Okay, so I know this has taken forever ^^;

But I am still working, so please don't give up on me guys.

I don't get a lot of type to actually type, but I'm working as much and as quickly as I can, so just hang in there, okay? You guys are awesome and I don't want to let you down, so just be patient please.

Anyway, I hope you like the chapter. རྫ

Arwyn kicked and shoved and flailed within the beast's grasp, but no matter his struggles it held him easily in place.

"Where are you taking me?!"

It didn't speak, just kept on going.

"Answer me, goddammit!"

Once again, nothing.

The English man wisely decided to save his breath. Instead, he watched his surroundings: hallway after miserable hallway. The kept going down, down, down…

He tried to stay awake…

But he was tired…

Arwyn woke to the sound of chains. Green orbs shot open, terror filling them as he realized his feet were not touching the ground. He shifted his arms and felt the cool metal of shackles around his wrists. There was no one and nothing but emptiness in front of him and that doubled his level of desperation. Every time he tugged, the chains rattled and there was otherwise no give.

His legs were spread as his arms were and shackled at the ankles, leaving his body suspended in an X shape. The second his lips parted to shout, a large hand gripped a handful of his hair, pulling his head back roughly. He felt the metal of the helmet against his face and knew exactly who, or rather what, was there. The second hand clamped over his mouth to muffle his initial scream, then trailed down his neck. The large fingers traced down the center of his torso, stopping momentarily to flick beneath the brim of his pants, the button popping off and skittering across the floor.

Arwyn gasped uncomfortably, eyes even wider than before, "Wh-what are you doing?!"

Of course he didn't expect him to answer, the creature never talked. It was understandable given the helmet…

He pulled back suddenly, tearing the clothes right off of Arwyn's body in one mighty swoop. As the gun hit the floor, Pyramid Head picked it up to find a more acceptable use for it. He pressed the cold metal against the English man's face, running it along his jaw and slowly but forcefully sliding it in between his slightly parted lips. Arwyn gagged at the sudden intrusion, shaking fearfully as he immediately thought he'd be shot. He prayed the safety would stay on. He had no choice but to do what the creature wanted. If he dared disobey, there was no telling what would happen to him.

The helmeted man moved the thin barrel of the revolver back and forth within the other's orifice and Arwyn struggled to keep up. He moved his head in sync with the gun to keep it from going too deep, craning his neck at times to reach. By the time it was removed, which was many minutes later, it was dripping with saliva. A small string hung off of Arwyn's lower lip, connected to the tip of the gun's barrel.

Arwyn watched the gun slowly disappear behind him and felt the sweat beginning to form on his forehead. Suddenly he felt the barrel proding at his rear and his body immediately tensed. He tried to say something, to scream, but he couldn't even manage a few simple words. He was in a state of complete paralysis. The man let out a pained gasp as he felt it start to go in. Pyramid Head forced it in slowly just to the point where barrel meets trigger. He held his breath, body shaking as the gun began a back and forth motion. It was pulled back until the barrel was barely inside, then jammed back in again. Horrified tears rolled quickly down his cheeks, accompanied by no more than pathetic whimpers.

The in and out continued, faster and harder each time. The other's noises were low and deep but it was clear to Arwyn that they were pleased sounds, sounds which deeply disturbed him. His breath came in quick, pained gasps, with the occasional whimper, "Wh-why?" He could no longer hold back his sobs, though they came almost silently.

Pyramid Head's hand, the one which was not ravaging him with the revolver, clamped over his mouth to keep him quiet. Arwyn held his breath as the gun was slowly pulled out of him. He hoped it was over yet knew it was not. The second this hope crossed his mind, he felt the other's large member against his rump. He cried out in pain and surprise as the other entered him inch by inch. Pain shot through his body with the first few thrusts but as they continued it faded to an intense throbbing pain. The thrusts were slow but powerful and the chains around him rattled with each one. Terror filled the young man's hear, an absolute fear that he had never felt before. He begged him to stop but the other's motions only grew faster. The young man could feel the blood begin to drip down the backs of his legs.

The helmeted man's member tore brutally through the other's tissue. His pace was steady but disturbingly quick. At the same time, Arwyn could feel the large man's hands on him: one on his chest, a finger running roughly over his nipple, and the other gripping his member in his hand. If this were any other situation it would have been quite enjoyable but given the circumstance that was hardly the case. This man, this thing, could end him at any moment, and the very possibility of that disturbed him deeply.

He felt the other stroking him and the feeling made his whole body shiver. It was not in a pleasant way. After what felt like hours of endless torture, at least in Arwyn's mind, he felt the other's seed fill him beyond capacity, mixing with the blood which colored his thighs. His body shook painfully but the other held him in place, forcing him to take it all in whether he liked it or not. He felt it throb inside him and it sent a shooting pain through his body. At last Pyramid Head pulled out from Arwyn's mutilated backside, quickly adjusting his apron to once again cover himself. He took pause behind the man for some time before loosening the chains, watching the man slump to the floor uselessly, body wracked with sobs. He left Arwyn there, alone and in the dark, disappearing into the void which was Silent Hill.

Arwyn could feel nothing but pain, his sobs continuing out of sheer terror. Yes, the thing was gone, but what would come next for him was a mystery, one which he did not wish to uncover. His body shook just slightly and he could scarcely keep himself awake. His abused body was slipping quickly into exhaustion…

When he awoke next, he was beside a once grand fountain, now crumbling and broken. The majority of the large stone piece was reduced to rubble. As he glanced at it in the brief flash that his vision allowed him, he was deeply confused. How could he be here, this was certainly not where he had lost consciousness. That meant that someone had moved him. The thought of that monster touching him made him feel ill. What had happened was already far too much, and he never wanted to see it again.

He brought himself to a standing position, leaning on a large block of stone for support. Looking around in his haze, he slowly took in his surroundings. There was grass: browning, dying grass, a drop of in the land which formed a small cliff –one that he could easily climb –and…graves. There were tombstones everywhere, in small yards on the upper level. He was in a cemetery. The very thought of that disturbed him but before he had the chance to act on it, he saw a boy.

The boy was standing at the edge of that cliff, staring down at him. He could feel the child's eyes on him, staring through his body and into the innermost pieces of his soul. This unrelenting stare made him feel isolated, exposed. While this boy was certainly an eerie sight, especially given the familiarity that lingered about him, his actual appearance was not frightening in the slightest. He had a head of soft brown curls, fair and freckled cheeks, and innocent green eyes. Arwyn felt that he should know this boy, yet could not place his finger upon his name.

As the boy finally turned from him, he saw the back of his head and that was when he recognized him. He gave in instantly to the compelling urge to follow him. He moved as quickly as he could, going across the yard and climbing up the low hanging cliff. He saw the boy turn the corner, entering a gate on the wall there. He didn't see the gate but rather heard the creaking of its rusting metal hinges.

Atop one of the graves was a gun –Arwyn's gun –which the man reached for at the recognition of its appearance. He then made for the gate, but the second his hand gripped the handle, there was a noise behind him. Something was running. As he turned he saw it coming. It was –or, at least used to be –a dog, easily half his height on all fours. The canine looked as though the skin had been flipped inside out , a shiny mass of crimson coating the body's exterior. He could see the curves of its ribs within the 'skin' as well; It was thin, but large nonetheless. The thing bared its teeth at him, a feral growl escaping its jowls. It lurched at Arwyn, but at the same time he raised his gun, which was already in hand, and fired into its chest.

He watched the thing fall to the ground in silence, feeling the chill of the air against his skin. The breeze exemplified the fact that he was quite naked. His clothes had been previously torn to shreds by the helmeted man, and it left him shivering on this morning. To his right was what he found to be a sight even more disturbing than the boy: a fenced in area containing a patch of freshly dug graves. There were two, and it immediately made him think of himself…and Alex. He had to find him and quick.

Trying his hardest to push that sight from his mind, Arwyn continued on his way, slipping through an archway across from the gated area and down a short flight of stairs. The sights here got no better. The path was long and narrow, lined on either side with rows of drawer tombs easily twelve feet tall. Most of them were unmarked, he noted, and the very sight of them made him cringe. Shivering again as a gust of wind came through, Arwyn realized that though he lacked his clothes he still had his shoes on. The tennis shoes looked quite ridiculous without anything else to accompany them, but that was beside the point. He needed to stop letting himself get distracted and focus on the situation at hand.

He pushed forward, heading through a second archway which entered a small room with a large crypt on either side. This led through another archway and into a small circular area with more crypts arranged around the outer edge. There were two more similar to this before he ended up in a small courtyard. There was a stone bench with a metal arc over it on the wall furthers from him. Beside it was an opening which he went through to make his exit. It was a thin corridor of sorts, and it left him at the end only one option: left. So he turned in that direction, stepping on the metal grates beneath him and flinched at first at the clanging sound below. The touch of the fenced gate when he pushed through it made him shiver. He realized just how cold his body had become then, and he thanked God that he had made it through that cemetery and found a street. By the looks of the decrepit street there wouldn't be people anymore, but there would at least be houses left behind. The lamppost halfway down was leaning to nearly the opposite side of the street, and Arwyn decided it would be best to duck into the gate that came before it. He didn't want to risk it falling on him. So he entered the creaking wooded gate and came upon someone's backyard. There was a child's playground in the corner –a slide, two swings –and a tree house in the other. Then there was the house, a staircase just in front and off to one side that probably led to the basement. That would be his way in. it was just in case there turned out to be people inside, not that he thought there would be, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Arwyn made his way carefully down the steps, opening up the door. The first thing he noticed was the electric pump which must have been used for removing water as there was still a bit of it on the floor. He looked for the stairs up, spotting them off to the left and making his way there. The house was on the chilly side, but it was much warmer then outside and he was glad for that at least.

The door at the top of the stairs was ajar, which made the man nervous. Regardless, the need for clothing overpowered his fear. Besides, it wasn't as if he was unarmed. He entered into what he assumed to be a foyer of some sort. There was a staircase just behind him –it was where the basement door had exited –and up was where the bedrooms were in a typical house, so up he went. Off to his right was a bedroom which, he realized upon entering, must have belonged to and older woman –a mother perhaps –due to the flowery, dated bedspread. At least that was his assumption. There was nothing in particular of note, though as he approached the dresser to look for something to cover himself, he saw a note lying atop it. It was written to a man named Adam –so it must have been a couple then –and it read:

Adam, I know that you will soon return to me, but I miss you dearly and writing to you always calms my nerves. Everything here is the same, but with you gone, the house is so empty...

It was a sad thing, that was for sure, and it made Arwyn wonder what had happened to the people who had lived here. Brushing the thought from his mind, he opened up a drawer in front of him: men's clothes, thank God. He plucked out a shirt and pants, ignoring the guilty feeling of taking a dead man's things. Arwyn slipped the articles on, grateful for their immediate warmth. Was there any other immediate need? No, none that he could think of.

Heading back downstairs after swiping a jacket, he searched for anything else of use. The main area of the downstairs was empty but Arwyn peeked into the open doorway near the front. It was a living room, a family room. To his surprise, and horror, there was someone inside. She was an older woman, a mess of brown hair tied back in a loose bun, dark green dress soaked in water and dripping to the ground ever so slowly. She wore a brown sweater over top of her dress, sitting in a rocking chair and staring blankly into the window. She didn't even move as the floor creaked beneath his feet. The poor woman, Arwyn thought, alive but catatonic. Something terrible must have happened to her. He felt the urge to speak to her, but also feared wrath for invading her home. Though, if she truly was as he thought, a bit of inquiry wouldn't make a lick of difference. She wouldn't say anything of substance.

There he was getting distracted again. He needed to go. Alex was more important, no matter how much he wanted to know this woman's story. It wasn't as if he could help anyway…

He turned back, hurrying in silence back to the foyer. Opening the front door with no more than a soft click, he stepped outside once again. Aimlessly wandering the streets for some time, Arwyn eventually stumbled upon something. From a distance it appeared as just a pile of rags, blood soaked scraps of fabric, but as he drew closer he could better make out its features: a human figure, a woman, blonde hair. She was not in good shape. Her body was only roughed up to an extent, clearly able to be recognized as a female. The head, on the other hand, was unrecognizable. Something sizable must have bashed it in by the looks of it: it was a mangled, bloody mess of flesh and bone and perhaps even brain tissue. If not for the scraps of crimson stained blonde hair, Arwyn would not have seen it as a head at all. What on Earth had happened to this poor girl?

Before he had proper time to think, the sound of white noise intruded into his thoughts. He looked around frantically; where was that coming from? The man searched quickly yet thoroughly, and found the source to be a small radio which was clutched in the hand of the dead girl. Hesitantly, he approached. Arwyn knew just how to do this: he curled his slender fingers beneath the very tips of hers, prying them back and ignoring the pops and snaps as he did so. He then took the radio from her open palm.

As soon as it was in his hand, he heard the thing coming. He heard its heavy footsteps thumping against the ground and as he turned he caught sight of it. A glimpse was all he needed. There was a set of arms bound together by some thick cord shooting out and hanging from the forehead, a massive chest and shot, awkwardly bent legs. Massive growths had formed from the muscular biceps of its actual arms, devouring whatever had once been the location of hands and forearms and making huge, rounded triangular blocks which it rested most of its weight upon. A set of thinner, more feminine legs came out from the creature's back, dangling in the air as it moved slowly towards him. He turned and faced the thing, aiming his gun and firing as it several times. This went on for some time before he heard that dreadful click. Out of ammunition.

Arwyn tucked the radio into his jacket pocket and sprinted away. He ignored the burning pain in his legs which this caused; he would rather be in intense pain than dead by this thing. As he ran, he realized this must have been what killed the girl.

Before long he'd reached a police station, or rather the back parking lot of one, and put a good distance between himself and the creature. He pulled the radio frantically out of his pocket and held the button down, "I-is someone there? I need help..."

He swallowed, waiting desperately for an answer.

"Arwyn? Where are you?"

The man could have sworn his heart stopped, "Alex..."