a/n: An idea that came to me while replaying Silent Hill 2. Laura interacting with PH like he's the local janitor or ward in Brookhaven Hospital amuses me greatly.
Before Mary got sick enough to come home from the hospital, she'd sit with Laura during freetimes and watch her draw. They'd sing Ring Around the Rosie until Mary had another wet coughing fit and Laura would move her paper out of range of the flecks of spit and blood, darker under halogen lights.
The nurses would complain about what a bitch Mary was during their smoke breaks. That husband of hers had a thankless week ahead of him, but there was nothing that could be helped. Laura had nothing better to do but listen. Mary's letter to James, wrinkled where Laura kept it stuffed in the pocket of her dress, was smudged a little but otherwise clean. Aside from her clothes it was the only item she got to keep when she was transferred over to Silent Hill, Brookhaven Hospital.
Tourist season was over for the year. The only people around were the staff and the warden and a few patients who Laura never saw or spoke to at length. Nobody seemed to care whether or not she ran away, but she kept coming back to the town no matter how far she walked.
Most days, Laura had the whole town to herself. She bummed some chalk from one of the supply rooms and could draw as long as she liked without being scolded or smacked upside the head. In the alley by the apartments was a wall perfect for her scheme. She drew a crude cat as tall as she was, then added a bear as a companion. Cats were her favorite animal aside from bears. Tough, able to take care of themselves, but also cute.
The old air siren went off. Laura kept drawing.
Too soon, the warden's heavy bootsteps echoed off the alley walls. His usual foul smell masked under a heavy stench of disenfectant. This time, she caught a whiff of sulfur.
Laura sneered. "What's the big deal? I go out on my own all the time. Nobody comes around here anyway."
His grimy, gloved hand outstretched. If she fessed up she wouldn't have anymore chalk. But lying to the disinterested staff and lying to the warden were two different situations.
"All right. You can have it back, OK? Just as long as you don't tell on me."
She put the chalk into his palm and squared her shoulders. The warden closed his fist and opened it again. Like he had never held a piece of chalk before. He leant down in front of the alley wall and started to scribble. Rough strokes wore the chalk down to a nub.
"That was all the chalk I had!" she groused.
The warden emitted a low groan. Like a whale, adrift at sea. Laura had never seen his face, even when she looked up at where a face should be. He was nonsensically tall. Despite her gut instinct to get as far from him as possible, he'd yet to lay a hand on her or raise his voice. She couldn't picture what he got up to when he wasn't working, or if he had a name or could even speak. Straightening up, the warden lumbered down the street as if they'd never interacted.
Scowling, Laura looked back at the wall. A portrait of himself joined her cat. His art skills were comperable to hers.
There was a pack of chalk in the supply closet. Next time she'd bring enough to share.