The thump sounded again, like a large, bulky object slammed into the floor. Leon blinked a second, making sure what he had heard was real. The image of the sad girl's eyes widening in horror flashed across his mind, making him grip his gun even harder. Like a thief sneaking through the house, he nearly tiptoed toward where the noise was coming from. He was on the second floor, the house only looked to be three stories from outside, and so it had to be the attic.

Leon exited through another door, finding another hallway. The first door he came to on his right was locked, making Leon silently curse beneath his breath. The thumping was still overhead, even though Leon moved, the odd noise still followed directly overhead, as though it were somehow following him. He moved to the next door in front of him, finding himself down another hallway, eerily creepy form the lack of doors on the walls. Only one stood at the end. Leon hurried down the hallway as fast as possible. He turned the knob, half glad, half nervous to find it open. He pointed his gun down the hallway first, the static on his radio kicking in soon enough, drawing his attention to the end of the hallway where the burnt creature stood. Leon immediately turned off the radio, praying they hadn't heard. Unfortunately, the creature immediately turned in his direction, the sound of labored breathing filling the room. It took the first few staggering steps forward, limbs splayed out at awkward direction as though the lightest bit of wind stung the burnt skin.

Something gripped Leon's middle, he thought back to the dreams he kept on having with the burning little girl. The monster resembled what she must have looked like afterwards, but so much younger.

There had to be people here at one point.

For one moment, he lowered his gun, drawn in by such guilt. He thought back to the citizens of Raccoon City, the villagers in Spain. All of them had been normal once, normal people with normal lives. Than all damnation broke loose, robbing them of their own minds. He had killed so many…so many people. For the first time in a week, Leon slipped back to his guilty subconscious, aware that it was not the time. He thought of each person, dying at his hands. He had spilled so much blood. Watching the light fade form their eyes, watching their bodies dropped to the ground, killing and killing as though he were a terrorist!

You did what you had to.

The creature's footsteps startled him back to reality. Leon raised his gun and shot the wall, causing debris and paint to cloud up, creating a small dust storm. The demon, hearing the sound, immediately walked toward it, allowing Leon enough time to slip by them and into the next door.

"Hello?" He called out, once again, hoping to catch someone's attention. The little girl was no where to be seen, yet she had come this way. "Kid, please, just give me some sign that you're alright!"

He finished descending the hallway and walked through another door. The house was a regular maze. This time, windows lined the right side, foggy daylight spilling through. There were doors too, but each knob had been busted in fiercely as though someone had thrown a fit. Pale, gauzy curtains swayed from the long windows, though there was no breeze. Leon silently walked down, slowing his steps, his heart pounding. The curtains seemed to dancing, almost, silently reaching out for him. Leon looked through one of the windows; the dense fog only seemed to penetrate back everything. Thick, carpeted floor lined the whole end, Leon's heavy shoes sunk into it slightly. He didn't know why, but suddenly nothing seemed okay, everything felt much, much worse.

He slowly mounted the hallway; the grayness of the foggy day drew his eyes toward each window. There was something so beautiful about the fog, so mysterious. The cloud seemed to swirl around the house. Leon fumbled with the doorknob, shakily opening it and stepping in toward another hallway. He sighed, wondering how many times he would have to do this.

The first door was unlocked, giving Leon full entry. He walked in slowly, examining the room top to bottom, before moving fully inside. The room was large, dark red striped wall paper and dark paneling lined with the walls with ornate gold electric lights hanging from them. A grand piano stood in one corner, a velvet red chaise and chair in the other. The rest of the room was bookshelves and books, giving it a very colonial appeal. Leon stopped and admired the piano. He had never taken a fancy in this kind of music much, just mainly rock bands and whatnot. But the piano was beautiful, the craftsman ship remarkable. Each white key was lined up perfectly, the shiny black ones shined down to perfection.

Leon couldn't help but gently run his hands over the keys, and then pressed down on one, the sweet note fluttering through the still air. He noticed a portrait on top of the piano in an ivory frame. A young child smiled sweetly out, her eyes shining and her smile bright and innocent. Leon frowned, realizing this was the portrait of the girl he had been pursuing. He turned the picture around and began to pull off the back, removing the picture from the frame. A single inscription was on the back, stating the name Amy Baldwin in neat, precise handwriting, and the date the picture was taken. Leon's eyes froze on the date, his brow furrowed.

That can't be—

Thump.

Leon nearly dropped the photo, his head careened backwards, staring open mouthed at the ceiling. He had nearly forgotten.

"What in g-d's name is up there?"

Leon lay the picture back down on the piano, hurrying out of the room and back down the hallway. He ran to the end, seeing a door, white, where the sound was emitting from. The loud banging continued, restless, following him from overhead. Just as Leon was about to reach the door, he ran past another room, this one with a opened door. He slowed and backed up, trying to get a better glance into it.

It was a child's room. Leon walked in, a bit hesitantly, seeing if the little girl he presumed was Amy was in there. There was no one. A doll lay on the floor; beady, little eyes cast upward. Leon stooped down to pick it up. There was a shuffle behind him, causing him to straighten back up immediately and point his gun at the offender. The little girl stared blandly at the weapon, her solemn eyes as grave as ever. Leon lowered his gun slowly. They simply stared at each other a moment, neither one of them speaking. The little girl's cheeks were tracked with tears, her lower lip trembled slightly. "Childish dreams."

"What?"

She looked up at him.

Leon lowered himself to the floor. "Are you Amy?" He asked the child gently. She hesitated, and then nodded. "My names Leon." He said. "Do you live here?"

"Yes."

"Amy, please, what's happened here?"

"I-I'm not sure."

Leon nodded. The thump was overhead the bedroom now, Amy started, looking up with wide eyes. Leon put his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay," He assured her. "It's probably just rats." He lied.

"It's not rats!" She said defiantly, tears streaming.

"Then what is it?"

"Its-its bad! I want daddy!"

"Here," Leon said, taking her hand. "Let's go find him."

Amy drew her hand away quickly, taking rapid steps backwards away from him. Her face had gone very pale; she was shaking like she had a fever. "He's in the attic." She said gravely.

"What?" Leon was confused. "Then we should go up there and see him."

"No!" Amy shrieked, sliding to the ground. She sat there like a stone, making it clear she didn't want to be moved. "That attic is not good. I won't go up there!"

"Then we can't find your father." Leon said tiredly, getting impatient with the child. He began to move out of the room, toward the attic door. Just as he was about to grasp the handle, a small hand tugged his sleeve, Amy Baldwin was attempting to jerk him back.

"Please don't go up there," She pleaded with tears running down her face. "Just stay here. That attic is bad. You'll die, I know it!"

Leon patiently detached Amy's hand from his sleeve and looked down at her. "I'm going up there," He said. "I promise I'll come back down."

"What if you don't?"

"I will," He said assuredly, and opened the door. The strong smell hit them as soon as it opened wide; Amy took a step back, making a disgusted face through her tears. The stairway up was almost completely dark; Leon strained his eyes well enough to see the stairs. No sound came from upstairs, the banging has stopped entirely.

"Well," Leon said, trying to sound a lot lighter than he felt. "Upward." He mock saluted Amy, which made her smile a little.

Slowly, he put his foot down on the first step, drawing upward with his gun drawn to his side. The air was so still as he mounted, he thought he could cut it with a knife. The silence rang in his ear. Each step he took, bits of dust flew up. Leon struggled not to cough, but the task seemed useless. Finally, he reached the top, and turned on his light, shinning it around.

The attic was much smaller than he had expected. There was a fireplace, a table with books, junk piled in the corners, and a large chair that sat away from his face in the far corner. At first, Leon thought that he was all alone, until the voice spoke up from the chair.

"I've been expecting you, Mr. Kennedy." A masculine voice spoke out.

Leon nearly shit himself. The man remained completely hidden behind the huge chair. If he hadn't said anything, Leon would have dismissed the room for being deprived of humans.

"Are you Mr. Baldwin?" Leon asked carefully.

"Who told you that?" The man asked him rather sharply, his voice rising an octave.

Leon was startled by his sudden hostility. He pointed down the stairs, though aware he couldn't possibly have seen his arm. "Amy," He said. "Said her 'daddy' was up here."

There was silence from the other man for a moment, then a long, sad sigh that seemed to shake the room. Mr. Baldwin cleared his throat, his voice appearing worn all of a sudden. "Oh, I see." He said softly.

Leon hesitated. "She is your daughter, isn't she?"

"She is," The other man agreed softly.

"Well," Leon said when the other man said nothing more. "Don't you want to see her?"

"Yes I want to," He informed him. "There is nothing more I have wanted in the past years is too see…Amy…my world. I tried to, but in the end, that became impossible for both of us. I was too rash about it."

"…Excuse me…I…she's right downstairs. I'll take you to her."

"No," He said mournfully. "I cannot anymore. Mr. Kennedy, the living cannot see the dead."

Leon's mouth dropped in confusion, his eyes narrowed at the back of the chair, wondering if the occupant was sane.

"I don't understand." He said finally.

"It is…difficult to explain. Maybe later. For now, there is much else to be discussed, Mr. Kennedy."

"Who told you my name?" Leon asked flatly.

"I sensed you were coming." Baldwin replied, evading the question. "We all did."

"Who's 'we'?" Leon asked, crossing his arms.

"The darkness is rising, they are redeeming themselves. Don't let them lie to you, Mr. Kennedy, they aren't human anymore. They are all demons in human forms. You can't trust anyone, not even yourself. The eyes lie."

Leon wasn't sure whether to call his bluff or to play along. His voice held no hints of sarcasm or laughter, it just sounded dead. Dead and grieving. Baldwin never turned around from his chair; he didn't appear to move an inch. Just sat and talked to him.

"Do you know what's happening?"

"Yes," Baldwin replied wistfully. "There is darkness, much darkness."

"So it's dark?" Leon asked sarcastically. "Than why doesn't the sun come out?"

Mr. Baldwin didn't appear to find that funny. "You laugh now," He warned. "But in time, you to will become a slave to its influence."

Leon was getting impatient. This was starting to remind him more and more of Spain. He didn't like the tone Baldwin was using; it was making him more uncomfortable that he never showed his face. What was he hiding? What did he expect of him? "I'm sorry," Leon said finally, "I-I was in a car crash, I'm not exactly functioning properly, and no one will tell me anything straight. Let's pretend I have no idea what you're talking about, please explain this more clearly."

Baldwin sighed. "There is no more to say," He said with growing impatience. "All you need to know is that the darkness is growing. It's an awful place, corrupt of all hope. Its hell, to say the least; hell on Earth. They-they couldn't stop it. It grew out of control, beyond all power, and that girl, that poor child suffered so much. She was supposed to bring them salvation, but she only brought hell."

"Salvation," Leon frowned. "I keep on hearing that."

"Paradise." Baldwin said. The room was silent for a moment, suddenly, a shattering siren corrupted it. Leon's gaze flew out the window, the siren rose and fell, the fog outside began to swirl, everything all at once changed, there was an earth shattering scream form downstairs.

"That's Amy!" Leon started toward the stairs. He glanced back at the chair; Baldwin did not get up to attend to his daughter. "Come on!"

"It has started," Baldwin said gravely, just as outside began to grow darker. "The dark ones will arise to sin!" Without warning, he began to laugh insanely. Leon gripped the banister harder, looking skeptically at Baldwin.

What the fuck is going on?

"Who are you?" Leon whispered. He saw now, that outside was completely black, was it just his eyes, or had it grown darker inside as well?

Spwoof!

The large chair was knocked backwards quicker than Leon could re-act. A black figure swooped up and out of sight before Leon could say a thing. The tipped chair held no one, Baldwin had disappeared, he was the only one in the room.

"What the hell?!" Leon cried out, his gun aimed in as many directions as he could point. All at once, utter blackness seized the room. Leon could just make out the line of doorway at the foot of the stairs. Red light throbbed through, the sound of flames became clearer, and he could clearly smell smoke. "No, shit!"

Lon struggled toward the stairs, but a strong hand gripped his shoulder, holding him back. "It's too late." Baldwin crooned sadly. "This should have been done a long time ago." As strong as Leon was, Baldwin appeared to have inhuman strength, he thrashed out, but his hand only tightened on his shoulder, sharp nails, almost like claws, digging into his shoulders.

Another hand reached out in the darkness, twisted his blond hair, and bent his head back painfully. Leon opened his mouth, gurgling noises arising from his throat. "Gwah, uagh…"

"No, please…help!" A shrill voice arose from downstairs. Leon listened to Amy Baldwin's screams rise as the flame claimed her. Her own father held Leon back, listening to his daughter as well, not saying anything. Ernest Baldwin didn't say a thing. "Daddy! Daddyyyy!"

Soon, her cries faded, silenced by the noise of the flames that gathered.

"I'm so sorry, love." Ernest whispered painfully, as he listened to his daughter's protests. Leon felt a drop of moisture on his face, warm and real. Baldwin was crying. The hand released him; Leon fell to the floor, suddenly drained. He wanted to ask Ernest Baldwin why, why he didn't let him help hi daughter. He didn't need to, Ernest spoke up form the depths of darkness on his own, the grieving in his voice obvious and painful. "She was my life," He moaned mournfully. "And she was taken away from me, too soon. I gave up my own life, I let myself become so consumed in-in bringing her back, I didn't realize it was too late, the darkness had claimed me as well. I did it, I brought her back, but I could never see her, she was alive and, I was dead. I became one of them, eternally stuck in this-this place. Between nightmare and reality, between purgatory and hell."

Leon felt his eyes become heavy; the siren was going off again, this time inside his own head.

"She doesn't remember a thing." Baldwin continued. "They needed her, I had to give in, and it was my duty. There are others like her, others who co-existed in this nightmare, who are marked by darkness, they need them all. The town wants them back. They town summons us all." He began to cry. "The darkness took my Amy, it took my little girl. I couldn't stop it. I brought her back into life, only to have taken away again. She wasn't complete, she was just a memory of her former self, but it still hurts." Silence. "It is we who are the truly damned."

Leon finally relented, and passed out, listening to the man crying softly and the flames come closer.

5: 36 a.m. Sunderland home.

James Sunderland was dreaming again. It wasn't a bad dream, he was dreaming of his late wife, Mary. The sun was bright across the lake; the gentle wind sent gold ripples all over the water and made Mary's hair rustle around her beaming, healthy face. No more disease, no more sickness. She wore her favorite outfit, a white, pink flower printed dress and her baby pink sweater. They were back in Silent Hill, their 'special place'.

The whole town was our special place.

James reached out to brush out a piece of hair from Mary's face, but she kept on moving.

Stop, He said. Where are you going, Mary?

You know. She replied, the smile gone.

Then she was gone.

No! He grasped forward to the area where she had been standing. Mary!

All at once, he was away from that place, stumbling forward in grayness. The brush of cool air stilled his footsteps, gray fog swirled around him as he stumbled around blindly, reaching forward and calling Mary's name. Tombstones were everywhere; he was back in the cemetery. There was a figure in the distance, leaning over a tombstone.

Excuse me, I—

The girl leapt up and screamed. James recognized Angela's face, her sad, brown eyes.

This place, She said. There's something wrong with it.

Angela faded.

Suddenly, James was back in the hotel, rewarded with the new found knowledge of Mary/Maria's true nature. There was a fiery staircase; Angela was slowly descending it into the flames. The heat was unbearable; the pain growing in James's chest was unsettling. Angela didn't look back as she went upward.

Or maybe, Her words taunted him before she had begun to go up. You think you can save me. Will you love, relieve me of all my pain. I didn't think so.

It's as hot as hell in here.

You see it too. To me, it's always like this.

Then she was gone.

Mary, Angela, I'm sorry.

Then he woke up.

James sat up in his bed, aware of a presence in his bedroom doorway.

"Dad," Laura began to cry.

James arose from his bed and went over to his daughter, where he hugged her tightly, the pain in his chest noticeably there. It always was.

Will I always suffer?

"It's okay," He told his daughter, hugging her to him. "Just let it go."

I'm sorry, this chapter was really hard. I know it migt be really confusing, but i'm really trying to clean it up. Anyways, please let me know what you think of this, I'll take any suggestions of how to make it better.