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Institutionalized

Heather looked down at her bandaged hand. Everything had gone by so fast. It seemed like only yesterday that she had run away from Silent Hill on that fateful night.

Actually, it was yesterday.

Heather was transported to the hospital by the police. It was there that she was kept overnight for observation. She was going to be sent to the police station where she would have to answer questions that she didn't know the answer to. Where they would most likely declare her insane and ship her off to a mental ward.

The thing was, was she crazy?

She punched through a car window, hotwired a car, and carried around a bloody knife. She supposed those action would be up for interpretation.

She was scared though. She didn't want to be found crazy. She didn't want to be like her mother, Dahlia. In fact, no one did.

She just hoped it would be over soon.

She sank back into the little cot in the hosptal. Her head was beginning to pound.

It wasn't a natural headache but a horrible throbbing pain that took over her entire body. It was almost like she was being possessed.

It was strange because God was dead so all of that should have been taken care of. She had kllled God, with her own hands.

'It must not have been much of a God if it could be killed by a human,' she thought.

The God was horrific looking, if's face resembling hers. During most of the battle its face was covered by flesh, which made Heather want to vomit. She couldn't even imagine a grosser scene.

She put two hands on her hand, trying to stop the pain from conquering her. But it was senseless, because it was like trying to climb a mountain in flip flops. The gain was simply not worth the pain.

'What is this I'm feeling? I feel like I'm having three hangovers in a row,' she thought.

It was true. Heather did drink. However, that in itself was a normal activity. Everyone she knew at school drank. There was no end to how much people drank. Thus, Heather decided to join them. She felt there was no harm in it, having a few drinks.

However, a few drinks became five and five became a number Heather didn't want to talk about.

So she was a bit of a drunk? Who wasn't? And who in highschool was going to care if she drank a little too much.

Besides, it didn't make her angry, it made her depressed.

Everytime she drank the bitter liquid she would think of her foster mother and miss her dearly, thus becoming depressed. Alcohol and Heather did not mix.

After a while the pounded worsened and she began to hear voices. It wasn't limited to one voice either. She could hear a multitude of voices in her head. She was beginning to wonder if she was going crazy.

"The one who will lead us to paradise with blood-stained hands…"

"I guess crazy old hag is a bit harsh; she is your mother after all."

"Will you, Alessa? Will you lead us to paradise?"

"We love you and worship you Alessa."

"Alessa."

"Alessa!"

Heather opened her eyes after the voices were gone. She saw some worried nurses looking at her.

"W-What happened?" she asked, groggy.

"You fell off the bed and passed out dear," the nurse said kindly. "Now get back on the bed and sit down. Everything is going to be all right."

Everything is going to be all right. She had heard that a hundred times and it had not helped her since. People used to say that to her father when her 'mother' died. Those words of mercy never worked.

She grew to hate those words at school. She was never a good student, always getting Ds and Fs. Her father however, never ceased to be proud of her and always supported her in whatever she did.

He would tell her that if would be all right. That she would go to college. Now she wondered how true that was.

The only reason Heather remembered was because she was Cheryl. She had all of Alessa and Cheryl's memories. Of course that in itself was a double-edged sword.

Remembering what happened to Alessa before Heather herself was born was horrific. The things her mother did to her.

There were the beatings that Alessa sustained from her mother. Not just bruisings, but broken bones as well.

This wasn't just because of some mother-daughter quarrel. Alessa's mother Dahlia thought she could raise God by being mean to her little girl. It was the worst thing Heather had ever heard.

She enjoyed Cheryl's memories though. They were usually happy and consisted of her and her dad.

That's what Heather missed, spending time with her dad. She despised the person who had killed him. And killing that "thing" in cold blood made her feel better about the situation.

She sighed.

She wondered how much longer she would have to stay there at the hospital. She knew she wasn't suicidal. She's never tried to kill herself in her life. The only thing she did that was bad for her body was smoke and drink, but those were normal activities of teenagers.

The problem was convincing the cops and the nurses that she was mentally stable. Everything was against her.

As she sat back on top of the bed she saw one of the nurses go into the room. There was murmured talking. Most of it, Heather couldn't make out.

Then one of the nurses went up to her and nudged her. "Someone just got really hurt," she began.

Heather widened her eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah," the nurse continued. "Someone apparently pushed him down the stairs."

Heather's heart almost stopped. She was afraid they were going to try to pin that whole thing on her. She had an alibi. She was knocked out cold.

"Is he okay?" she asked, hoping the situation wouldn't turn out so bad.

"Yes he's fine. He was middle-aged, so it wasn't fatal. But he did break some bones."

"Oh, well that's good."

Heather sat in the lobby of the police department. She wasn't looking forward to the "questionnaire" they were going to give her. She just wanted it to be over.

One of the sergeants came through the door and gestured to her. "Your turn," he pointed to the door.

Heather came in and sat inside. It was a small room, which drove her nuts. She didn't want to be close to those policemen. She thought that whole thing was a waste of time.

The head sergeant finished fiddling with his papers and looked at Heather. "Now what's your real name?"

Heather breathed slowly. "Cheryl."

"And who is your father?"

"Harry Mason."

"What town do you live in?"

"Portland."

"What's your address?"

"Boch Apartment drive Rm 103."

"What were you doing in Silent Hill?"

Heather remained quiet for a moment. She didn't quite know what to say.

'What do I do? I can't tell them the truth, they'll think I'm crazy,' she thought.

"I was looking for someone," she answered.

"Who were you looking for?"

Heather's jaw tightened. She couldn't possibly tell those people who she was looking for. They would either arrest her on the spot or stare at her blankly. She was going to have to lie.

"I was looking for a friend," she lied.

She breathed in sharply. She hoped this would work. If it didn't, she'd be spending one lonely night in jail.

"What's the name of your friend?"

Heather decided she was going to have to lie again. This time about her relationship with Claudia.

"Claudia Wolf."

She heard the scribbling of a pen and knew that they were writing something down.

"Did you ever see Douglas in Silent Hill?"

"Yes."

"He was hired to find you, you know?"

"I know that."

"Then you'll also know that Claudia Wolf was the one who hired him," the man grew red in the face. "You lied, didn't you? You lied to a police officer."

Suddenly the officer stood up and went to her side. "I'm going to have to arrest you, miss. You're looking awful suspicious."

"But wait, I didn't DO anything!"

"Why did you just lie to me about Claudia? Why didn't you know that Douglas was found dead in Silent Hill!"

Heather's heart almost stopped. "Douglas is dead?"

"He was found in the middle of the amusment park."

Heather gasped and covered her mouth. She couldn't believe that was happening. Douglas couldn't be dead. She just saw him before she went to fight God. He couldn't be dead!

Heather started thinking about the whole incident. Suddenly it started making sense. The monster with the broken leg...the monster WAS Douglas.

"Oh my god," she said aloud.

"What?" the police officer asked gruffly.

"I think I just did something terrible!"

"What did you do?"

"I don't know."

He raised an eyebrow. "Miss you better come with me. There's this great psyciatric hospital and everybody who leaves there says they have changed for the better."

Heather shook her head. "No."

The police officer took her hand. "Yes."