Disclaimer: Silent Hill (tm) and its characters are owned by the geniuses at Konami. I take no credit for any recognizable characters, locations, themes, and so forth. I am not making any money whatsoever from this work of writing. It's Konami's twisted little universe; I'm just having some fun with it. Any recognizable store names or brands belong to the individuals or corporations who own those chains. I have absolutely nothing of value except for my video game collection and my computer, so please don't sue.

AN: I toyed with the idea of making my OCs Alessa's adoptive parents. I also considered making them her real parents instead of Dahlia, with only minimal tampering by the Order. After doing a lot of thinking about it, I finally decided on an idea that I think works very well and still gives Dahlia her appropriate due. In fact, I think it makes her even more evil. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until later in the story to find out what it is. ;)

Chapter 2 – Two Different Lives

On the outskirts of the city, in a very charming neighborhood, lay a house with an infamous history. Though not as large as some of the other residences nearby, the house was beautiful and imposing, maintaining a conspicuous presence at the center of the estate grounds. However, it was the manor's unique background which truly made it notable among all the other houses in the area.

It was this particular place Alessa Summers called home.

She drove up to the garage at the wheel of a 2001 Lincoln Continental. She stepped out of the car and locked the doors, giving a fond glance at the vehicle's silver body.

She had gotten the car for her sixteenth birthday. It was one of the two most notable presents she received that day – one from her father, the other from her best friend at the time. Both gave Alessa a sense of happiness and freedom she had never felt before. The car was a fabulous gift and a symbol of Alessa's burgeoning independence as a young woman. As for the latter gift…well, it was certainly another major step on her path to adulthood.

It started when she made a passing comment that she could really use a car of her own, instead of relying on her father or friend to get around. Alessa's father owned several vehicles, but they were strictly off-limits to her; all three were unsuitable for an inexperienced driver. Besides, Alessa made it clear she wanted something all her own.

Her father thought long and hard about what kind of car he would buy her. Alessa knew little about cars, so she wasn't exactly a big help. He mostly asked her about things like the color and overall look, sometimes pointing out particular vehicles at different car lots they saw. He decided on most of the features himself, since he wanted it to be a surprise.

When the day finally came to unveil the big present, Alessa was stunned. So much in fact that she was rendered silent. Her father almost mistook it as being that she didn't like her present, and he inwardly panicked, because that was a lot of money that would have gone down the drain if she hadn't. But she did like it, because no one had ever done something like this for her before. Alessa quickly realized she had to say something in order to not give her the wrong idea, and once she got over the initial shock, she was overjoyed to have something of her own, that established her reputation as an adult.

The Lincoln was as fine an automobile as anybody could want. Highly comfortable and loaded with features, it was spacious and safe, while maintaining an air of stylish refinement that didn't automatically scream out "wealthy". Stylish enough in fact, that the people who frequently tormented Alessa at her high school could find little to say about her brand new car. It wasn't one of their high-priced sports cars, but it was a damn good luxury car, and they all knew it.

A lot like the car, the home that loomed ahead had its own unique flair. The house wasn't as big as some of the others in the area, a couple of which could almost be considered castles in their scope. It was actually fairly modest, by comparison. Yet despite its modest size, the estate was a very great home in a great area. Alessa was a little uncertain at first, when she first moved in here; she had never lived in a house this big. But once she got over her own issues, Alessa was immediately comfortable in its surroundings. The size of the house afforded her an amount of privacy that she otherwise wouldn't have had in a regular house, and it made it fun to live in. She could explore the corridors and chambers of the structure, and pretend she was in some ancient house isolated from the rest of the world, just like in the stories she used to read; Alessa had a very active imagination. More importantly, it was home. Alessa hadn't had a home in years, up until that point; she certainly wasn't going to turn it down just because it didn't fit most people's perceptions of what was normal.

She was feeling odd, after that event in the afternoon. Her thoughts were still occupied by what happened at the mall. That wasn't a normal occurrence – not in the slightest. Thoughts of that girl, and what her parents would think, lingered at the forefront of her mind.

Alessa stared at the house ahead. How was she going to explain this?

She marched ahead into the home.

Miles away from Ashfield Hills, a silver 1995 Plymouth Neon pulled up outside of the entrance to the Daisy Villa apartment complex. After shutting down the engine, its driver secured the inside of the vehicle with a Club steering wheel lock. This neighborhood wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly good either, and there had been several reported car thefts over the past few months. Considering what she had to go through just to get this car, its owner wasn't taking any chances.

Heather Morris stepped out of the car, giving it an appraising glance. The paint needed to be retouched, and the wind shield needed a good scrubbing. But those were surface things. More important was the stuff under the hood. If what she's seen recently was any indication, she was sure the engine probably needed some work too.

She loved that car.

It was no prize, that's for sure. But it was all she could afford at the moment. And it was hers. All hers.

She had gotten it some time after she finished high school. Her father had wanted to give her a car for her eighteenth birthday. But Heather knew her dad struggled to make ends meet and she didn't want him to spend a large amount of money on her; money that could be used for more important things. So she'd gotten a part time job and earned enough money to buy herself a decent used car. The money her dad had set aside to use for her present was instead mostly put back for more important things, at Heather's insistence. However, she did let him use part of it to treat her to a vacation in California she'd always wanted, which made for a great birthday gift.

The apartment building where Heather lived with her father was, in some respects, similar to the car itself. The exterior wasn't impressive, and if the outside of the building could be considered merely adequate, the inside was just downright in need of repair. The walls need to be thoroughly repainted, and the floor could benefit from the landlord hiring someone to spend a day or two cleaning it. The laundry room was nothing to talk about either; sometimes, Heather wondered if they wouldn't be better off washing their clothes by hand.

Heather was well aware of what people who didn't live there thought of the place. The few times she had brought over friends from school was enough – after her freshman year of high school, she didn't do it anymore. She supposed it would be different if she lived in a house. One of the things that bothered her the most was that some of the people at school were in worse shape than she was when it came to their families. Yet because they lived in their own homes, somehow, that translated to them having the right to be judgmental about her.

Heather's father was at his usual spot, sitting on his chair in front of the TV, when Heather went in. The TV was off, and a notebook was in his lap; he was hard at work on his writing. He briefly glanced back from his chair when he heard the door unlock, though he already knew it was his daughter. Only three people had keys to their place: himself, his daughter, and the landlord. The latter always knocked first, and other than the occasional get together with a few of the other tenants, they didn't get many visitors.

"Hey," he acknowledged his daughter's presence.

"Hi Dad," Heather said cheerfully. She locked the door behind her.

"Hi sweetheart," her father greeted back warmly as he stood from his chair.

Harry Morris was a tall middle aged man fifty-three years of age. His hair was dark brown with a few streaks of gray starting to creep in, and he was rather well built for his age, something which Heather sometimes teased him about. It was no secret among the female tenants of Daisy Villa that Harry was a very handsome man. He was also an available one. Unfortunately for them, the eligible bachelor had expressed absolutely no interest in dating someone.

Harry knew they wondered about him. The truth was that ever since his wife died, having a relationship just wasn't a priority anymore.

Sixteen years ago, Harry's wife Jodie had passed away from cancer when Heather was only three. It was a devastating loss for them both, and ever since that time, Harry had struggled to raise their daughter as a single parent. It had taken years, but eventually, he and Heather were able to move past the tragedy and start to get their lives back in order. Harry suspected starting school was a big help for Heather, as it meant the little girl finally had something else to occupy her thoughts; to keep her mind off the sadness of losing her mother.

Harry was a different matter. Jodie was the most important person in the world to him. They had been together since high school, getting married two years after graduating. Their relationship had thrived despite callous remarks from their relatives and close friends that the marriage wouldn't work. They spent many happy years together, and though attempts to start a family proved at many times unsuccessful, finally they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl who completed their loving household.

Then the cancer struck. Harry could only watch as the woman he loved endured a torturous treatment regimen, helpless to do anything except support his wife in her struggle…and pray that a miracle would happen.

That miracle did not occur. Harry was left a widower; left alone to start over and pick up the shattered pieces of his life. It was only Heather's presence in his life that kept him going. She needed someone to take care of her, and he couldn't in good conscience do something that would leave her alone. He certainly wouldn't entrust her wellbeing to someone else. He was the only family she had, and he was going to raise her as any good father would, not just for her sake, but for Jodie's. Heather would need someone to tell her about her mother when she got older.

Years had gone by since that time, and the pain of Jodie's death had lessened. Mostly. It was still there deep inside Harry's heart, and he was sure the same thing applied to Heather. But now, there was something else to fill the void left in Jodie's absence – the close bond the two of them shared.

Heather was closer to her father than any of the girls she had known in school. They did almost everything together, going to sporting events and movies together, and spending a lot of time just hanging out and enjoying each other's company. Harry was also an aspiring novelist, which left him a lot of time to spend together with his daughter.

He was completely devoted to her. Truthfully, Heather couldn't say she didn't enjoy that, even if her dad did get carried away sometimes. And even though money was tight around their household, they were happy together. That counted more than any amount of money ever could.

"You're home early," Harry pointed out, giving Heather a big hug.

Heather leaned into Harry's embrace. She wasn't a very affectionate person in public when strangers where present, but at home was a different story. Unlike some kids she'd known, she had no problems whatsoever hugging her father in the privacy of their home.

"Yeah, there wasn't much on sale today," Heather said. She paused, wondering whether to tell Harry about what happened today in the mall. Would her father even believe her? She barely believed it herself.

Unfortunately, Harry knew her too well. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No. No," Heather shook her head. "It's just…" She trailed off, unsure of where to begin.

"Did something happen at the mall?" Harry asked seriously. He could tell when something important was on Heather's mind.

"No," Heather hesitated again. However, a look from her dad told her he wasn't buying it. She decided to just come clean.

"Okay, yes, something did happen. I mean, it wasn't dangerous or anything. It was just...you'll never believe who I met at the mall today."

"A boy?" Harry quipped.

Heather scoffed. "Yeah right," she smirked. It was a long-running joke between them that Heather wasn't very interested in dating. She'd rather bang her head against a desk than go out with some of the guys she'd met; it would be way less painful.

And there had been guys who'd made the offer. Not many, but enough that Heather realized she really had no interest in being part of the dating game. Heather didn't consider herself extremely attractive or anything, but she was aware that some guys found her pretty, and a small number of them were brave enough to make the effort to ask her out. She turned all of them down, but some of them were persistent, and there was even one who called her house in an attempt to get her to change her mind. And when Harry answered the phone, the guy quickly ended up trying to score some points with Heather's father. If he made a good impression on Mr. Morris, or so the guy figured, maybe he would persuade Heather to give him a chance.

Alas, what he didn't realize, and neither did the others, was that there was no changing Heather's mind. She didn't like guys and she didn't want to date, and that was that. Why should she bother with going out on dates, when most guys her age were just after one thing? As for the ones who weren't, none of them had ever approached her, and she never noticed anyone in particular who caught her fancy. In short, there was just no reason for her to start dating anytime soon.

Naturally, Harry was thrilled by his daughter's lack of interest in pursuing a relationship. Like most normal fathers, he was very overprotective of his daughter. The thought of Heather getting involved with someone, and the issues that would arise, was just something he wasn't prepared to deal with. He did worry on occasion about Heather's lack of motivation to find someone, but for now, Harry Morris was content to know his little girl wasn't out there fighting off overeager boyfriends who let their hormones do their thinking for them.

"Actually, you're not going to believe this, but there was this girl there who looked just like me."

"That's it?" Harry asked, confused.

"No, Dad. You don't get it. She looked exactly like me," Heather emphasized. "Same face, same hair, same body."

Now Harry did raise an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Remember what I looked like before I dyed my hair blonde?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, recalling Heather's 11th grade experiment. Personally, he thought the short blonde hair made her look grungy, but of course, he never thought of saying that to her. She had gone back to her natural color since that time, but it still wasn't as long as it had been.

"And before I got a face full of these?" Heather asked, pointing to the freckles on her cheeks."

"Yeah."

"That's her, in a nutshell."

"Wow. That's…"

"Unbelievable? Yeah, you know it. It's amazing really, 'cause here I was minding my own business, when I suddenly this…I don't know, vibe about this girl nearby."

"So you just had to check her out?" Harry said. He knew how curious Heather got when something caught her eye.

"Exactly," Heather smiled. "Man, I can't believe it. She was the same as me. She even sounded the same too."

"And there were no differences whatsoever between the two of you?" Harry asked. He was dubious about this, to say the least, but Heather was a smart kid. The least he could do was indulge her.

"Well, her hair was longer. And she didn't have these freckles," Heather added hesitantly. She didn't want her dad to doubt her. "But I know what I saw."

"Heather," Harry said uncertainly, unsure of how to put it.

"Dad, no. Trust me, if you'd have been there, you'd have been amazed too."

"Maybe it was a coincidence?" Harry suggested.

"No, I'm almost positive it's not. Dad, she sounded just like me. And she had the same face I do. I know what my face looks like under these," Heather stressed, touching the blemishes just above her cheeks.

She knew Harry was skeptical about the whole thing, but she wasn't going to give up convincing him now that she had spilled the beans about it. Despite those minor differences, she knew there was more to it than either of them realized.

"Did you get her name?" Harry asked.

"Actually, I did. It's Alessa."

Heather didn't notice the way her father went still upon hearing that.

"I got it off the back of her cell phone," she said, oblivious to the shift in Harry's features. "She dropped it while she was running away. Strange thing too, the way she just kept going. I think she was freaked out by the resemblance…"

Heather went on, unaware of Harry's lapse in focus. Finally she noticed that her father didn't seem to be paying attention.

"Dad!"

"Huh?" He was still going over that name in his head. Alessa…

"Are you listening to me?" Heather asked, semi-annoyed.

"Uh…yeah," Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Sorry, sweetheart. I was…distracted for a moment there. What did you say?"

Heather took a deep breath and exhaled. Patience, she told herself. Patience was the key. She didn't want to lose her temper in front of her father.

"I said she must have been freaked out by the resemblance."

"Wow. It must have been closer than I thought," Harry remarked.

"That's why I've been telling you!" Heather insisted, gesturing wildly with her hands. Harry merely smiled. Another parent might have been annoyed by the girl's tone, but he didn't feel the need to reprove her. He knew she wasn't really angry at him, and besides, Heather looked way too cute when she ranted.

"Wait a minute. Did you say something about her cell phone?" he asked her.

"Yeah, she dropped it in the mall."

"Can I see it?"

Heather handed him the small cellular phone left behind by the object of her wonder. Harry looked over it curiously, noting that the name Alessa was indeed written over the back cover in sparkling marker. The phone didn't activate when he pressed the button.

"Yeah, it's broken," Heather confirmed. Harry looked over it some more before giving it back to her.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked. Heather looked up at him.

"What do you mean, 'what am I going to do'"?

"Aren't you going to find out who this belongs to?"

Heather stared at her dad like he was crazy. "Are you kidding me"?

"Heather, you said it yourself. This is no ordinary girl. Looks like you've got a mystery on your hands," Harry replied.

"Dad, I'm not gonna go to the mall and stalk this girl," Heather said.

"I'm not saying you should do that. All I'm saying is, don't you want to at least look her up on the computer? Find out who she is or something, before just forgetting about the whole thing?"

Heather looked at her father strangely. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you almost want me to find her."

"No, of course not," Harry said. Heather raised an eyebrow at him. The older Morris sighed. "What I mean is that I know you, Heather. This is a mystery, and if you don't settle it soon, it's just going to eat away at you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But give it a few more days, and you're going to be wracking your brains trying to figure out who this girl is. That's just who you are, Heather."

He gave her a pointed look. "Do you really want this stuck in your brain like that?"

Heather rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

"Heather…"

"All right. You really think I should look this girl up?"

"Yes, I think it would be best."

Heather smirked at her dear old dad. "Okay. Then here," she said, handing him the cell phone. "Get to it." Before Harry could respond, she rushed into her room and locked the door with an audible click.

For a few moments Harry just stood there staring at her door. That little…! He laughed despite himself. He should have seen that one coming. Despite generally being open to advice, Heather was sometimes just too stubborn for her own good. He wasn't worried about it, though. His daughter was usually good at solving problems on her own. It might take a while, but sooner or later she would settle on a way to deal with this. That wasn't a concern.

What he was concerned about was the exact identity of this girl that Heather had met. There was something unusual about this situation, and it definitely warranted further investigation on his part. It was another reason why he hoped Heather decided to at least try to meet up with her again.

Because this was not the first time he had heard the name Alessa in his life, and certainly not the first time he had heard it used in context to a mysterious girl with raven black hair.

He had to find out more.