6.

I'm feeling a little better, a little more adjusted with the possibilities. I've tried to recall just what happened back then, when mom disappeared. It was five years ago, I don't understand why it's so difficult. Maybe my brain is protecting me from trauma, but you know it's a little late for that.

I've tried to remember anything, inconsistencies, possible errors in my father's words. Who knows? It could've all been a lie. Could my father really have been responsible for my mother's disappearance? Why? I don't remember them fighting. I don't remember minor arguments between them. Unfortunately, even that peace seems suspicious now. All couples at least disagree at some point, its part of life.

I came home after school; dad was in the kitchen with his head in his hands. He told me she was missing. That he looked all day for her. He came in from Brahams and she was gone.

According to the article in front of me, he came in from work, and then left to visit a client's house on the other side of town. Why? He'd been gone for two days due to that breaker. What were they doing over there? I can barely remember. Oh, they replaced the circuitry on the breaker for the Brahams community. They needed to work quickly because the majority of the town did without power for twelve hours.

He would've slept when he came in, wouldn't he? Why did he immediately go to the other side of town without sleeping? He never did that before and didn't do it after. He always went to bed when he came home after those long trips.

I remember within the week, he'd packed up all her things. I remember. He said he would buy her a new wardrobe when they found her because she always wanted one. I don't remember that. I never recall her saying anything about not liking her clothes.

When I came home from school that day, her things were gone. He said he took them to the consignment shop. Why did he do that? Why didn't anyone else notice anything? Wasn't that suspicious enough? Damn it, why does this happen now?

He had no right to do that. She was missing, not dead… or was she dead? Had she died and he already knew? That was it. It had to be. He knew she wouldn't be back. He couldn't stand recalling because he felt guilty. Forgive me, Dad, if I'm wrong. I don't think I am.

The police never returned to the house. They didn't search beyond Ashland's limits. They sent out her photograph and flyers, but who knows who actually saw them? They could've been trashed as soon as they arrived in other areas. Dad didn't participate in the search for her. I remember that. He was always at home. Said I needed to know there was someone at home because I'd been used to having that security with mom.

Those monsters are coming in here, now. You know I've killed 2 lying figures in the resort today. One was in the basement and one was in the lobby. I'm being overrun. The resort isn't as safe as I'd thought… or hoped. How do they get in here? They don't have any friggin' arms, they can't open latches or turn knobs.

I also encountered another creature. I just caught a flash of him or it. It's massive. I can't fight it, not even with a shotgun. He's huge, has a metal plate partially covering his face, and a strange, filthy apron. He carries the big cleaver I saw in Neely's. I think he's about three feet taller than I am. I just caught a flash of him walking into the kitchen. I ran the other way. After an hour or so, I checked the kitchen and he was gone. Thank God. I don't know what it is, but I don't want to meet it.

I went to the Reading Room for a while. I found several books on the strange rituals of the indigenous populations at Silent Hill. No thanks. I'm seeing enough bizarre oddities without having that added to my brain. Whatever they did is their business and I believe, without doubt, they were successful in something. I don't know if they meant to make the town like it is, but they succeeded. I, for one, don't intend on staying any longer than I have to.

I found a brochure for The Lakeview Resort that said it was allegedly haunted. I hate to admit it, but I laughed for a while. I couldn't help it. I think that is the most understated tourist paraphernalia I have ever read. Maybe they would be better off by just admitting that this place is Purgatory. It's Purgatory and we're all dead. Or crazy. Maybe even both.

I've had "313" on my brain, from the post discussing the Little Baroness. I checked at the reading area, but still couldn't find anything mentioning March 13th. I don't know if I can ever make sense of it. I considered that, perhaps, that was the day the ship sank and fell to its watery grave.

It was around this time that I had a vision. Actually, I've never experienced one before, so I'm not sure if it's a vision or not. It's not like I can call anyone to ask them. I saw my mother and father together. They were fighting. I can't remember them even arguing, but I saw this as plain as this notepad. They were physically fighting. My mother kept yelling, "I know what you are." She yelled it three times and ended up screaming it several times. My father was throwing her around, he finally threw her against the wall and she went quiet.

Is my brain inventing things from my childhood? Or worse, did these things really happen? There's no one left to ask. My cell phone died and I don't have my charger. I just thought I was driving a few hours away. I didn't know I'd break down and literally be a world away from my house. A world away and completely lost. Maybe this is Silent Hill, maybe it isn't. It's unlike any place I've ever been.

It worries me. If I can recall this today, what will I recall tomorrow? I don't want to resurrect the dead. I don't want to see my parents fighting or that my father was not who I believed him to be. I guess no kid wants that.

Just a week ago, I was going to work about now. I took up a job with my cousin's construction company when my father never returned. It was a temporary arrangement, just to help me earn some money while waiting to hear from my father. I never dreamed it would come to this. I wonder if I still have a job.

It's funny. A job. What I'd give just to be able to get in my car and go to work. To go anywhere. To leave this hateful place.

If my father was really that horrible, what does that make me? I didn't ask to be born of him. I didn't ask to be his son. Does that mean I'm already condemned to be like him? You know, just a few days ago, I wanted to be just like him. Calm, collected, in control of life, capable of taking the good and bad without even breaking a sweat. Now, I don't even know if I want to remember him.

What did my mother know about him? "I know what you are." I can still hear her so vividly. She was so angry and afraid. I don't know what he was. I don't know what I am. I only know that it's a long way back home and there's no one to tell me how to get back.