AN:

Chapter Two.

This chapter will be from Henry's perspective. I'm trying to make James' and Henry's perspectives noticeably different, but it is a bit difficult. Partially because of my writing style, and partially because the two are fairly similar.
The main differences will probably be in vocabulary and reactions.

In case anyone is interested in knowing, I will update on Tuesdays. Most likely at some unreasonable hour of the morning. Such as this one, which I'll probably get out at around 2 a.m.

Also, if anyone is unsure of how I'm trying to portray a character, I've made lists for the personality traits and demeanors of Henry, James, and Laura. Not that I'm going to post them here, but if you have a dying urge to read it, I can send it to you.

Also, this is the shortest chapter thus far. And I know to you that only means two chapters, but I've actually already finished four chapters. You all just have to wait for next Tuesday, hahaha.

Okay, last note before I move to reviews. Actually, it regards my responses to reviews. I'm very appreciative of any praise you send my way, but I'll only respond to critiques or anything I feel necessary. That said, thank you all for both the praise and critiques!

Now, to respond to the issues mentioned:

-Paragraph lengths: I suppose I can see what you two mean, I'll try and cut them down. However, I make paragraphs based on what information or dialogue are meant to go together. Things feel more coherent to me tha way.

-Alignment: You're right. I should've converted it when moving it to FF. I'm not sure why, but it's much easier for me to write with center-alignment.

-Clothing descriptions: I normally try and stray away from describing clothes as well. The only reason I mention it is because I want to give James and Henry tiny, almost unnoticeable things in common. I decided that a slight sense of clothing taste could be one. Or rather, just that they both notice what other people (and themselves) wear, and how it's a reflection on who they are and how others view them. Henry more-so than James.

-Heather x Alex: I mean pairing-wise. But even if that does happen, which it probably won't, it'll come much, much later. And I only use Alex because he's the only other open Silent Hill protagonist besides Harry Mason, and I don't think Heather is into necrophile incest. And Travis. But I don't like Travis/I haven't played Origins. Also, I haven't quite beaten Silent Hill 3 yet, so I'm going to try and do that before I throw her into the story. Either way, they're both going to be in Silent Hill at one point—and I didn't like Elle in Homecoming, so she gets no part in my story.

-The hole quote: Thank you!! I couldn't remember exactly what it said (I haven't played SH2 for a few years now), and I couldn't find it online. I'll change that as soon as I can.

-The mobled queen: You get your own little bit so I can tell you how hard the first part of your critique made me laugh. Which is both a good and bad thing. I have a terrible sore throat, so laughter currently causes me quite a bit of pain.

A note for everyone:
I'm so surprised there are people besides me who like the pairing of James and Henry! It's always made sense to me, but I wasn't certain anyone would see it that way. Either way, thanks so much for the support, praise, and advice! I can only hope that I can make the story, characters, and relationship between the two believable. Parts of it I will admit may get boring in the beginning, but that's because I'm trying to write about two guys who are trying to regress to normal lives. It'll get more exciting later, I promise.

Submergence

I should explain, before I say anything else, that I'm not crazy. I'm actually one of the most normal people I know. I don't do strange things and I've never stood out. I make an effort not to. I prefer staying unseen. You know, not largely prevalent either way? I've always been contentedly average. I don't have any sob story about how I was abused as a child that explains why I like to remain inconspicuous, either. I had a normal childhood, aside from being picked on and never really having too many friends. I had average grades. In all ways, I was normal. My few friends did care for me, but people didn't pay attention to me otherwise. I wasn't nerdy enough to warrant any attention from the jocks, and I was never motivated enough to try and fit in with the popular kids.

I always straddled the fence in a sense. I liked the middle ground—it was safe. The only thing that I ever excelled in was photography. So, when I was fired from my job in Barrowsfield, the town I'd spent my entire life in, I finally felt that it was time for a change. Being me, I wasn't looking for a change in climate or anything extreme; I just wanted a change in demographic. I just wanted to be in a new place with new people.

So began my new life; my normal, perhaps even boring life. I was a photographer for a local paper, paid my bills on time, and even had a few girlfriends and one boyfriend.

Besides the bisexuality, I was completely normal in all aspects. With that said, something extraordinary did happen to me—something that I once told someone with negative results. In my defense, I told him right after it happened. Once I explain what happened to me, it should be obvious why I told him in such a feverish frenzy. I didn't think then that anyone wouldn't believe me. Now the story I told has been spread from person to person, changing ever so slightly with each retelling. Not that it matters how it changes, because I seem equally insane with each version.

Suddenly I wasn't Henry Townshend, the man who you were slightly acquainted with and knew to be a generally pleasant if not somewhat stoic man—I was Henry Townshend, the man who'd locked himself in his room for a couple of weeks, lost his mind for no good reason, and fabricated a tale that could've come straight from a fucking Brothers Grimm story.

I lost my job because of it, and all of my friends. I wish Eileen would've come back after her hospital stay—she experienced most of it with me and knew it to be true. I still keep in contact with her, but she refuses to come back. I don't really blame her. The damn building itself nearly killed the both of us with some help from Walter Sullivan. Or I guess it's more accurate to say that Walter Sullivan nearly killed the both of us trying to resurrect what he thought to be his mother: my room. He grew up in this place called 'Wish House'. It was owned by The Order, a cult with basis in Silent Hill. Someone there told him that the room was his mother, and he believed it. He spent the rest of his life focusing on a section of The Order's holy documents called 'The 21 Sacraments', or the resurrection of the Holy Mother. Walter misinterpreted it and thought that by completing it he could purify and resurrect his mother, which I will reiterate, was my room.

This is why I felt compelled to mention that I'm not crazy, because the story of what happened to me is. I shouldn't have told anyone. No one of sound mind would believe me. Although it does upset me, I know why no one believed me. It's ridiculous, impossible even, for anyone who hadn't either been to Silent Hill or at least studied it to even fathom what I was saying.

People ostracized me after I finally escaped my room. Most thought I was a ticking time bomb of insanity. I'd already lost it once, and they didn't want to be around the next time it happened. I even heard through the vine that one of my friends was afraid that if she hung out with me, I may lose my mind and lock her in my room with me next time it happened. I almost thought about really doing it for a laugh. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I'd probably go to jail if I did that… or an insane asylum.

I couldn't hug the walls anymore and stay out of people's attention. I tried to act like it didn't bother me in the hopes that things would eventually die down, but I had no such luck. Sure, people eventually stopped running out of rooms the second I entered them; that was of little condolence to me. No one talked to me besides Eileen, and that was a small comfort when done over the phone. I thought about moving away like she had done, but I didn't have enough money to move out and settle somewhere else. Like I said, I had enough to pay for the rent and food, but that was it. Even that was beginning to become hard. I was fired from the job I'd been making my living on. Instead, I began work in a modeling agency. Not as a model, thank God, but as a professional photographer. That was under the condition that I stayed strictly professional and never ever mentioned anything about myself. All I was allowed to give was my name. I have no doubt that my boss thought I was crazy, but I am a skilled photographer. Apparently that just barely overshadowed my insanity enough for him.

I guess I don't need to mention that things were strictly business between the two of us. Besides Eileen, I barely had any human interaction. The people who did approach me often just did so to ask for the story. I rarely told it to them. They all just looked at me like I was the fucking bearded lady on display in the carnival. No one believed me, no one understood me, and no one treated me like a normal human being.

I'd never felt so completely isolated. I just wanted someone who could listen to what I said with something other than disbelief or obscure fascination. I wanted someone to hear what I said and not pity me because they think I'm insane, but pity me because of what I'd gone through at the hands of Walter. And even though I knew it was unrealistic, what I wanted the most was for someone who not only believed me, but who I could discuss Silent Hill with.

That desire stayed as nothing more than a lurking wish for quite some time—right along with my desire to find someone to date. Had Eileen not moved away, I would've asked her to date me. The problem for once wasn't my lack of fortitude and self-confidence, but that I couldn't bring myself to try it. Why would I? If I could even find someone who could look past my supposed craziness, I wouldn't be able to love someone who didn't believe me when I told them about the most incredible experience of my life.

For once though, I was pleasantly surprised when my expectations were proven wrong. I met James Sunderland, though met isn't really the right world. I was on my way to work when I saw him. I stepped out of the elevator and looked over at the receptionist. As always, she was gawking at me. Frank Sunderland was there too, giving me a look somewhere between fear and disgust. I stared indifferently at them, hoping that they would see I was unbothered. The third person there was James. I'd seen a picture of him in the super's office once. He was the son who'd been missing for five years. I didn't think much of it at first. The lives of my neighbors and super had never been relevant to me. I knew that there was quite a complex web of deceit and betrayal between all of them, but I did my best to avoid it. Especially after coming back from the twisted version of my apartment complex after crawling through the hole in my bathroom and learning what had happened to Mike. Poor Mike…

James smiled and waved at me. It was one of those friendly actions that most people take for granted. After months of silent, fearful stares, and nothing more than awkward waves when I was lucky, it was a welcome gesture. I smiled back and left. I would've walked over to talk to him but knew there was no use in doing so. The moment I left, I knew his father would tell them why they hadn't greeted me.

I went to work and didn't think any more of it for the rest of the day. One more person who thought I was crazy was nothing to me.