarfing its spindly legs. Iron bars had been driven through its shoulders to form the support of a cage framework that shrouded the creature's body.

"Open up you snotty little brat!", he shouted, banging the door even louder and fumbling for the gun he had replaced behind his belt.

"Brat?!" she screeched indignantly, "Why you, you…".

James finally found purchase on the gun and yanked it clear, levelling it at the creature and pulling the trigger. James' heart stopped as the gun discharged only a hollow click in place of the destructive projectile he had expected.

"I should just leave you in there forever", Laura's voice came distantly over the rising roar that was his heartbeat. James dropped the empty gun, its clattering impact deafeningly loud in the sudden silence. James pressed himself against the doors, willing himself to melt away through their seam.

Two more of the creatures loomed out of the darkness to flank the first, one either side, each as twisted as the other. No escape. James' legs quivered, dropping him to his knees. No escape.

"James?", came Laura's questioning voice.

No escape. The lead creature began to rock itself back and forth, increasing its arc with every motion.

No escape. The creature swung back, its angle of motion the greatest yet, and brought the lower bar of its cage, with explosive force, into contact with James' chin.

No escape. James' head ricocheted of the doors causing stars to explode before his eyes.

No escape. James was distantly aware of the pain from his wrist as he landed on top of it, but it seemed silly to dwell on such things, so… pointless.

No escape. James was vaguely aware of Laura's panicked voice calling his name over and over again, each repetition with rising distress.

No escape. The lead creature released its grip on the ceiling, slamming to the floor and toppling sideways.

No escape. James felt himself being turned over and rough, damp, skinless hands gripping his ankles as the world began to close in around him, the walls themselves beginning to twist and distort, screaming in pain and terror.

No escape.

Then, only darkness.

No escape.


Guilty

The voice was nothing new to Angela, it had been with her ever since… Pain, flashes of memory so intense they threatened to rend her mind asunder.

Ever since then, 'Guilty, revenge… alone in the dark, no one hears', they had been the only consistency in her life, the only thing that never changed, the only thing that, for better or worse, could never be taken from her.

Angela recoiled in shock when something cold and hard came into contact with her hip. Slowly her attention turned outward and the world around her came back into focus. In front of her was a large set of steel gates, above which was situated a large, faded sign, reading; Lakeside Amusement Park.

Since fleeing from James back at the apartment, Angela had wondered in a confused daze through the town, not really knowing or caring where her feet were taking her. All she had known was that something about James reminded her of something bad that had happened a long time ago, something from her childhood. It seemed with her mind occupied on the past, her feet had followed, drawing her back to one of the few, perhaps only bright spots in the dark vortex that was her memory, the eye of the storm.

Angela had come here many times as a young girl, with her mother and… This place had always held an air of enchantment for her, the sights, the sounds, the smells. But something was wrong; everything she had seen so far had been exactly as she remembered it, but Mr Timothy, the old custodian who had taken care of the park, a family friend, would never have let the gates get this rusty, or the sign go without a fresh coat of paint.

Angela squinted and pressed her face against the bars, but couldn't see much of the interior of the bricked tunnel that was the parks only entrance, so complete was the darkness that she could barely make out the ticket booths and swing gate barriers.

Peering up through the, she realised with a start, thinning fog layer, the sun was a swollen orange ball struggling to stay above the horizon.

How long have I been wondering around?, she thought, looking back into the fun park's shaded interior, And why doesn't this place look the same as the rest of the town?.

Angela pushed on the left hand gate and it swung reluctantly open with a loud screeching sound. Angela hesitated on the verge of going in, she was not by nature a decisive person and in this place there were no minor decisions.

There was a shuffling behind her, and the feeling of a rank wind, scented with the smell of old malt liquor on the back of her neck. Angela dived forward, instinctively pivoting and slamming the gate as she did so. She could see anyone beyond the rusted bars, but she had long ago realised there were things in the world that couldn't be seen, things that could get you, no matter what anyone said.

Keep moving, said a tiny voice at the back of her mind, Keep moving, stay safe.

Hugging herself for reassurance, Angela made her way to the waist high barricade and ticket slot that barred her way into the park. The dark haired girl stopped short of the gate, wondering how she would continue without a token from the undoubtedly locked ticket booth.

She felt foolish as soon as the though crossed her mind, it had been many years since she had come here and she was considerably taller. Straddling the gate she clumsily swung her legs over the barrier, feeling guilty and exhilarated in equal amounts, after all, like most people who had grown up in Silent Hill, it had always been one of her childhood dreams to have the Lakeside Amusement park all to herself, no rules.

Half fearful someone would appear to shatter her dream she jogged lightly further into the park. The main courtyard of Lakeside was devoted to greeting the crowds and emphasising the change from the mundane, to the extraordinary. Banners hung between the limited space available between neighbouring stalls that had once contained every sweet treat imaginable. Brightly coloured flags had hung from lines of string attached to the sparse poles that elevated the announcement megaphone system above the general hubbub of the crowds and everywhere you went you were never far from the parks friendly mascot, Robbie the Rabbit.

With this wonderland in mind Angela ventured deeper into the tunnel, that when lit was decorated with all manner of fanciful pictures, with growing excitement. It was with this fantastic vision in mind that reality gave Angela the psychological equivalent of a slap in the face.

As she emerged from the tunnel's mouth she was instantly aware that the place she had known as a child was gone, as faded and desolate as the rest of her memories. The few stalls that remained intact were covered in a thick layer of dirt and grim, the banners that had once hung between them lay in tatters on the floor and discoloured flags lay like fallen leaves under foot.

"No,no,no,no", Angela whispered, arms snaking around her and a familiar pattern of rocking as an act of self comfort ensuing.

This couldn't be happening, she told herself, feet guiding her forward of their own violation, everything else had been fine so why not here? Why was the one place she felt safe so, so… dead. Who could have done this? Why? Could James be responsible, was he the one who had killed her dreams, shattered her comforting illusion, just like…

Angela was suddenly aware she had stopped, her breath was warm on her arms and she realised she had her chin pressed to her chest. She also realised why she had stopped. Two small feet hovered in the upper reaches of her field of vision.

Two small, pink feet.

Two small, pink, furry feet.

Angela's lower lip began to tremble as she brought her head up with agonising slowness, tears threatening to blur her vision. Above the feet were two chubby legs, clad in plain read dungarees, the tops of which were obscured a slight paunch that was darkened by some sort thick, almost black, fluid.

Angela couldn't bear it anymore.

Wrenching her eyes upward past the flash of an all to familiar object and up to the happy, smiling face of Lakeside Amusement park's most famous mascot.

Or rather the mask worn by whoever was inside suit.

Blood dripped lazily down the thick trail formed by the original expulsion… whatever had happened to this poor soul, it had caused him to vomit blood before his death. Angela wanted to walk away, but something stopped her. It was the smell, Angela knew the scent a corpse gave off when you left it for a long time… and that smell wasn't present.

Perhaps he wasn't dead.

Reaching up with trembling hands, Angela gingerly lifted the helmet and set it aside, and found herself looking straight into the lifeless eyes of Mr Timothy.

Angela let out a mournful scream, back-pedalling rapidly, somehow managing to trend on her own foot in the process, dropping herself roughly on her rump. The old custodian's corpse stared down at her in pity or perhaps contempt, as if sorry that she had found him or rather that it hadn't been someone else. The aged man was tied to one of the speaker posts with bits of the megaphone's wires, his arms strapped to a piece of wood nailed horizontally behind his back as if to freeze him forever in the Robbie Rabbit, trademark hug.

From his chest, directly over the heart, protruded the handle of a knife, the area around it thick with blood. Next to the gruesome weapon, pinned almost casually to the strap of the dungarees, was a small, handwritten note. Standing, Angela took the note, careful not to actually touch the body and held it up to the failing light.

Her scream caused the shadows themselves to cringe, filling the silence with a cry of inhuman pain and fear, and then the world began to fade away as Angela fainted.


The first thing he was aware of was a noise.

It was high in pitch, but not in an unpleasant way. This was the pitch of birdsong on the evening breeze, tinged with sorrow, or maybe disappointment.

"James…". The noise was clearer now… no not noise, the voice, a woman's voice, "James…".

That name should mean something to him, of that much he was sure, but what and why was it so familiar.

James?, he thought groggily, …my name?. He pondered that idea, it seemed right, but there was something more important than that right now, but what could it be?

"James…". He focused on the voice, it was so familiar…

Unbidden, images of a woman came to mind, a woman with shoulder length blond hair and a smile as provocative as her sense of dress. He knew her name, he was sure he did, it began with an 'M',

M, Ma, Mar-.

Suddenly the image changed, her hair drew itself into a short ponytail, changing from blond to auburn as it did so, her clothes becoming more conservative, more demure, an ankle length dress with a floral pattern and a peach coloured cardigan.

Mary!

As if waiting for that name as a cue, the world came rushing back into his awareness. His back screamed in agony as it was trawled by claws of flame, his ribs and wrist throbbed and a blinding light sent crystal shards through each eyeball.

Slowly the sensation faded as his eyes adjusted, but the pain from his wrist, ribs and back remained. Now that he was aware, he quickly made sense of what was happening, well, as much as humanly possible.

His legs were elevated and in the grasp of something strong, the same thing he assumed, and his back concurred, that was dragging him along.

James tried to sit, to find and stop his tormentor, but his muscles refused to cooperate. His anxiety grew as he quickly realised that he couldn't move any part of his body. Fear threatened to tug him back into unconsciousness but something refused to allow him to fall back into that peaceful oblivion.

He gradually realised he could hear a new sound, the sound of a distant siren.

"James", Mary's voice came more urgently, struggling to be heard over the mounting sirens, "James I-".

Her voice was cut off by the sirens, so hypnotic that James found himself staring passively at the ceiling, or rather the blood soaked wire mesh that functioned as a ceiling. Dimly he was conscious of the fact that this ceiling didn't belong in a hospital, or in anywhere on this plane of existence for that matter.

Suddenly the view above him gave way to the clear black, mirror like surface of the night sky.

The grip on his legs was suddenly released and his heels hit the ground with a soft thud.

For a small life time James lay perfectly still, was he still in the hospital, still on his plane of existence, or had he finally gone to hell? Eons passed in an instant and seconds took an eternity, and as quickly as the sensation came, it passed. James flexed his fingers experimentally, growing bolder when they responded normally, perhaps he wasn't in hell after all, nothing had happened yet, but if that was true where was he?

James sat carefully upright, both to prevent his muscles and various injuries taking exception, and just in case he was wrong, so as not to draw attention to himself. James was instantly taken aback by how plain his surroundings were. Four, unadorned grey walls enclosed him, their smooth faces showed no sign of how he had been brought into the room or how his captor had left.

He stood and began to feel his way around the walls and had completed three circuits before he allowed himself to except that there was no way out. James began to pant rapidly, he had always been mildly claustrophobic, a condition that had worsened with every hour he had spent in the cramped cubical Mary had been assigned to live out her final hours, while he looked on, helpless.

"James…", came Mary's voice from behind him, the tone the mix of sorrow and helplessness that had characterised Mary's emotional state locked away in that dark hospital room.

James spun to face her, but found only a neglected doorway where he thought she stood. James felt sadness rise in him when he realised she wasn't there, a sadness that vanished as a single thought penetrated his melancholia.

There was a door, where previously there had only been seamless grey wall.

How?, James thought.

"I must have missed it somehow", he said out loud to block out the thoughts that tried to worm their way into his consciousness.

There wasn't a door there, they whispered, You are in hell… its what you deserve….

James shuck his head but his doubts or perhaps his common sense, persisted, How can a door just appear, something is horribly wrong with this place, don't you feel it!.

Reaching for the door handle that brought him up short, since when had he started talking to himself in third person? Perhaps he had finally gone mad, or maybe those things had killed him.

Looking around everything seemed normal, well, as normal as anything got in Silent Hill.

The sky was black, the air held an unnatural chill and no sound but the rasping of his own breath reached his ears. However something was wrong, something fundamental, everything felt in some way, off, as if someone had tried to reproduce everything as they felt it should look and feel and smell like, not as it really existed.

No, James thought roughly, getting a fresh grip on the door handle and pushing the door open, stepping through as he did so, it's just my…imagination.

The area in which he found himself was both better and worse than anything he had seen before. Grime and decay bathed the walls in a nearly uniform brown, almost making it seem as if that was the walls original colour, almost.

Blood covered every space not layered in grime, some of it still fresh enough to dribble down toward the floor, tracing intricately grotesque patterns, and pungent enough to start James dry wrenching.

What was worse was the floor on which he stood.

Made of a fine steel grating that seemed to be set over an infinite drop, a grating designed to allow loose material to sluice through, a grating that had obviously seen much use.

Blood covered every inch of the steel mesh, most of it leaking from the variety of corpses piled into the rooms corners, some seemingly torn limb from limb by someone or something of terrifying strength, and the others… The others were laid out head to toe to form a five-pointed star, and each of them had had their heart, eyes and tongue removed.

The way they had been killed showed that this had been done deliberately, indeed some of them still had the surgical instruments used to deform them embedded in their wounds.

James turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer, and staggered back out of the door… and back into the same room. At first James thought he had somehow turned around in his confusion and disgust, but then the details of the room began to stand out. The walls were the same, but the floor, though still soaked in blood, was made of ordinary concrete and there was no sign of the otherworldly ceremony he had stumbled onto moments earlier. An extractor fan droned fearfully in the background in a pitiful attempt to remove the feted stench from the air. That was not the only sound however, there, bellow the sound of the fan was a hissing, the familiar faltering spitting of static.

James reached into his pocket and withdrew his radio, but it remained silent, this background white noise was coming from somewhere else. There were only two doors in the room, one that led back to the garden area and the other a way back into the hospital?

Or a way back to that terrifying 'Otherworld' that he had accidentally fallen into.

James looked around the room as if hoping that something would make the decision for him, the way most things had happened since he came here… before, if Mary's mysterious letter was taken into account.

No, he thought vehemently, he couldn't believe that Mary was involved in whatever was happening to this town, and if someone had used her name to lure him here he would…

James shook his head, why would anyone bother, he didn't have anything of value, and especially not for someone crazy enough to cause what was happening to this town. His paranoia was understandable; he had gone too long without sleep or food, subjected horrors and a constant level of fear the human mind wasn't designed to cope with. It was a miracle he hadn't gone mad, had he?

He was talking to himself after all, and what he had just seen… No, he was loosing focus, he needed to concentrate on getting out of here or he really would go mad. The decision past he was able to relax a little, his course once again clearly set. His steps as he made his way to the far door were, though far from confident strides, notably steadier.

Pushing the door open he stepped through into the corridor in which he had found Laura, the corridor where she had nearly damned him to gruesome death on a childish whim. A corridor that was now blocked off by a hospital bed wedged roughly in between the two walls. Atop the bed, which was blood stained with a small, childlike, outline, was a medium sized TV and a VCR, the former spitting out static, the fuzzy white screen's flickering illumination emphasising the lack of lighting from any other source, transforming the corridor beyond the obstruction into a yawning abyss in which anything might lurk. As James approached the bed, the static abated and slowly the snowstorm that raged across the TV's screen gradually gave way, and the faint outline of a woman began to appear.

Gradually the image resolved itself and James was instantly struck with a sense of recognition. The room in which she stood was large and ornate without seeming gaudy, long drapes had been drawn back to allow light to pour into the room through its two huge windows, long purple drapes. The image was in black and white but James knew the colour of those drapes, he could have named the colour of every furnishing in the room, even those not shown in the image, he could name them from memory. The room he saw was room 312 of the Lakeside Hotel, the room he and Mary had stayed in every time they had visited Silent Hill.

As for the woman in the video, the woman leaning against the windowsill of the right hand window with her back to the camera, staring wistfully out over the lake, the woman in the demure floral dress and cardigan, he didn't need to see the room to know who she was.

"Mary", he said breathlessly, not caring that he said it aloud.

As if she had heard him, Mary turned away from the window, her customary ponytail swaying as she did so, her face alight with the smile he could only recall seeing when they were in Silent Hill.

"Are you using that thing again?", she said playfully, feigning annoyance, "Give it a rest already".

A cough racked her body, a cough that shattered her smile and made her seem suddenly so much frailer, a butterfly caught in an updraft. The image blurred and flickered as if the cameraman had dithered trying to decide wither to offer aid.

Soon the coughing subsided and the focus came back in time to catch Mary making her way to the seat next to the left-hand window and sit down, viewing the lake from a new angle. Such indecision had characterised him during the early days of Mary's illness, as he had struggled to find what, if anything he could do to help his wife.

"Oh Mary", he said, tears welling in his eyes to see her again before the disease had warped her body, "Where are you?".

"You know James", she said as if answering him, "I love it here, it's so peaceful, so beautiful… You know what I heard?".

She leaned forward as if imparting some deep secret.

"I heard this whole area used to be a sacred place". Mary lay back in her chair, the smile that had warmed his heart as she spoke of her interests back on her face, "Looking out over the lake like this… I think I can see why…".

James' chest tightened when she looked directly at the camera, her smile lighting her face despite the early signs of wear that marked her disease's insidious progress.

"James", she pleaded, "Take me here again someday… promise me".

Another cough racked her body and suddenly the image flickered.

"…promise me", she repeated, another cough, or maybe it was the same one as before racking her body. "…promise-", abruptly the image shifted, a blurred vaguely male outline appeared as if viewed from above, he moved forward with deadly intent… and then the image vanished, replaced by a static snowstorm.

James hit the play button furiously, where had Mary gone! Who had put this here, what cruel bastard sort amusement by tormenting a bereaved man with images of his dead wife, images no one should have had access to, he had taken that tape with him when they left… hadn't he?

James punched the eject button repeatedly but nothing happened, the tape refused to eject and as James' fury mounted, the TV cut out, plunging the corridor into stifling darkness.

Swearing to distract himself from the panic that threatened to claim him, James drew out his torch at flicked it on, this familiar behaviour acting to calm his nerves. Somehow, despite that fact that his torch gave out more light than the TV had, the darkness seemed even more impenetrable than before, the shadows deeper.

James pushed the TV's power button several times with no result. He shone the torch behind the dead box, trying to see if there were any problems with the wires.

Unfortunately, there were no wires.

He recoiled as if the TV had suddenly become a slobbering beast, hungry for his blood.

"How?", he found himself repeating dumbly, backing away and into the suddenly open lift without registering his actions. James hugged himself, babbling softly as he tried to make sense of what he had seen, his mind fractured by one strange event too many, changing his grief to hysteria.

With laboured patience the lifts failing motors ground the doors shut and the lift began to descend. Dimly something was telling him that the lowest floor this lift was listed as servicing was the first floor, but in his current state of mind the last thing he needed was more impossibilities to ponder.

Thus, when the lift clattered to a halt and it's doors ground pitifully open he barely registered his surroundings, bleak and lacking in distinction as they were. Grey walls and a single mesh fence enclosed a single door and a narrow stairway. Next to the doorway was a faded blue plaque, featuring two arrows. One pointing to the door labelled 'Patient Files' and another pointing beyond the fence labelled, 'Storage'.

James shuffled forward unenthusiastically and roughly shoved open the door, his torch illuminating a face that was instantly familiar.

"Mary!", he shouted, rushing forward joyously. When the light lit the rest of her he stopped short. Her hair was a shocking blond, tipped with red, not the gentle, natural auburn that had belonged to his wife, and her clothes, so daring and flamboyant they would never have appeared in Mary's wardrobe.

"Oh… Maria, it's you…", James said, trying to hide his disappointment, his mind already slipping away from reality once more.

"What do you mean 'it's me'!", she shouted, surging to her feet, the relief he had briefly seen on her face turning to fury, "I've been scared to death trapped down here! All you care about is that dead wife of yours!".

"I,", James began, eyes downcast with shame, "I'm sorry, I didn't, I mean I tried to find you but… I'm sorry what can I…".

Maria threw herself against him, clutching him tightly and burying her face against his chest.

"Don't leave me alone again," she sobbed, "I was so afraid, all alone in the dark… you're supposed to protect me, why didn't you try to find me? Or at least call to me from the hole I fell down?".

James opened his mouth to explain, but in face of Maria's distress he let it fall shut, the last thing she needed was to be told her erstwhile protector had lost his mind.

"I'm sorry", he whispered softly to her, gently stroking her hair until her sobs subsided, "I'm sorry".


---Author's Notes---

One more down and plenty to go, how do you all like it so far? Onward to Chapter 4: Spiral

Till next time, Betweenheavenandhell