Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's happening again, it has to. How many times had this night played out?

There he was, behind the wheel of his trusty Jeep. His daughter, Cheryl, was sleeping in the passenger seat. Completely tuckered out from the coloring and boredom of the half-a-day long drive to the resort town of Silent Hill. Her snoring was audible to those who could pick it apart from the Jeep’s whirling engine which butchered the quiet of the night. They were almost there. Perhaps just another 10 to 15 minutes at most.

A cop passed them by on their Motorcycle which coughed and roared through its exhaust pipe. The officer turned to look toward the only person on the road this late beside themselves. They put their attention on the road again and sped off. Harry looked forward to getting to town, it was about time that he and Cheryl had a little time to unwind and enjoy each other's company. Cheryl had just gotten off on summer break and Harry had finished his novel “The Criminal’s Mask”. While Harry intended to venture to the resort town alone, Cheryl was adamant that she tag along. Who could say no to their little angel? 

Harry proceeded to get lost in thought while on the road a bit but then he spotted the motorcycle that had just passed them by. Its frame was laid clumsily across the road as if it was ditched. The officer was nowhere to be found. Harry thought it weird. There was no sudden noise or telltale sign that there had been an accident. It's just as if the officer had just gone *poof* 

Harry returned his attention to the road. His blood ran cold from the sudden sight of a bystander on the road, right in front of his car, he was about to collide with them. In a desperate attempt to avoid the person, Harry swerved his car to the left so that he'd hopefully go around the stranger. 

Unfortunately, he lost control of the vehicle and it drove right through the guardrails. The jeep was plunged through wooded hills until it busted through a chain-linked fence and crashed into a light post. 

Harry awoke, his vehicle shrouded by dense and moist fog which blanketed the town he was in. He'd made it to Silent Hill but not exactly the way he hoped. He turned toward the passenger seat and saw that his daughter wasn't there. In fact, she was nowhere nearby. With panic mounting but determination following closely. Harry arose from the wreckage; the car was a crushed tin can, he was lucky to even be alive. His well-being didn't matter in the moment, he was going to find his daughter, he had to. 

The rest played out as it always did. Harry would walk up a stretch of a road and spot Cheryl. She'd run off and seemingly vanish within’ the fog. 

“Daddy! Daddy! Come on, catch me!” would echo throughout the town.

Trailing her path, Harry would be led into a system of alleyways. Night would fall before Harry even had the capacity to tell that it was snowing. Snowing; in the middle of summer. 

He would press on, a lit match being his only light source. The alleyways became more grimy and desolate. Gruesome. Entrails lining the fences, piles of gore on stretchers, blood becoming the surrounding wall’s fresh new coat of paint. Harry stopped when he came across a splayed body-…corpse…hung about like a puppet on the fence. Fear was beginning to take hold and then…laughter. Small, gray-skinned, child-like monsters would emerge from the darkness and ambush Harry. He would try and make a break for the way he came but the group of monsters would overwhelm Harry. He'd succumb to the wounds he was inflicted and seemingly die. 

Harry would then wake up, but not in the 5to2 cafe. He'd wake up caked in cold sweat, in his king size mattress, in his room, in his home in the town of Ashfield. His body jolted sharply from enduring those night terrors. 

Tonight was another repetition in the circle. 

The nightmare should have been over. It had been months since Harry escaped from the concrete abyss of despair that called itself Silent Hill. Yet, without warning and without mercy, the town would perversely invade his mind, its rotten fingers picking at Harry's brain as he slept.

It was sometime around the middle of the night as Harry carefully rose from his bed and made his way to the crib that was at the foot of it. Peering over to look at the result of awry vacation to Silent Hill. His failure. 

The baby slept soundly, surrounded by little pillows and covered with a blanket. He's surprised he still kept the aged wooden crib. Harry slowly put his curled finger on the cheek of the sleeping child. The baby smiled in its sleep, comforted by what it thought was its father's presence. Harry hated when Heather did that. He turned away from her after that and sat in the corner of the bed. 

“Heather…” Harry slowly whispered.

Harry pondered on that name, he usually did from night to night. When Jodie and him had found Cheryl abandoned on the road, they spent two restless evenings deciding on a name for the baby. In Harry's corner was “Cheryl” and in Jodie’s she'd pick ”Heather”. After a lot of deliberation, persuasion…and maybe a nice dinner, Harry would have his way. The baby would be named Cheryl. Their precious little angel sent down by God himself. It was a miracle! 

But God only allowed so many. Jodie and Harry had gotten lucky and they knew it. Jodie had been overcome by a terminal condition and she wasn't getting any better. With her health declining as well as their chance to have a family of their own. They took the deserted baby in and loved her every day, as much as their hearts could. 

But now that baby is gone, taken away. He can still hear her laughter and tussle in the house if he's quiet enough. Oh so very quiet.

Harry decided to lie back in his bed and turn to face the other side of it. Her side. He placed his open hand on the empty space and began to rub it. Up and down, back and forth; it was all a vain attempt to replicate the warmth of another. Jodie had passed years ago. Harry knew that, but the scar had been reopened, oozing sorrow. 

He can't forget it, holding his ailing wife's hand as she faded from this world. Having to lay her to rest. Having to go on without her. Cheryl was his only reason to come home most days. 

The short session of reminiscing had tired Harry's mind. He would want so badly to go to sleep, but sleep meant he'd be back in that town. Hear the things they said. Relive what he did and what he didn't do. It was mind-breaking to bear. But it was only a matter of time anyway. Harry would unknowingly doze off and have his mind taken by Silent Hill. All he could do was just delay the inevitable. Continue to wage a losing battle. So, there he lay. 

A star’s golden light broke through the cracks of the curtains covering the window. Dawn had broken and with it night retreated into its temporary holding cell. There lay Harry in his bed, bedsheets sloppy all over the bed from the tossing and turning of hours long gone. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since he awoke in the middle of the night. 

He was exhausted, eyes burning like coals and the sweat and grime had given his nightwear a distinctive stench. Despite it all, he'd won the night. For now. That he knew. A rustle and yawn had come from the foot of his bed, in the crib. Heather had woken up from a restful sleep no doubt. Harry envied her. 

The bed frame creaked as Harry sat up and attempted to commit to his morning routine. Brush his teeth, shower, get dressed, and make breakfast for Heather and him. It's all things he's done countless times before, but it would be better if he wasn't so tired. It took some time to get it all done. 

After all of it was through, Harry thought of what to do today. Of course! How could he forget, he needed to head to the supermarket to get more formula and baby products for Heather. He'd have to go for some eventually, he was running low. 

Harry didn't really leave the house at all anymore, he'd only go out when food was scarce, to get more formula, and low on other essentials. Basically, only when he needed to. 

On the certain occasions he did venture out into the real world his neighbors would try to strike up conversations with him. Either that or just stare. Like they just witnessed Bigfoot head off for work. Harry could feel the suspicion in their glances. He couldn't blame them. Harry always gave short and good enough responses to each question.

“How are you doing today Harry?” They'd say. 

“Good.” Harry would reply 

“My kids haven't seen Cheryl as of late. They're worried about her. Is she okay?” they'd ask. 

“She’s staying with her grandmother.” he'd say 

The dam would surely break one day. It was only a matter of time. Cracks were starting to form. 

Cheryl's babysitter, Jacqueline, daughter of one of the families down the street had already started getting on Harry's case. She'd made it a habit to press Harry on her whereabouts whenever she saw him out of his house. Each excuse being the whitest lie in history. 

With all morning chores done and Harry already dressed; it was time to venture to the grocery store. Harry stood in the doorway leading outside, he realized he'd forgotten to bring Heather along. Harry sighed and re-entered his home to get Heather for the trip. 

Luckily there was no one outside, he wouldn't get heckled today, but he kept looking around him. Maybe someone was keeping tabs on Harry. He had to be sure. 

After the accident that landed him in Silent Hill and totaled his Jeep, Harry began paying off used four door sedan vehicle. A Japanese import that started to fill the streets year over year. Harry was relying on the success of his latest novel “The Criminal’s Mask” to put food on the table. Sooner or later he was going to have to come up with something or dig through his reject pile. Money was level for now but it didn't hurt to be conservative in what he bought.

He opened the rear passenger-side door and placed the carry cot that housed Heather in the middle of the rear seats. Harry got in the driver's seat, turned the ignition, and off they were on their perilous journey to get baby food. 

Out on the streets the drive to the local supermarket wasn't making itself out to be a long one. Traffic was decent today. Harry had the radio playing and while he wasn't much of a fan of recent pop, the song playing wasn't so bad, it could stay on, It was a hot single currently on the charts. The snappy drums and wavy melody made it stand out. 

“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies!” came from the car speakers. With windows down and fresh air flowing throughout the car, Harry was looking forward to today. Then came some clapping and skittish laughter from the back. It seems Heather was a fan of the song too. 

Harry took a glance at the rearview mirror to check in on a very much entertained Heather. God, She looked so much like his little angel. The dimples she bears when she smiles, her dark hair that's barely coming out, and her laugh. Whenever she looks at Harry she-

Harry didn't want to continue that thought. It hurts to even look at Heather sometimes. All Harry sees is his little angel, the one sent down from God to bless Jodie and him. The little angel he couldn't save. Didn't save. Heather is just a spitting image. Harry continued his drive with a slight frown and drained enthusiasm. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. Regardless, he carried on. 

“If I could turn the page in time then I'd rearrange just a day or two.” continued from the radio

Harry had arrived at the supermarket with Heather. It was a typical business day, not too packed but just enough to not be barren. 

Harry was pushing along his shopping cart with the carry cot housing Heather planted just above the main lower basket of the cart. She was roughly playing with a toy Harry had left in his car some time ago. She was practically just waving it around. Eh, anything to keep her busy. Guess forgetfulness can come in handy sometimes. 

All of the patrons roaming around, the noises of registers opening and closing, Crunching plastic, mildly loud gossip and conversation, and heft varied footsteps littered the store. Everybody was in their own little world, uncaring for anything going on outside of it, honestly for Harry that's why he liked the store now. It was a relief to just exist and not bother anybody for once. No one to give those looks full of suspicion or judgment. No former babysitter to constantly nag him. In here no one knew him. He could just be a man and his dau-....he could just be a man and his child going on a shopping run. 

And that's just what he needed. 

Harry had swerved past oncoming shoppers to make his way to the baby aisle. There he began to stock up on formula, jarred baby food making sure to take special notice of the kinds that Heather didn't spit out during dinner time. Diapers, wet naps, and some lotion in that ever-soft and ever-pink bottle. 

With each item he grabbed off the shelf Harry could feel 10 pounds being added to his eyelids and his feet becoming shackled by a ball and chain. The night before was catching up to him. 

It took him seemingly forever but Harry had reached the restrooms. Thankfully they were single person rooms so he could take the time he needed unbothered until someone would eventually hound him with a shout and repeating bangs on the door. 

Heather had beat Harry to the punch as she was already napping in her cot with her shaker toy in hand. Harry walked to the sink in the corner of the restroom and turned on the faucet to cold water. He cupped a generous amount and then splashed his face and let it soak his skin like sponge cake. All to hopefully get shocked by the temperature enough to stay awake. 

Harry raised his head to meet his eyes looking back at him thanks to the scratched up and unkempt mirror. When had he gotten such heavy eye bags? They were much darker then last time he checked. His eyes were constantly shaking from the pressure of trying to focus on anything. Had to be from the lack of sleep. 

He retreated from the sink to return to the cart that housed Heather. Harry took a good look at her. 

“Who are you, Heather?” A familiar question Harry found himself asking more-often than not. After finding out that Cheryl was half of Alessa Gillespie’s soul made flesh as a newborn. When Cheryl made it to Silent Hill she was assimilated into Alessa, making her whole again with new found strength. She would go throughout a Silent Hill that had been consumed in her nightmare and try to seal it off. Choke it out by refusing to give it more fuel. But thanks to Harry she would fail at this task and be taken by her mother, Dahlia, to reattempt the sacred ritual to birth The Order’s God. 

Harry would eventually reach the Gillespie house and traverse into its basement to confront Dahlia. The ritual would have been completed successfully if not for Dr.Kaufman making his grand entrance by putting a round through Dahlia's stomach. Dahlia continued to play the victor until Kaufman flashed a pristine bottle of Aglaophotis and chucked it at Alessa who was adorning a white gown. 

The liquid spilled over her. There was silence. Then deafening screaming and bone crunching and little by little, piece by piece the Order's God freed itself from its mortal host. The newborn god howled into the worldly abyss, telling all of its existence. An existence that was short lived as soon the god writhed and dropped to the metal floor below. It had died thanks to Alessa’s subconscious resistance and a lot of lead. 

The false god had perished and in its deathly wake and Alessa returned. The poor girl was dying, as was the world around her. The sky was falling and hell was boiling over. In her final moments she conjured one last miracle. A baby. Harry stood in her radiant glow with awe and sorrow. Alessa handed the baby to Harry and he just took it and ran off, escaping the hell that was Silent Hill at last. Perhaps in that moment when Alessa handed the baby over to Harry he had made a subconscious promise to her to watch over the newborn. 

A promise he wasn't sure he wanted to keep anymore. 

A baby from thin air? That's absurd…yet despite that, there she sat, asleep in her cot. Who could she be? Cheryl was made from a part of Alessa's soul….perhaps Heather was the same way? Did that fragment of Alessa still reside in Heather? Is she her own person? Was Cheryl? Alessa…that girl who stole Cheryl away from him. Now she gets to start again while Harry's left to sift through the ashes of his world. 

How dare she… 

Harry dropped his head and sighed, letting his shoulders fall. He walked back to the cart to lay his head on the handle. The water hadn't worked as he'd hoped. Resting his head on his elbow, he would close his eyes attempting to get some semblance of a power nap. The person in line for the restroom would just have to wait a little while longer. 

Harry opened his eyes and awoke back in the dingy but clean enough public restroom that belonged to the local supermarket. Both the cart and Heather were as he left them. It's a surprise nobody has come in here to force him out. How long had it been? There was a molasses-like quality to his speed but Harry figured he just needed to move it off. He grabbed the cart, opened the door, and made his way out of the restroom at last entirely expecting a frustrated and irritated shopper to blow a gasket at him. 

But there was no one. 

Come to think of it. There was no one. The store had fallen eerily quiet. No peddling shoppers, chimes and beeps from registers, or anything playing on the intercom. Not even the c-tier jazz that usually played would lend its ominous presence. 

“Odd…” the words just seem to blurt from Harry's mouth, said with no real care. 

Harry continued to roam the store and confirmed that there really was nobody. He also managed to peak outside through the glass of the main entrance. It was a moonless night with only the street lamps providing any light. The parking lots were barren with only Harry's sedan remaining where he parked it when he arrived. 

“There's no way we slept that long…right?” He looked towards Heather who was still fast asleep. He had forgotten how much newborns slept. 

The door wouldn't open on its own thanks to being locked up by the staff, likely due to their lockup routine. But how did no one find the man and child sleeping in the restroom? Somebody must've gotten lazy. 

The lights should've been turned off as part of procedure but Harry wasn't complaining. He'd have to find a way out that didn't include busting through glass and having to pay a fine. He was sure there were cameras capturing every inch of the supermarket. 

Maybe there was a key in an office somebody forgot to lock the door to? Or maybe he was stuck here for the night. It's still being processed in his mind how ridiculous the situation is. But he's the idiot for sleeping the day away in a restroom. 

*Tap tap tap tap…*

Footsteps echoed behind Harry while being accompanied by a giggle.

“Te-he, hahaha!” More rapid footsteps followed, they were moving around the backside of the store. Harry let go of the shopping cart he'd been pushing everywhere and went to investigate. 

“Who's there!? Show yourself!” Harry's tone was stern and confident, he had to be. His heart was picking up speed. He cautiously made his way towards the back half of the store. 

“Daddy come on, play with me! Hehehe!” Harry froze in place, he could tell by the giggles that the thing producing the noise could've been a child but since it spoke- It sounded like a little girl. His little girl. 

“Cheryl?!” Harry almost screamed, his heart nearly bursting through his chest by now. There was simply no way it could be her, right? 

“Come on daddy! Catch me!” Her voice moved again to the right side of the store followed by more sharp footsteps and laughter. 

Harry ran toward the source of the noise. He bolted so fast he could've been signed to an Olympic team. He pierced through the aisles and when he reached the other side he twisted his head frantically left and right trying so hard not to lose track of who could've been Cheryl. 

Harry saw a head peeking out at him from an aisle to his right. He looked back stricken with dumbfounded awe. The head came out of the aisle to reveal its full form. It was a little girl. It was Cheryl. 

“Hehe-haha! Catch me if you can papa!” Cheryl turned away from Harry and began running to the very last aisle of the store. 

“C-Cheryl! Don't go! Wait!” Harry hadn't noticed his eyesight going blind with tears, tears that began pouring out and running down his cheeks. Could the mere sight of Cheryl be enough for his heart to split in two? Harry began to give chase. So many nights wondering if he was just a little bit faster, now, he put his entire being into chasing the radiant angel. 

Harry didn't recall the store being so long, no matter how much he pushed himself, he could shorten the distance between Cheryl and him but never close the gap. She was just out of reach. The store seemed to go on forever. 

“Cheryl!! Wait!!” Harry was choking on his heart. He couldn't do it…

“Haha, you're too slow!” Cheryl mocked while she was impossibly ahead. She then sharply veered right and entered a random aisle. 

Exhausted and running too fast to sensibly stop, Harry's legs gave out and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping in-between words for air, dryly sobbing. 

“No!…Cheryl…come back…please…” The tears flowed without restriction, creating a pool below his face. The disappointment was like being prodded while on anesthetics. 

Harry rose from the floor and made his way toward the aisle that he last saw Cheryl enter. He kept hearing her giggling, it was seemingly everywhere. Mocking him. He had made it toward the aisle somehow managing to gather himself. Turning the corner he saw something on the end of the aisle. Another person. The giggling ceased. 

“You.” there was venom in Harry's words, anger distilling from his tongue. 

The figure wore a purple school uniform that went over a white shirt with an obnoxiously large collar along with black slip-ons. 

“Is all of this just some game of yours?” Harry began to make his way toward the girl. Toward Alessa. 

“Haunting my dreams and robbing me of the peace I had!” Harry persisted, Alessa turned to face him but stayed silent. 

“You took everything from me! But I'm talking like it matters to you…now I'm stuck raising your third chance!” Harry continued to close the gap quickening his step, the aisle felt like a mile but he could make it if he kept going. Alessa kept quiet, silently gazing at the oncoming widower. 

“Why couldn't you just die?! It would've been better for everyone! Cheryl would still be here if it wasn't for you!” Harry had finally gotten within meters of Alessa and was going to let her have it. Months of relentless night terrors and pent up anger had led to this. Just as he was about to do so, a terrible piercing noise screamed to life in the store. The intercom system has been turned on and continued to produce the ear-ringing hiss. Harry was stunned, immediately putting his hands over his ears and falling to his knees. The noise was enough to immediately induce a migraine. 

Alessa remained quiet, looking down at Harry. 

*Screeeech* 

“Attention shopper! We are so sorry to inform you that we are in fact closed! Please make your way toward the nearest register to check out your items in a timely manner, then please proceed to the nearest exit. Don't worry, if you couldn't finish your shopping tonight then there's always tomorrow to join the hundreds of wonderful shoppers who come by! Thank you for shopping at N-Star Supermarket! Goodnight!” 

A infomercial caliber male voice rung throughout the store, formally telling all of the stores closure for the night and to get the hell out. After the man gave his speech, chimes and bells and general sounds that could pass off as music started to play. 

Harry, still reeling from the migraine and ringing in his ears, just couldn't take it anymore and fell flat on the ground. The music on the intercom slowly deteriorated into laughter and later incessant banging. Harry’s eyes began to close on their own, his last sights being Alessa turning her back on him and walking off, fading away slowly. The banging persisted. 

“HEY! How much longer are you going to take!?” An irritated voice shouted

Harry's eyes opened slowly and his gaze met the floor where a few puddles had formed below him. His eyelids still weighed metric tons. Groggy would be the understatement of the decade. 

“HEY!! I know you're still in there you dope fiend!” 

*Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang* 

The person on the other side was definitely on their last straw of patience. Harry had to jumpstart himself to muster the strength to walk a few feet. 

Harry fought back against the heavy malaise rampaging through his body. In doing so, he was brought back in the moment and took a glance at his hands; they were inside the carry cot that housed Heather.

They were loosely wrapped around the infant's tiny little throat...ready to constrict. 

Harry frantically stepped away from both the cot and the cart. He was struck with a myriad of emotions. Anger and shame stuck out the most. He tried to deny the action he was just about to perform, but Harry knew that his mind had wondered here before. Disappointment would rear its head not long after. 

“Uhm uh...just give me a minute…” Harry said to the person outside. 

“Heh! It better be just a minute. And when it's over you better be out of there!” The voice was satisfied for now and went quiet. 

Harry got a few paper towels to wipe his face of any sweat or things of the like and got a hold of the shopping cart and finally made his way out of the restroom. He met a very unpleasant patron on the other side of the door. 

“It's about damn time you get out of there! I nearly shit myself from how long I've been waiting here! What's your deal man?! Bad trip or something?! Like come-on!” The man let his frustrations out even if his remarks were meanspirited, he was just glad that he could now use the restroom. 

“Sorry I guess time flies in there” Harry tried to come up with a passingly humorous remark to lighten the mood.

“The only time 45 minutes feels like five is when I'm on my lunch break. Hah!” The man entered the restroom and locked the door behind him. 

Harry pushed along the cart, making his way toward the checkout lines. He looked all over the store. Patrons a-plenty, many carts being pushed along each aisle, hushed gossip among friends. Ominous c-tier jazz playing softly as the patrons shopped. The beeps and chimes of the registers. As he made it toward the checkout lines Harry sneaked a peek out the window. A bright baby blue sky spotted with clouds and countless cars parked in the parking lots. All was as it was. 

Still, his heart lamented what happened in that hazy dream. Usually he'd be thrown back into Silent Hill, forced to witness events unfold as they had. A passenger in his own body. He hadn't dreamed of any other place in months. Maybe that's why he was willing to put aside the oddities. Maybe that's why he was willing to believe the fantasy. Yet regardless of the location, his failure followed.

Harry had gotten to the registers and checked out his items. Finally he could get back home after all that had transpired. He had only noticed now that Heather hadn't woken up yet. She was breathing, which was good but he was surprised as how much of a heavy sleeper she was. Cheryl would wake up at the drop of a pin. He brushed it aside and made his way outside where in doing so heard a commotion between who was seemingly the store manager and a random employee. 

“Damnit Dombrowski! This is the third time this week you've come in more than an hour late! I don't give fuck about whatever stuff you've got going on outside of here. Your scheduled time is your scheduled time! And I expect you to be here on time, you fat sack of shit! Go get on janitorial duty, it might help you with the weight.” The manager dealt with the repeat offender with a stern and harsh tone. He didn't care if other customers or employees could hear. 

“Yes sir…” the rotund employee managed to barely squeak out before taking a defeated walk of shame toward the supply closet. 

“Yeesh, poor kid.” Harry muttered under his breath in passing. 

Harry would soon reach his car and get everything ready to head home. He turned on the ignition and with a whirl and roar, the car was sprung to life and Harry began their trip back home. 

The day had come and gone without much else happening. Harry got back home with Heather, put away groceries, sifted through the mail, had lunch, watched television, listened to records Jodie and him owned, and kept Heather busy with various small toys. Not to mention changing her, burping her, and the other necessary actions a caregiver should perform. The restrictive monotony was becoming excruciating. Harry was shackled to his home, it was one of the only places where he didn't have to perpetuate a lie. Yet day by day the truth was becoming one not worth living. 

Harry had gotten himself ready for bed; Heather was put in her crib after she passed out in Harry's arms after a few minutes of rocking and listening to a guitar piece playing on the turntable. Heather seemed to fall asleep instantly upon hearing it. Harry was reluctant to close his eyes, sleep was a daily gamble but one he kept making. Maybe tonight will be nothing? Nothing sounded good tonight. However, before Harry could close his eyes his nose was assaulted by a sudden smell. 

It smelled as though something was burning, charred. Harry immediately threw himself out of his bed and darted for the kitchen. No fire was to be seen, the stove was off and Harry tripled checked to make sure. Here, in the kitchen, that burning smell wasn't as pungent as it was in his room. Harry slowly returned to his room, noticing the smell getting worse as he returned. As in the kitchen, there was no blaze of any kind to report; maybe it was some outside smell entering through the bathroom window? Harry couldn't be sure; he closed the door behind him and was too tired to care. 

Harry caught something in the corner of his eye, he turned to look at it and froze. In a corner of his room, beside his closet, was a figure made of night with piercing white beads for pupils. The smell was worse when he looked at it, it had to be coming from it. 

“Who are you?! How did you get into my house?!” Harry shouted at the shrouded figure. He tried to mask frozen fear as standing his ground. 

The figure moved forward just enough to be visible by the beaming moonlight coming through the window. It's skin was charred black, cracked, with red and blue veins highlighting the inside of those cracks. Each step it took saw its skin flake off and fall to the floor. With aid from the moonlight, Harry saw the attire the figure was wearing. Rotten priestess attire. 

“Dahlia?” 

There was no response. 

“Dahlia, get out of my house.” Harry demanded, confronting an intruder rather than a specter. 

“Poor little Cheryl. Failed and abandoned by her own father. You even got a replacement. Quick to do so, might I add.” There was a low chuckle following Dahlia’s words

“You don't get to say anything. You used your own daughter to fulfill your own selfish desires! All Alessa wanted was to be with you! She wanted to be a family!” 

“What is it you want most, Harry Mason? I think we know what that is.” 

“Like you care about what others want.” 

“Like you do? All Lisa wanted was somebody to be there for her, she begged and pleaded for somebody, but they wouldn't listen.” Dahlia mocked, dragging each word, telling all of yet another mistake from Harry Mason. 

Harry stayed silent. 

“There's still a way, Harry. There's still a way to make things right. All will be forgiven in deep night. ” With that final sentence, Dahlia retreated from the moonlight and cloaked herself in shadow once more. Dahlia turned toward the closet door and walked through it as if it wasn't there. Harry followed and opened the closet door. Dahlia was gone and in the closet was everything that would usually be there. Shoes, coats, and other miscellaneous items that needed space. Harry's attention was caught on a shoebox that was at the very bottom of the closet. It was a dull green shoe box with a thick red stripe painted around it. Harry kicked it back further into the closet and stepped back from it and closed its door. 

He would walk over to Heather's crib, despite everything that just occurred she was still sound asleep.

Lucky her. 

Chapter Text

“Have you got a gun? Take this, and hope you don't have to use it” 

Irony comes in many different flavors

“And don’t go blasting me by mistake, got it?”

All Harry Mason ever got from it was sour.   

Fading in from darkness, vision was granted to him, showing an all too familiar scene. The first sensation he felt was heat building up in his palms. The iron he was holding was hot and smoking, freshly used. He was on the merry-go-round which had been demented, courtesy of the otherworld. He'd come to Lakeside Amusement Park to regroup with Cybil after she no-showed at the boat, their meet-up spot.  

Harry had found Cybil and was looking right at her. He was looking at her laid out corpse on the carousel platform, her blood beginning to pool and stain her police uniform. The way she writhed and convulsed when she hit the cold steel floor could only be summed up in one word. Disturbing. Harry set the gun aside and ran up to Cybil’s corpse, falling to his knees. His distraught self barely managed to push out words. 

“What in the hell…how could this have happened?!” Harry lifted Cybil's limp head and upper body into his arms. He scanned her face to see her glazing blue eyes staring up at him, no, through him. Her mouth was slightly agape, allowing the overflowing blood in her mouth to escape and drip down her chin and corners of her lip.

It was a little hard to believe that in his arms was the body of the officer who put aside her own duties and risked her own life to help Harry in his mission to find Cheryl. What became of her isn't what she deserved, not in the slightest. Murdered by the person she was trying to help. Harry felt Cybil's warmth cruelly fade away with each passing moment until eventually, she was as cold as the metal that they stood on. 

“Harry…why?” Cybil's question rang throughout Harry's mind despite her mouth not moving a muscle. 

“Cybil I-” Harry frantically tried to respond but then came the noise. Blaring sirens echoed throughout the park and the black abyss beyond it, calling all of the denizens of hell to return from whence they came. At the same time, darkness began to envelope all Harry could see bit by bit; it was as if street lights were being turned off one by one. Eventually, Harry couldn't see anymore. 

Harry opened his eyes, he was seated in an armchair off to the side in the living room. A photo album in his lap was wide open. He must've dozed off. Aside from his recent dream, Harry's mind was stuck in the night before. The night when Dahlia invaded his home and disappeared. The smell that came from her was rank and her appearance was bruised, bloodied, and crusted. She looked like an entombed pharaoh- no, the pharaohs looked better than her. Harry rested his head on his fist. 

“What is it you want most, Harry Mason? I think we know what that is.” The words from the night before haven't faded from Harry's mind. He could recall the entire ordeal word for word. The answer to that question was so simple. So predictable. 

Harry inhaled and sighed, he took a picture from the album on his lap. The photo showed the immediate Mason family coming together to celebrate Cheryl's second birthday. Well, what remained of it anyway. Jodie's father had passed and Harry's parents couldn't make it to the party. Regardless of the amount of company, it was a special day. The photo had Jodie and her mother on the left side, with Harry to the right. They were huddled around the subject of the photo. A little baby Cheryl with blue pants, pink shirt, and a white party hat that was sprinkled with variously colored polkadots. 

“Cheryl…your daddy is going crazy.” Harry let out a weighted sigh before placing the photo back into its slot in the album. He closed it and slid it back on a shelf, then looked at the clock hanging over the area. 

“8:47 am, that's earlier than expected” Harry closed his eyes and put his face against his palm. 

“This all feels off, I feel like I'm forgetting something.” 

*Brrrring….Brrrring….Brrrring*

As if on cue, the phone rang. Harry, still traversing through the groggy haze of just waking up, slumped to the phone; picking up. 

“You’ve reached the Masons’. What do you want?” 

“Harry! Sorry to call you so early man, I hope I didn't wake you or your daughter up.”

“Oh, Noah, it's you…oh uh, n-no you didn't wake us, I've uh…I've been up” yeah right. “What are you calling for?” 

“I'm just calling to make sure you're still attending the book signing event this afternoon!” 

“That's today?” So that's what Harry was forgetting. 

“Yeah, man! Don't tell me you forgot about it dude.”

“I guess it slipped my mind, I've just been busy lately.” 

“Uh-huh…sure Harry, whatever you say man. So are you coming or what?” 

“I suppose I have no choice, we're obligated by our publisher to attend these events, Noah.” 

“Haha! Yeah… but people flake all the time and if I'm being honest. I don't really jive with the rest of the folks on payroll. You know?” 

Harry let out a light chuckle.

“Yeah. I do.” 

“So then, see ya there?”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Yeah, I'll be there.” 

“Awesome man, see ya around Harry!” 

“See you soon, Noah.” 

*Clang!* 

Harry hung up, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the signing event today, no wonder he felt off. It was still early, he could get his routine done. Heather hadn't woken up yet, despite all the noise. Harry went to check on her. 

“If only I could sleep like you.” Harry hovered over Heather's crib and saw that she was sleeping normally and peacefully. She was at least breathing. 

Harry got to it, showering and checking off the other tasks of his morning routine. He got around to making breakfast, turning on a small radio on top of the bar railing. It was tuned to the local Ashfield radio station. Hopefully it would cut through the noise of the sizzling pan. 

“ Gooooood Morning people of Ashfield! It's good to be back and give you people all the latest and greatest from the biggest artists of today and yesteryear.” 

“Love you too radio, just, please, no more Madonna.” conversing with the airwaves, the plea would die the moment it left Harry's lips. 

“ Forgive me folks, I hate to start off so grim this morning but I would like it to be known that today makes it nearly six months since the tragically mysterious string of deaths in the resort town of Silent Hill.” 

Harry's ears perked up, any third party mention of that town had become alien to him. It felt like only he knew of it. He was paying closer attention now. 

“For those of you who haven't heard of the events that transpired, on a seemingly ordinary Sunday in the resort town of Silent Hill, the police department in town was stretched thin, responding to sequential calls regarding three potential murder victims. Lakeside Amusement Park staff came across the body of Brahms officer Cybil Bennett in the carousel, her body riddled with bullet holes; the stench of iron and decay closed down the park for the week. On the outskirts of Toluca Lake was the body of Doctor Michael Kaufman who was the head of Alchemilla Hospital; he was found by keen-eyed visitors of Rosewater Park. The onlookers described his recovered body as “viciously flayed”. Finally, came the body of the head priestess of Balkan church, Dahlia Gillespie; her body was found in the sewers by maintenance workers. The confused workers say that her body was severely burnt. May she join her daughter, Alessa Gillespie, in heaven. Alessa Gillespie, who died in the controversial Gillespie house fire some years back, was only seven at the time of the incident…this string of fatalities has alarmed the residents of Silent Hill much like the prolific murders of serial killer, Walter Sullivan. We here at Ash FM give the citizens of Silent Hill our deepest condolences.”  

Harry had finished making his meal, yet paused to continue to listen in. He'd known of the incidents already; he had the insider’s scoop. Yet, there was one more fatality he knew of that wasn’t reported on. It concerned him that there was no mention of her. 

“We tried to get a hold of those related to the victims to see if they would like to give a statement in their memory. For obvious reasons and some denials, most have declined. Although we were able to get Officer Sally Harrington who worked in the Brahms Police Station alongside the late Officer Bennett. Good morning Officer Harrington, we thank you for coming on air with us today.” 

“Thank you for having me.” 

“Is there anything you'd like to say to the folks listening on the air? Give them an idea of what it was like to know Officer Bennett?” 

“We've been working together for around 6 years, ever since she got stationed fresh from the academy. Over those years we'd had a whole lot of run-ins with crooks, bandits, and other lowlife. Crime in Brahms has become sparse recently, thanks to the department's efforts. Officer Bennett hated sitting around doing nothing but filing paperwork so, naturally, she took real kindly to the joint operation between the Brahms and Silent Hill police departments; trying to crack down on a drug ring targeting tourists in the resort town. The night she left for Silent Hill, she went to investigate why Silent Hill PD went dark. I tried to tell her to let it go, that it's nothing important and we'll pick it up in the morning. I should've tried harder…”

 There was a small sniffle following the statement, Sally would continue. 

“But she went because she cared for the well-being of her peers, and of those she's entrusted to look after, courtesy of her badge. She was a woman who upheld the values of truth and justice! Officer Bennett was a damn good cop…and a good friend.” 

“I'm sorry for your loss, Officer Harrington. As you may already know, the bullets found in Officer Bennett’s body came from the standard issue hand-gun of your Police Department. She was more than likely shot with her own service weapon. As you may also know, the murder weapon was never recovered and not even a suspect has been identified. For you and those that knew Officer Bennett. Is there anything more you'd like to say?” 

“To the bastard who is responsible for this, justice will co-”

Harry switched off the radio, he didn't want to listen anymore. He went over to the table meant for a family to dine in, it would just be for him this morning. As he slowly dug into his meal, his eye seemed to pick up a shiny gleam of light. Golden light. Harry turned his head to get a better look at what was producing the glow. It was a badge. He grabbed it and brought it up to his face. The golden shine seemed to distract him from the fact that the piece of metal had been speckled with blood. There was a name engraved on it. 

“ C.Bennett ” 

There was a whine and a squeak from the chair adjacent to him. A pair of hands covered in black gloves laid themselves out on the table. 

“You have something that belongs to me.” a woman's voice called out to him. 

“AAH ” Harry jumped in his seat as he let out a small yell, he looked around him. There was no one. He looked back at his hand holding the badge. He was instead holding his notepad. He caught his breath and steadied his heart. Harry set the notepad back on the table and looked at his plate: eggs, bacon, and toast with jam; the whole meal was only half eaten. He got up and threw it away. He wasn't hungry anymore. 

Noon couldn't come any slower, the weight of each hour dragged itself for what felt like years. Heather woke up, thankfully. Harry changed her diaper, put her in a new outfit, gave her formula, and fed her a little bit of jarred baby food. Harry played with Heather for a bit, if you could call it that. He just gave her a little shaker toy and let Heather do as she pleased with it. Since she was confined to her crib, Harry didn't really have to keep that good of an eye on her. In the meantime? Harry watched some television. A spaghetti western was on air and the plot was reaching its climax, the three gunslingers were in a Mexican stand-off in the center of a graveyard.

Harry glanced at the clock hanging over the television set. Noon was set to arrive around forty-five minutes so unfortunately, Harry had to turn off the television; leaving the plot unresolved. 

Out on the streets he brought Heather over to a daycare that wasn't too far away from the library the signing would be held in, he gave the baby a little pat on the head and assurance that he would return; Harry then got back in his car and made his way toward the Micalizzi Library. He was making good time; a quick press on the volume knob brought the stereo to life and the speakers had to rush out the static to get to outputting what was on air. The song was one Harry was sure he had heard before; maybe some years ago. However, the version on the radio wasn't the one he'd remember hearing; the singer was audibly much older in this rendition. 

“A candy-colored clown they call the sandman” fought through the tuning static of the stereo and eventually cleared out.

There was something on Harry's mind, something that he should do later today. Someone he should see; since he's going to be out on the road back and forth today. 

“Forget it.”  The inquiry was met with quick dismissal. No way.

Traffic would slowly build up, eating away at Harry's time advantage. Luckily, he still made it with a few minutes to spare. As he made his way out of his car, there was hesitancy in each step he made toward the library. Maybe…maybe he should flake out regardless of the promise he made to Noah? Maybe they wouldn't notice if he doesn't show? Harry hoped they wouldn't care.  They would certainly ask questions…wouldn't they? Somebody would ask about Cheryl. What then? Does the lie have to continue? Or does he tell the truth? Does he have to say , ”I failed to rescue my precious daughter from some demented version of Silent Hill and robbed someone of their life and now am in custody of some spirit child!”

The truth, in its entirety, may never come out. How could it?

Harry closed his eyes and steadied himself, it's going to be fine. All will be just fine. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Harold! My man! You made it!” Shouted from the entrance of the library. 

“Ugh, Noah, you know that's not my name.” A palpable sliver of annoyance was cut off and served. 

“Where do you think Harry comes from? You can't run from the truth, Harold! Hahaha…” Noah took great pleasure in a little teasing. 

Harry approached the library in silence and disapproval. 

“Hey, come on dude, lighten up!” Noah gave Harry a little nudge on his shoulder. “You look like British weather.” 

“Who is in the library so far?” Harry ignored the comment and tried to forcefully progress the conversation. 

“Well the usual suspects my friend! Tom, Jacob, Morgan, Nicole, and…Trevor” Noah said the last name as though it was forbidden. 

“Oh God.” Harry put his hands on his face and shook his head. “We really are in hell.” 

“No kidding.” Noah said in agreement.” What can we do man? Romance sells, you and I both know that and Trevor's material is practically scripture for old women! Hey! Don't lie to me when I say you've never seen a woman under the age of 50 walk out with a book of his?!”

Harry let out a hardy laugh for the first time in a while. What Noah is saying was true and god did Harry need that. 

“Yeah, yeah you're right!” Harry still was laughing a bit after. “Let's head inside, we're probably already late.” 

Noah nodded in agreement and the two went inside for a little publisher mandated book signing. 

Time thankfully seemed to go by a little faster once Harry planted himself in his designated booth. He never hated book signings, but it was just one of those things he's obligated to do thanks to his publisher, Sixth Sense. There would be a few people showing up to Harry's panel now and then and the usual jargon would commence. A polite greeting, a remark on what they thought of the work, maybe some insight, sign the book and be done with it. However, among all the people that came around, there was this one guy who showed…

“Hello, uh, I hope all's been well?” The man that stood before Harry was dressed in office attire. Clean and pressed grey button-up, decent looking tie, and black slacks to complete the look. The man was tall in stature with blonde hair. He had a green jacket slung over his shoulder. 

“All has been. I'm glad you stopped by! What have you got for me?” Harry repeated the introduction he gave most everyone who turned up to his booth. 

The office man presented a book to Harry; while Harry might've been expecting the usual books he got like his recent hit “The Criminal's Mask”, he was blindsided by the one the man handed him. 

“The Crimson Vow. I didn’t think any more copies existed, I thought they trashed them all.” The book in question was one Harry wrote nearly five years ago now. After Jodie had passed away from her terminal illness. The novel was dedicated to her and its central theme of complicated grief was one Harry took meticulous care fleshing out. It was also a theme that his audience didn’t seem to care for. The novel never seemed to strike a cord with anyone. 

“It's my wife's copy. She tells me it's her favorite book of yours! I think it's okay…”

“At least you're being honest. In truth, it's been awhile since I've seen it. I think I lost my copy a while ago.” Harry flipped over in his hands to examine it while he had the chance. “I assume you want me to ruin this with my signature?” Harry quipped at the office man. 

The man chuckled, “Please! If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you to dedicate a message to someone. To my wife. I'm trying to surprise her with this…” The man seemed to ease up his posture and let whatever tension he had go, he was sincere in his plea. 

Harry gave a content smile, “Oh, of course! I'd love to. What's your wife's name?” Harry opened the book to its title page, with pen in hand he awaited the man's response so that he could begin. 

“Her name is Mary.” 

“Thank you, just give me a moment while I come up with something.” Harry hovered the pen above the page with its ballpoint holding the paper at knifepoint. At last, something came to mind:

“To Mary,

Love is not a promised aspect of life, but its promise persists long after we are gone. 

This I believe with my entire being. 

-Harry Mason”

“Done.” Harry closed the novel and handed it back toward the office man. The man grabbed it and looked at it, there was desperation in the way he looked at the novel. But Harry couldn't put a finger on what for? Maybe Harry was looking into it too hard. 

“Thank you so much! I got to get going, my lunch will be over soon.” The office man checked his bearings and once confirmed he was good to go, he began to make his way toward the front entrance of the library. 

“Good luck with the surprise! I hope Mary likes it!” Harry gave a light wave at the office man as he left the building. It made his heart thaw, knowing that love still exists. Even in the seemingly small acts. 

A couple more hours would pass and the event was coming to a close, aside from the usual visitors the library welcomed, there weren't many coming to get their blocks of paper signed. That was all right with Harry, he was getting antsy and couldn't really stay still anymore. The bouncing of his foot echoed slightly throughout the place. He checked the clock and figured it was time to leave. He stood up and began to make his way out the door. The library workers would handle the cleanup, thankfully. 

“Leaving, Harry?” Noah called to Harry as he saw him head for the door. He got up with something in hand and made his way to intercept.

“Yeah, the writings on the wall, I don't think anyone else is coming. Even the grannies don't want any of Trevor's material.” 

“Good call, I'm going to stick around just a bit longer but I was hoping if you could look over this for me? Please, man?” Noah offered a leather journal to Harry. 

“Another one of your concept drafts?” Harry took the journal from Noah's hand. “Don't worry Noah, I'll look through it for you. I can't guarantee when It'll get back to you but know that I'll look into it.” Harry stashed the journal in his jacket. 

“Thanks, Harry! You're the best!” Noah said with a gleeful smile.

“Glad to help; and it keeps me busy. I'll catch you around, Noah.” Harry went through the library’s doors and made his way through the parking lot and entered his car. It was time to pick up Heather and head home. 

“Heather was such a good girl, Mr. Mason! She gave us no trouble at all. She's such a sweet girl!” The daycare attendant was following Harry out of the Daycare center as he was taking Heather back home. 

“No trouble at all?” Harry said coyly, sure there was more to the story.  

“Well… she did take another baby's toy during play time…b-but she gave it back right away!” The nurse shyly confessed. 

“Is this true?” Harry held Heather in front of him and raised her above his head. “Did steal another kid's toy, young lady?” Harry playfully shook Heather in his hands as if he was trying to mug the truth from her. 

Heather giggled and snorted as she was asked to tell the truth by her father. She tried to speak like all the big people around her but unfortunately, only being months old, the best she could manage was mouthing out sounds and spitting in her father's face. 

“Ugh!” Harry winced and pulled his head back as Heather spat on his face and continued to giggle. “Oh-ho! You little rascal! When are you going to learn some manners, huh?” Harry slowly opened his eyes as he recovered and began to laugh with Heather. Yet, with every laugh, every giggle, the joy faded from his expression and he went quiet. 

“Thank you for taking care of her. You have a good day now, miss.” Harry left the daycare and went back into his car with Heather. It was time to head home. 

It was relieving to finally be back home after today, it was the most Harry's talked to and been around people in…well, since Silent Hill. It was back to mind-numbing reclusion. Harry couldn't seem to escape the town. Escape reality. Escape anything. At first the town only came for him as he slept, but now, it taunts him when he's among the living. All of this…it's not enough…

Evening came over and peeked its eyes through the blinds, scoping out its victim and eagerly awaiting the inevitable moment of weakness. Each howl of the wind; a cackle. Harry sat in that armchair he woke up in back in the morning; Heather was back in her crib, occupied by animal dolls, a music box, and her seemingly favorite toy, the shaker wand . Harry had that photo album back opened on his lap again. He went back a few more pages to photos of Jodie and him, back to the earlier days of their relationship. Harry might've thought it cliche but the pair were high-school sweethearts. There's no other person Harry could imagine being with other than his sun and moon. The many holiday dinners spent with each other and their families, the long nights where Harry couldn't quite thread together a storyline only for Jodie to pitch in and stay by his side, the walks along the park in the bright sun and crisp cool air. 

Harry thought back to a stunt he did in his high-school days to try and impress Jodie. He somehow managed to smuggle a few beers from a convenience store and would prove to Jodie that he was a real man. That he was a man who could handle his liquor!

Harry wasn't always what you'd call a smart man…he couldn't even handle one. He didn't even finish it. He spat out the contents of his mouth halfway through the bottle, his body revolted against the cheap and sour beer. He thought he had ruined himself In front of Jodie but…she just wore a smile and laughed at the absurdity of Harry's stunt. She couldn't believe he'd do something so stupid to gain her approval! She found it flattering. Harry ditched the beers and took Jodie to dine at a local pizza place. There they spent the night involving each other deeper in their lives, sharing goals and ambitions. It was perfect. Better than filling himself up with cheap booze for sure. 

But with the thought in his mind and night waiting for him, maybe he could take the night on his terms. Harry didn't want to be taken prisoner, a victim of his own mind…at least for tonight. Much had changed since high-school. 

Harry closed the album and stashed it away, he made his way toward the kitchen and opened a cabinet above where he kept his utensils. In the shadowed interior of the cabinet was a lone wine bottle; Harry plucked it out and held it to the light. 

“It's more than half empty…this won't do.” Harry sloshed the contents of the bottle as he twirled it around in his hand. Even if it was fuller, Harry couldn't bring himself to finish this bottle. Let alone take a sip. He'd have to throw it away if he did. So, he returned the bottle to its dark holding place and closed the cabinet door. 

An urge was swelling up from his feet upward, why was he feeling this way? Harry wasn't prone to drink, it'd been some time since he had one, so why? Why was he getting antsy at the thought? 

* Tick….Tock….Tick….Tock…*

The slow unending clicks of the clock grabbed Harry's attention. He understood now what he is feeling and why. Fear. With each passing second, night marches to invade and lay siege. He was fighting against time. But what if drink doesn't work? What if liquor doesn't stave off the nightmares? What if it did? Would Harry cling onto his newfound savior? Would he become a slave to it? What of Heather? 

*Tick….Tock….Tick….Tock…*

Harry got his coat and keys off the hangar and readied himself to head out on an unaccounted for night errand. Making sure he had all necessary possessions on him he headed for the door. 

*Tick….Tock…. Tick….Tock…*

Harry did a double take and made a swift march toward his room and gently opened the door. Heather was fast asleep in her crib, her breaths audible, she was okay. With that confirmation, Harry closed his bedroom door and made his way out of his home and planted himself in the driver's seat of his car and cranked the engine. 

The radio came on to life immediately along with the other electronic systems of the vehicle. Harry reversed out of his driveway and proceeded to his destination. The airwaves kept him company. 

“Hey there! Night owls of Ashfield! At last it's Friday night! The DJ on set will be filling your stereos and speakers with more of the hottest hits fresh off the charts! Well, my lovely people of Ashfield, I know not all of you are the partying type…but for those of you that are; please do take care out there tonight because danger will come out to getcha when you least expect it! Hahaha! Who am I kidding? Enjoy yourselves tonig-” *BZZZT* “ And now back to why-” * BZZZT*

“Oh, come on!” The radio seemed to be experiencing some interference, Harry wasn't exactly what you would call pleased at the moment. Harry smacked the stereo a couple times to see if some good ol’ care and affection would get it back to working shape. 

*CRSHHK* “That's from the-” *BZZZT* “And now on-” *BZZZT*  

“Damn it!” Harry smacked the head unit one last time. 

*BZZZzzzz-* “-ould you just imagine that? Leaving somebody who depends on you? And for what? An escape?...A thrill?...” The radio seemed to reach out to its audience of one. 

“W-what the-” Harry diverted his focus to the radio, clearly befuddled. 

“Harry… Harry …there's somebody who wants to speak to you…come here sweetheart, he can hear you now.” 

*BZZZT* “Daddy? Wh-...where are you?! Why did you lea-” *THUNK!*  

*CRSHHK* “-et into the groove boy, you've got to prove your love to meeeee!” Harry smacked the radio, hoping to break the damn thing. Instead it returned to blasting pop and other dance jams. Harry strapped his attention back on the road. His grip on the wheel liable to produce blisters. 

The car had been parked in front of the liquor store, Harry was already inside and was putting thought into what would be his vice tonight. Whiskey looked promising. Harry took a bottle in his hands and eyed it down. The clear glass allows an unfiltered view of the contents within. Harry was taking a gamble on the cheap elixir. On the upside if it worked, he'd have more for another day. 

“That'll be 12.” The clerk was stern and straightforward, visibly fed up with all the drunks and denizens lurking about. 

“Here.” Harry paid for his bottle and took the brown paper bag containing it. The store wasn't busy, everybody was probably out clubbing or getting a drink at a bar. Harry made his way back to his car so he could drink himself to sleep in the comfort of his own home. But a mass caught his attention. Sitting on the curb, under a streetlight was a man in a green jacket adorned with patches; Harry could make out a grey collar shirt underneath. Harry doesn't know why but he made way towards the man and eventually stood to the side of him. 

He certainly got his attention. The Office Man took a swig from the bottle hidden in a brown paper bag. “Oh, it's y-you . What the fuck are you doing here?!” The man’s speech was beginning to slur yet he seemed to have some awareness. 

“Same as you, I guess.” Harry tried to poke the bear with solidarity.

“Don't you have a book to be writing or some shit?” The Office Man took another swig. “What the hell are you standing around for?! Get outta here!!!” He took yet another swig of the bottle. Harry continued to stand at his side. 

“Drinking isn't exactly a married man's hobby.” Harry said, trying to prod out from The Office Man the reason why he was here.

“Like your woman appreciates it just as much.” The Office Man gestured towards Harry's left hand. Then pointing at his ring finger. Harry brought that hand close to his chest and rubbed the silver wrapped around his fourth finger. “Damned hypocrite.”

“Touché.” Harry admitted. 

“So why are you still here?” The Office Man pressed. Looking up at Harry. 

“I'm just wondering why you're out here. Drinking on a night like this? Why would your wife just kick you out or let you leave after you tried to surprise her with such a thoughtful gift?” 

“You wouldn't know the half of it. Ju-…just get lost.” Another swig was taken. 

“Lay it on me. If it's some trouble in paradise I'd be willing-” 

“She's dying.” The Office Man abruptly cut off Harry's offer for an open ear. “The love of my life is dying, novelist. Is that why you're here?! To wrangle me for my sob story and put it to paper? Pretend like you give a shit to make money off of us?!” He took a deeper swig of the bottle. “Just leave me alone…” The office man looked down to the asphalt that his feet rested on. He looked tired. 

Harry stepped down from the sidewalk and sat down next to The Office Man on the curb.

“It's a strange kind of hopelessness isn't it?” 

The office man looked at Harry attentively. 

Harry continued. “No matter what you do and how much you do anything. You can't stop the end of the world. In your sullied peace you can't help but hear the clock ticking. Yet, you don't want to think about when it finally stops.” 

“It's s-something like that.” The Office Man seemed to sober up a little from the surprise that somebody for once, wasn’t giving him pity. 

“What you're going through, it never truly fades away. I wish it could.” Harry looked blankly to the streets, an odd car passing by now and then.

The office man swirled the paper bag in his hand slowly. “Today was supposed to be a special day for us.” The Office Man put his hand over his eyes for a moment. “I tried to salvage any sliver of what we were. I tried to hang on to the life we wanted so much. I'm trying to hang on to the woman I gave my heart to…but...”

“But... ?”

“Nothing. Forget it…” The office man kept up his defeated expression. He softly asked, “Your wife…how long has it been since-”

“A little over four years.” Harry stated plainly, continuing to admire the passing cars. 

“Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“It is appreciated, but you don’t have to be. I am more concerned for you and your wife. My wounds have scarred but yours will be fresh.”

Harry turned to look at The Office Man but he avoided Harry's gaze. After a drawn-out silence, The Man spoke, “How did you do it?” The Office Man’s voice was low and hushed as if he were trying to restrain his emotions. 

“Do what?” Harry asked for clarification. 

“How did you keep going?” It was clear to Harry now, The Office Man was asking for advice; advice he was going to need sooner rather than later.

“I had a daughter, about seven years old. She was to me what a night light is to a kid afraid of the dark. She was my reason to sleep and confide in tomorrow.” Harry let a light smile break on his face as he reminisced about the baby He and Jodie found on the side of the road all those years ago. “What about you? Do you two have kids?”

“Mary and I wanted that more than anything. We had started trying for one a bit before and during our honeymoon, but that was a little over two years ago. That was when she got sick. Now it's off the table.” The Man partially raised the hand he'd been drinking from, “This is all I have now.”

Silence once again broke out between the two.

Harry opened his bottle of whiskey and downed a fifth of it. He wheezed as some of the liquor went down the wrong tube. He had a coughing fit to get any rouge liquid out. The sting of the liquid was one Harry still wasn't used to. It felt so wrong. 

“Harry Mason, was it?” The Office Man offered his hand to shake. It was unsteady as could be. 

“That’s right and I didn't quite catch your name.” Harry shook the man's hand. 

“James. James Sunderland.” The air around James had calmed down drastically. A far cry from the irritated and faintly bitter man Harry had come across. 

“It's good to finally put a name to the face.” 

 Not much time would pass until Harry decided it was right to head home. He'd got more than he came for. He strapped himself in the driver seat, turned the key, and was back on the road. The streets were dark and bare, only the moon and the lampposts artificial sunlight lit up the world. 

*CLICK* 

Harry was in the mood for some noise, anything would do. But when he pressed the volume knob to turn the stereo on, there was nothing. No backlight on the screen, no static, no sign of life. Nothing.

“Whatever.” Harry thought. He didn't need the music anyway. 

*Scribble, Scribble* 

The noise of a color pencil meeting paper materialized in the passenger seat along with a soft hum. It wasn’t any specific tune, just noises that sounded like they went together. Harry didn’t want to look, whatever was there might go away if he did. He wanted to keep this up for at least a few more blocks.

“Daddy! Look! It's Mr. Tookie and me!” Cheryl’s voice called to her father. She loved drawing that vibrant bird; the one that showed up on Saturday morning cartoon commercial breaks; the one with the colorful beak.  

His lip quivered but he dared not look at the passenger seat. He instead offered to take the drawing in his hand while keeping his eyes on the road. “Here Cheryl, give me the picture, papa can’t look away from the road right now.” He held his hand out, waiting, hoping that he’d get that drawing. He passed intersection after intersection; block after block, still holding out his hand. “Cheryl, sweetie, I’m waiting…” A broken voice was the only guise afforded to concealed tears. He waited and waited.

He got nothing. 

Chapter Text

Harry closed the door behind him, the cool Maine breeze howling as the door slammed in its face. All was dark, all around. An issue that could be fixed with a flick of the light switch. So, it was. Harry took off his coat and hung it on the rack next to the door; then set down on the kitchen table the brown paper bag that contained the whiskey purchased a few hours ago. His talk with James went on a little longer than he expected. For whatever reason, the fact that Heather was alone at home with no one to watch over her, didn't bother Harry at all. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe he just didn't care. 

 Through the hallway and then the door to his bedroom; calm yet heavy steps were taken toward Heather's crib. She was still sleeping, nestled between pillows and stuffed animals and a small blanket to keep her warm should her snitched friends fail to do so. It was a miracle really, that Harry's gross negligence hadn't cost more. That it went unpunished tonight. Lucky is the word that comes to Harry's mind but doesn't come out of his mouth. He retreats from his bedroom to sit down at the kitchen table. He pulled the cord connected to the ceiling fan and its light shined down. Harry sat in the chair and stared at the bottle. He could feel the buzz coming in like a wave, it was minimal, but he could feel it. 

“Cheryl, sweetie, I'm going to take a trip to Silent Hill for a few days. Jacqueline will be watching over you while I'm gone.” 

“Oh no, daddy please, I don't want to stay here with Jacqueline! Can't I go with you? School is over and we haven't had any time to play since you started writing that stupid book!” 

“Geez Cheryl, why would you want to go with me to Silent Hill? I don't think there's much for a kid to do. I think you'd find it boring.” 

“No papa...I don't think so! I can tell that it's a special town! I can feel it when I say its name! Silent Hill...oh please papa! Let me go with you!” 

“Give me one good reason why sweetie.” 

“Because...” 

“Because?...” 

“Because Papa...I just want to be with you...” 

The exchange was still vivid in Harry's mind. The days leading up to his vacation trip to Silent Hill, why did he keep this wound, this error so fresh in his mind?...Why did he listen? But what sane parent could say no to their bundle of joy? He slumped in the chair, probably just now feeling shame. 

*Tap…tap…tap*

What sounded like footsteps were heard somewhere across the house. Harry didn't pay much mind, it could've just been the house settling. He didn't want to think of what else it could've been, what it might've been. He let a few moments pass. 

*……*

Not another sound. All clear. He reluctantly reached for the bottle and opened it. He brought it to his lips and slowly poured its contents into his mouth for a second long swig. Maybe two seconds. He may have kept going were it not for a tug at his sleeve. He should've been scared, there was no one else that should be in his home, but for whatever reason he wasn't. He took the bottle off his lips and turned toward the tug and pull. 

Harry met face to face with the coat hanger, there was no culprit. He grew a bit unsettled and put the bottle back on the table and capped it. That was enough for tonight. 

“Harry!” A woman's voice came from across the house. It rang familiar in Harry's mind, it was something he knew that he should know but the answer escaped him. “Harry…Harry, pumpkin, I need you to help me with something!” The voice called out to Harry one more time. It called to him by a pet name he hadn't heard in years. There was only one woman on planet earth that called Harry like that. 

This was too predictable. Harry was just drunk or was about to be. Jodie's been dead for years, he knew that. So then why did he stand and walk towards the sound? The sound led him to the foot of the door to Cheryl's room. Then came a bout of light-headedness and loss of balance. Perhaps he overdid it with the booze. 

“Harry, come in! Cheryl wants to show you something!” Jodie's voice beckoned Harry to enter the room. But Harry didn't want to. He felt as though he shouldn't. He wasn't worthy of it. He pushed through and opened the door to Cheryl's room. The bright street lamps outside gave their residual light to softly light up Cheryl’s room. No need to flip on the light switch. 

The room was painted cotton candy pink on the walls with white baseboards. A couple posters of cats and dogs were placed around the room; cloud paperweights that dangled from the ceiling. On the left side of her room, next to the dresser, was a setup for a little vanity mirror. The mirror was covered by a small blanket. Aside from what was already there;  there again was no one, aside from Harry. And the voices went quiet. Laying on top of Cheryl's twin sized bed, that was home to her favorite Monday hating orange cat plushie, was a small handheld device. Harry went to investigate and found it was a portable stereo for cassette tapes, one he thought he'd lost. He picked it up and opened it up, and it was loaded. He plucked out the tape which was labeled:

  “Happy Birthday Mom!” 

He thought he left it with Jodie…how could it be here? Harry reloaded the portable stereo with the tape and pressed down on the play button. With a click and sudden faint whirring of motors, the  aural contents of the tape began to spill out of the device's integrated speaker. 

*WRRRRRH* “Hey honey! Do you know what day it is? Aw, Don't tell me you forgot what day it is? Haha! It's your birthday!” Harry heard his own voice playback from the stereo, he sounded a smidge younger. “While you may have forgotten, we didn't. Cheryl! Come here girl, say Happy Birthday to mama!” Audible steps could be heard as Harry seemingly made his way towards someone in the tape. 

 Harry let out a small grunt as he picked up Cheryl into his arms and put the device next to her so she could speak. “Happy birthday mama. Me and daddy miss you.” Cheryl spoke into the integrated microphone. 

“That we do sweetie, that we do.” Harry then puts Cheryl down and she can be heard running off someplace. “I'd love to tell you I made a cake for you today but-...we both know baking wasn't exactly my profession and uh, the cakes are probably far better where you are at right now anyway. Cheryl's gotten so big since last time you've seen her. A little bratty too! Haha. But I think it makes me love her even more. To see her grow and change. We got lucky, you and I, to be blessed with a gift such as her. I just wish you could be here to see it with me. I suppose you are, just not beside me.”

The tape goes quiet for a few moments. 

“Oh! I-uh…I almost forgot! Cheryl! Cheryl, come here! We gotta sing for your momma!” Light rushing footsteps are heard approaching Harry and then stop. “There you are, come, get next to me and let's sing for momma, okay?” 

“Okay, daddy.”  

“One…two…three!” Harry counts the two of them off and in unison they begin to sing the time honored tradition, “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear, Mama! Happy Birthday to you!” Some light laughter is heard and so is a little kiss Harry gives Cheryl on her forehead. “Thanks Cheryl, you can go back to what you were doing now.” Cheryl is heard walking away. 

“Happy birthday sweetheart, I love you, now and forever, death won't do us apart. I'll catch you around, Jodie.” *WRRRRRH* *CLICK!* 

The tape had reached its end and the portable stereo automatically stopped it once it had done so. It was wonderful to hear this tape again, but Harry could have sworn there was more on it. Harry pressed down on the rewind button, the motor and gears working overtime; A fast click signaled that the tape was rewound. Harry pressed the play button again. 

*WRRRRRH* “Hey honey! Do you know what day it is? Aw, Don't tell me you forgot what day it is? Haha! It's your birthday!” Harry was baffled, he was certain that there was more to this tape. There HAD to be. But he was being made a fool, rewinding, fast-forwarding, he even flipped the tape sides; yet no matter what he was listening to the same message over and over. 

*WRRH* *CLICK!* “Hey honey! Do you know what day it is? Aw, Don't tell me-” *VRRRR* *CLICK!* “Hey honey! Do you kn-” *WRRRRRH* 

Harry was insistent to a fault. *CLICK* “Hey hon-” *WRRRRRRRRRRH* *CLICK!* 

“. . . . .” 

*CRRSSSSSKT* Suddenly the stereo would produce nothing but an awful hiss accompanied by electromagnetic interference. The tones and blare were ear-piercing yet familiar. Yes….that pocket radio Harry had picked up from the table at the 5to2 cafe! The tape player was behaving in much the same way. Which meant that. . . 

Harry and Heather weren't alone. 

Harry pressed down on the stop play button over and over and regardless of the fact that the tape had stopped playing, the awful static still spat out its warning. Harry took out the tape for good measure, still, nothing would work.

“Harry. . .” A voice called out to him from behind, in a dark corner of the room. It was a woman's voice but it wasn't Jodie’s. She sounded panicked and scared. 

Harry turned to meet the voice in the darkness. If it weren't for the bright colors of her uniform, he wouldn't have made out who it was. 

“Lisa?” Harry mumbled under his breath, regardless of the volume of his voice and the blaring stereo.

“Harry. . .why isn't this over? Why am I still here?!” Lisa lamented, her voice cracking, and face telling the whole story. She looked scared out of her mind. 

“Lisa you're-...how are you here!?” 

“You stopped Alessa from warding off the town! This nightmare hasn't ended; all because you wanted to find that little brat of yours! And you still didn't save her!” Lisa's tone and expression flipped on a dime from terrified to convicted fury. Harry was too stunned to speak. “Got nothing to say paperboy!? I thought Kaufman was enough, I thought his death was my freedom! It turns out he wasn't the only bad man.” Lisa spat her anger out towards Harry who mustered up something to say. 

“Lisa, please! I'm sorry for what happened to you! Just calm do-”

“NO!” Lisa interjected. “Scum off the street has more worth than your dribble! How long did you pretend to care?! I offer you my help! My guidance! And in my time of need you-...you forsake me! DAMN YOU HARRY MASON! DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!” With those final words the static from the stereo blew out the integrated speaker. Lisa charged Harry, tackling him to the floor. With otherworldly strength she wrestled the device from Harry's hand and pummeled his head with it. Harry can't recall anything past the third strike. 

  “I’ll wake each morning and I'll promise to laugh~” a soft crooner tune was playing out, echoing into nowhere. “I'll say good morning to your old photograph~. Then I'll speak to you dear~ just as though you were here~.”

Everything was still so fuzzy, so blurred, he sounded as though he was submerged in water. The echoing music is the only thing slowly dragging him back up to the surface. 

Harry groaned and slowly opened his eyes, his palms touching the floor and immediately feeling the cool chill bite his skin. He rolled over and pushed himself up to his feet and felt sore all over, what had happened? 

Harry looked to his right, it was still there, the shine to The Order's God, small and hidden away from the non-believers. Its flames had quelled and it spat Harry back to when he saw them light. 

He was in Green Lion Antiques. This is where Harry saw Alessa go in that vision he had. Things were dripping their way back to him yet still felt off. He was treading the line between fugue and lucidity. Things didn't feel as though they existed- like they merely imitated what they wanted to be. 

“Cybil?” Harry called out, remembering that she had stayed behind to watch the entrance. He hoped he'd hear something back. There was only the music and dead air. “Cybil!” He called out again, entering the covered up hallway in the antique shop, and making way to the shop room. Obsolete and vintage knick-knacks littered the cramped room.

“What a dump, it's a wonder this place is still open. What idiot would buy any of this junk?” Harry took some time to inspect the items that he had given no mind earlier. On inspection some of the so-called junk was not so bad. Stained glass lamps, uranium cups and plates, oak furniture and dressers, and some coats hung on on racks alongside various T-shirts and dress shirts.

Next to the rack was a wide rectangular cardboard box that contained more articles of clothing. There was something that caught Harry's interest. A muted green jacket that was sturdy and tough. Clearly built for the elements. Lots of pockets too. 

“Well, look at you. What's a jacket like this doing here?” Harry couldn't help but think that he knew a person that had a jacket like this. He thought hard but no name or face came up in his mind. Oh well. 

Harry recalled a few details of this jacket, at the very least he knew that this type of jacket had been mass produced during the Vietnam war. Considering the jacket's condition, it's safe to assume that this one had seen service. There were a couple patches that broke the monotony of the muted green. One for each shoulder. 

The one on the left was the shape of a rounded shield which was filled with yellow, a wide and angled black stripe diagonally cut through. In an empty corner of the patch, the head of an animal, it looked like it could've been a dog…or maybe a horse? On the opposite end was a thinner shield patch with a blue background and gold border. In the center was a sword or blade or some kind; a hawk or similar bird of prey resting upon the hilt of the blade. Harry turned the jacket back to its front, a peace pin was on the right pocket flap. 

“Heh, wonder if this guy got along with hippies.” Harry quipped sarcastically. His malaise was waning and clarity had for the most part returned to him. Yet there was still that infallible segment lingering. It was like trying to wake up for work on 4 hours of sleep. Harry couldn't help himself and took off his brown jacket, he was curious of how the war jacket would fit on him. The muted green covered Harry's upper half and its old fabrics wrapped around him snug. The jacket fit him perfectly.

 Harry glanced around and spotted a small vanity mirror and walked in front of it. “Well, I don't exactly look like Rambo…but it's about as close as I'll get.” Harry looked in the mirror and didn't mind how the jacket looked on him. If he wanted to look like Rambo he'd have to match Stallone’s physique, something he didn't have the time to even consider. Harry gave himself a look in the mirror one more time and took pause. 

“This is ridiculous.” He concluded. “I can't waste time like this. Cheryl is still out there!” Harry quickly began to remove the jacket and flung it to the bin from whence it came. During its flight, a small item dropped from it. It was rectangular in shape and white. With a piqued interest and brown jacket back on, Harry snatched the item from the floor and inspected it. There was a message on it.

“If you have no place to go, stop by.

You’ll be most welcome.

05227 W. Katz St.

Silent Hill, Maine

                                   - Tommy”                            

 Harry flipped the rectangle over. It was a photograph. It showcased a platoon of soldiers huddled shoulder to shoulder posing for the camera. All were in what Harry assumed to be standard fatigues. Each person had their heads and busts scribbled out. All except for one. Harry focused on the untouched man; his uniform specifically. 

“Spangler…” The soldier's name tag on his uniform and face gave evidence of his existence. “The address on the back said Katz street…that's nowhere near here, that's on the other side of the lake.” Harry tossed the photo to the ground, “Forget it, I can't be wasting any more time.” Rapid steps were taken out of Green Lion Antiques and back into the business district of Silent Hill. The oppressive darkness had retreated and gave way back into opaque sunshine, its warming rays elusive. The gray sky accompanied by the thick and moist fog brought about by Toluca Lake. Harry still can't get over how empty the town is. When he and Jodie came to vacation it was always bustling, cars traveling up and down streets, families walking into the numerous mom and pop shops, and lovers taking quiet strolls. No more. It's as though the town had been raptured. Divine punishment heavy-handedly given to Silent Hill’s inhabitants.

Considering the fact that only Harry and few others were left roaming around this cold and barren town; maybe he confused the targets of punishment. 

Harry wandered the business district; although wandered is a nice term, he fought his way through the business district. Skinned dogs slick with blood and mucus came in packs and mauled any limb they could sink their teeth into; huge winged terrors soared the gray skies and swooped in to take a bite out of new prey. Harry shot, swung, and kicked his way out of altercation, hiding when necessary. He can't think of any other time he got this much cardio in his life. Exhausted and panicking, he took refuge in the Silent Hill Police Department building. Making sure to barricade the entrance, lest any denizens of the fog break in. Yet, regardless of the amount of them, they seem to respect the sanctity of every building. Not once attempting to intrude. Funny. 

Harry gathered his breath and paced around the station. The clacking of his shoes against cold, hard tile was nearly therapeutic. Looking around the place to try and find anything new of use he may have missed the first time around. Loose boxes of ammunition he didn’t spot before. Sweet! Another nutritional health drink and a first-aid kit. He tucked the items in his jacket. He managed to get to the holding cell area of the station, weren't all but those first two doors locked? It didn't matter now. He combed through the hall and found that the cell door was wide open. He entered the cage and found another loose health drink. Resting on a corner of the bench was a document, it looked like a case file. Harry reached for it and opened it up, dissecting the page’s contents. 

“Case No. - 080303

Person involved - Edward S.

07-05-74

The subject in focus in this document claims to be a drifter coming from out of town. He was caught assaulting an officer while resisting arrest after many citizens reported suspicious behavior. Edward seems to be in good physical health and has shown himself to be a reserved individual while in custody. 

07-06-74

Edward was questioned after a night in the holding cell. He keeps up his story of coming to see an old friend and for the most part, it seems to be true. He presented a photo that confirms his intentions; Edward has displayed signs of paranoia and restlessness; he woke up frightened multiple times during his stay. Considering his background it may be wise to keep an eye on him when he gets out of jail; while he is a reserved he is prone to violence when provoked. Many of this town’s citizens don’t take kindly to people like him.

07-24-74

Edward has been released from jail and has been admitted into a local shelter to help him get off the ground. 

(He’s lucky Officer Murphy is a sympathetic man. He'd be cooped up in that cell for a lot longer otherwise. let’s hope that he stays out of trouble.)”

There is nothing more in the document.

“Sounds like we’ve got our man.” Harry concluded, he set aside the document and began preparing to head back out to town; with dressed wounds and loaded mags the barricade was removed and the front entrance was swung open.

A cool breeze rushed through the doors, Harry covered his eyes as he let the surge pass. When he uncovered them, he wasn’t in the department anymore. To be honest he wasn’t sure where he was at all. He took small steps, his soles clacking on solid concrete; darkness blanketed the sky above and no moon was in sight. Speckled stars shone faintly and lampposts provided a radiant sanctuary. Lush green grass and tall, stalwart trees were planted all around. Chirping crickets provided their ambience. 

“What the-” Harry was to put it lightly, confused. He turned around trying to face what was behind him, trying to find the double doors to the police department; he would never find them; only outstretched looping paths of concrete littered with trees sat upon trimmed grass. There was a creeping feeling in his head; he should know this place. 

“C-...Cheryl?! Are you here?! Where are you?! Cheryl!” Unanswered pleas seemingly boomed throughout the place, all was quiet, except for the crickets. Harry continued to walk along the concrete path, hoping to figure out where he was and how to get out. 

“We’ve been dating for a while now; years.” A voice appeared, it seemed to be coming from down along the path. Harry made way towards it, wondering who it was speaking to. “I remember our first date like it was yesterday, every day since I laid eyes on you, held your hand, felt the warmth of your lips close to mine, and everything beyond that; I’ve been on cloud nine! I always wondered what heaven felt like. Now I know.” 

“Pumpkin...what are you saying?” A new voice joined the conversation, it sounded flustered and aghast. Harry had made it far enough to where he could see who these voices were. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the man bend down on one knee. 

“Jodie Corson, will you marry me?” Harry got it now, where he was…when this was. 

“Wha-...Harry, YES!” Elatation distilled in vocal form, Jodie didn't wait for Harry to put the ring on her finger as she threw herself on top of him, causing them both to fall to the ground. It was like witnessing the death roll of an alligator.

“H-hey! Slow down Jodie, come here.” Harry took her left hand and slowly caressed her palm and then held it steady; carefully placing the jeweled ring around her third finger. She gazed at it. 

“Oh Harry, it's-...it's beautiful!” Caught between disbelief and joy, Jodie had to put in effort to not stumble over her words. 

“I think it pales in comparison to the wearer” 

“Oh you…” Harry flowed his hand through her hair, guiding it down to her cheek, then her chin. Jodie knew what came next and moved in for the kiss. Such warmth and tenderness shared between them. 

He remembers now, while gazing at the two figments of memory. Just a couple years fresh out of high school yet years into their relationship; Harry wanted to tie the knot and wed the love of his life; to wed her under God. He took her out as he often did, it was more of a guise than anything else; he took her to a restaurant she had always wanted to try and then they took a quiet stroll downtown and eventually leading up to Thornhill Park. The rest was…happening right in front of him. 

Harry and Jodie released their lips from the others. “I love you, Jodie” Harry fessed up, even with countless repetition he meant it every single time. 

“Yeah?” Replied his fiancee. She moved in behind Harry's face and bit his ear and pulled it some before releasing. She returned In front of Harry's eyes and stared…longingly, “Prove it to me…” Carnally. 

“Woah mama, not here, that ain't something for the world to see!” In a feat of strength, Harry saw himself rise off the ground with Jodie in his arms bridal style. A high pitched *eek!* and laughter echoed throughout the park, pure bliss in an enchanted evening. Harry spun around and Jodie hung onto his neck, they both continued to giggle and smile and be happy. They calmed down from their elation and looked into each other's eyes one more time; another tender kiss was shared. 

“Let's go, I have to show you how much I love you.” Coy smiles flashed between the couple as they whisked away into the night, wayward to their sanctuary. Otherworldly shackles released themselves and Harry couldn't help but follow the specters of the past. When he caught up they were still in each other's arms, quietly thanking God that the other existed. They walked further down and faded away from this world in a wisp of air. Harry can still hear the laughter and feel that joy he felt on this night. 

He focused on those feelings, feeling the warmth. Yet, the more he focused on them, the harder they were to silence. The laughter boomed in volume and in time became unbearable; Harry felt his blood vessels tighten around his head; suffocating his brain. He clutched his head and shut his eyes in response. 

“Ah!” He yelped, trying to withstand the pressure. He would yell further as his head felt as though it was being crushed by a vise. At once, the laughing stopped and the pain stopped growing; it would be some time before it would fade away. Prying his hands from his head and opening his eyes a revelation came upon him. He was somewhere different again. 

Thornhill Park, a place of winding concrete paths and lush patties of grass and tall trees had been reduced to an infinite field of unkempt grass. Further up ahead was…something? Harry sluggishly walked, whenever his foot touched the earth his head throbbed; disorienting is putting it lightly. 

At last he could see it. One lonely headstone. It was just barely starting to become overgrown. Withered flowers lay at the foot of the stone; as well as a familiar device. A portable cassette player. Harry kneeled and picked it up. Curiosity led him to try and open the machine to see if it was loaded but it wouldn't give. It was sealed shut. Given its heft, Harry could assume that it was loaded. Only one thing left to do. 

*CLICK!* *WRRRRRH* 

“Where do you think we'll be in the next 10 years?”

“In my arms, I hope.” 

A soft laugh is heard.

“Me too but, really...what do you want to do?”

“Well, fall in love, pick up a stable career-” 

“Stable?” a palpable effort to tease. 

“Okay, pick up A career...buy a house, start a family and then I don't know...grow old together? Standard American dream. We're kind of halfway there. How does that sound?” 

“I think it sounds wonderful.” 

*CRRSSSSKT* 

“Baby…forget about what the doctor said! So what if-”

“If we can't have a family ? ‘What If’?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘WHAT IF?!-”

*CRRSSSSKT* 

Continuous sobbing can be heard. A bed creaks as a person carefully sits next to the sobbing person. 

“Why are you here!?” 

“To hold you.” a light shuffling can be heard as someone puts their arms around the other. 

“I'm so sorry...”

“For what?”

“For ruining our dream.” 

“Even if you believe that's true. This changes nothing between you and me. I still love you.” 

A sniffle and a gasp is heard; an attempt to relieve any bit of sorrow. 

“Why?” 

“Because I didn't fall in love with a dream.”

* CRRSSSSKT*

“We had some good times...you and I.” 

“I wish we could stay in them forever. . .” The voice was husky and breathless. In pure disbelief. 

“Remember that time you tried to impress me? The time with the beer?” 

“I couldn't even finish one. It was...so stupid.” 

“It was. That is what I love about you. You were never afraid to show me every little bit of you; every little bit of how much you care; how much you love. You picked me up at one of my lowest points. I'm not sure where I'd be if we hadn't met.” 

“If there was a chance that you wouldn't be dy-” 

“Shhh...don't say those things. I don't regret a single moment. In the end, we got our dream, didn't we?” 

A momentary pause is shared, the two persons stopped to look at something, at someone. 

“She's beautiful...our Cheryl is beautiful...isn't she, Harry?” 

“She's one of the most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on. Sometimes, I can see a resemblance between the two of you, heh. It could just be the hair color and the-”

“. . .” 

“Jodie?” 

“. . .”

*CRRSSSSKT* *CLICK!* 

Harry kept quiet. He clutched the stereo in both hands and put it to his chest and sighed. He looked around him. The lonely headstone seemed to be the only thing around until… a cradle? 

*WAAAH, WAAAH* 

A noise Harry knew all too well. Something was crying in that cradle over yonder. He couldn't tell what was anything anymore. Real, fake, safe, dangerous- nothing made sense anymore. Yet his maternal instincts took action before he realized. He was making way towards the cradle, hoping to soothe whoever was crying. He reached the side of the cradle and loomed over it; peering inside. 

There was no baby but the crying did stop. Harry grabbed the only thing that was in the cradle and pulled it out. It was a wooden crucifix; carved with fine intricate detail all around and painted wonderfully. It looked like one Harry used to have. 

Suddenly, the crucifix caught on fire and roared with hellish heat. Harry frantically dropped the burning cross into the cradle and the fire started to spread. Harry swung his hand up and down to cool down his hand. He held his wrist and stared away from the blazing cradle and stared beyond. There was the outline of…someone. Someone far beyond the ability to make out any features; all that could be said was that it was indeed a person. 

In that same instant, a hand came over Harry's eyes and pulled his head back a bit. It's touch was sedative and any resistance was futile. It was as if the sandman himself had come for Harry. All that came next was a whisper. 

“Shhhh... you'll wake the baby.” 

Chapter Text

Warm.

The glowing rays shining on Harry's skin felt warm as he gazed upon a tragic miracle. 

That girl…

Alessa Gillespie. 

Freed from the bondage of motherhood to a vile heresy, she would perform one last act on this earth; or wherever they were. She seemed to reach within herself and in moments the fruit of this deed would be born. 

A baby swaddled in cloth, sleeping still, sleeping peacefully. Alessa took her first and only look at the being she could stand to bear and then looked up at the man who had ruined everything. The man who had also given a part of her so much joy. 

Harry met eye to eye with the girl that had taken everything from him. His reason to confide in tomorrow, his reason to come home. He should've been angry. Furious. He was, but it would not hold. Despite everything Dahlia had done to convince him that this girl was a demon; he just couldn't give in to that idea. Alessa wasn't a demon. She was just a little girl. A little girl who wanted one thing above all else, a family. A loving family.  

As Harry locked eyes with Alessa he could see their misty nature and he'd see them flooded with tears. The teardrops fell quietly but her expression gave her away. She was heartbroken. Alessa raised her arms up as if presenting an offering. The baby. 

There were no words, but Harry could tell what she wanted to say, “Take her…please…”. Harry took the baby in his arms and gazed upon her. God, she looked just like that baby he'd found abandoned on the side of the road seven years ago. In every way, she was just as beautiful. But she was-

*CRACKLE….KA-BOOM!!!*

The devastating sound of cascading ethereal explosions snapped Harry out of his stupor. He frantically looked around to see that this nightmare was closing in on itself and was lashing out in its violent end. He returned his vision to Alessa to see that she was laid out flat on the steel floor. She was dead.

“We need to leave, NOW!” Kaufman yelled at Harry. He nodded and looked all around.

Out meters in front of him but beyond the time he had, Harry saw a way out. Thick blue mist bunched up and swirling, it was their only hope. 

“There!!” Harry proclaimed at Kaufman, signaling to him that the blue bundle of air was their way out

With all his energy and might he darted towards the cloud, hoping that he was fast enough.

“AGH! LET GO OF ME!” Kaufman screamed, he'd been apprehended, Harry turned to look and saw that none other than Lisa Garland had risen from nothingness to subdue Kaufman. She was taking her victim closer and closer to the edge of what little floor existed.

“STOP!! LE-LET ME GO! WHAT ARE YOU-” Kaufman squirmed and screamed as he tried to break free from Lisa’s hold. He was unsuccessful. With one final step Lisa has made it to the edge and stepped off dragging Kaufman down with her. 

“NO! AH-AAAAHHHH” Kaufman yelled as he was dragged down into oblivion. 

“KAUFMAN!” Harry couldn't stop any more for this. He turned back around and continued to run.

*BOOM!!!*

Another explosion this time much closer to where Harry was and it made him stop in fear. That rational response may have just cost him and the newborn their lives. The world continued to fall apart. *FWUMP…CLANG!!* *CRASH* *FWIP…BOOM!!!* The otherworld was ready to give up its final bout of energy and spite. 

Harry pushed past his fear and continued to gun for the mist. The closer he got the more he realized he wasn't going to make it. Hell was boiling over and was about to blow its lid like a powder keg. It roared with a vile sound, Harry braced for the end and then-

Nothing. Stillness. Quiet. 

Harry uncurled himself and looked around. The otherworld had been frozen in time. Falling debris and roaring flame stood still. It seemed Father Time had strong-armed The Devil to make hell stand still. But it wasn't any of them who had done this. Harry looked around and found the culprit. That little girl, the one who he thought had died. Alessa, with arm raised and straining, was using the last of her strength so that Harry and the newborn could get out and have the chance to live. 

Harry wished he had said any words of gratitude but he turned around and ran into the blue mist and kept running. Hellish heat would turn into a damp and cool breeze. Darkness would retreat as the opaque sunshine returned. All was quiet except for his running footsteps and gasps for air. 

Eventually, he passed by a sign, a bright green sign with white lettering and borders. 

“You are now leaving

Silent Hill

We hope you cherish the memories you've made”

He scoffed and turned around. He continued to run. 

He ran for a very long time. 

As feet turned to meters into miles, Harry forgot how long he'd been running for. It didn't matter, but he was exhausted. His heart punching his chest so it could free itself and lungs numb, he finally slowed down to a crawl. The fog was still here, it never seemed to go away, like it wouldn't ever go away. To his right was a woodsy area, he entered it and finally allowed himself to stop and fall to his knees. 

He panted and huffed and heeved; Just as he was gaining his breath back he brought up to his face what he'd been hauling all this distance. 

The baby. She-...

*WAAAH, WAAAH*

The newborn began to cry. 

“No- no don't-....don't cry…” Harry fought back…he fought hard but tears poured out of his eyes. He again tried to fight the tears, he would fail again. He thought of all that has led up to this. 

He'd been tricked by Dahlia, he had murdered Cybil, he had abandoned Lisa, and while Kaufman deserved what he got it would have been better if someone else had lived! Why was it him? Why was he the only one to make it out?…And now Cheryl was lost; returning to forever. If Cheryl was gone…what reason is there-...the idea of a tomorrow is too cruel. 

As the newborn continued to cry the weight of this loss grew exponentially. Harry winced and grit his teeth, holding back the urge to crack; to break down. As he looked again at the newborn he realized the dam wouldn't hold. In his arms was the result of this infernal day. He had failed. 

With that truth, the dam broke and Harry wailed into the gray clouds above; his grief unsurmountable. 

He cried…sobbed…wept, nothing would quell the ache in his heart. As tears flowed he put down the baby in front of him on the dirt. It was still crying. 

“Stop…stop crying…stop” Harry's grief gave way to an ugly myriad of feelings: anger, malice, suspicion, and hate. His tears could sear flesh and gritting teeth could snap steel. 

*WAAAH, WAAAH* 

“I said…stop…” His hands slowly wrapped around the newborn’s throat. 

*WAAAH, WAAAH*

Hate is such a warping emotion, it leads good men to do unspeakable things; Harry was giving in.

Hands wrapped around the infant's throat as it cried. Soon, it would be over. Soon, there would be no trace of that town to burden him.

*WAAAH, WAAAH* 

“STOP!...I SAID…I said…” Harry tried as hard as he could but his hands would not squeeze any tighter. It seems his heart was holding him back, somewhere in there he knew that this would do nothing. This insufferable hurt will never fade away. 

His hateful gaze preyed upon the baby's face; now? All he could see was his angel; memories blitzed him as he saw flashes of the years with Cheryl that had gone by. Every late afternoon trip to the playground, every evening sat at the dining table helping with homework, those blessed weekend mornings sat around the television watching her favorite cartoons; the good times. That was enough for him to release his grip. Harry got up on his feet and trembled. 

*WAAAH, WAAAH* 

“I…. I'm s-sorry…I didn't mean-” Harry then lost his footing and fell on his rear. He was shivering; with fear, hate, grief, anger, and shame. It was everywhere. All he could muster now was a shaky, “Cheryl…why did you have to go?”. Then he would bury his head in his knees and weep. Seemingly…forever. 

And forever.

And forever.

And forever.

And forever.

And forev-

“Hey!!!” A voice rang out from back from the road. “You okay over there?!” Harry was yanked out of his fugue. Harry would respond, “No!” 

“No!? Well then do you need some help?!” 

“yeah…I need to get back home!” 

“Where!?”

“Ashfield!” 

The voice from the road paused for a moment then spoke once more. 

“How about you hitch a ride with me? I'm hauling produce out to Brahms. I'll take you there and then you can sort the rest out!” 

Harry thought about it for a minute. What if the person had ulterior motives? What if-...screw it…

“Yeah! That'll do!” Harry answered.

“Then get yourself out of the woodworks! I don't want to be late for my delivery!” 

Harry stood up from the ground, he couldn't really feel his legs from how long he'd been running, he was quivering. Each step now seemed to put him off balance and one step closer to being face first in dirt. He turned away and took the first steps out of the wooded area.

*WAAAH, WAAAH* 

The baby was still there, no matter how much he wanted to forget it was. Turning around he once again faced the crying infant swaddled in cloth. Should he take it? Or should he just leave it there? No one would know, no one would say anything. No one but Harry. 

“HEY! You coming around or what?!” The trucker subtly let Harry know it's time to haul ass. 

Casting aside every urge to just abandon the newborn; a promise had been made, Harry went over to the baby and picked her up in his arms once more. She would stop crying soon after. 

“I'm on my way!” Harry slowly made his exit out of one of many great forests of Silent Hill; his figure slowly emerging from the mist. 

“Well, hey there stranger.” 

“Why did you stop for us? Why?!” 

“If I see a man and their child presumably stranded in the middle of damn near nowhere; I outta help em’ out, no?” 

Harry stood outside the passenger door of the big rig; it was already opened by the benevolent driver; it's only other seat being offered up. 

“Come on, you look like tattered shit, let's get you on the right path home.” 

There would be a nod and Harry would climb into the cabin of the truck. The plush seating and warm interior was simply blissful. Harry let a little bit of the weight of it all fall off him in a deep sigh. 

*Thunk!* The door was slammed shut. 

“So…to Brahms?” Harry asked in a slow and heavy cadence; on the verge of sleep. 

“Yep! Should be a few hours out from here. Just…take it easy man. Relax now, it's going to be alright.” 

Harry sunk into the seat with the baby cradled in his arms; he looked at her and let out a defeated breath. 

“I don't know about that but…thank you.” Harry leaned into the corner of his seat about to wink off into sleep, the vehicle being put into gear and subsequently in motion. “What's your name? At the very least…I’d like to know this about the man I'm hitchhiking with.” 

“The people in my life call me Ed, short for Eddy.” 

“Or Edward?” Harry jested.

“Yeah. Short for that too.” 

Daddy…daddy…wake up! Today's the day! We're finally going to Silent Hill today! Come on papa! Get up! Oh, I'm so excited! We can finally go to the mall and see Mr. Tookie!” 

Harry took long and full breaths before he was afforded the opportunity to open his eyes. His entire body felt like melted rubber; Harry groaned, his head ringing with the *clang!* of dozens of bells. 

His vision was grainy and blurred, anything he looked at was warped and loopy. He saw the figure of a person sat on a chair to his right. He tried to move his body to sit upright. No use. He tried again. No use. He tried one last time with all his might. It was no use. Harry was forcibly stuck to the cot he'd been laid out on. 

He took another look at the person in the chair. Harry barely recognized her. 

“Lisa…?” 

“. . .” 

“Lisa…!” 

“. . .” 

Too long would pass until Lisa finally spoke. 

“Yes, Harry?” Her voice reverberated and sounded as though it was traveling through the aether. 

“What's going on in this town!?” Harry squirmed in hopes to finally move. He still couldn't get off the bed. “Nothing makes sense anymore!” Panic slowly began to set in. 

“Nothing ever made sense here Harry…” 

“Lisa, just-...just help me out here, please!” Harry tossed, turned, and writhed yet nothing was getting him off that bed. 

“Harry.” 

He paused. Harry had exhausted himself through all the struggle. His panic-stricken expression looking at the nurse. 

“What?!” 

“There's still time…” 

“Time for what!?”

“To make things right.” 

“What is that supposed to mean!?” 

“. . .” 

“Lisa!” 

Lisa sat in her chair. Quietly. 

“. . .” 

“Lisa, listen to me!” 

Lisa sat in her chair. Quietly. Slumped. 

“LISA!” 

*wooooOOOOO*

Sirens blared throughout this plane, something akin to hell. It carried the same meaning wherever you were. Back from whence you came.  

Birds cooed their sacred tune and the wind flowed up against the window putting its strength on display. 

Warm.

The sun's rays that beamed in Harry's face were warm. 

He opened his eyes and groaned. The first thing he laid eyes upon were those bundles of cotton balls bunched up and hung on the ceiling. The memory when Cheryl and him had made those cloud paper-weights remains. A smile broke on the corner of his lip thinking about it. 

He felt something in his hand and brought it to his face. It was that portable cassette player again. Just seeing it made Harry's forehead and temple throb with an annoyingly dull ache. He could recall the savage beating he had endured the night before and yet it suffered no cosmetic damage. 

*Click!* *WRRRRRH*

*HIISSSSSSSS*

*Click!* 

Oh right, the speaker was blown. Harry sat up. The hardwood floor didn't exactly do wonders for his spine. He took time to inspect Cheryl's room inch by inch, every corner with flaking paint, everything touched by her childish wonder and charm. A room packed with much personality and history feels so empty now, It still feels wrong being in here. 

“Cheryl…this is your room. But you're not in it…” Harry whispered in echoes of grief, clutching the tape player to his chest.

 At his feet was something that wasn't there before-... something that shouldn't be there. It was the green shoebox from the closet in his bedroom. 

Harry loomed over the box and slowly scooped it with his hands; its heft not surprising to him anymore. As he cradled it in one arm he gently wiped over the lid with the other. He couldn't notice his pounding heart.

*Cough! Cough!* 

More coughing followed as some minor cries of discomfort joined it. He realized what it must have been and sprung himself off his knees and sped towards the bedroom to find Heather, awake and breaking into a coughing fit. 

Harry approached her crib and lifted her out of it and settled her in his arms. Gentle pats on her back ensured that she'd cough all she needed to and in a minute, all is good. 

Heather wrapped as much of her arms as she could manage around Harry's neck as she rested her head on his shoulder; dozing off again in seconds. 

He hates moments like this, when he can feel the warmth of this baby's love to who she thinks is her father. It was repulsive; in times like these he'd put her back in the crib. Not this time. 

“Hiya kiddos! Can you help me find my friend, Ozzie Ostrich?” A cutesy xylophone tune emanated from the speakers as the cartoon bird waited with its ear pressed to the screen; giving time for the children to answer. “Grrrreat! Now…where could he be?” 

Another character chimed in, "Tookie, last I saw of Ozzie he went into Mungo’s forest. I think he's trying to get some bananas!"

“Are you sure Perla!? Mungo doesn't like anybody messing with his bananas! We have to hurry and stop Ozzie from doing anything to upset him!” 

The animated duo kept rambling on about the dangers that awaited their ostrich friend if they didn't intervene; with a gathering of courage they made way towards Mungo’s forest. All the while Heather sat on her high chair, she'd giggle and clap her hands and make other noises signaling that she was very much enjoying the cartoon. 

As the pan sizzled with breakfast ham and eggs, Harry couldn't help but recall all those times he'd hear Cheryl answering Tookie’s every question with emphatic glee. A smile broke. He continued to cook. 

Maybe…this wasn't so bad.

Maybe…he could live out this sentence.

Maybe…one day…he'll be free.

Maybe…

Maybe…

*Brrrring….Brrrring….Brrrring*

Harry plated his meal and went over to answer. 

“You've reached the Masons', this is Harry.”

“Oh! Mr. Mason, we're so glad to catch you on a day like this!” 

“And I'm just as ecstatic.” Harry said, blankly staring at the television set. Much more interested in the search for Ozzie than this random call.

“It won't be too much of your time Mr. Mason. We just wanted to get in touch with you to discuss payment due for our services” 

“Payment? Listen Miss I think you have the wrong guy, I haven't purchased anything from this company you represent. I suggest you check your notebook again and see if you have the right number.” 

“I assure you Mr. Mason. We have the right number.” 

“No. You don't.” 

“I'm here to discuss the payment we’re due for the wake and burial of one…let me dig her up…oh! For one Cheryl Mason…that name ring a bell?” 

“Wha-...what are you talking about?!” 

“Please Mr. Mason, don't you remember? You were the only one to show up for any of these events. I'm surprised you did any of it…let alone the wake. There wasn't even a body. A waste of money if you ask me.” 

“I'm in no mood for your sick joke! Who the hell are you?!” Harry shifted his posture to face the phone entirely. “How did you get this number!? How do you know about Cher-” 

“You forget yourself Mr. Mason, you're somewhat a celebrity you know. Being a famous author and all.” Hardly true. “Regardless…we know how to get to you. So, let's finally talk about what we're due!” 

Harry didn't know why he hadn't hung up the phone yet. There was no point in carrying out this ridiculous conversation! Maybe reckless curiosity had him by the throat.

“Considering you've picked out a fairly priced package deal which did include the dress, the reservation of location, the wake, the casket, and the hearse driver, and the burial service. It would round out to being about 4500 dollars. Not to mention fulfilling your special request to have little Cheryl’s casket of nothing buried next to her dear sweet mother.” 

Harry nearly cracked the phone receiver's plastic shell as his silent fury peaked. The thing on the other side of the line took this pause as befuddlement. 

“Should 4500 dollars be too big for the check book; I'd like to make you aware that we do accept alternative forms of payment!” 

“Alternative…?” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Yes! We would remind you but you already know-” 

*CLANG!*

He rested his forehead on one of his palms. Thoughts surging in his head. Was it just some prank caller who miraculously pushed all the right buttons? No. It couldn't have been- but then- but Harry hasn't told anyone of any of this in the past months. He'd kept this secret- this truth, the full truth close to his chest for all this time. Even as it burned the world around him. 

*Brrrring!…Brrrring!…Brrrring!*

The phone rang again. Harry eyed it through the gap between his fingers. His breathing became rapid and his heart skipped one too many beats. Dare he pick up the phone? Fear wanted him to let it go, the uncertainty of who was on the other line was almost paralyzing but, Anger wanted him to confront the one on the other line. What if it was the same prank caller? What if they thought they could get an easy double time on Harry? If so, he wouldn't make it so easy.

*Brrrring!.....Brrrr-* *Clunk!*

Harry put the receiver to his ear but didn't say a word. He would wait till the caller made the first move. 

“. . .”

“. . .” 

“. . .” 

*Click!* *Bwwooooooo*

The line died and all that came from the receiver was that persistently annoying tone. Harry set the receiver on the base again with a soft *clang*. Still unnerved by the conversation he evacuated from the bar counter. He sat at the dining table, his plate of now cold ham and eggs, limp bacon, and stale toast keeping him company. He watched from afar as the wonderfully bright cartoon continued to air and Heather vocalized her enjoyment. It would be some time until he had his first bite. 

“I hear the clock’s every move, I hear every drop of a pin. Every second I grow more and more terrified-...more and more tired. It's all around me. It takes the form of everything sacred to me. Every night I see it there, laughing at me. It's mockery goes on and on. It doesn't end. Please…leave me be…” 

It was another day- a remarkably cold one. The chill breeze that nips at your fingertips and face suddenly grew fangs. Deep in December with Christmas on the horizon the citizens of Ashfield had begun to show their holiday spirit. Houses in the neighborhood began to hang up wreaths and vogue decorations on their doors and in their front lawn. They no doubt had a Christmas tree by now becoming increasingly surrounded by gifts with each passing day.

It came as a surprise to Harry that Christmas was arriving so soon. It had felt as though it was only September to him. Time had passed far faster than Harry’s vain efforts to keep up with it. Fancy decorations and large trees weren't interesting to him this year. He has no plans to do anything for Christmas. 

But

Today he wanted to be among the world. It surprised him, seeing as he had already gone to his little safe haven just a few days ago, that being NStar Supermarket. He put on the proper clothes for the weather; he even dressed up Heather too. 

*Slam!* The house door is now locked behind them. Harry had Heather strapped to his chest via a carrier, her pink beanie covered up most of her head and was the most apparent detail of her outfit. Harry began to walk away from his house and treaded carefully in the now snow-dense side-walks. 

Music can be heard bumping in houses here and there in the neighborhood, each family listening to a different and presumably their favorite Christmas-time artists. Another few houses had the man of the house stringing up Christmas lights around the edges of the roof and tree if they had one on their lawn. Harry happened to pass by an acquainted neighbor of his. 

“More decorations, Jared? Anymore and I don't think your wife will be able to help you with the electricity bill.”

Jared turned around on his ladder to face Harry. 

“So the troll finally comes out from under the bridge…on your tri-weekly visit to the real world?” Jared turned around back to his roof, stringing along another couple feet of Christmas lights. 

“I don't know. Something about today makes staying home unappealing.” 

“Is that right? Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from getting the little bit of sun that's out.” 

Harry turned around and panned his vision, he could see a few of his neighbors staring at him. A consequence of his reclusivity; he'd become something to gawk at like an animal in a zoo. Everyone would catch their glimpse of the circus clown and turn away. Today was special however, it was many of their first time really seeing Heather. 

“Who's the girl, Mason? You mean to tell me you've been getting busy?” Jared slowly descended the ladder. 

“No, no, she's my niece.” Harry patted Heather's head while he mentioned her. Heather tapped her hands along Jared’s fence posts. 

“Uh, huh. Any word on your little girl or is it the same as always?” 

“Yeah, she's gonna be with her grandmother for just a bit longer until I can get some more financial stability.” 

“You know, with her being with her grandparents all this time, you don't bother to ever go visit. You expect me to believe a father- a man like you only wants to see his daughter once every month or so?” 

“Things haven't exactly been smooth between Cheryl and I since that vacation we took.” Jared gave Harry a look of “ Don't play dumb with me boy.”   He folded up the ladder, Harry, assuming the moment for talk had passed, continued up the sidewalk. 

“Harry.” Seems he was wrong. Harry paused his step and made eye contact with Jared, letting him know he had his attention. “I'm as sure as the rising of the sun that with what you've been doing, how you've been living, it's led to a lot of rot, a lot of withered flowers. Just how much longer until it takes you? I think it's sooner than you realize. Life always comes to collect.” Harry was rather stunned that his neighbor was capable of such a statement, he just stared at him for a bit from the surprise of it all.

“Hey!” Jared called out to him, Harry snapped back from his zoning-out and saw a very uncomfortable look on Jared's face. His neighbor seemed oblivious to what Harry had just heard him say or what had happened. “What the hell are you looking at, man?” Jared paced a few steps towards his backyard entrance, then gradually sped up, in moments he had retreated. Harry gave what he heard some thought for a few moments, then turned around himself. No one was out watching anymore. He continued to walk off, to nowhere in particular. 

The walk has taken the pair to many avenues, the metro station, a little strip mall, and even that old pizza parlor he used to go to years ago. Now though, through the pale white; they've ended up at Thornhill Park. A warmth passed through his heart; remembering the good times. A lot of things had happened here. A devotion to an eternal bond, tender strolls taking in the company of each other, and where a baby took her first steps. 

Heather couldn't help herself in all of the adventure. She's only seen the snow a few times. She'd reach out with her chubby little hands, trying to grasp every snowflake- every drop of snowfall. Harry couldn't help but notice. Cheryl was always more of an autumn person; as was her mother. The differences between Cheryl and Heather were starting to make themselves apparent; Harry tried to look away from them. 

The little lake that flowed around the parks perimeter had frozen over, letting all see the mundanely colorful assortment of rocks that gathered at the bottom of it. Not to mention all of the loose change that had been tossed in hoping that a wish came true. 

It was particularly bustling this afternoon, groups of children laid flat on the snow covered grass fields flailing their arms and legs up and down, side to side, eventually creating rows of beautifully simple yet crude snow angels. The overflow of wonder and amazement fueled their laughs, giggles, and excited cheers as they looked upon their creation. Cheryl would have loved this. 

A few short cries came from Harry's chest, it seems Heather wants more than just a spectators view of winter. She wants to clutch snow in her chubby palms and really feel it. With a brief exhale of amusement, Harry bent down on a snowy patch of grass and clumped up a small ball for Heather to hold in her hands.

“Ah…awa-...ah” Heather kept her hands outstretched, her vocalizations trying to let Harry know that she'd like to have the snowball now. 

“Here you go girl. See? You're not missing out on much-” Almost immediately as Harry tried to downplay the curiosity Heather had, she immediately put the snowball in her mouth and began to gnaw at the crunchy snow with her nearly toothless maw. 

“AH!” Heather yelped as the snow made her mouth colder than she's ever experienced. She spat out what little un-melted snow was in her mouth and chucked the half-eaten snowball to the ground. She would begin to cry as she experiences her first brain freeze. 

“Haha! I probably should have warned you about that.” Harry softly said as he rubbed Heather’s cheeks with his thumb. Angry as she was with the brain freeze, she rejected her parent's attempt at sympathy, swatting away the thumb. 

Harry chuckled, these little outbursts of anger from babies were always a little funny to him. There was joy everywhere he looked. Small families building snowmen, couples out together on leisurely strolls, and street guitarists playing to tiny crowds of all ages. Harry could grab onto the feeling but he couldn't hold onto it; snuffed out just as the candle was lit. 

 He kept roaming the park while Heather took in all the new things to see. At sometime he began to trace the little creek in Thornhill; the creek had frozen over, giving all a window to peek at every treasure sunken below the water. Years of loose change flung in hoping that a wish came true, maybe a lost ring or pearl hidden among the earth. 

“You know Heather your mom-...my wife and I got engaged here. I don't think I've ever smiled so much in my life!” Harry calmly rubbed the top of Heather's beanie while he reminisced, “I wish you could've met her…”

Among the laughter and chatter, the joy and solace, the creek began to muddy itself the further Harry went along its trail turning an unappealing brown and then black…and then red, this ugly, nasty shade of red. Harry rubbed his eyes, nothing changed. That ugly red was still there but now? It began to thaw and soon the creek came alive once more. 

Bubbling up to the surface came a body, her soaked blonde hair almost masking her identity if it weren't for her uniform. Cybil. Those sunken glazed eyes stared up into the sky hoping that they'd see heaven. Harry could see the bullet holes that tore through her soaked and discolored uniform's fabric. The markings of 9mm, buckshot, and the fairly larger holes made from the hunting rifle riddled her torso. 

“Harry…it's so cold.” Disbelief couldn't sum up what was going through Harry's mind as he took a step back in fear. The more he looked at the melted river of what he could only imagine was blood, the more he was overcome with the urge to scream. More came gently down the stream; the remnants of a suave haircut on a butchered face and tattered business suit floated next to a nasty priestess gown and then lastly…a nurse’s cap came slowly gliding upon the viscous river. 

“Daddy…” Cheryl's voice was clear and soft as it whispered in Harry's ear. “Daddy…don't be so sad.” in the middle of the floating parade of corpses emerged two arms, spread wide with hands open waiting to be embraced. “Daddy…come with us…” Harry approached the edge of the creek and knelt in front of the outstretched arms. “Come on. Come join me, the water is warm…”

“Harry.” Something else called out to him as he looked upon the river. Harry's heart was in his ears and the world around him became numb. 

“Harry.” It called out again, his breaths became rapid and shallow. 

“What is it you want most, Harry Mason? I think we know what that is.” 

Dahlia’s words from nights prior looped over and over again. Her voice was one, then two, then ten, then too many. It was everywhere. What was it that Harry wanted most? It was obvious from the moment the phrase left Dahlia’s lips. This was it. This is all he's ever wanted since he lost his little girl. Reunion. He placed his hands upon Cheryl's. She began to slowly drag her arms as well as her father's under the stream. It didn't matter to Harry what would happen to Heather. she's born from Alessa’s soul, isn't she? She'll probably return to her original self like Cheryl did…won't she? This is fine…this is what he's wanted. 

“HARRY!” A pair of hands shook Harry violently, snapping him out of whatever the hell he succumbed to. “Christ, man! Hello? Anybody home!? Jeez dude, you trying to lose your hands?!” A few bystanders paused to see what was going on. 

“Oh…H-hey Noah.” Harry had to put effort to slowly peel off his hands from the frozen surface of the creek; it's simple treasures once again visible in crystal clarity. He glanced down to check on Heather. She didn't seem to understand what was happening. With her well-being assured he stood up and met Noah face to face. “I guess I just wanted to get a look at all the pretty things under the ice, hah-” 

“Yeah, I'm not so sure, You know most people are fine looking at a distance, Harold.” Noah assumed a firm tone of voice Harry rarely every heard him use. “I've been meaning to ask you Harry but dude, you okay? I'm not just asking cause of those eye bags you've decided to rock.” 

“I'm fine Noah, really I am. Sleep has been rough for me lately I admit. Dozing off at 4 am doesn't really excite me either. What brings you here?” 

“Harry you can't just-...ugh…I'm here chaperoning for a field trip. My girlfriend was supposed to chaperone and watch over her sister but she caught a fever and then asked me. You know I can't say no to her, man.” Noah pointed at the group of children who were practicing carols with their instructor being heard handing out their critique on a few students' performance. “But enough about that, are you forgetting to introduce us?” Noah motioned to Heather who was just looking at anything that caught her attention at any and every second. 

“Oh right, my manners. Heather I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Noah.” Harry would then point at his friend hoping Heather was paying attention. “Noah, this is Heather. She's my niece.” 

“How's it hanging? I feel sorry for you Heather, I couldn't imagine being stuck at uncle Harry's house all day. Probably smells like mold and an Elvis concert.” Noah chuckled softly as he let out a warm and gentle smile. Something Harry couldn't do much anymore.

“Okay! Children please file in uniform lines! We're heading back to the buses now!” A projected announcement was made to all who needed to hear it. 

“Damn man! Well Harry, I have to go, there's two more stops we have to make in this field trip…ugh!…why did I agree to this?!” 

“Because you’re a good guy Noah and besides you should be enjoying this! You're amongst your reader base!” 

*Pfft!* Noah let out a surprised laugh at the unexpected jab, assuredly all in good fun.

“Haha! Whatever man…hey, Harry?”

“Yeah, Noah?” 

“Take care of yourself.” 

It was a different time then…

“You've been watching that movie all night Honey, come on, come to bed.” Jodie and her exhausted voice emerged from the shadowed hallway in her nightgown, visibly tired and visibly annoyed that she couldn't get a wink of sleep due to her husband's need to watch this one movie. 

“I'll be there in a few minutes! It's getting to a good part!” Harry said as he glanced at his wife to acknowledge her but, his attention would continue to be hogged by the television set. 

“Ugh! Harry, you already know what happens! Travis goes to assassinate Palatine, he fails and then goes to save Iris!” 

“Did you really have to say it!?” Harry said sarcastically, a dumb smirk on his face as he turned again to Jodie. 

“It's not like you never get to watch it.” 

“I don't!” 

“You watch it every other week!!” 

The flashing screen displayed the unraveling plot for all to see. All was as Jodie said, a failed assassination attempt would turn into a brazen attempt to swap motives and play the hero. 

Jodie walked up towards her husband who was comfortably sitting on his favorite armchair.

“Come to bed, please pumpkin? Don't make me beg…”

“It's a little tempting.” Harry reached out and held Jodie’s hand and slowly swirled his thumb on it while he contemplated whether or not he should turn off the television.

The film score and soundscape could be heard creeping through the speakers while the two shared a few moments of silence. 

“Alright.” Harry grabbed the remote from the little table on the left side of the armchair and turned off the television. He rose from his throne. “I'll come to bed.” 

“That is what I like to hear.” Jodie planted a kiss onto Harry's lips before she strode back through the hallway and back into their bedroom. 

“Why do you even like that movie anyway?” Now in bed and a tad restless, Jodie wanted answers.

“It's a bit of everything, baby. The camera work, the acting, the music, the story has some real grit to it!”

“Trying to take some inspiration out of it?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Or maybe something more?” 

“I don't know. I think I feel for the guy? It's evident that he's got a few screws loose but it's not just that. The environment he's in that causes his disdain and hate to fester and later, explode. That city gives him all the reasons to justify himself.” 

“Oh? So you sympathize with him? So you're going to try and assassinate the mayor now?” 

“No! Jeez Jodie it's not that!” Harry chuckled at the remark. He then turned to his side to face his wife. “I think it's just that…I see his struggle and want to fit into a world that doesn't want him. Or can't have him. That's where I think all that rage of his comes from. His lack of purpose. His isolation. He's God’s lonely man.” 

“I guess it might be a little too real for some people. The war wasn't very long ago.”

Jodie unexpectedly sat up and straddled herself onto Harry.

“But what is it that you're telling me, Harry? You feeling like God's lonely man?” 

“Never when I'm with you.” 

“Oh, stop it.” A small smile curled on her lips.

“How was work, baby?”

“A few lady's wanted some highlights done to their hair, others wanted just a simple haircut, and that old lady showed up again.” 

“Again?” This repeat senior was already someone Harry was acquainted with hearing about. 

“She didn't do anything this time, her scalp and hair treatment went without a hitch. God, last time she went in I almost let myself drown her in the tub!” She giggled lightly just thinking about it. 

“Maybe next time she acts like a brat you should do it.” 

“Yeah? And get put behind bars, sleep on a feather, eat slop, and stay in for most of the day for the rest of my life? Uh huh, yeah, no. I think I'll pass on that mister.” 

Harry let out a dry chuckle, “Worth a shot.” 

Jodie smiled and sighed. “Harry, there's something I really have to tell you.” 

“What is it, Jodie?” 

Jodie then let herself fall onto her lover's chest and whispered into his ear. 

“I love you.”  

Chapter Text

“You're stalling.” 

“I'm surprised you aren't.” 

“The truth is clear as day, you're a coward, I'm not. It's a simple game with simple rules. How much longer do you plan to hold this out?” 

*Click!* 

“See? That wasn't so hard.” 

The two men sat under a dull, rust orange light while a table was all that separated one from the other. 

The Man laid down the iron on the table, The Suit picked it up with authority. It was his after all. 

“That's the difference between you and me, I've always been willing to collect the hard calls. Do what needs to be done! You've never been a man of business.” 

“Don’t kid yourself, your business was nothing more than a sad man’s gamble for an abhorrent paradise. You forget how small you are. Only fools chase forever.” 

“Forever? Eternity? Don’t forget paperboy, forever is what you owe us! If you're saying I'm afraid. I'll show you just how scared I am.” The Suit put the long part of the iron under his jaw. 

*BOOM!*

 The Suit went limp and fell to his side, falling out of the seat with the grace of a stone. Another person emerged from the darkness to take The Suit’s place, stepping over more than just him. The Officer knelt down and grabbed the iron. She opened it. 

“This is the last one.” 

“There's always more...” 

“Maybe that's what's right for you.” 

The Officer took a seat on the vacant chair. Back to the first play again. 

*Wrrrrh* *Ca-lick* *Thud!*

“Your move.” 

The Man picked up the iron and held it in contempt. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

“I'm scared.” 

“Why should you be? You have nothing to lose anymore.” The Officer rested her head on her fist, she read him like an open book. “Don't tell me...” 

The Man outstretched his arm and pointed the iron at The Officer. 

*Click!* 

His poker face broke at that very instant. Seemingly knowing that his fate was sealed. His head dropped as he faced the floor. It was the officer's turn, she took hold of the iron. 

“What you’re in right now is a spiral, stuck in quicksand flinging around, trying so hard to get out without realizing that your grand struggle is what is ultimately killing you. You cannot escape what's been done. The only way out is to stop squirming and sink. It's what you deserve.” 

The Man continued to look at the floor, his mind was spent playing this game day in, day out.

“What I am about to do now..is my gift to you.”

*BOOM!*

The Officer slumps forward, her head slamming against the table and then bouncing off it, her body would plop off the chair and to the floor. In his chair, The Man flinched, he never got used to the *Thud*. He looked up and saw the empty chair in front of him. There were no more. 

“Please…” His uneven voice devolved into something adjacent to whimpering.

Then came a shuffling from the night-covered floor. The Man put his head in his palms. 

*Click…clack* Heels tapped against the floor. She was ready. 

“S-st-STOP!” The Man began to dryly sob in his hands at his ordained fate. 

Clad in red and white, The Nurse pulled back the chair and sat on it. She looked no worse for wear considering the back of her skull wasn't there not too long ago. 

“My baby…I'm so sorry…I-...I didn't mean to...” 

The Nurse paid no mind to the pleas of The Man, she opened the iron and once satisfied, she began. 

*Wrrrrh* *Ca-lick!* *Thud!* 

“Your move.” 

Harry paused to look as Noah retreated into the school bus, glad that he saw him even for a brief moment. 

“Awa!...a-a-awa!” Heather started to flail her arms a bit, she was getting irritated being stuck in her harness for far too long. She then opted to reach over her head and rapidly open and close her miniscule hands. 

“What is it? You want something?” Harry couldn't pinpoint what Heather was after…but he had an idea. He lowered his index finger onto the opening palms of the beast, she took hold of her prize and quickly started to gnaw at her victim violently with her faintly toothed jaws. Harry allowed her to gnaw for a few moments and then pulled back his finger and wiped it on his pants. 

“Had enough?” Heather would raise her hands up again and rapidly open and close her palms. The beast wasn't satisfied. Harry sighed and lowered his finger onto the opening hands and let Heather continue to gnaw at his index finger, hoping she'd have enough of it in time. 

“We should probably start heading home. I've had my fill of this place.” Harry paced and flowed through the many paths of Thornhill Park; he'd glance and stare at the creeks, waiting to see if they'd turn back to that ugly, nasty shade of red. They never did. He never took his eye off the creek until finally making it to one of the park’s many exits. Heather was caught in a nap; boredom or overexerting herself were the obvious culprit for her exhaustion. They'd press on and trek all the way back to their home. 

*BWWOOooo* A siren blared quickly out in public and caused Harry to look around to spot its source. A lone cop car parked right beside another vehicle, its officer outside the window of the poor bastard they were giving a ticket to. Harry turned back around and quickened his step. Periodically he'd hear the siren, no matter how far away he was. 

“Try~ to remember…when life was so tender~ that no one wept except the willow~” A soft melodic tune thumped from the living room’s bookshelf speakers. Harry had elected to sit in his armchair and sift through another photo album he had lying around, this one wasn't as large as the other one but then again, he hasn't added to it in a long time. 

Heather was fine, playing with little nothing things in her crib which Harry brought out to the living room to watch over her. Her curious and confused cries almost bothered him but each melody and memory soothed his nerves. This photo album has no coherent theme, just pictures placed wherever Harry and Jodie saw fit, although she'd get on his case for how poorly he's treated it up to now. 

A photo came up, one Harry couldn't remember at first but it came swiftly once he had a long enough look. 

“My baby's first day of kindergarten. Oh, Cheryl…I remember how much you didn't cry or make a fuss that morning. It always surprised me, your stillness, your quiet affections. Maybe you picked it up from your mother? You were always special, weren't you? Always different. Still, you didn't forget to give your papa a hug and send a smile his way when you boarded that bus.” Harry sighed, dropping the building weight of nostalgic melancholy. 

He lowered the photo to gaze upon what had become of his little girl. A wistful puff of memories, gone as though she never existed; yet, there was so much evidence to prove it. And in her place? A baby who looked so much like her, but it wasn't. This child that he was given, the baby that took Cheryl's face and wore it so obliviously. He still wonders who hides behind the face of his little angel.

 Is it Alessa?

 Is some remnant of his little girl still there?

 Or is it someone entirely new? Someone who had no say into being born? Perhaps it wasn't any of them who made it out. 

Maybe it was the demon.

Harry couldn't figure it out, he'll never figure it out…not until the day this baby is much bigger than she is now. Until the day she starts and stops looking like Cheryl. 

*Brrrring!...Brrring!...Brrrring!* 

“What now my love? Now that you've left me. How can I live…through another day~. Watching my dreams turning to ashes and my hopes into bits of clay~” The record still had more to give as the phone rang, Harry wasn't in any rush or mood to pick up any phone calls…especially as of recent.

*Brrrring!...Brrrring!...Brrrr-...* The phone went silent after its second round of ringing. Good. Nothing to bother him now. 

“I walk the night without a goal~. Stripped of my heart…my soul~. What now, my love? Now that it's over? I feel the world closing in on me-” 

*Brrrring!...Brrrring!...Brrrring!* The phone started to ring again. It seems like the person on the other line really wants to get through. Harry closed his eyes and sighed with notes of annoyance; he slammed the photo album shut and went over to the kitchen bar where the phone waited for him. He hesitated to pick it up. 

*Click!*

“You've reached the Masons', what do you want?” 

“This is Harry, right? Forgive me for bothering but we met on the curb next to a liquor store not too-” 

“James.” 

The man in the other line let out a sigh of relief; glad that Harry didn't forget him. 

“Yeah, uh, it's me.” James sounded like he was either fresh out of bed or fighting his body’s desperate urge to go to bed. 

“Why are you calling, James?” 

“Uhm…I wanted to know if you wanted to talk? Like we did some nights ago. Same place, same time?” 

“You sure you want to talk to me James? I'm positive there are better people worth your time.” 

“Yeah, sure, you're as expressive as a brick wall but…you're the only one who knows how it feels.” 

“How touching.” Harry lightly smirked.

“Besides, you did give me your number that night. “if you need a friend.” I believe you said something along those lines. Right?” 

“Huh” Harry scratched his head as he recalled the dialogue they shared that night, “I did, didn't I?”

“Yeah. You did. So then, what do you say?” 

Harry put the receiver on his chest as he turned around to look at Heather as she was still cooped in her crib. If he agreed to meet with James, that meant he'd have to figure out what to do with Heather during the night. He didn't exactly want to risk her wellbeing another time. Even so, he hasn't been the best at doing so. James was someone new, someone who didn't have any preconceived idea of who Harry is; besides being an author and all.  As much as this is an opportunity to chat and get to know each other better. It was also an opportunity for Harry.

“I’ll talk with you… but not at the liquor store.” 

“O-oh, where did you have in mind then?”

Harry glanced at Heather and considered his options. 

“How do you feel about meeting at the Victory Diner? The one by the DMV? It's open late and we can get out of the snow. Not to mention the place having decent food. What do you think?” 

There was a pause on the other side of the line. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Victory Diner sounds good. So then…same time?” 

“Yes. The same time.” 

James let out a sigh of relief again. “Thanks Harry, catch you then!” 

“I’ll be seeing you, James.” 

*Clack!* The receiver was put back on its pedestal. 

James rubbed his eyes and continued to fight the mild hangover he got himself into last night. And preparing himself for the one he was most likely going to be in for tonight. Calling in sick for work was starting to become a pattern he had to cut short, lest he risk being fired from his job. No job meant no money, no benefits, no insurance; insurance that graciously covered a lot of Mary’s medical expenses and even with that, James still felt each chunk a surprise new prescription or procedure did on his wallet. It was constraining. 

He slumped over to the couch in his apartment’s living room and plopped himself right on it. He was drained even though he woke up just a couple hours ago. His thoughts were everywhere in the past and present; he forbade himself on the future. He blankly glared at the ceiling as he recounted the events of that afternoon. 

Back when you still loved me…

The traffic jam had come unexpectedly. A man entered the hospital panting a little; he seemingly ran before entering. A bouquet of varied colors wrapped in crunchy cellophane in his hands. Tulips, asters, cardinals, huddled around a large sunflower at the center. A favorite book signed by their favorite author; everything meant for one person.

Why the effort for gifts and surprises? It was a special day; an anniversary. 

James had come in to check up on his ailing wife, Mary. Between work, bills, and the impossible news of improvement for Mary's condition; the stress of it all had been weighing on him for some time now. But he'd soldier through it, no matter how long it took for Mary to recover....even if he knew better.  

  It had been just around two years since his wife was diagnosed with that damn disease. The one that revealed itself at the end of their short vacation stay at the Lakeview Hotel in the quaint town of Silent Hill. James had taped that very moment; a moment he wishes he could eviscerate from history. A life waiting to be lived together at arms reach, now ripped from them both. He promised Mary that he'd take her there again someday but with the state of everything that trip just had to wait. And if it came, would it be in time?

But right now, none of that mattered, he was here to see his wife and just exist near her. It had been regrettably too long since his last visit and James had cleared out all he needed to do today. He took on extra duties from work so that he could leave a fair bit earlier today, no chores at their residence, nothing. It would just be Mary and him and he wouldn't want it any other way. However, there was this pit in his stomach. Something gnawing at him. What if Mary would rather not see him?

I know you don't. 

"That's ridiculous" he thought. But was it so? Time and the disease had deteriorated more than just Mary's health. It was eating away at her. The things that made her. Her soft and delicate facial features had slowly gone rugged, her quaint but beaming smile, now a bitter scowl. Her eyes that could hug a bear would now strangle it. Recent visits had gone from reunion and consolation; to apathetic silence and raging outbursts of belittlement. 

Yet, he knew his wife was still in there, she'd come out of that fortress of spite....eventually. Perhaps there was another thing weighing on him that he didn't account for.

He sat in that glossy plastic seat for eons it seemed, thinking about everything. How much it hurts. How unfair this was to them. How he needed today to go well. God, It needed to. This elongation of Mary’s life had begun to splinter the near inseparable couple. In the beginning she could stay home with him; a comfort they both relished. As her condition worsened in time; she had to be admitted into palliative care. They were separated until he'd come to see her. In her absence, life had lost its spark for James. There was no point in living out this lonely existence; up until he'd see her in the hospital. 

However, as of a few months ago, James has taken to drink as a…way out. These hospital visits weren't justifying his existence like they used to. He'd return home after walking on eggshells for the duration of visiting hours. It was like placating a temperamental child, saying the right things so that they don't blow up into a tantrum. Their relationship was decomposing day by day from something that they couldn't control; they couldn't foresee. They both had to bear the burden of it regardless of the fact. There was no casual exchanging of pet names like how they used to do. There was no conversation that could be carried on for longer than ten minutes like they used to do. The answer was simple and matter of fact; they didn't love each other like they used to.

So what was James to do when he'd come home and rot in that pale apartment of theirs? He'd drown in liquid misery; its burn giving him the warmth he'd so desperately been wanting- craving. That's all he ever really did for the past 4 months. He'd work in his white-collar job from 9-5, come home and put on a new outfit, visit Mary all he could stand, and return home again; then, drink himself to sleep. If he wasn't drinking then he was just mindlessly existing; waiting for the next day to begin or going through old video tapes he'd recorded over their years together. Mentally inserting himself into the grainy video, reciting each spoken word as if he was rehearsing for Broadway. Although part of him longed to see the tape he made of their honeymoon trip to Silent Hill. Another part of him thanked the stars above that he'd forgotten it in that hotel. He didn't want to relive the last segment of the tape. Even without it, he can't get that image of Mary coughing out of his mind. A prelude to the horror that was to come. 

“Mr. Sunderland?” A voice broke him from his blank stare into nothingness; dragged back into the present, James would rush a response. 

“Y-yes?” He looked towards the desk clerk as he sat with his hands still holding the fresh bouquet and novel. 

“I've checked you in for today, you can go head on through.” James hadn't come up to check himself in yet, but the clerk had done so for him. He knew James only came for one thing. 

James frantically stood up from his seat and began to walk towards the double doors that led to the hallway where Mary's room was. “Thank you!” He said to the clerk in passing. James was part excited, part hopeful, and part terrified. Each step down the hall had him second guess this visit too many times to count. 

Each pair of footsteps clacking on the floor further sent his mind into the burrow of anxiety, What would she say? What will she do? Is this enough? Does she still love me? Do I still love her? Why doesn't she just die? The thoughts in his mind blitzed him and each repetition chipped away at his already waning mental fortitude. All the sound in the world was sucked out as soon as he reached the door to Mary's room; his own breath boomed in the crowded hallway. It felt like every person had their eyes on him; as if they're waiting for him to walk through. As if they already know what is going to happen once he steps through. A lamb to the slaughter- a man on a fool's errand. 

The world stood still until James put his hand on the door handle, his gifts tucked away out of sight behind his back; he opened the door. 

The sterile room was clean but devoid of any real character. A dreadfully basic coat of white paint covered everything and the only sense of style were the blue rubber tile baseboards that line the room's perimeter. Sitting on her bed next to beeping machinery and an I.V drip was all James had come to see. Her head was tilted away from James even before he entered the room; she paid more mind at the window, looking outside and watching a passing married couple out in town with their child. Her breaths were heavy and audibly angry. When James closed the door behind him did she finally acknowledge his existence. 

He approached the right side of her medical bed and laid the book on the table next to him. Then, he took the gamble.

“Mary.” He did his best to sound a little giddy or…excited? He didn't pull it off well. 

“What do you want, James?” Her tone was nearly devoid of interest but she turned her head to face her husband. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks bore wet streaks. 

“I, uh…I brought you some flowers!” James then unveiled the bright bouquet from behind him and presented them to his every hope and dream. Mary looked confused, her eyes widened at the gesture and her face softened a little more. She held out her arms and received the bouquet. 

“Flowers?”

Her lips quivered at the short moment she was afforded to look at the beautiful assortment until James put his hand to her cheek and turned her head to face him once again. He leaned in and kissed her. She tasted like death. Perhaps the romantic context behind today gave James the confidence to pursue an action he once had no trouble in committing. It felt euphoric to kiss Mary again, not just a peck on the cheek so that he could go home no…a real kiss. Mary let out a soft moan, she'd missed this too. For a few moments they held their heads close together and indulged in this lost feeling. In these moments, James could forget that Mary was dying and he could see that future they both wanted so, so very badly. 

Mary pulled herself away from James. Her face assumed meaner features and a growing scowl. It left James a little confused.

“I don't want any damn flowers!” Mary then threw the array of flowers at James, the impact didn't leave a mark realistically but it left James stunned, “Just go home already!” 

“Mary, what are you saying?!”

Mary motioned with her hands up and down her frail body, her cragged skin, her thinning hair, her progressively lazy eyes, she pointed out every single one of her withering features. “Look at me! I'm disgusting! I don't deserve flowers. Between the disease an-...and the drugs I look like a monster!” The room went dead silent aside from the machinery. James stood aside the bed like a deer in headlights. 

“Well, what are you looking at?! Get the hell out of here! Leave me alone already!” Mary paused briefly and once again looked out the window, her voice lost some of its bite and took a more melancholic tone. “I'm no use to anyone. I'll be dead soon anyway…maybe today…maybe tomorrow……it would be easier if they just kill me.” She scoffed and continued, “I guess the hospital is making a nice profit off me, they want to keep me alive…” Mary then turned her head back at her tired pathetic husband, unable to help her in any way that mattered, she wonders why James still visits at all. “ Are you still here?! I told you to go!” 

James could only take a few steps away from the bed until he was once again berated. 

“Are you DEAF?!” With rarely afforded speed, Mary turned over in her bed and grabbed the novel on the counter nearest her bed and flung it at James. With all the medications and treatments, every routine check-up, and hours spent staring at the cracks in the ceiling, Mary never really had any energy left to do anything anymore. 

But she always had just enough to hate him.

“Don't come back!!” With that final yell, James fled the room. The slamming of the door continues to echo in James mind as he fled the hospital.

It continues to…days and weeks since. 

James looks up at the ceiling as he slouches on the couch. 18 cracks around where he could see, no new ones have popped up thankfully. There's a thought he can't remove from his mind. Just how unfair…and cruel this all was. James couldn't help but hum some jingle he hasn't heard in a long time. The longer he hummed it, the more the song fell apart as James couldn't piece together what came next; then, he realized he'd forgotten where it came from. 

He pried himself off of the cushions and opened a trunk near the television set and started wading through plastic cases of his home video tapes. Could it be this one labeled “Beginner piano lessons”? No, the jingle wasn't from any traditional piano. Well how about “Memories of ‘84”? Unlikely. How about “Holding you so close”? James' face flushed as he saw the name and quickly put the tape aside. Definitely not that one. 

He spent a good deal of time sorting every tape in that trunk, once over, twice over; He’s watched these tapes many times and he was certain none of them contained this mysterious jingle. He tried to hum it again but this time he didn't get as far as he did the first time, the tune unraveling much sooner. 

“Ugh! Damn it!” James chucked the last sorted tape back into the trunk then closed it. Irritated by his failure to find the source, James returned to the couch and turned on the television. The hangover had almost subsided…almost. James was still a little loopy and his eyelids were getting heavy. Soon, he'd shut them and fall asleep. The popping static from the television seemed to soothe his mind, Wheel of Fortune was airing, he wasn't missing much. 

“Hey sleepyhead~” Mary's voice called out, soft as fresh linen and sweet like nectarine. 

James jolted to wakefulness- surprisingly peeling himself free from the glue trap of malaise. 

“O-oh!” James let out a satisfying yawn and put his eyes on Mary, his newly wedded wife. “Hey, Mary…” 

“Sleepy from the drive, huh? I don't blame you but, could you wait until we're back at the hotel? You're missing this gorgeous view!” Mary waved her hand in front of her, putting the full beauty of Toluca Lake on display. Its clouded water contrasted by the darkly vibrant forest surrounding its edges; the crisp bite of the cool air gently blowing in any which way. Not to mention all of it is covered in a light layer of mysticism- thanks to the alluring fog all around town. “It's prettier than what those pictures in the brochure led me to believe!”

James gave it all a fair shake, panning right to left in his view…and then returning his eyes on the only real beauty in town. 

“I think it's…okay.” James wore a contented grin as he gazed upon Mary; the sheer awe of her contained within a loose and flowy sundress- adorned in various flowers, her short-heeled slip-ons, along with her signature hair bun. She is perfect. 

“How can you say that!?” Mary said light-heartedly, she feigned her annoyance, giving a little pout away from James. 

“What do you think? How could the earth compare to heaven?” His gaze deepened, he couldn't believe that he got to call Mary- this angel on earth, his wife. They were both elated for what the future held in store for them. The first order of business was to move out of that apartment. While it served them well they couldn't really expand much in it. Especially since they wanted to add a couple members to their family. James had just acquired a corporate office job that paid substantially better than his janitor gig at an elementary school. It was all coming together. It was going to be…perfect!

“Who is this person in front of me?” Mary giggled and let out an alluring smile. “The James I know could never in a million years come up with a thought like that! Hehehe!” Mary put herself close to James’ chest and he held her close. Both as one under the misty gazebo. 

“I've been getting a bit bored recently…so… I decided I'd comb through a couple books of yours…” Mary would let out a playful gasp in response.

“Mr. James Sunderland!...Reading?! You must be some alien! What have you done to my husband!?” Mary and James would chuckle in tandem. Their gazes locking in with the others; no sight in all of Silent Hill could be as beautiful. 

“It's still me, Mary! Although I've got to say, you have an awful lotta books from that Perry Mason guy.” 

“It's Harry Mason, you know?…but close enough. I've been reading his books since I was a teenager. He's just got this way with words…” Mary let out a soft sigh recounting the nights she'd stay up just an hour later to finish a few more chapters.

“Yeah. A real boring way.” 

“You take that back!” Mary then playfully slapped James across his face. 

“Okay! Okay! I will! I will!” James held his hands up as if being arrested. 

“You better!” 

The two then calmed themselves and stared out into the vast lake and forest before them. Their breaths and heartbeats synced with each other as they held each other again. This was heaven.  

“James…” 

“Yes, Mary?” 

“Will you love me forever? From now…until death do us part?” 

James looked down at Mary- who was looking out at Toluca Lake and the Hotel far beyond in its waters. James softly held Mary's chin and turned her around to face him.

“I will and even forever won't be long enough. I will always love you, Mary. ” James leaned in to kiss the love of his life. Mary held onto James tight for but a moment; then pulled herself away. 

“I hate to cut this short but we should probably get back to the hotel. I don't want to miss our dinner reservation. I've been dying to eat there since we got our room!” 

“Then let's not wait. Come, take my hand.” James took a few steps ahead of Mary and offered up his hand. Mary took it and with hands held they made their way back to Lakeview Hotel. Mary hummed a sweet melody the couple heard not too long ago. The both of them looked forward to their enchanted evening. 

*Tick….tick….tick* The hands on the clock inched its way around itself ever so slowly. With the stillness of the night all was able to be heard. 

*Tick…tick…tick* 

James opened his eyes and yawned, finally feeling well rested and to some degree…happy. But, it's happiness only a fantasy can provide. Fantastical happiness that leads into bittersweet grounding, when you remember where you truly are. What once was and what can never be. Hollow. 

He sat up on the couch, the television was still on and rerunning more of that lame game show. He looked over to the clock. 

“11:30 PM” 

Right on time, any more shut eye and he'd be late or likely miss his talk with Harry. He had to get ready and be out the door now or never. 

*Click!* The television was shut off as James went to the bedroom to get dressed for the occasion. As he was changing, James caught a glimpse of a framed up picture on the wall. It was a still-shot taken from their honeymoon trip to Silent Hill. James and Mary side by side, bright, glowing, smiling, and happy. There would be nights where that photo was what convinced him to take on tomorrow. Looking at it also reminded him just a little more of that melody. 

James couldn't recall any more lyrics but for once he could continue on humming the tune and it wouldn't unravel. Uncovering that small passage of the song made him flare up a smile. With this recounted knowledge, James was now pretty sure what tape the song was in; but, he didn't have time for that now. 

“Good evening to all of you night owls out there! We at Ash FM trust that you're keeping yourself safe tonight, the bright city decorations might distract you but it is still freezing cold outside and we advise extreme caution when traveling outside for the time being. On a lighter note we hope the citizens of Ashfield are excited for the coming holiday! Christmas is only one week away, so here's a last minute wake up call for all you procrastinators out there! Time is short and shelves don't seem to be restocking any time soon! So buy the gifts your loved ones deserve while you still can! There's no greater way to show your love…anyway we are flinging you back to our late night program with the hottest pop tunes! Next up? “Like a Prayer” by Madonna!-”

Harry pushed down on the volume knob of the radio and with a sound *Click!* it silenced itself. The night drives were therapeutic to some degree, not many people were out this late and in this weather. No one to bother, no one to judge, no one to question. It felt like the world belonged to Harry alone…well- almost alone. Heather was sound asleep in her carry cot in the backseat. He dressed her up for the cold but didn't go as heavy on it as in the afternoon. The diner was only minutes away and in all honesty, he looked forward to seeing James again. It is a much needed reprieve. 

*Whiiiiine!* *Ca-lunk!* Now parked and making way to the entrance with Heather alongside him, Harry opened the door and stepped inside.

“Welcome in tonight, honey! Will it just be for you two?” A sweet talking hostess stood post at a podium a little ways down the entry walkway. Surprisingly she seemed full of energy. 

“For now. It's going to be for three, I'm currently waiting on the other person.” 

“Table for three while you're waiting for more company, hm?” She gave Harry a look that told him she was going to take the surest long shot of a guess in history. “Forgive me but um…were you possibly waiting for that man in your table of three?” The hostess uses the pen in her hand to point at a man in a tucked away booth near a corner of the restaurant. A man with split part-way blond hair and a drab green jacket. James. 

“Uh- yeah! That's him.”

“Oh, good! I just had a feeling!” She giggled to herself, “It's just that not many people pass by this late and more or less tell the same story. Guess I cashed out this time.” 

“Yeah, I guess you did.” 

“Sorry! Enough of that- please, please! Pass right on through!” The lady handed Harry a menu for him and a kid’s menu for the sleeping critter. 

“Thanks.” 

“I'll be right over soon to serve you three! Just give me a moment!” The lady went away somewhere and Harry passed along to get to the booth James had stationed himself in. 

“You live close by, James? If I'm being honest I expected to be waiting for you.” Harry set the carry cot and sat himself on one side of the booth seat.

“Well, I guess I did. I've never stopped by to check this place out. Despite the years…” James stirred the spoon in an untouched cup of coffee, the metal and ceramic scrapping off each other in a constant rhythm. 

“I don't blame you. This place looks a little boring but it has good pie.” 

“That so? Too bad I'll never know for myself. I'm not really a pie guy.” 

Harry chuckled, ”Your loss!” 

There was a pause between them for a few awkward moments; the circling fan blades cutting the air and quietly playing oldies filled the void. 

“It's good to see you, James.”

The stirring stopped as James looked up from the cup and at Harry. It looked like nobody had said those words in a long time.

“Y-yeah…it's good to see you too.” James went back to stirring his cup of coffee. “Is she why you wanted to-” 

“Good evening gentlemen! My name's Deborah and I'll be taking care of y'all tonight. Could I get you guys started off with something to drink?” The lady from the front returned with a little notepad, ready to serve. 

Caught off guard, Harry defaulted to what he usually tended to drink here. 

“I'll just have a lemon soda, please.” 

“Of course, dear. And for you mister? Would you like some more coffee-” The hostess saw that James hadn't taken as much as a sip from his mug.

“N-no. I'm all good here.” 

“Well…well then, just the lemon soda for now?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Any last minute questions before I head off?”

They both shook their heads at the server. She nodded and went to get what was requested of her. 

“You were saying, James?” 

“Oh! Is…is she why you chose this place?” James pointed at Heather sleeping in her carry cot.

“You'd rather be in the snow?”

“No, no I guess not…who is she anyway? I know you mentioned you had a daughter…Clementine?” 

“Cheryl. Her name's Cheryl.” 

“Right, um, so then is she her sister or…?” 

“No, she's my niece I'm looking after for the time being. Her name is Heather.” 

“Well, when she wakes up, tell Heather I said it was nice to meet her, yeah?”

“I think she'd like it better if she heard it from the horse's mouth. Don't you think so?” 

*Click-Clack!* Tapping heels approached the booth again. The waitress had returned. 

“Alright boys, I'm back with your one lemon soda.” She carefully placed the glass on the table right in front of Harry. “Now, you boys feel like getting something to eat or am I going to have to return to the kitchen and give them nothing to do?” 

“Do you have any cherry pie lying around tonight?” Harry inquired. 

“Hmmm…If I remember correctly, no. But I'll go back around and check for ya. If it ain't there could I interest you in a slice of apple or pecan pie? I know I have those two for sure.” 

“Tonight feels like a pecan night. If you don't have cherry then I'll have the pecan, please.” 

“Of course, dear.” The hostess wrote down the order on her notepad. “And for you?” The lady spoke to James. 

“O-oh no, no I'm not hungry tonight. Thank you, though.” 

“It's nothing, dear. I'll just take these off your hands.” She grabbed the menus and then retreated back to the kitchen to get the orders out in a timely manner. 

“You sure you're not hungry, James?” 

“Sure as I can be, don't worry about me Harry. I ate not too long ago.” James finally stopped his hypnotizing stirring. 

“Well I guess if you're so sure…how are you holding up? Is Mary doing…okay?” Harry knew anything regarding Mary would be a hot button anything. Even asking these simple questions felt disrespectful. He'd been there. 

“I'm doing fine. Work is boring as it always is. Sometimes I wonder why I even took the job at all.” James dryly chuckled, “Mary is…” James paused and started deep into the reflective abyss of his coffee, his own heavy and tired eyes looking back at him. 

The pause dragged on way too long to be considered natural anymore so Harry cut through the silence. 

“James? You alright there?” 

He flinched a little when Harry called out his name; like he'd been snapped out of something.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…uhm…Mary is doing as well as she can be.” 

“I'm terribly sorry for the both of you. I only hope that she can live in relative comfort; or as close as she can get to it.” 

“She's been in hospice for the past year. They pump her full of medicinal cocktails round the clock. Painkillers and medication I can't even spell out. I doubt she has the capacity to feel anything anymore…” 

Harry picked up on James’ inflection, “What makes you say that?” 

“Its...” James had to be careful not to let his own vitriol spill out. “It’s just that-” 

“I hope I'm not interrupting you gentleman but I've come back with what you ordered!” 

The pair dropped their conversation to focus on the hostess. She carried a little plastic platter on which two items rested. 

“We actually did have just one more slice of cherry pie for you…it's an act of God I'll tell ya.” The lady handed Harry a plate of ordinary but fulfilling pie. She also laid down a plate in front of James. 

“I didn't order any-” 

“How can it be that a man walks into this here establishment and so proudly totes that they don't enjoy one of the finest creations in culinary- nay- the world?! I overheard your little talk!” 

“It's just not my thing-” 

“It is gonna be once you walk outta here.” 

James was baffled, “ I don't want to pay for something I didn't order!” 

“Rest easy my dear, it's on the house tonight…just that one though; the cherry pie I will have to charge you for.” 

“Damn.” Harry said in rapid disappointment. 

“O-okay then. Thanks.” James looked up at the hostess and gave her a reluctant smile. An effort to make her go away. 

“Now you both enjoy yourselves! If you need anything else just holler for me!” And in a moment she swiftly turned away and went somewhere the both of them couldn't bother to care for.

“An odd character, she is.” Harry remarked

“That's putting it nicely.” 

James picked up the still spoon and began out of nervous compulsion to swirl it in his coffee mug again. Harry went in with his fork to go for his first bite of pie. 

“When we first spoke you mentioned that you and your wife had visited Silent Hill before.” James cheated a view from the window to his right, the dull town covered in bright white snow. It didn't match the color palette of anything but nothing else was going to do the grunge city any favors. “Mary and I only went once. For our honeymoon. It was…it was the happiest I'd been in my whole life.” 

“And how did you two end up deciding that was where you wanted to spend your honeymoon?” 

“Mary’s eye was caught on an advertisement in a vacation brochure. Her eyes lit up as soon as she was done reading the brief. She said, “James, we have to go here! It looks like nowhere I've ever been to! There's something special about that town, I can just feel it!”. I can't lie, it did look peaceful. So, we went.” James smiled recounting everything. Then at once, it went away. “How did you hear about it?” 

“Well, my wife's parents were avid vacationers and that town was their all time favorite. They went so many times, some years they went 3 to 4 times. It was their second home. Of course I'd heard of it in passing in my high school days. Newspaper articles and radio advertisements. You know how some stations hold sweepstakes right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, one time the grand prize for a caller 23 was an all expenses paid trip to Silent Hill!” Harry grabbed his glass of lemon soda and smugly drank from it. 

“You won it?!” 

“Nope.” Harry let out a hardy laugh. “I went with my wife around? Gosh, 8 years ago? That's where we found our Cheryl, on the side of the road.”

“Cheryl isn't yours?” James questioned with interest. 

“Don't know who she belonged to, all we knew was that she was abandoned on the side of the road leading out from Silent Hill. We took her home and got the paperwork in order. In time she was Cheryl Mason, our little angel.” 

“And where is she?” James asked innocently. “Home sleeping?” James finally decided to go in for his first bite of apple pie, courtesy of the house.  

Harry didn't know what to say- no, he knew exactly what he should say. The one truth that he hasn't had the gull to admit to anymore. And even if he said it…would it set him free? Harry gathered his courage.

“You remember that trip I took this summer?” 

“Yeah!” James was already a couple fork-fulls deep into his pie. 

“About 10 minutes from the town, there was an accident. A pedestrian I hadn't seen before started to cross the road in my lane and in a panic to dodge them I swerved off the side of the road and my car tumbled down a hillside. It was hours until I woke up. My hair and skin soaked in my own blood. My little Cheryl didn't wake up…I called out to her so many times. Not one word back. I held her hand and felt warmth but it was only what my heart wanted to feel. The rest of her was a cold I've only felt once before. ” Harry’s slim half-truth was all he could muster. Sure, he could tell James of the nightmare that truly was Silent Hill. He could tell him about the demons, skinned dogs, flying man-bat things, and what really happened to the three people who were found murdered. But then he'd be labeled a lunatic, a psycho. He was certain of it. No one would ever believe him. Now and forever. 

James stopped himself from eating another fork-full of pie and lowered the fork back on the plate.” Harry…I'm so sorry.” James’ expression lightened up and tried to match the grief that Harry didn't know was on full display on his. 

“Don't be. It was my fault.” Harry pressed his curled fist to his lips. 

“That's not true.” James attempted to comfort his new friend.

“Isn't it?” The diner fell still and only the turning fans and soft playing oldies gave their sound and song. “If only I had seen that person on the road sooner…they weren't even supposed to be there!” Harry gasped as he held the floodgates shut.

“But you're here Harry. That has to count for something.” 

“Whatever it counts for. It's worthless to me.” 

Silence enveloped the diner once again.

*Ahem!* *Ahem!* Two tiny little coughs escaped the cot next to Harry, their innocence broke the suffocating melancholy. Harry retracted the top half of the cot to see that Heather had woken up. She brought her chubby hands to her eyes and awkwardly rubbed them, trying to best the fatigue. 

“Look who decided to join us.” Heather wiggled a bit in her cot, she grew tired of sitting in it. Harry unbuckled her restraints and picked her up into his arms. She smacked his face wildly a couple of times. 

“Ah! ” Harry exclaimed as he was struck. Heather would relent and turn her attention to the man she's never seen before. 

“Aaaawa-...eaaah!” She vocalized her curiosity for the man sitting across from them. 

“It seems she wants to bother you too, James.” Harry stood up from his side of the booth and went to James’ side. “Here.” He motioned to James, asking him to hold her for a bit. 

“Oh, Harry, no I'm sorry, I'm not good with kids.” James denied the offer on the spot, he seemed almost afraid of it. 

“Oh, come on, it'll only be for a few moments! She just wants to get to know you.” James looked to Harry and saw that Heather was extending her free arm to him. Reluctantly, he accepted. 

“Fine.” James awkwardly held out his arms waiting to receive Heather. Once she was in his hands, Heather wasted no time and got to bothering this mystery man. She put her hands on James’ forehead, then his ear, then his nose, and then on his eye. When she struck his eye James let out an understandable, “OW!”. Heather then giggled with oblivious glee. 

“Your parents really have got to teach you some manners!” James exclaimed. 

“She didn't get it from me, that's for sure.”

The feelings that came over James were all over the place. There was annoyance, irritation, and some joy and whimsy. But most poignantly, bittersweetness. A future in his hands, a future he can't have anymore. Not the way he wants it at least. 

“Here Harry could you-” James was going to give back Heather so that he may be free from her nagging. But he wasn't there, it's as though he vanished. Now he was stuck with her for the time being. Heather held still and looked James directly in his eyes.

 “Don’t get any funny ideas.” James warned.

At once, Heather lunged forward and bit James’ nose. Too late. 

“It’ll be $1.82 for everything.” Deborah returned for one of the final times in Harry and James’ stay at the Victory Diner, coming to collect what the restaurant was rightfully owed.

“Alright lady, here it is.” Harry reached into his right-hand side jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He began to rifle through his bills. 

“Harry, wait! I invited you- I should pick up the tab for this!” James insisted. 

“It's alright, Sunderland, believe me, it is. I don't want to take your kindness for granted. It was nice to simply go out. That's enough for me.” 

“If you're sure…” 

“Here.” Harry plucked two dollar bills from his wallet and placed them on the little plastic tray offered to them. Deborah took it and went away to get the little change Harry was owed. 

“Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah, James?” 

“ Do you have any plans for the holidays? Or are you just going to spend it shackled to your writing desk?” 

“It's awfully tempting but…no. I don't think I'm going to be spending Christmas either which way. 

“I don't think Heather would like to hear that.” 

“Yeah…she probably wouldn't…” Harry anxiously looked off to a side. 

“But if you aren't planning to do anything, why not join my father and I? He's not the most pleasant man to be around but hell, he's better than nothing.” 

Harry raced around his mind for a minute. An invitation such as this was harmless but getting to meet another new person meant having to upkeep the facade for another soul. The game was getting tiring. He was getting tired. But, maybe…this wasn't as perilous as it seemed. 

“You're uh-... you're going to have to give me some time to think about that.” Harry chuckled nervously. “Why don't you call me again soon and I'll have my answer for you?” 

“I guess that sounds okay.” 

*Clack! Clack!*

“Welp, it's all settled, here you go, honey.” The waitress returned for the final time and gave Harry back his change. With that, their business here was finished. Harry and James gathered their things and made their way out. 

*Riiing!* The entry Bell rang as the two exited and entered the biting winter that had laid itself across the city. 

“You came walking, right, James?” Harry looked at his new friend. 

“Yeah. It's as I said, I don't live too far from here.” James flared up the collar of his jacket and cupped his hands together and blew into them for warmth. The freezing air got to everyone. 

“Let me give you a ride. I'd hate to have you risk your safety walking back. It's damn cold right now, not to mention any creeps skulking about.” Harry said plainly. 

“Hah! I can handle myself, Harry. Thank you but I think I'll pass. I like the walk home. Helps clear my mind.” 

“If you're sure.” Harry said to James and in turn, James briefly flared something that looked like a smile. 

“I am. Get home safe Harry, bye.” James gave a single wave goodbye, turned away and began to walk home. 

“See ya, James.” Harry murmured. 

Thick and crunchy snow collapsed under James' foot with each step. The city was still “alive” more or less. Street lights lit the road and scattered rooms in nearby apartment buildings still housed resilient night-owls. It's a little past 1:30 am so it wasn't entirely unreasonable for people to be up. It was a Friday night, people are still out and about partying or clubbing or up to some other exciting activity. James was no stranger. Mary and him would at times go dance the night away at a random club that caught their attention during the week. He was surprised Mary agreed to go to a club at all, she never seemed like the type. 

The trip went on and on as James passed quiet building after quiet building; he wasn't too far from his apartment now. He thinks of Mary. He thought of her often, he wondered how she was, seeing as he hadn't gone to visit in a while. The only thing he gave her as a reminder he cared was a phone call randomly in the week. She seemed so peaceful across the line but James knew the hate that didn't seep through. 

His mental haze distracted him from the bright neon lights he just happened to pass. Swirling violet and baby blue lights with a hint of green lighting an adjacent leaf-shaped part of the sign. 

“Bushes of Eden

Gentleman's Club”

Ah, this place. Yes, James has passed by it many times before. One look and any man knows what to expect beyond those doors, it never tempted him before. But times change. The thumping music emanated from behind the padded entry doors where one lone bouncer stood guard even this late into this freezing night. As customary for a place like Bushes of Eden there were no windows, the only way to see the action was to go inside. Something James didn't want to do. He would begin to walk past the establishment until he was stopped by someone wanting his attention. 

“Hey there handsome~. What's a man like you doing roaming around all by yourself here this late?” The woman had fair skin, a well kept head of brunette hair that was let down, lips covered lightly in lip gloss to accentuate her blood orange lips. “Say…you wouldn't let a lady like me freeze up out here would you? Why don't you keep me company? I know a cozy spot just a couple blocks from here. We can get out of this snow and…get to know each other better. You don't have to worry…I don't bite.” the lady of the night ended her sentence softly and in James’ ear. 

The lady pulled away and continued to eye James down. She wore pitch black boots that went up a little below her knee, stockings, a quaint black dress that was covered with a thick brown jacket. Her most striking article of clothing was a vibrant pink and black leopard print skirt. It stuck out like a sore thumb amidst her outfits’ tame color palette. 

James felt his heart race as his breathing grew anxious. The hot air of her breath hitting his ear…the invitation to something much more intimate…it's something he hasn't had in a long time. Something stirred within him but he wanted to kill that urge as quickly as it came. Not like this. Not through this cheap sin. 

“I-I'm sorry, I'm not interested.” James quickly took a couple steps back to make distance along with waving his arms to signal “No”. 

The lady slowly began to close the gap James had made between them. Her keen eyes had caught a glimmer of the wedding ring she didn't notice before. “Married are you?” She giggled and as she came face to face with James again she pressed her body lightly onto his, hoping that a little feel would swoon him. “It's okay…I like them spoken for.” The warmth of her breath was alluring and her voice akin to silk. 

“I said, NO!” James acted in panic and in an instant he pushed the woman away from him. She crashed to the floor. 

“Jesus Christ, asshole! Are you fucking crazy!?” The lady lashed out at James as she struggled to pick herself up off the snow covered concrete. 

“Just leave me alone!” James began to pick up his pace and evacuate from this disgraceful place.

*Thunk!* James closed the door to his apartment and immediately went to his bedroom and laid himself out on the bed. He was drained from all that had happened today. Even if that “all” was very little. He couldn't sleep though. The chirping grasshoppers and city ambience did nothing to soothe his pin-balling mind. Sometimes he thinks of what happened to that future that was so very clear…so very close. He doesn't think of it for long. He knows. 

He catches himself humming the song he looked for hours trying to remember any little bit of. Well now he did remember and if he couldn't sleep the night away then he might as well put this to rest. He checked under the bed but found only a couple pairs of shoes. He checked the trunk again but no luck. At last he opened up his closet, it was a wide closet and split between the two, James looked upon jackets and other shirts he'll never bother to wear anymore and dresses he'll never see Mary in anymore. He pushed through that thought and searched. It took a minute but James came across a container not much larger than a shoebox. 

He lifted the lid off and was beholden to a moderately fat stack of photos and other paraphernalia. The subjects of the photos were the same across all pictures. He brushed them to the side and picked up an item made of thicker card-stock. The rectangular piece opened up to show the simple message it hid. 

“You're invited to attend the wedding of James Sunderland and Mary Shepherd!”

James remembered that Mary liked the floral outer design of the invitation so much she wanted to keep one of the invitations to themselves. James put the invitation back into the box and claimed the larger prize from it. A sleeved VHS tape. James stood up and took the tape to the VCR in the living room of his apartment. 

*Click!* *FWISSSSHHHH* The television came to life and then the VCR was turned on- ready to receive and play what it would be given. James turned the dial to channel 3 and popped in the tape. He crouched before the T.V to relieve another memory. The tape picked up where it left off. 

*BITTZ* *Wrrrrrrrhh* 

a screeching microphone could instantly be heard wailing across the venue.

A man then came up to a podium and grabbed the microphone.

“Hello to all and thank you for attending this wondrous moment in the lives of two blessed people! To the married few out in the crowd, isn't it a little crazy to think that at one point your spouse didn't know a thing about you? Neither did you. Both of you were strangers at some random time in history! Now that all that time has passed, can you vision the day without the love of your life? That's the truth of marriage isn't it? Thank the Lord that on this day, two more have learned that beautiful truth! May their bond be evergreen through the trials of life and may they come out stronger because of them. Ladies and gentlemen it is my great pleasure to dedicate the first dance and the floor!... to the first dance of the newly wedded James and Mary Sunderland!” 

The crowd that filled the venue began to erupt in joy and applause as the newly wedded couple made their way to the dance floor. Once James and Mary had reached the dance floor a faint cue was given to the hired musicians and they began to play. 

Here's to a life that would never be.