Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: NIGHTMARE
Chapter 2: MY SWEET HOME
Chapter 3: LURKING PLACE
Chapter 4: CHURCH
I remember being wrapped in a warm embrace. A faint memory. A childhood recollection buried deep in my heart. Held in strong arms, swaying, with rough breaths blowing in my ear—it felt like breaths full of hopeful vitality, yet also of gasps of stifling sorrow.
"Running while holding you as a baby," my father told me.
His eyes gazed into the distance. Nostalgic, yet lonely...
Heather sometimes dreams of that memory. It's usually a good, comforting dream. But sometimes, it turns into a horrible nightmare. An unknown presence closes in from behind her running father.
Pat, pat, pat—bare footsteps on the asphalt were heard. An irregular, eerie sound. Disrupting the pleasant rhythm of the heartbeat she feels against the warm chest. The shadow of the unknown presence that catches up with them looms over the father and child, turning into darkness that devours the world. Glowing yellow eyes, like a cloudy full moon, float in the darkness, accompanied by a twisted smile, glaring at young Heather.
A chilling gaze. Piercing into Heather's body, cutting her apart. The pain inflicted was not only physical but also a soul-wrenching agony that drove her to madness, and a scream burst from her lips.
Normally, she would wake up from such nightmares, drenched in sweat and sitting up in bed, but... today's nightmare did not end there.
"Where am I?" Heather muttered in confusion, looking around.
Just when she thought the massive shadow had caught up with her, the dream took a sudden turn, and she found herself in a place that seemed like a plaza. She was standing on her own feet, no longer a baby, but as her current seventeen-year-old self.
"Is this... an amusement park?"
Though darkness had fallen, it wasn't pitch black, as faint light from scattered street lamps diluted the gloom. Looking back, she saw colorful neon lights blending into the night mist, and an illuminated archway indicating the amusement park entrance. The gate was barred by iron grilles, preventing entry or exit, but Heather was already inside... trapped with no means of escape.
She felt a cold sensation in the palm of her hand.
She was holding a knife. A switchblade, an unfamiliar object to her, and certainly not something she habitually carried for self-defense. But since this was a dream, there was no need to ponder why. Yet the sensation was vivid, the hard, icy steel was almost real.
Heather noticed a figure sitting on a bench in the plaza. Was it the terrible presence that had been chasing her as a child? Nervously, she gripped the knife and cautiously approached. Though she moved stealthily, a metallic clatter echoed from the soles of her boots. Part of the plaza's brick pavement was covered with a mesh grid, possibly a drainage cover.
As she neared the bench, a light separate from the street lamps illuminated the figure. The flickering light came from Heather’s chest; somehow, in the dream’s absurdity, a pocket flashlight had been placed in the chest pocket of her down jacket.
The light revealed a person with unusually large ears protruding from their head. Leaning weakly against the bench back, they had wide-open, round eyes... a rabbit doll, or rather, a costume. It seemed abandoned, or perhaps someone was still inside it. The fluffy face that once greeted visiting children was now stained with dark, dried blood.
Heather left the bench and ventured further into the amusement park. She wandered aimlessly through the surreal landscape. Passing by a popcorn stand and a mysterious, cage-like box the size of a phone booth, she glimpsed to see something wriggling through the gaps in the wire mesh. It didn’t seem to be a human, but rather some inhuman entity... curious but not enough to wanted inspect closely. Heather decided to ignore it and walked past.
A brick wall blocked her path.
The second gate. When she pushed the door, it opened effortlessly.
The eerie whirring noise of nocturnal park creatures filled the air, replacing the lively sounds of visitors. The floor was entirely made of metal mesh. Each step she took produced a grating noise, which seemed to attract something from the darkness.
A dog.
A monster resembling a dog. Its head was split in two, as if cleaved by an axe. Drool dripped from the split head, exposing fangs, brimming with hostility towards Heather.
Heather ran. Compared to her female friends, she was tomboyish, known for her strong-willed nature, never flinching even in fights against boys. But still, she was a seventeen-year-old girl. She hated cockroaches and rats, and the grotesque appearance of the monster made her hair stand on end. Her fleeing legs felt like the soles of her boots were glued to the ground.
The nightmare's characteristic sluggish movements.
The dog-like monster caught up, sinking its teeth into Heather's skirt.
"Stop it!"
Heather swung the switchblade wildly in defense. She felt no resistance as she stabbed. The monster's body felt like air, no matter how much she stabbed, her knife passed through. Yet, the weight pulling on her skirt was real. The stench from the bared teeth was nauseating. Somehow, in the ambiguity of the dream, Heather found herself running along a corridor with an open center, dragging her bleeding leg wounded from a bite. She dashed past restaurants and souvenir shops lining the hall, ignoring them completely, until another brick wall blocked her path. She fled through a door marked "Mountain Coaster." Though she escaped the dog-like monster, the situation worsened.
Beyond the new door, the eerie whirring grew louder, echoing from all around.
In the darkness, a massive silhouette loomed ahead. The light revealed a grotesque giant with an oddly shaped head and sack-like thick arms. The giant lumbered forward, dragging its heavy arms that reached the ground.
Heather stood frozen, paralysed by otherwordly terror. The impossible appearance of the monster was more horrifying than the dog-like creature. Her heart screamed in place of her mouth.
She had to run!
Taking a wide detour around the monster, she sprinted deeper inside. Fortunately, the giant's movements were slow due to its massive size. Yet, she fell into another nightmare trap, the air felt sticky like syrup, resisting her every move. The monster's thick arm struck her back, propelling her forward.
Though it was a dream and she felt no pain, she could only awkwardly get up. The bruises on her body felt all too real. She staggered onward.
Beyond a yellow ticket booth was a barred fence, and beyond that, she saw stairs. Probably leading to the roller coaster platform. With no other refuge in sight, she pushed through the gate and headed there. The lifelessly still roller coaster had no passengers, and the control room at the top of the stairs was dark. Continuing forward meant walking along the winding tracks of the Mountain Coaster. Her nightmare urged her to continue and proceed forward on this path.
She walked along the tracks, many of the sleepers missing. Had this been reality and in broad daylight, she would be paralyzed from the height and danger, unable to take another step, proving itself to be a perilous place.
A high-pitched whistle sounded from behind. Vibrations traveled through the tracks. A deafening roar penetrated her ears.
Heather turned around in suspicion, only to see the roller coaster train, which should have been stationary, was now charging towards her. The train's lights pierced the darkness, blinding her and burning into her widened, astonished eyes. Her vision went completely white, and in the next moment, she felt her body crushed flat.
It felt like a ridiculous cartoon character.
Her body, flung into the night sky, fluttered down like a leaf in the wind, falling beneath the tracks. Shattered bones, exposed organs, blood-soaked skin.
This is a dream.
It must be a dream. But what is this awful feeling? Her heart felt heavy, a despair so deep it made her want to cry. It was as if it were real…
Something is touching me. Trying to revive me from the dead. A hand of salvation, but not one of love. A forceful pull from the grave. Heather barely opened her eyes to see who it was.
A guardian angel?
No way. Don't make me laugh.
Though it had a human form, it was a dried-up, wrinkled monster.
No, don’t touch me with those filthy hands.
I just want to sleep. To forget everything. I don't want to remember.
Heather awoke groggily. It seemed she had dozed off in the pleasant afternoon sunlight, sprawled lazily on a table at the hamburger shop she had stopped at on her way back from shopping.
“What a horrible dream...” She murmured wearily. The nightmare had left her feeling utterly drained.
The sunlight spilling through the blinds of the hamburger shop’s window was tinged with the red of evening. It looked like the color of blood from her dream. Heather lifted her heavy body and left the shop.
Families with children, couples, singles, women dressed in the latest fashions, men in business suits, young people covered in tattoos and piercings, the wealthy obese, and the gracefully retired elderly... All these corrupt and decadent individuals were swarming. The shops overflowed with items enticing fleeting pleasures, reminiscent of the decadence of Sodom and Gomorrah, with people drowning in wealth.
Amidst this bustling crowd, a woman dressed entirely in black was walking.
Defying the flow of shoppers in the mall, her nun-like attire made her stand out from the vibrant surroundings, her gaze filled with pity as she regarded the world with disdain.
"Very soon," the woman murmured. "A new era will dawn."
A faint smile.
The signs were already showing.
On the flip side of this seemingly unchanged city, it lay in wait, biding its time to emerge. From the other side, separated by a thin veil, it waited for the right moment to surge through. The trigger had already been pulled. The bullet would soon pierce through the thin membrane, and before long, it would start to spill out. The woman's gaze eventually settled on a girl. Her look was intense, almost loving.
The girl standing in front of a public phone.
The girl who had become the catalyst...
The one who had pierced the veil...
Everything resided within her.
"Dad? It's me!" Heather spoke rapidly into the public phone. "Sorry for not calling you sooner... I fell asleep. I'm heading home now... Oh, the thing you asked for, they didn't have it... Yeah, yeah, I know. I love you too."
Two pairs of eyes were secretly watching her as she called home.
One belonged to a man. The man observed the girl's profile from a slight distance, comparing it with a photo in his hand, and nodded to himself.
"Heather Mason... It's definitely her."
Heather noticed the man's gaze.
He was a middle-aged man in a worn-out suit and coat, with an unkempt beard and messy hair sticking out from under a felt hat, looking like he was on the verge of homelessness.
As she hung up the receiver, Heather shot a hostile glare back at him. If an unknown man was staring at her intently, his motives were clear. Especially since he appeared to be around her father's age, his twisted intentions were obvious.
Get lost, you creep!
Heather's glare conveyed her message, and the man showed signs of confusion. He looked like a scolded child, hastily shaking his head.
"Wait! You’re Heather Mason, right? I need to talk to you."
He pursued her as she turned to leave.
"My name is Douglas Cartland. I'm not a suspicious person. I'm a detective."
"A detective?"
Heather turned back, surprised to hear her name called.
"Yes."
The man, Douglas, produced an ID. It was a license issued by the state government.
"Huh..."
Heather looked at the ID with interest for the first time, but she felt no curiosity about the detective himself. She couldn't determine if it was a real license. There were plenty of forged IDs in the world. For all she knew, he could be a criminal pretending to be someone else to make her drop her guard. Even if he was a real detective, she had no intention of divulging private information about any acquaintances who might be the subject of his investigation.
"If you're looking for a lost pet, ask someone else. Goodbye."
"Just a moment, please, hear me out."
"My daddy told me not to go with strangers, even if they offer me candy."
"This is very important. It's about your birth."
Persistent man. Heather was fed up.
"How far are you planning to follow me?"
She hurried to the restroom in the mall, glaring at the man with the "Women Only" door behind her.
"Oh, my apologies." Douglas stepped back, almost stumbling. "I got carried away... I'll wait here, but please, we really need to talk—"
Slam!
The door closed in the detective's face.
Heather entered the restroom without sparing a glance at the stalls. Her goal was to shake off the man trailing her, not to use the facilities. She headed straight for the window, intending to escape through it. However, she paused, staring at something.
There was graffiti on the mirror above the sinks. A strange symbol enclosed in a circle. It looked like it was drawn with lipstick but had the eerie appearance of dried blood.
This mall has really gone downhill, Heather sighed. It used to be a decent place, but now there are perverts lurking around, and even the restrooms aren't safe from vandalism...
As she stared at the graffiti, she felt a wave of dizziness. Her temples throbbed. Memories seemed to leak out from deep within her mind. The symbol on the mirror looked familiar...
Where had she seen it? When?
The more she tried to remember, the worse her headache became. Heather averted her gaze, desperate to escape the pain. Now was not the time for this. She needed to get away from the pervert first. She had to report him to security and have him arrested.
Opening the window, she climbed out, dropping into the alley between the mall and an adjacent building. Heading toward the main entrance, she found the alley blocked by a van parked with its rear end protruding, taking up the entire width of the alley. Forced to take a detour, she found her path further blocked by a stack of empty boxes.
Heather was infuriated. She couldn't believe the negligence. This was supposed to be an emergency exit! What if there was a fire? It was no wonder the mall's clientele had deteriorated with such poor management.
She had no choice but to go back inside through the emergency exit. Though there was a chance she might run into the self-proclaimed detective again, she figured it was unlikely since the restroom was far from where she re-entered. As she opened the emergency door, a damp, musty air seemed to lick her face. There was a faint but unpleasant smell, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. What was wrong? Was the air conditioning broken?
Another odd thing.
It was eerily quiet.
She couldn't hear the usual cacophony of shoppers. It was too early for the mall to be closing. The sound of her boots on the floor, usually a brisk, confident noise, now echoed forlornly in the corridor. When she reached the end of the emergency hallway and pushed open the door to the main shopping area, her fear became definitive.
There was no one. Not a single soul. No shoppers, no employees.
The main lights were off, leaving only the dim emergency lighting. The once spotless floor was now stained with what looked disturbingly like blood. It was as if a massacre had taken place. Both passages leading to the main entrance were sealed with fire shutters. She was trapped.
"What's going on?" Heather's voice was nearly a scream. The dread swirling in her chest wasn't because of the fear of running into the middle-aged man again. It was the strange, echoing moans emanating from somewhere deep below that filled her with terror.
Her legs trembled, but she summoned the courage to continue through the deserted mall. She had to get out of there no matter what. As she passed a boutique, she noticed a figure crouched inside, visible through the display window. Perhaps someone had been left behind, hiding from whatever had happened. She pushed open the door to the boutique, ready to help if the person was injured and unable to move. They might know what had occurred.
Inside, the first thing she noticed was a handgun lying on the floor. An automatic type, not something one would expect in a boutique. Perhaps a security guard had dropped it. Heather picked it up, checking that it was loaded. The feeling of having a weapon eased her anxiety. She had subconsciously wished for something to protect herself, which might explain why she had spotted the gun so quickly.
A pained moan. The sound of something tearing. Heather turned toward the noise.
In the back of the store, under the counter, something large and misshapen was huddled over something else. A massive body with a strangely shaped head and thick, bag-like arms. It looked like a creature straight out of her subconscious, something she had seen in a nightmare at an amusement park.
She couldn't tell what the creature was attacking. The mangled, bloody mess it was tearing into was unrecognizable as human. Heather could only hope it wasn't. The creature turned its bizarre head toward her, its eyes—wherever they were—seeming to fix on her with a fierce gaze.
The monster rose, its immense form nearly touching the high ceiling. From the ends of its thick arms extended claws that had likely been used to rend its victim to pieces. Heather was paralyzed with fear, feeling like a frog under the gaze of a snake. Sweat poured from her pores as her body alternated between hot and cold. Her legs barely supported her. Running seemed pointless; the monster would catch her. Facing it with the gun seemed like her best option.
"Stay back!" Heather shouted, trying to sound tough. But it was a monster. It probably didn't even understand human language. Even if it did, it wouldn't listen. It was a bloodthirsty beast.
The monster advanced, and Heather fired.
It wasn't her first time handling a weapon. Her father had taken her to shooting ranges a few times. He had praised her skills. She had experience with pistols, rifles, and shotguns. While teaching his daughter to shoot might have seemed eccentric, her father had done it out of concern for her safety. His eyes had always held a mix of conviction, love, and a touch of sadness.
"It might be unnecessary training... but in this crime-ridden world, this could come in handy someday," her father Harry had told her.
His wish hadn't come true, but the training had proven invaluable.
"I said, stay back!" she screamed, her voice high-pitched, and fired repeatedly at the grotesque enemy. The force of the bullets made the massive creature recoil. When Heather exhausted the magazine, the monster toppled forward, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. It twitched grotesquely before finally lying still.
Heather felt no elation or sense of achievement. She was still petrified, tears welling in her eyes like the seventeen-year-old girl she was.
"Why is this happening?" she muttered. Why was a monster from her nightmare here in reality? The shock and confusion made her head spin. It was too absurd to accept. She kept staring, but the creature was undeniably the one from her dream.
Why?
She racked her brain, scratching her head in frustration.
"Enough!" she exclaimed. There was no point in dwelling on it. She wouldn't find an answer by pondering. It wasn't in her nature to brood.
With tears still in her eyes, Heather angrily kicked the fallen monster and shifted her gaze to the mangled remains of its victim. The pieces of flesh scattered on the floor were barely recognizable, but the presence of a shredded belt among them indicated that it had once been human. She stifled a wave of nausea and silently prayed for the soul of the deceased.
The torn belt had a spare magazine attached to it, marking the victim as a security guard. He had been caught off guard and attacked before he could even fire his weapon. Heather grimaced as she picked up the gun belt. She loaded one of the magazines into the handgun and stuffed the rest into the pockets of her down jacket. The unsettling moans she had heard suggested there were more monsters around. She needed to be prepared.
Heather retraced her steps to the emergency corridor. This area was usually restricted to mall employees and housed various storerooms, offices, and utility rooms. She intended to head upstairs via the emergency stairs, then come back down to the first floor using the escalator and make her way to the main entrance.
She dashed up the stairs and opened the door on the second-floor landing, entering another restricted area. The moaning was louder here, and the sound of footsteps approached from the right fork in the hallway. Another nightmare creature had heard the door open and was coming closer.
This time, it was a dog-like beast with a grotesquely split jaw and dripping saliva—a nightmare she had faced before in a dream. Beyond it, another strange creature with long legs and pale skin that hadn't been in her dream also appeared. But now, Heather had a weapon. Having experienced combat once already, she felt less scared and more resolute. She fired at the dog-like beast before it could leap at her.
Four bullets hit their marks, thanks to her childhood training. Only the first shot missed. The hairless creature collapsed in a pool of foul-smelling blood, its sharp teeth visible in its gaping maw, reminding her of a shark's deadly grin. As more creatures emerged from the hallway, Heather's face went pale.
No way! She couldn't fight off this many with just a handgun!
She turned and sprinted down the left hallway, heading towards the door leading to the hall. The second-floor hall had a circular atrium surrounded by balconies that extended up to the third floor. When Heather reached the hall, she saw two more of the large-armed monsters roaming about. She hid behind a column and checked her pockets for the remaining magazines. She had two left, which meant she had twenty-five bullets in total.
It seemed like a lot, but it wasn't enough. She estimated that it would take a full magazine to take down one of the large monsters based on her previous encounter. That meant two magazines for the two in front of her, leaving only five bullets for any other creatures she might encounter.
"No more wasting bullets," she resolved. It was a lesson her father Harry had often tried to instill in her, and it seemed she might finally take it to heart.
From her hiding spot, Heather observed the sluggish movements of the massive creatures. They had been slow in her dream as well. She had managed to slip past them at the amusement park, and she believed she could do it again now.
Heather targeted one of the patrolling monsters on the balcony and waited for it to turn its back. The moment it did, she darted from behind the column, aiming to squeeze through the narrow gap between the monster's arm and the railing, then make a dash for the escalator. However, the monster reacted faster than she anticipated. While its legs were slow, its arms moved with surprising speed, blocking her path with its elongated limb.
"Ah!" Heather gasped, stopping just in time to avoid impaling herself on the blade at the end of the monster's arm. It was a narrow escape.
Her intended route was now blocked. She had no choice but to turn around, but the hallway leading to the elevator was also sealed off by a fire shutter. The monster fully blocked the balcony, advancing with its gleaming blades. To make matters worse, the other monster had noticed the commotion and was lumbering towards her from behind. Heather was trapped.
Her only option was the nearby bookstore. She dashed inside, knowing the monsters would likely follow, but it was better than facing both at once in the open.
The bookstore was filled with rows of bookshelves, packed with hardcovers and paperbacks. Heather sprinted past a shelf of Shakespeare's collected works and headed towards the register at the back. She spotted a door that looked like a back exit. It might lead to the escalator. Ignoring the sound of the monsters shattering the store's display window, she pushed through the door and disappeared from the bookstore.
The woman stood in the mall corridor, waiting. Dressed in black from head to toe, her austere and expressionless demeanor resembled that of a nun in a secluded monastery. Yet, her eyes sparkled with joy. The transformation had exceeded her expectations.
Finally...
She didn't say it aloud, but the words echoed in her mind.
Finally, it has begun. The dawn of a new era. The awakening from a long slumber.
However, she knew the sun had not yet risen. The horizon was just starting to show the faintest hint of white amidst the night’s darkness. To make this dawn a reality, to usher in the new era, she knew she must...
The woman smiled inwardly and waited, ready.
Upon exiting through the back door, Heather found herself in another emergency corridor. The door leading to the escalator was closed, and every door along the corridor was locked. The doors were sealed shut, leaving her with no option but to return to the area where the hulking monster awaited.
"Listen, Heather," her father Harry had repeatedly taught her, "no matter what kind of hardships you face, never give up. If you keep moving forward, a way will open up to you. You have that power. You have a strong heart within you. Believe in yourself until the end."
"I know, Dad," Heather said, imagining Harry's figure in her mind. "I won't lose. This is nothing! I'll definitely make it home. It might take me a little while, but don't eat dinner alone without me, okay?"
Startled, she raised her gun. In the dim corridor ahead, there was someone. The figure seemed human but was entirely black, making it hard to tell... another monster?
Heather cautiously advanced, gun pointed forward. Gradually, she made out that the figure was a human woman dressed in black from head to toe, like a nun. She stood motionless, silent, and expressionless, staring at Heather.
"Um..." Heather called out. "Who are you? Are you someone who got left behind? What happened here? What are those monsters? Please tell me! I have no idea what's going on. There's no one else around... and you're the first person I've met."
Bombarded with rapid-fire questions, the woman finally seemed inclined to respond. However, the words that emerged from her mouth were incomprehensible.
"The beginning is upon us. To reclaim our lost paradise—"
"What are you talking about?" Heather frowned.
She wondered if the woman might be insane. It would be understandable in such an unbelievable situation with monsters running rampant. Or perhaps she had always been odd, one of those people who preach the end of the world and urge repentance. Despite her expressionless face, the woman’s eyes gleamed with life.
"Don't you know? We need your power," she said, staring at Heather with eyes filled with rapture.
Heather shrugged. "I don’t get it. Sorry, but I don't think I can help you."
It was better not to get involved. In such a situation, having her around would only be a hindrance. It was painful to leave her behind, but it was a case of "Carneades' board." When two people are drowning and there's only one board that can support them, one must let the other go to save themselves. She had to prioritize her own safety and escape, then notify the police to send a rescue team.
"I am Claudia," the woman continued. Was she introducing herself now?
"Okay," Heather nodded. "I'll remember. I'll definitely send help, so just stay here and wait."
As Heather tried to move past her, the woman stood in her way.
"Remember," she whispered, her voice soft but sharp. "Remember me, and your true self as well, and what you must do..."
Throb!
Heather’s temple began to throb painfully.
"Thou, whose hands shall be stained with blood, shall invite the paradise."
Throb!
Triggered by the woman's words, Heather felt a sudden headache. Dizziness... In her blurred vision, the woman's eyes shone unnaturally bright.
Hypnotized?
Heather felt suspicion towards the woman.
"Did you do something to the mall?"
"All is the work of 'God,'" the woman replied with a faint smile.
A sharp pain pierced Heather's head.
"Wait!" she shouted at the woman's retreating back. The pain was unbearable. She tried to follow, but the dizziness forced her to her knees. Was it anemia? Her vision blurred white. By the time her breath steadied and she felt better, the woman was gone.
"What am I supposed to remember?" Heather murmured in a daze. "What is it that I..."
The answer felt like it was on the tip of her tongue. But trying to express it brought back the headache. Her mind resisted.
Where could that woman, Claudia, have disappeared to? Heather began checking each door along the corridor. There had to be one that wasn't locked. Claudia must have taken a route through one of these rooms to get down to the first floor. After a series of disappointments, Heather reached the end of the corridor. There was an elevator, a service one.
"This is it," she muttered.
When she pressed the button, the doors opened, almost inviting her in. The ease of it all made her feel a bit foolish. All the struggles she’d endured seemed pointless now. If only she had found it sooner...
As soon as Heather got inside and the elevator began to move, she was startled. She had felt secure inside this metal box, thinking it would protect her from outside threats, but suddenly, something fell from the ceiling with a noise.
A portable pocket radio tumbled onto the floor.
Heather aimed her gun at the ceiling, looking up to see the emergency hatch open. It must have been open from the start. For some unknown reason, the radio that had been placed on the edge of the hatch slipped and fell due to the elevator's vibrations. The fall had turned it on.
White noise was hissing from the radio.
Heather picked it up and turned the tuning dial. Given the gravity of the situation, she hoped to catch some news about the shopping mall, but the radio seemed broken, emitting nothing but irritating static.
"You stupid useless thing!" Heather almost threw it against the floor in frustration but held back. Suddenly, she recalled her father's words. When she was a child, her father, a writer, used to tell her his own whimsical fairy tales as a substitute for campfire ghost stories.
"Once upon a time, there was a broken radio. The radio only made a hissing sound. It couldn't even play the weather forecast. Moreover, it was very scared. It hated demons and would start crying. Scary, hiss, hiss, terrifying cries. A man-eating demon is nearby..."
Leaving the white noise on, Heather stuffed the radio into her jacket pocket. It felt like her father, Harry, was giving her advice. He never spoke much about his past, but it seemed like his fairy tales were modeled on his own experiences. The resemblance was uncanny… between his tales and her current situation. Could her combat training have been prepared for this very day?
The elevator doors opened, revealing a dark void.
Something is wrong.
Heather frowned. The floor indicator still showed the second floor. She was sure she had descended. Cautiously, she stepped out of the elevator. She immediately found herself at a dead end, surrounded on three sides by wire mesh walls... another elevator.
The radio in her pocket grew louder.
Something was on the other side of the mesh. It clung to the wall, a shriveled, writhing figure, unidentifiable and disturbing.
“No!” Heather recoiled.
“This is a dream, right? It has to be a dream.” She forced a strained laugh. “Even a kid wouldn’t believe this!”
Suddenly, the rusted door behind her slammed shut, trapping her in the wire mesh elevator. She could no longer return to the bright elevator she had entered.
“Wake up from this nightmare already!”
She wanted to believe it was just a nightmare, that she had fallen asleep at the hamburger shop. The mummified figure on the other side of the mesh looked like a monster from an amusement park—a creature she had seen in a cage near the entrance. It was absurd for something from her nightmares to appear in reality.
But Heather knew better.
…This wasn’t a dream.
It was undeniably real.
The mummified creature arched its body away from the wall, staring at her through the mesh. Heather wanted to look away, but the creature might break through the mesh and attack, so she kept her eyes on it, unable to blink. As she stared, she felt the creature seemed... less hostile. Despite its wrinkled, featureless face, it almost seemed to be smiling. She felt an odd sense of familiarity.
Not just near the amusement park entrance... somewhere else, too?
A sudden jolt interrupted her thoughts.
The mummified figure vanished upward.
The elevator moved briefly before stopping and opening its doors. Another dark space awaited. It wasn’t pitch black; faint light reflected off surfaces, slightly alleviating the darkness. Before her eyes adjusted, Heather heard unsettling footsteps. The radio noise intensified, followed by a savage growl. Instinctively, she fired her gun. The blind shots hit their mark, and a creature let out a yelp, collapsing. Squinting, she saw it was a monstrous, rabid dog.
As the creature died, the radio’s white noise subsided… just as her father’s story described. For some unknown reason, the radio seemed to warn of approaching monsters.
Heather felt her way along the wall. Probably this way. She wanted to get out quickly. It felt like she had wandered into a hellish underworld, and she was suffocating in it.
“Sharpen your senses, Heather.”
Her father Harry’s words came back to her.
“Don’t rely solely on your ears. Beasts move quietly. Sense their presence.”
During a summer camping trip, her father had made young Heather walk alone through a dark forest without a flashlight, as a test of courage.
“Watch out! There are bears and coyotes.”
The warning seemed cruel, scaring Heather out of her wits. Every little noise startled her, and she walked on, desperately holding back tears. The short trail felt like an endless march. She didn’t cry because she trusted her father—he would always be watching over her. And he was, keeping a close distance. The stories about bears and coyotes were lies. When she finally completed the task, Harry cried more than she did, hugging her and begging for forgiveness.
The sensations from those dark forest walks returned to Heather. Her senses sharpened like radar. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could move without relying on the wall.
Was her father training her for this very day? Did he foresee all of this? Who was he? And who am I? What did that woman in black mean by her words?
Heather’s mind swirled with confusion and chaos.
Amid the locked doors in the corridor, she finally found one that wasn’t. Opening it, she realized she was in a wide passageway. Probably the main street of the shopping mall. If so, the main entrance was close! But the sense of evil dampened her joy. The radio’s white noise intensified, revealing a large, hulking silhouette in the darkness. Another monster with thick arms.
Heather tried to dash towards the presumed main entrance, but two more monsters blocked her path. She couldn’t get through. A clawed arm swung down at her, and Heather narrowly dodged, moving away from the door she had exited, cutting off her retreat.
Fine, if I can’t go back, I’ll find another way out!
She sprinted in the opposite direction. There was just enough space beside the monsters. For now, she needed to shake them off. She slipped past the sluggish creatures and ran deeper into the main street. Unfortunately, a fire shutter was down.
Fuck! I couldn’t see it in the dark!
Heather cursed and turned back. She remembered a side passage near the monsters. She had no choice but to try it, hoping it led to an escape route.
The monster turned, dragging its thick arm, closing in. Heather fired her gun, wasting a magazine, but she had no choice. The monster fell, and she stepped over it, rushing into the side passage. After a straight run and a right turn, she found a room with light seeping through a door crack. It felt like a beacon of hope. Someone might be there. Driven by a longing for human contact, Heather entered the room.
It was a storeroom. Shelves lined the walls, but they were empty and dusty. There was only one item, a pocket flashlight, which was the source of the light. Heather grabbed it without hesitation.
It was a strong light for a small flashlight. Reliable, but unsettlingly similar to one she had seen in her nightmares… Maybe it made sense if this was a continuation of those dreams, but knowing it wasn’t a dream made it eerie. This was a reality worse than any nightmare. A nightmare ends when you wake up. Even if it ends tragically, waking up ensures safety. Would there be an end to this reality? Could she return home safely?
She left the storeroom and continued down the corridor, reaching another main street. Shining the light down the dark passage, she recognized it. This was where she had entered after leaving the emergency exit and passing through the emergency route initially.
…But it seemed as if many years had passed. The street and the stores lining it looked dilapidated. The tiles were faded, cracked, and peeling. The store windows were dirty, cracked, or shattered. It was as if the world had changed dramatically...
Heather entered a store. The boutique where she had first encountered a monster. Inside was a ruin. The floor was corroded and blackened, the walls yellowed. The many dresses were gone, as was the monster’s body. Only empty hangers remained. Leaving the store, Heather pondered.
What to do… The fire shutter still blocked access to the hall, and the emergency route door was closed... She had to turn back. Retracing her steps, she aimed for the main entrance.
"What the hell is going on?"
Heather was in shock. After risking everything to reach the front entrance, the door refused to budge. Whether she pushed or pulled, it remained firmly closed. Through the glass, the outside had already fallen into deep twilight. It was as if the entrance door was buried under the darkness descending from the sky. Two bulky monsters were chasing Heather. She looked up at the escalator, but a fire shutter, illuminated by the light, blocked her way to the second floor. Feeling desperate, Heather charged at the monsters. It wasn't that she had chosen death out of despair.
Just before the entrance, there was a hamburger shop. Unlike the entrance door that repelled bullets with reinforced glass, the shop's glass door could be shot open for escape. The monsters would follow, but there was surely a back door in the store, just like in the bookstore in the mall.
Right before the monsters caught up with her, Heather reached the front of the hamburger shop. She didn't have time to aim her gun at the glass door, narrowly dodging a heavy blow from the monster's arm. She collided with the glass door, shoulder first, and tumbled inside the shop.
It was a stroke of luck. The glass door was unlocked.
But it seemed she had used up all her luck. The back door wouldn't open. It budged slightly but was blocked by some delivery goods outside. She was trapped.The two monsters struggled to enter the narrow doorway, but it was only a matter of time. Her lifeline, a handgun, had only one magazine and five bullets left.
"Don't panic, no matter what situation you're in," her father Harry had taught her. "Analyze the situation calmly, observe your surroundings, and look for anything you can use."
Heather glanced around the shop.
It was vastly different from the place where she had been dozing off earlier.
She looked for bullets or any makeshift weapon, but this was a place meant for enjoying meals, not for storing weapons. Suddenly, she noticed something hanging from the ceiling.
A partially lowered ladder.
A loft?
Even if it was a dead end up there, at least she could escape from the monsters.
Heather climbed onto a table and jumped.
Just a little bit more, but she couldn't even reach the tips of her fingers.
Something to hook onto...there it is!
She took a folded wire from her down jacket pocket. She had taken it from a boutique. It was meant for picking the lock of the main entrance if it was locked. She had no lock-picking skills but planned to jam the wire into the keyhole and jiggle it around if necessary. Her father Harry's teaching was "Try everything, no matter what." Fortunately, she hadn't had time to try the main entrance lock due to the monsters, but now it was proving useful in an unexpected way.
She straightened the wire and bent the tip into a hook. It was long enough without jumping. Waving goodbye to the monsters, she climbed up the ladder.
At the top was not a loft but a second-floor passage.
The ladder was actually an emergency ladder meant for descending from the second floor. The construction of the shopping mall itself seemed warped in an impossible way. Given the abnormal situation with monsters prowling, Heather thought even time and space might be distorted.
The second floor was a place she had passed through earlier. If she proceeded to the atrium, she would likely encounter the burly monsters waiting for her again, but she had no choice but to go. The interior of the shopping mall had undergone significant changes. Perhaps she could now access places that were previously unreachable.
The fire shutter on the escalator leading to the third floor was not down, but Heather didn't ascend. She didn't want to go to the third floor; she wanted to go down to the first floor!
As she continued on, she passed in front of an electronics store. She heard white noise and tensed up. It wasn't coming from her pocket radio. A television displayed in the store window was on, broadcasting a noisy static screen. Heather was drawn to it.
Why was this television the only one working in the ruins of the shopping mall? Amidst the gray static, something appeared. Heather squinted to see.
A human face?
A child...a girl, it seemed.
"Daddy," the girl said.
She had a pained expression.
Heather stared intently. She recognized the girl. Although the face soon disappeared into the static, Heather couldn't take her eyes off the television screen. Where had she seen her before? She tried to remember, but staring too long made her dizzy. The static hurt her eyes. Her head throbbed.
It was the same state she was in when she encountered Claudia.
Heather moved away from the television. She felt extremely uncomfortable. It wasn't just that she felt unwell; she felt oddly irritated. An anger was resurfacing...an indescribable emotion. Why?
"This is very important. It's about your birth."
The man who called himself a detective, Douglas, had said that.
...A secret...my past...
Tell me, Dad!
Heather thought, biting her lip.
You know, don't you? You know everything. Who am I?
Lost in a labyrinth, her heart ensnared in its twists and turns, Heather began to walk again, determined to find an exit. After wandering around endlessly, she had no choice but to go back to square one!
Heather slumped her shoulders in dismay. Despite having explored every corner of the second floor, she hadn't found any stairs or ladders leading down to the first floor. She had risked her life evading the monsters, and now she was utterly exhausted. The only saving grace was that she managed to replenish her ammunition from the ruins of what seemed to be a gun shop... Otherwise, she would have already been devoured by the monsters, her seventeen-year-old body completely consumed.
With her last shred of hope, Heather dragged her weary feet up the stopped escalator to the third floor.
The main street leading to the atrium on the third floor was also blocked. At first glance, Heather felt a hysterical urge to scream, but upon closer inspection, she noticed what appeared to be a door in the middle of the obstruction. It was a bizarre structure. Was it exposed concrete? No, it looked more like a boulder had been cut out and placed there...
She had a premonition.
This is the end, and the beginning. The sealed door would lead to the revelation of her secret...
Heather pushed the door. She found a ladder on the opposite side of the atrium after making her way around the third-floor corridor. With a sinking feeling, she descended into the dark void, eventually reaching the bottom.
What should have been the first-floor atrium was now a barren space with the floor laid bare, as if the foundation of the building was exposed. The fountain that had once delighted shoppers was gone. All the surrounding stores had collapsed; not just the shop windows, but even the walls were gone, leaving empty voids. It felt like a colosseum where demons from hell might battle...
Yes, it was indeed an arena. A stage set for her to face death.
A roar echoed, and something massive came charging from the depths of the void with a ground-shaking rumble.
Heather shuddered at the sight of the creature. It was far larger than the monsters with thick arms she had encountered before. It resembled an enormous, bloated worm. Its slick, shiny exterior looked tough and thick. With trembling fingers, Heather fired her gun. The bullets were effortlessly deflected, and the worm-like creature remained unshaken. But then it exploded with rage, baring its fangs. Its head split open, revealing a gaping maw in the center, lined with rotten, drooling flesh. Compared to this, the previous monsters seemed almost cute.
Heather desperately fled from the creature's massive, tree-like attacks. If she were caught, she wouldn't just be pinned down; she'd be crushed. If she was lucky, she'd die quickly, but more likely, she'd be devoured, feeling the agony of being chewed up by the creature's unnaturally large teeth.
The monster, having missed its chance to eat Heather, continued its charge and disappeared into the void on the other side of the hall. Heather's momentary relief was short-lived as the creature reappeared through another void, roaring and baring its fangs again.
Heather felt a sense of déjà vu.
Her father's face flashed in her mind—sitting by her bed, reading a book to her as she drifted off to sleep. The story he read that night was "The Traveler and the Lizard," a fairy tale. His reading had been so poignant that it left a deep impression on young Heather.
"...When the traveler with the bow and arrow heard this, he said, 'Then I shall defeat the lizard.' The traveler did not attack the lizard right away; instead, he insulted it. 'What a pathetic lizard, not scary at all.' The lizard got angry. 'I'll swallow you whole!' The lizard lunged at the traveler with its mouth wide open. The traveler had been waiting for this. Calmly, he notched an arrow and shot it into the lizard's open mouth, where there were no hard scales, and pierced its stomach. The lizard fell over and died..."
Heather laughed at the absurdity of it all.
A lizard and a worm couldn't be more different, yet they were so similar. It was as if the worm was mimicking the lizard. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale!
Her laughter froze. A question surfaced, and she could no longer laugh.
Who was mimicking whom?
The worm?
Or...
Her expression turned serious, and she aimed at the worm's massive open mouth. She was certain that was its weak point. She was unshakably certain. Because it was mimicking the lizard, and the one who made it mimic was...
Her bullet pierced the soft flesh inside the mouth.
The worm let out a pathetic scream, so different from its previous roars. Instead of closing its mouth to protect itself, the creature, with its limited intelligence, responded to the pain by opening its mouth wider and crying out.
Heather fired repeatedly. She showed no mercy, emptying the entire magazine into it.
The monster's screams ceased. Its mouth closed like a wilting flower, its head slumped to the floor, and it moved no more.
There was no applause in the arena where the battle had ended.
Silence melted into the darkness, and the darkness itself disappeared somewhere.
"What the...?"
Heather widened her eyes and looked around.
The hall had returned to its former state. What had been a desolate, ruinous space moments ago was now a pristine floor with clean tiles, a fountain majestically sitting in the center, and shops lining the urban shopping mall.
"Am I back?"
From the nightmare? Back to reality? Was everything until now just a dream? Was I dreaming?
However, the gun that had endured the hardships with her was still gripped in her hand, her exhausted body bore the marks of the life-and-death struggle, and no human figure could be seen anywhere in the hall or the main street she overlooked. Bloodstains were splattered everywhere on the floor, telling her it was anything but a dream.
It seemed the monsters had disappeared from the shopping mall. Their ferocious roars had ceased, and there were no sounds or signs of them anymore.
When Heather went to the front entrance again, a man's voice stopped her.
"Heather!"
A middle-aged man, whose existence had become insignificant to her, sat on a bench in the entrance hall.
"What just happened?"
Douglas Cartland stood up from the bench and approached her. His unshaven face was marked with confusion. He seemed surprised by the mall's bizarre state, but Heather doubted his sincerity.
"Wasn't this your doing? You were in on this, weren't you?"
Heather glared at him, causing Douglas to look even more bewildered—if he wasn't acting.
"What did I do? ... 'In on this'?"
"You're in on this with that woman Claudia, right?"
Heather thought that he and Claudia had conspired to create this extraordinary situation and trap her. The fact that only Douglas and Claudia remained unharmed in a mall where everyone else had vanished was the clearest evidence.
"Claudia..."
Douglas raised his voice in surprise,
"She was inside? Shit, but why..."
"So you are working with her."
"She's a client of mine. She hired me to find and bring you to her. What happened to her?"
"Why don't you find out yourself? If you're even a real detective, that is."
"But..."
Douglas hesitated. He seemed reluctant.
"What are those monsters... They're terrifying... Is the gate opening to hell itself...?"
The pale face beneath his beard looked genuinely frightened.
Heather muttered,
"Maybe, it's because you found me."
The words slipped out unexpectedly.
"What do you mean?"
Douglas asked, puzzled, and Heather shrugged.
"I don't know... I just feel like all of this weird stuff is connected to me. So you shouldn't have found me."
Heather put a hand to her forehead. Another headache. Not as bad as before, but still...
"Connected? How?"
"I have no idea. Don't you know something? You mentioned some secret about my birth."
"The client told me you were adopted..."
Heather burst out laughing.
"That's no secret. I've known for a long time that my dad and I aren't biologically related. So? Who are my real parents? An Arab oil tycoon?"
"She wants to tell you directly."
"Fucking ridiculous."
Heather turned away and started walking. Without needing to show off her lock-picking skills, the front door opened easily. Like the hall doors, this was probably another mysterious change.
"Where are you going?"
Douglas called after her.
"Isn't it obvious?"
Without looking back, Heather waved and replied,
"I'm going home. To the father I love more than anyone in the world, even if we're not related by blood."
It’s certain that those weird events are related to something about me. But I don’t understand what that something is—
No, I do understand.
I understand, but I don’t want to remember. I’m running away from that something...
Heather pondered as she descended the stairs towards Hazel Street subway station. The dry sound of her boots’ heels echoed through the underground passage, filling the space, with no other sounds to be heard. She didn’t see any people. No one ahead of her, no one passing by, no one walking behind her… there were no other commuters at all. It was as if everyone in the world had vanished.
It’s still happening. It’s not over yet.
That’s right, it’s only just begun.
Heather pulled out the gun she had tucked into the back of her belt, ready to shoot at any moment. Passing through the turnstile, which had become a deserted ghost town with even the station staff nowhere to be seen, she heard a beastly growl echoing from somewhere. She tensed up. A weak fluorescent light flickered, casting a dim glow in the station as she aligned the barrel of her gun with the beam from her chest light, scanning all directions, but she didn’t spot any monsters. They were lurking deeper inside. Like demons from hell, waiting for her in the depths of the subway station...
Halfway down the corridor leading to the platform, among the vulgar graffiti defacing an advertisement poster, she saw the same circular symbol she had seen in the restroom of the shopping mall, glowing a sinister red in the light.
Death.
A fate that awaits everyone equally.
Someday, it will come for me too.
Lately, Harry had been conscious of this all the time. It was a state of mind similar to enlightenment or resignation. He wasn’t afraid.
He just felt irritated.
And that all started after he became aware of their presence. They weren’t dressed in any suspicious outfits, there was no evidence that would hold up in court, and from an objective viewpoint, there was no way to be certain... but Harry had an unwavering conviction. From all the circumstantial evidence, he could smell the hidden threat, feel it on his skin—this was the intuition of Harry Mason, the writer. Years of running away, repeatedly relocating, only to have his whereabouts discovered each time, leading to deadly battles fought in self-defense... it had honed the instincts of someone always being pursued.
And then, at some point, they began watching him with unassuming faces.
Young couples snuggling on the park grass, old men sitting on benches, cheerful restaurant waitresses, housewives with children pushing carts full of groceries in the supermarket, middle-aged couples who moved into the apartment upstairs. All of them pretending to be ordinary citizens by chance. But the gaze that watches the target is not easily disguised. Well-trained professionals might manage, but they were merely a group of amateurs. Harry didn’t miss their piercing stares, their sticky, lingering glances, or the way they unnaturally averted their eyes.
For the past few years, there had been no signs of them, and Harry had hoped they had been wiped out in the internal conflict that took place in Portland... but no, they had survived with the tenacity of cockroaches and returned, swarming around their prey with the persistence of snakes and the annoyance of flies.
Their true target wasn’t him.
Harry gritted his teeth, his cheeks twitching.
It was obvious.
Their aim was his beloved daughter... Heather.
He unconsciously dug his nails into his knees, where his hands had been gripping tightly. Sitting in an armchair in the living room, facing the TV, he couldn’t relax at all. He listened absentmindedly to the jokes and laugh tracks of the comedy show. He was so worried. Was it a mistake to let his daughter go into town alone?
No, Harry shook his head with a pained expression.
Heather was already a grown girl. He couldn’t keep her tied down. He couldn’t always be there to protect her. She had to protect herself. Even if it meant sending her into a den of wolves, or places where more dreadful beasts lay in wait, because of that very reason. There was nothing more he could do to protect her...
“It’s progressive liver cancer. I’m sorry, but...”
The doctor had casually informed Harry. Glancing at the medical chart as if reading off a menu. Harry wasn’t shocked. He just thought of his daughter. He felt sorry for her, being forced to stand on her own in everything, having to lose her guardian at such a young age. He had declined the doctor’s forceful recommendation for hospitalization and secretly continued treatment during Heather’s school hours. That’s why he hadn’t told anyone yet. He didn’t want to cause unnecessary worry. He didn’t want to make her sad.
He wasn’t afraid of dying.
That was Harry’s true feeling.
Because even after death, the soul remains. But even so, he couldn’t bear the thought of the same fate befalling his daughter.
He never wanted her to go through that again. And yet, those persistent followers were so detestable, and he was so worried about his daughter that he felt powerless and pathetic.
“Come home safely, Heather.”
The comedians on TV were laughing uproariously.
Even the weak glow of the fluorescent lights was absent. The bottom of the stairs leading to the subway platform was engulfed in darkness. A foul smell lingered, like ammonia in an unsanitary public restroom. The dirty stains scattered across the platform floor seemed so penetrating that Heather feared they might seep through her boots. And the scene illuminated by her flashlight revealed cracked and peeling concrete walls and rails covered in red rust... it all reminded her of the nightmare-like desolation she had encountered in the shopping mall.
"I've had enough of these hellish ruins!" Heather muttered angrily, hoping that this time would be different.
But her prayers, rarely offered even at church, were selfish and likely in vain. She had intended to step onto the platform for the train home, but the signs on the walls indicated a different destination. Her target platform was on the opposite side of the tracks.
Heather clicked her tongue, a bad habit that would get her scolded by her father.
"...Looks like the train won't come anytime soon."
She considered crossing the tracks to get to the other side. Climbing the stairs again was a hassle, and with time and space distorted, there was no guarantee she'd end up on the right platform next time. Crossing seemed quicker. As soon as she stepped onto the tracks, a blinding light filled the tunnel, and a warning horn blared. The train was barreling towards her.
"No way!"
She scrambled up onto the platform just in time to avoid being crushed by the speeding train. Her heart pounded, and sweat broke out on her forehead. The timing was almost too perfect, as if the darkness itself harbored malevolent intent.
Heather glared resentfully at the opposite platform, sighed, and headed for the stairs. The distant growling continued. The unseen enemy was far more unnerving than the monsters she had faced. Her heart quaked as if her battles in the shopping mall were ancient history.
"Come out and fight! I'll take you down!" she shouted to bolster her courage, but her voice was swallowed by the darkness, leaving her feeling even more isolated.
Once again, the stairs led to the wrong platform. It didn’t make sense. There should only be two platforms, one for each direction. The space itself was distorted. She noticed another set of stairs across the same platform. She had no memory of such stairs in this familiar station, but she had no choice but to try them. The closer she got, the louder the white noise from her pocket radio became. A monster resembling a rabid dog emerged from the shadows, its vertically slit mouth growling.
"So it was you," Heather smiled. This was a familiar enemy, almost like meeting an old friend in an unfamiliar land. Knowing what she was up against, her fear ebbed away like the receding tide. With calm precision, she aimed her gun and dispatched the creature with just two shots.
The darkness, now silent without the feral growling—
The quiet filled only by the sound of her footsteps was unsettling. A chill ran down her spine, prompting Heather to turn around. In the ring of light cast by her flashlight, something shriveled and dried clung to the ceiling above the tracks, writhing and peering at her with tiny, glistening eyes.
An elderly mummified monster. It was the same one she had encountered in the elevator at the shopping mall. Back then, a mesh barrier had kept it from attacking her... Heather aimed her gun at it. For some reason, her finger hesitated on the trigger. The mummified monster remained motionless, showing no signs of aggression, and just gazed at her with eyes that sparkled with curiosity like a curious animal. She lowered her gun. While it was hard to believe in harmless monsters, she didn't want to waste bullets on one that wasn't attacking her. Still, she cautiously climbed the stairs, keeping her attention on the mummified creature.
"Protect me, Dad... please let me get home safely..."
Heather was city-born and tough by nature. She was unafraid of rough neighborhoods or people, but this... this abnormal situation was too dangerous. She clutched the pendant hanging from her neck and envisioned her father Harry’s gentle smile. That was her only solace now. She wandered alone through the maze-like subway station.
Suddenly, a warning horn blared. It happened just as Heather had reached her intended platform, narrowly escaping an ambush by a monster resembling a rabid dog while she was on the tracks.
Heather quickly climbed up to the platform. She had no time to deal with the monster. Just as she pulled herself up, a train entered the station, smashing into the dog-like creature that had been chasing her. The train, moving at a high speed that suggested it was another express merely passing through, screeched to a halt with an ear-piercing noise, stopping far past its designated position.
Finally, I can go home!
Heather felt a surge of joy.
Most of the train doors were tightly shut, with only the door at the very end open. As soon as she stepped inside, the door slammed shut with great force, as if the train were a carnivorous plant capturing its prey.
No matter. Go with the flow, do what you can.
Heather forced herself to think positively and moved toward the front of the train. Despite not seeing a single passenger, she believed there had to be a conductor. Otherwise, the train wouldn't be moving. Driven by a longing for human contact, she searched for the conductor. If she could just meet another human being, it felt like this nightmare might finally end.
However... the front car had no conductor's cabin; the train was running with only passenger cars. Heather was stunned.
I've always strived to protect her. From when she was a baby until today. Fueled by the regret of not being able to protect her then, I vowed to protect her this time.
Believing she was my reincarnated daughter, my true daughter.
I tried to be strict with her to avoid spoiling her, raising her to be self-reliant and resilient, even in adversity... but because of that, I might have neglected her school education. I taught her that surviving life without breaking was more important than excelling in studies.
Maybe that's why her grades have been so poor, and her classroom behavior has drawn reprimands from teachers. She even fights with male students, a hopeless tomboy.
Harry chuckled softly.
The irritation from a moment ago felt like a lie. Reflecting on memories with Heather softened his heart.
Though she's a feisty seventeen-year-old now, in Harry's mind, she always appears as the adorable seven-year-old... the one with a face so much like the daughter he couldn't protect.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. The sting of regret resurfaced.
I've become so emotional, he thought. Harry wiped his cheeks as he straightened up from the armchair. If he didn’t pull himself together, he would have no face to show his wife Jodie when he met her in heaven. He already carried enough guilt concerning their daughter.
Tonight, Harry had intended to reveal everything to Heather. The illness he had been suffering from, the secret of her birth, the existence of "those people" he had kept quiet about to avoid scaring her... They needed to discuss the future and he had to explain the legal procedures for inheriting the assets he had saved up.
They could talk over a leisurely meal. For this reason, he had prepared a lavish dinner. He even had duck roasting in the oven. Though Harry’s culinary skills were such that he could manage to burn French toast to a crisp, most of the dishes came from an Italian restaurant's delivery service.
The apartment was filled with the delicious aroma of the freshly roasted duck. He couldn't wait to see the look on his daughter's face as she dug in. A smile spread across Harry's face in anticipation, only to dissolve into a grimace. A foul odor invaded his nostrils, reminiscent of the stench of rotting carcasses and feral beasts he remembered from long ago. He heard footsteps on the floor behind him, the sound of someone creeping into the room.
Harry tensed, adrenaline coursing through his body. He couldn't believe he was facing this again, especially now, in this place. It was the worst possible timing.
"So, they've come for Heather..."
The worst scenario he had feared seemed to be unfolding. He had believed that as long as they stayed away from that town—Silent Hill—they would be safe.
"Can't you wait just a little longer?" Harry spoke without turning around, not wanting to give his unwanted guest the satisfaction of his attention. "There are still so many things I need to tell my daughter. At least give me tonight. After that, do whatever you want with me."
"No, that won't do."
The unexpected voice was female, sounding much younger than that of the detestable Dahlia from back then, yet similarly cold. "You took something precious from us. You stole away a new era, a wonderful new world. That crime is unforgivable. No reprieve will be granted."
"So, you're one of them after all."
Harry smiled bitterly, drawing a gun from beneath his jacket. He had kept it close for just such an occasion. He turned and fired, not aiming at the monster in his peripheral vision, but at the woman. If he killed the woman controlling the monsters, they too would disappear, mere grotesque projections of her will. But before Harry could pull the trigger, the monster moved swiftly, using its metal weapon to deflect all the bullets.
"Damn it!"
Harry stood, properly aiming the gun and targeting the monster. It was futile. His bullets had no effect. Still, he couldn't give up. There had to be a weakness. If he could just find it... Keeping his eyes on the monster, Harry expertly reloaded the empty magazine. But in the brief moment he glanced at his gun, a metal blade flew at him, slicing into his left arm and causing him to drop the weapon. It was fortunate the wound wasn’t fatal.
"Give up. You're only tiring yourself out." The woman smirked contemptuously. "Heather is in our hands now."
"You’re holding her hostage?"
Harry laughed defiantly. "But she's safe, isn't she? You need her. You can't harm the Mother."
"Not necessarily."
"What...?"
"Yes, we need her—as long as she fulfills her duties as the Mother. But if she refuses..."
"Stop!" Harry's expression changed from that of a defiant warrior to a pleading father. "Please, stop tormenting her. Don't hurt her anymore. I beg you."
Looking down at him with disdain, the woman said, "Then die here, now. There is no place for you in the new world where all will be saved."
"Nor for you."
Harry swiftly stood, drawing a knife from a sheath strapped to his leg.
"You don't care what happens to Heather?" The woman’s sharp reprimand made Harry’s hand freeze as he prepared to throw the knife. In that moment of hesitation, a massive blade struck him, piercing his chest.
Harry collapsed into the chair, clutching his bleeding chest, calling out his daughter’s name. As his vision blurred, he saw his wife’s face.
Jodie... I’ll be with you soon. Please, watch over our daughter with me.
In the darkness of the night, the silhouette of a tall building loomed ominously. When Heather shone her light ahead, exposed steel beams were illuminated, revealing that she had emerged in the middle of a construction site for an unfinished building. After disembarking from the ghostly train at the next station and navigating through the sewers, she had finally reached this spot. The train had stopped at a station with a name she didn’t recognize—an impossible name—but considering the duration of the ride, it had to be a station in her town. Fearing further encounters with inexplicable trains that could whisk her away to unknown destinations, she had hurriedly gotten off. The exit to the ground was blocked, so she had reluctantly taken a route through the sewers, eventually arriving here.
"This has to be my town!" Heather sighed in relief. She recognized the under-construction building not far from her apartment. The noise from the construction had annoyed her countless times. The building she had cursed now seemed as familiar as an old friend. She was just a short distance from the apartment where her father was waiting.
With a spring in her step, Heather began looking for an exit from the construction site, but she couldn’t find one anywhere along the fence surrounding the area.
"Not again..." She glared resentfully at the building. It looked like she would have to go through it. Another twist in the distorted space-time she found herself in. She opened a door that seemed to be an entrance and stepped inside. The smell of damp concrete hit her nose. The walls and ceilings were unfinished, construction debris littered the hallways, and though it was a building in the process of being completed, it felt desolate, almost like a ruin.
After wandering around the ground floor, she found that the hallways ended in dead ends, and there was no main entrance leading outside. It was just like the shopping mall all over again. She would have to go upstairs and take a longer route. Being under construction, the elevators were naturally out of service. She had no choice but to use the stairs.
"...This building is about five stories tall, great..." Heather sighed, dreading the climb ahead.
"My technical analysis indicates that soon there will be a massive buy-in, causing a surge, and she will be drawn to this place, lured by her greed," Vincent murmured, adjusting his slipping glasses with his fingertips. He carefully laid out cards on the table, one by one. It was a tarot reading, but he paid no attention to the results. The actual outcome of the drawn cards was irrelevant; the act of shuffling and laying out the cards was necessary for his concentration, a habit from his childhood.
"Her long-held position, left to fester, has accumulated quite a swap. But it’s a negative swap… the ballooning negative has spilled over, becoming a 'tainted demon'…"
Vincent’s need to frame everything in financial terms stemmed from his former profession. Vincent Smith had worked on Wall Street as a businessman until a few years ago. Blessed with a brilliant mind that saw him graduate at the top of his class at twenty, he achieved success in the financial industry and amassed wealth at a young age.
Though he had achieved the American Dream and retired early, he had not amassed a fortune comparable to the likes of Bill Gates. Nevertheless, he had donated all his savings. In doing so, he had renounced material desires and chosen a path of faith. It was this conviction that kept him waiting now.
"…Her negative position should be liquidated," Vincent continued, quietly turning over cards. The card he discarded without a glance was "The Fool" in reverse.
A voice in her head spoke, "It is being invaded… by the Otherworld… a world that has taken the form of someone’s nightmarish delusions…"
Heather, who had been crouched on the floor, stood up unsteadily, her head spinning. While wandering through the building, she had suddenly been struck by dizziness and a splitting headache that forced her to her knees. For a moment, as her consciousness began to fade, she thought she heard a voice. It sounded like her father's voice.
The content was abstract and made no sense to her. She had no memory of ever hearing such a conversation. But she was certain it was her father's voice… as if he were desperately trying to warn her from afar. A sense of urgency filled her, and she hurried on. The feeling under her feet as she walked was different from before.
The building had changed.
It felt as though time had warped, leaping hundreds of years into the future, revealing the building’s fate as a ruin. The walls and ceiling were brown and dingy, encrusted with signs and dust. Tiles that should have been installed during construction were on the floor instead, swollen from moisture, peeling, and detached.
Otherworld...?
It seemed like the only explanation. Just like the shopping mall and subway. Could it be that Dad was trying to tell me about this...?
"Invasion. Someone's delusion."
But whose?
Heather bit her lip, swallowing the answer that was on the tip of her tongue.
In the grotesquely transformed building, a grotesque monster lurked. At the end of the hallway lay a giant with a bloated, white body, its small head seemingly devoid of any brain. Its facial features were buried in its flesh, and its entire skin appeared ulcerated. The giant looked like a malignant tumor ghost.
"Move," Heather said. The bloated monster showed no sign of attacking, lazily lying there. However, its massive body blocked the hallway, preventing passage.
"If you don't move, I'll shoot."
She aimed the gun, threateningly, though she didn't really want to use it. There were few bullets left. She wanted to save them for when she encountered a truly ferocious enemy. Reluctantly, she fired one shot, carefully aiming at the monster’s head to kill it with a single bullet. The monster roared. It wasn't a scream, but an angry bellow.
The once-docile monster charged at Heather. Its gait was sluggish and awkward, befitting its huge frame. As it rushed towards her, its ulcerated flesh jiggled and a massive weight bore down on her. Overwhelmed by the sight, Heather fled. There was no way she could defeat it with the remaining bullets.
I don't want to be crushed by that thing!
The stench of decay filled the air, and just thinking about touching its oozing, festering body made her skin crawl. It felt like she would contract an incurable skin disease.
Desperately fleeing, Heather felt an odd sensation beneath her feet. The floor buckled unnaturally, causing her to stumble and be thrown forward. She landed hard on the floor of a hall strewn with debris. The impact left her unable to move. The monster was closing in.
I'm going to get crushed!
"No!"
Gwaaaaargh!
Heather's scream and the monster's roar echoed simultaneously. The roar was one of anguish. The decaying floor had collapsed, and the monster had fallen. Finally able to move, Heather peered into the hole in the floor and saw the monster sprawled out on the lower floor, writhing in agony.
The transformed building continued to disorient Heather, preventing her from finding an exit. She checked any accessible room, eventually stumbling into what appeared to be a neglected but recognizable hospital waiting room. It could have been a typical psychologist’s office.
What's this?
She noticed a piece of paper on a dusty bench.
"Found the holy one. Kill her?"
It was scribbled with a ballpoint pen. Flipping it over, she saw a photograph. Heather herself was in it. It appeared to be a candid shot.
"What the hell is this!"
Heather was infuriated. The first person that came to mind was Douglas, the unremarkable middle-aged man who claimed to be a detective.
Is it that guy’s doing? Kill me?
Calling me a 'holy one'... it sounds like something a creep would say... Of course, he is...
A noise!
From further inside.
Someone's here... Did Douglas follow me... to fulfill his twisted desires... and drop this photo...
Heather quietly opened the door to the inner room and peeked inside. In the consulting room was a young man with glasses, not Douglas. But she couldn't let her guard down.
"Who are you?"
She stepped into the room, aiming her gun at the man. The man, who was arranging tarot cards on a large desk, looked up, smiled, and waved.
"Well, that's quite sudden. No introductions?"
"You're a counselor or a doctor?"
"My major in college was science, specifically mathematics, so unfortunately, I’m not a doctor. But, well, you could say I heal people now."
"Don't dodge the question! Is this yours?"
The man readily nodded at the photo Heather thrust at him.
"Yes, it’s mine. A meddlesome friend gave it to me, but I didn’t need it, so I discarded it. I don’t intend to kill you, Heather."
"You know me?"
"Yes. But don't worry. The name's Vincent Smith. I’m on your side."
"I don’t trust you. The one who gave you this photo, wasn’t it Douglas?"
"Douglas... No, he has nothing to do with me."
"Then it must be that woman, Claudia?"
"Don’t lump me together with a woman like that—"
Vincent, who had been cheerful, stood up in anger.
"Don’t compare me to a woman brainwashed by that crazy old hag's delusional obsessions... Sorry, I forgot, she was your mother, wasn't she?"
"My mother? What do you mean?"
Heather frowned. Dad always said that her late mother, Jodie, was an intelligent and wonderful woman. So, could it be... the real truth is...?
"You don’t remember."
Vincent slowly approached Heather.
"Harry didn’t tell you, did he? He kept the truth to keep you on his side. He used quite the cunning tricks."
"Talk about my dad like that, and I will fucking shoot you."
Heather’s finger unlocked the safety of her gun.
Vincent shrugged.
"My apologies. Please, calm down."
"So, you know everything about my dad?"
"Yes. Everything."
"Then tell me. What’s happening now? What are those monsters?"
"Did you enjoy it? Have fun. It’s going to get more and more interesting."
"So you are just like that woman... you’re sick in the head!"
Heather backed toward the door, still pointing her gun at the man with glasses.
"Wait! I'm not finished talking!"
Ignoring his call, Heather left. She couldn’t stay in the same room as that weird man. She didn’t even want to breathe the same air. She was just furious.
Douglas was driving his old, beat-up car. When it was still shiny and new, he often took his son out for drives. But now, the car was worn out, barely running, just like Douglas’s life. His beloved son was no longer around either...
Heather was on his mind.
The client who had requested him to bring Heather had somehow already met with her, which rendered Douglas's job meaningless. He called the client to clarify the situation and get new instructions, but couldn’t reach them. Unsure of what to do, he initially thought of going home, having a drink, and going to bed, but on the way, he changed his mind and made a U-turn.
Douglas reminded himself:
"To see what is right and not do it is want of courage."
A saying from an old Chinese sage.
You're a man, right, Douglas? Weird things are happening around that girl. Don't be a coward; help her out. Otherwise, you might end up out of a job. After all, that girl is the current subject of your work. If she dies, you’ll lose your success fee.
The self-proclaimed hard-boiled detective was headed to the apartment where Harry and Heather lived.
Heather finally managed to reach the entrance of the building. Pushing the door open and stepping outside, the fresh night air washed over her lungs, clearing out the stench of the grotesque space inside the building.
Thank goodness. My hometown is just the same as always.
Heather felt relieved as she looked at the familiar streets with the lights of family gatherings shining out. She headed toward her apartment with quick steps. The nightmare was over. She wanted it to be over. She was done with it. She wanted to have a big dinner, sleep soundly in her soft bed, and forget everything that had happened today.
Heather and Harry lived in the room at the very end of Daisy Villa Apartments.
As soon as she stepped inside, the exhaustion of the day hit her all at once. Heather stretched and relaxed her body.
"Dad, I’m home."
But before she could say that, Harry, who usually greeted her cheerfully with "Welcome back, delinquent girl!" was silent. He was definitely there—she could see his back as he sat in his armchair, watching TV. Maybe he was too absorbed in the program to hear her?
"Listen, Dad. Something unbelievable just happened."
She started recounting the terrifying events she had to share, moving closer to Harry. But he kept facing the TV.
"Dad...?"
Heather moved in front of the armchair to block the TV and gasped.
The breath she had held back escaped as a scream.
Harry wasn't there.
He was no longer in this world.
What lay there was the blood-soaked, gruesomely murdered corpse of what had once been Harry.
Heather screamed until her lungs were empty, then stood in a daze, unable to move. Eventually, she collapsed to her knees, clinging to Harry's lifeless body and weeping. This was the final nightmare that sealed the series of unfortunate events of the day. It was the worst misfortune that could happen in a young girl’s life.
Despite being just the two of them, Heather and her father had never felt lonely, only happy. Their life together had been brutally shattered.
Who...?
Who did this to Dad...?
Why did this have to happen!
Harry's chest was stained with blood from a deep wound, and the blood had dripped down to the floor, leaving a trail leading deeper into the room. Heather, noticing this, followed the blood trail with her eyes. It didn’t look like Harry had walked here, bleeding. It was more like the trace of someone who had moved, carrying a bloody weapon. The trail led to the open window, toward the fire escape...
Strength returned to Heather's body, fueled by anger. She forgot her fatigue, grabbed Harry’s gun lying beside the chair, replacing her own nearly empty one, and sprang out of the window, rushing up the fire escape. On the apartment rooftop, she saw a woman.
At a glance, Heather knew this woman was the culprit. It was Claudia, with a gaze full of madness.
"You were close," Claudia smiled, a knowing expression on her face.
Heather glared back at her.
"It was you, wasn’t it? Why did you kill my dad!"
"Revenge for seventeen years ago. If that man hadn’t interfered, things would have gone according to our plan… But he ruined everything, took you away from us, and ran away. This is his just reward."
"I will get you for this!"
Heather aimed her gun, burning with hatred.
"That’s the spirit," Claudia smiled even more, seeming delighted. "There’s another reason I killed him: to stir up your heart with hatred."
"What grudges do you have against me?"
"It’s necessary. In time, you’ll understand why."
"No! I'll never want to understand!"
"You must try to remember me quickly, and realize your true self. You will birth 'God' and build an eternal paradise."
"Just shut up!"
Heather fired.
She couldn’t stand not avenging herself against this woman. The woman was a murderer. It was only right for such a criminal to be executed. Here and now, Heather would do it herself.
But the bullet missed.
She couldn’t hit her.
Her late father's admonition made Heather hesitate.
"Don’t shoot people out of anger. Even in self-defense, if you act emotionally, you’re just a murderer. Even if the law permits it, The heavens will judge you. God forgives only when you judge calmly, to protect your loved ones and yourself. Only then, strike evil without hesitation."
Taking advantage of Heather's hesitation, Claudia disappeared into the darkness.
"Everything returns to the beginning! I’ll be waiting for you in Silent Hill!"
Heather aimed her gun again towards the direction of the voice.
There stood a monster blocking her way. The light from her chest pocket illuminated the creature, revealing a figure holding massive blades with both arms. It seemed human but had a bizarre head wrapped in a thick cloth, resembling a grotesque helmet.
The blades were coated with thick blood.
"It was you, wasn’t it, who did it..."
Thinking about it, Heather realized her father wouldn’t be easily killed by one woman. His shooting skills were better than hers. He wouldn’t have succumbed easily, even to a monster… though he hadn’t been well lately. If the enemy was a monster, her father's admonition didn’t apply.
Heather didn’t hesitate. She fired a bullet into the monster’s chest, aiming at the same spot where her father had been hit.
With swift movements, the monster wielded its massive blades. The bullet ricocheted off the monstrous figure, confirming that it was not of human origin. Heather had no means to fight back. Was she to give up on revenge and flee? Yet, the monster blocked her escape, swinging its blade at her.
"Ah!"
Heather ducked as the blade whistled past her nose, leaping back and falling in the process. She scrambled to her feet but lost sight of the monster, the darkness swallowing it whole. Her light had switched off when she fell. She hesitated to turn it back on. Lighting up would reveal her location. In this darkness, not knowing the enemy's position, it was too dangerous. If she stayed hidden in the shadows, she might find a chance to strike back.
Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light from distant street lamps, revealing the silhouette of the monster. It stood there, seemingly puzzled, unable to find her. Its wrapped head obscured its vision. Until now, it had relied on the light and the sounds Heather made to track her. Without those clues, it was helpless.
Gotcha!
Heather silently cheered. She had always had better night vision, thanks to childhood camping trips where she trained to walk through dark forests. Moreover, the gun she held was her father's, equipped with a silencer. Harry had always kept it that way at home, just in case. She had found it odd before but now understood. With a monster as the opponent, involving the police would complicate things. Disposing of the creature quietly in the mountains was best.
Heather crept behind the monster and fired.
Moving silently like a cat burglar, she shifted positions while shooting. This time, the monster screamed in agony, unable to defend itself. The monster was disoriented, unable to pinpoint Heather’s location. It was vulnerable to her silenced shots. Only its eerie screams echoed in the night, each shot causing it more pain until it finally fell silent.
Heather’s heart did not lighten despite avenging her father. She returned home, her steps heavy, to find Douglas waiting. He was staring grimly at Harry's body.
"I don’t know what to say... there are no words of comfort."
"Then don't say anything... get out" Heather pointed to the door, yelling.
"But—"
"Get the fuck out!"
"Alright. If that’s what you want. But at least let me help lay your father to rest. I couldn't help you before, and I need to make amends."
"No need. I don’t want help from someone associated with that bitch."
"You mean Claudia?"
"Yes. She did this to my father!"
"I’m not her ally. I was just temporarily hired. That seems to be over now. Please, let me help you. I want to be on your side."
Why is he so desperate? Heather wondered, looking at Douglas. She was wary but something about him reminded her of Harry—earnest, sincere.
Reluctantly, she agreed.
"Just help me move him."
Together, they moved Harry's body to the bedroom bed and prayed for his peace. His face, despite the brutal end, looked serene in death.
"What will you do now?" Douglas asked, concern in his voice, careful not to stir her grief.
"I can live on my own," Heather replied, still turned away. "I’m his daughter. I’ll give him a proper funeral. But first, I need to do something. I have to go to Silent Hill..."
She murmured the last part, but it was enough for Douglas to frown.
"Silent Hill? What’s in there? Will you be alright?"
"I have to go. The woman who made the monster kill my father told me to come. I know it’s dangerous, but she has to pay. And when i find her, I'll kill her myself."
"How will you get there?"
"I’ll figure it out by myself."
"I can give you a ride."
"I don’t need your help."
"It’s a long drive and it's too far to walk. I’ll wait outside. Come by when you’re ready."
Heather finally looked Douglas in the eye.
"You might die if you come."
"That's fine. Nobody's gonna cry over my grave anyway. The only ones who’d miss me are the debt collectors."
Douglas gave a small, wry smile and walked out.
I won’t say goodbye, Dad. I’ll be back soon. We’ll meet again in Heaven someday.
Heather prayed once more for Harry's peace, her shoulders shaking. The dam of her emotions broke, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I will avenge you," she swore through her sobs.
The car Heather climbed into was rusted in places, looking like it hadn’t seen a wash or wax in years, with mud caked onto the sedan’s body. The interior wasn’t any cleaner, with crumpled fast food bags and empty soda bottles littering the back seat, resembling a garbage truck more than a passenger car. To top it off, it smelled faintly of cigarettes.
“While I was waiting for you, a guy named Vincent showed up,” Douglas said as he started the car.
“Do you know him?”
“How should I?”
Heather responded curtly, hiding her tear-swollen eyes. Explaining their encounter at the clinic seemed too troublesome.
“He seemed to know a lot about you. It was like he knew everything. He said we should look for a man named Leonard once we get to Silent Hill. He even gave me a map. And this… it was by the body.”
Douglas handed over a notebook. Flipping through it, Heather recognized her father's handwriting.
Heather read the notebook silently, and Douglas, respecting her need for quiet, focused on driving. After a long while, raindrops began to fall, cutting through the mud-stained windshield and breaking the silence between them. The raindrops washed over the windshield in a steady stream.
“It’s starting to rain,” Douglas remarked, breaking the silence. He glanced at Heather, who had closed the notebook and was sitting with her eyes shut.
“Are you asleep? You feeling cold?”
“I’m awake. Just thinking.”
“Silent Hill used to be a peaceful lakeside resort town... but now…”
“Have you been there?”
“Once, for a job. I was searching for a missing person. Never found them. There's something wrong with that town. You hear a lot of bad rumors in this line of work.”
“I was born and raised there.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to speak badly of your hometown.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have any fond memories of it either.”
“Wait a minute… Weren’t you living in Portland when you were little? That’s what my investigation turned up.”
Suddenly, Heather's face contorted in pain, her complexion turning as pale as a corpse.
“Hey, are you feeling carsick? Should I stop?”
“No... It's just that reading the notebook made me remember… my past…”
Heather's voice trembled as she continued, as if purging a burden from her chest. The emotions she had suppressed deep within her came flooding out.
“Seventeen years ago, there was an incident in Silent Hill. A woman named Dahlia tried to summon a ‘God’ that the town’s legends spoke of, using her own daughter as a sacrifice.”
“Sounds like a crazy story.”
“It’s true. The ‘God’ was born from the sacrificial daughter.”
“What?”
“The daughter had powers. She was called a witch and hated by everyone at school. She could kill people just by wishing for it. But the ‘God’ she birthed was ultimately defeated by a man… my father, Harry Mason. Maybe it wasn’t a real god if a human could defeat it…”
Heather gazed out the window, her face clouded with melancholy.
“Now, it’s happening again. And this time, I’m the sacrifice…”
“Jesus! Do you have those same ‘powers’, Heather?”
“The daughter who had given birth to the ‘God’ reappeared, carrying a baby. She entrusted the baby to my father before she died.”
“You’re saying that baby was…”
"My dad loved me as his own child. He didn’t even know what I was… He didn’t expect anything in return… And he died too soon. I haven’t even repaid him. I haven’t shown my gratitude. I haven’t told him how happy he made me…”
Heather’s face was cold and stiff, devoid of tears, but the rain outside mirrored her sorrow. She opened the notebook again, her fingers tracing over her father’s handwriting, filled with longing.
I hope you will never have to read this. Perhaps it would be better for you to not know. But sometimes, the truth is necessary. So, I'll write this down before i'm lost in death and oblivion.
What happened in the past and the story about who you are. It all began twenty-four years ago. My wife and I found an abandoned baby. We had no children of our own and thanked God for this blessing, deciding to take the child in... that baby. Three years later, my wife passed away. And four years after that, seventeen years ago, I went to Silent Hill, answering the child's request. Why she wanted to go there, I never knew.
In that town, the child vanished. Not that she went somewhere outside the town or died. She returned to her true self. That’s what Dahlia Gillespie said.
Her true self... that was Alessa Gillespie, a girl burned alive as a sacrificial offering to God by her own mother. In the fire, she released half of her soul, and that half resided in the baby... which was the child. After seven years, that half returned to Silent Hill and rejoined with Alessa, regaining her power. What she wished for was to kill the ‘God’ within her, summoned by the ritual, gestating inside her as a fetus. Even if it meant losing her existence, she desired that.
But that wish wasn’t fulfilled. My interference, wanting to save the child, got in the way. Yet, I couldn’t save her. All I did was inadvertently assist Dahlia in her ritual to birth the ‘God’ from Alessa. Fortunately, the ‘God’ also died after letting out a single cry, probably because of the child’s and Alessa’s resistance.
After the ‘God’ disappeared into the light, Alessa appeared again and entrusted me with a baby, one who looked just like the child from before. Then Alessa died and i couldn’t save her. All I could do was run away with the baby. It all felt like a dream.
But the reality was clear: the child was gone, and a baby was in my arms. Seventeen years have passed since then. It feels like both a blink of an eye and an eternity. At first, I was hesitant to raising that baby. I doubted whether I could love a being whose nature was unknown, possibly the very girl who took my own beloved daughter from me. I even placed my hands on the baby’s neck out of sorrow and anger. I thought about abandoning her more than once. I am that terrible monster of a person.
But in the end, I couldn’t let her go. The baby... you, Heather, would look at me with your innocent eyes and smile. I can't forget about that child, even now. But I love you. I have no doubt about that love now. Please believe that.
To my precious daughter.
Harry Mason
“I'll head over to this Leonard’s house. Heather, I need you to check out the hospital… Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?”
“I’m not a kid anymore. Or do you need someone to hold your hand, Douglas?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’ve been alive for over fifty years, and I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It still feels like a dream.”
“More like a complete nightmare.”
“Oh, absolutely. I just hope to wake up soon. Anyway, come back after you've checked out the hospital.”
“I know.”
Douglas left the motel room first, where they had decided to meet later. Heather was still getting ready. Unlike men, women take more time to prepare. They had taken two nights to reach Silent Hill. Without a driver’s license, Heather didn’t know what she would have done alone... She was grateful to Douglas now. His terrible jokes during the drive helped ease her grief over her father and the shock of her painful past. The eerie sight of Silent Hill, shrouded in thick fog, didn’t frighten her as much.
However, her anger toward Claudia hadn’t diminished at all. She couldn’t forgive that woman.
As if dressing up for a date, Heather armed herself with weapons she had brought from her apartment. She holstered a pistol and survival knife in the belt around her waist and carried Harry’s prized shotgun. She loaded as many spare bullets as she could carry. She didn’t forget the pocket radio and flashlight either.
"All set," she said, ready to explore the town of Silent Hill.
As she stepped out of the motel room, the damp, white air immediately clung to her. The fog was so thick that it seemed to contain some noxious substance, making her feel like her lungs were being polluted, making her want to hold her breath if she could.
She was in the South Vale district, south of Toluca Lake. The motel she was staying at faced Nathan Avenue. According to the map, Brookhaven Hospital was to the west along Nathan Avenue, then south down Carroll Street.
Although the fog wasn’t so thick when they arrived last night, it had grown denser today. Despite it being daytime, the sun was completely obscured, making it impossible to tell where it was. The visibility was so poor that she could only see a few yards ahead, making it feel like nighttime in a regular town would have better visibility. Heather walked along the sidewalk, carefully watching her steps to avoid getting lost. There were no cars due to the fog, so she could walk in the middle of the road without worry, but that would make it harder to see the buildings along the way, possibly missing a side street. It was extreme weather. There were no people around either.
Heather remembered what Douglas had told her about the remaining residents and thought,
It’s them. Claudia’s followers. The ones that helped with the sacrifice of Alessa. People that are as delusional as Dahlia Gillespie. They’re the ones trying to repeat that ritual, using me...
Heather might have walked right into the enemy’s trap, but she had no regrets. Even if she tried to run, they would relentlessly pursue her. There would be no peace until she settled things.
After entering Carroll Street, she heard a noise – the radio’s white noise warning her of the danger ahead. A monstrous dog-like creature rushed at her from the mist, howling. Heather aimed her shotgun and fired without hesitation. She no longer feared these creatures; they were just a nuisance. She calmly stepped over its shredded body.
But her overconfidence was soon shattered.
She underestimated a small figure that appeared.
The new creature, unlike anything she had seen before, had a metallic body with two heads and long, insect-like saber claws. It approached with a comical motion, rotating its upper body. The shotgun had no effect. Before she could shoot, it flew into the air, despite having no wings. It moved with incredible speed, much faster than its movements on the ground. Heather couldn’t keep up with her shotgun. She barely managed to dodge its saber-like claws.
“Shit, this is bad!”
Heather felt the terror of Silent Hill's thick fog in her bones. The creature’s flying form blended into the mist, making it impossible to predict where it would strike from. She had no choice but to flee. Driven by the fear of death, Heather ran as fast as she could.
Fortunately, Brookhaven Hospital was just ahead.
The weakened sunlight, blocked by the thick fog, could not adequately light the interior of the hospital. The dark, chemical-smelling building required the aid of Heather’s flashlight. Though it seemed devoid of doctors, nurses, or patients, Heather’s ears picked up a strange dragging sound, as if someone was scraping their shoes along the floor. Something, or someone, was coming to meet her.
Slowly, a female nurse appeared. Moving her crippled legs, she approached with a slow, halting gait, her hunched posture resembling someone utterly exhausted from a night shift. The white uniform she wore was stained a reddish-brown, not from assisting in surgeries but likely from being drenched in blood. The nurse held an iron pipe, a blood-stained weapon that suggested she had already sent someone to their death.
Human?
At first, Heather hesitated, thinking she was dealing with a person.
"Hey, you," she called out.
In response, the nurse swung the iron pipe at her. Heather instinctively blocked it with her shotgun barrel. Up close, the nurse’s face was bloodless, her eyes glazed and bulging like those of a rotting corpse. Even if she had once been human, she was now something else entirely. Heather's hesitation vanished. She extended her foot and kicked the nurse in the stomach, shoving her away.
"I don't have time to play with you."
As the nurse tumbled backward, Heather fired a shotgun blast into her.
“Aah...”
The dying scream sounded oddly human, like tearing silk, and the nurse’s body convulsed pitiably as she expired. For a moment, Heather felt an unnecessary pang of guilt.
In a room behind the office, Heather found some medical records. The atmosphere was far from that of a workplace, resembling more of a living room, likely a break room for the doctors. On the coffee table, she found a medical file bearing the name Leonard. Heather had come to Brookhaven Hospital, like Douglas, to find Leonard. According to what Douglas had heard from Vincent, Leonard might be hospitalized here. Heather looked over the file.
"Leonard Wolf, Room S12. Displays symptoms of mild schizophrenia, including light hallucinations, auditory and visual, emotional instability, and obsessive thoughts. Continued observation is required. Generally, he has a mild and cooperative personality with a strong sense of justice. However, there have been reports of extreme violence when highly agitated."
"Leonard!... This has to be him."
It seemed Vincent's information was correct. Would finding Leonard provide her with clues to Claudia’s whereabouts?
She knew which room her target was supposed to be in, but getting there wasn’t straightforward. Locked doors blocked her path at various points, turning the hospital into a maze. It was just like the shopping mall. Some malevolent force seemed to be obstructing Heather’s progress. She had to search the hospital meticulously, exploring every possible route to her destination. She moved through examination rooms, patient rooms, the nurse center, operating rooms, the X-ray room, the cafeteria, and the lounge.
Not a single normal person was to be found. All she encountered were monstrous nurses.
Could Leonard really be in a place like this?
Doubts crept in, but she had no choice but to keep moving forward. There was no direct lead to Claudia, and Heather had to avoid unnecessary combat, slipping past the slow-moving nurses to focus on finding Leonard.
Hope House?
Heather was transfixed by the title. It was an old magazine article left on the nightstand of a certain patient room. Drawn by something compelling, she picked it up. The magazine was filled with trivial gossip articles, likely read by the patients to pass the time. However, Heather momentarily forgot her original purpose for coming to the hospital and found herself unable to resist reading.
Teaching Despair: Hope House
Silent Hill's suburban children's home, 'Hope House'. Despite its name, what occurs within is abuse and brainwashing of the children.
The institution is run by a charity organization known as '4S'—Silent Hill Smile Support Society. While it is undoubtedly commendable to take in and care for orphaned children, one must question the legitimacy of this charitable act when its true nature reveals itself to be a cult that indoctrinates children with its distorted doctrines rather than providing them with proper education.
Mr. Smith (temp), who lives near the facility, had this to say:
At night, I sometimes hear strange prayers and the screams of children coming from the direction of the facility. I once went to complain about it but they ran me right out... Has anything changed? No, it's still the same.
I also attempted to conduct an interview at Hope House to uncover the truth but was refused. No response was given, and not a single photograph was permitted.
During my visit to Hope House, I noticed a suspicious concrete cylindrical structure nearby. This building is reportedly part of the facility, but no one I spoke with could tell me what it was. It certainly doesn’t seem necessary for a children’s home. It might be a hellish place or a church for them. The true organization behind Hope House is a cult with no specific name, known locally only as 'The Order'. It's a long-standing religion that is deeply interwoven with Silent Hill's history, but with a dangerous element of elitist radical beliefs.
I intend to continue investigating 'Hope House' and 'The Order'. I've always believed that our most important duty is to bring truth to the people and show the children a bright and righteous path.
Joseph Schreiber
Heather's eyes snapped back into focus after finishing the article. A sharp pain pierced her head, and an image of a painfully familiar girl flashed through her mind. It was a memory spurred by the article, but she was certain the child wasn't from Hope House. A whisper from Alessa's memory, faint but clear, told her so. Yet, this girl seemed to belong to the same era and bore a similar burden of misfortune.
Who is she...?
The image of the girl's face flickered like a mirage in her mind—her smile, so full of pain.
Hey, Alessa, the girl said.
I love my daddy. I really do.
Truly, truly love him.
Tears welled in her smiling eyes.
Heather's breath caught in her throat as she shook her head violently. For a moment, the girl's face became vividly clear, and it bore an uncanny resemblance to someone familiar.
"No, it can't be!"
Heather finally reached the third floor, standing at the end of the west hallway with a clouded expression. Room S12 was empty. She had searched every accessible area of the hospital, leaving no place left to check.
Where is Leonard? Is he even in the hospital?
"Come out, wherever you are!" she shouted in frustration, but only the groans of nurses answered her. Resigned, she turned to leave the hallway, pinning her hopes on Douglas finding some clue and returning soon.
Then, from inside room S12, a phone rang. Heather tilted her head, her expression tightening with hope. Could it be a call from Douglas? Room S12, it turned out, was a VIP suite complete with a telephone on the night table. Heather grabbed the receiver.
"Claudia?" a man's voice asked.
Heather, disheartened moments before, was instantly invigorated. The caller seemed to know Claudia and was calling Leonard's room, no less.
"No, I'm—"
"Don't lie to me, Claudia!" the man shouted, cutting her off. He continued speaking without listening to her. "You're always running away like this. Have you come here to apologize? Or maybe you still not realize your folly? 'Salvation for all mankind'? Give up that ridiculous ambition! If you believe you can achieve that, know your place! Arrogance is an unforgivable sin!"
"Wait, just listen to me for a sec—"
"I heard enough. Why have you become such a person? Where did I go wrong?"
"Listen to me, already! I'm not Claudia!"
"...You're not Claudia...?"
"My name is Heather."
"Heather, I see... I apologize. I am Leonard Wolf. I was in that room until recently and thought my daughter had come to visit."
"You're Leonard... Claudia's father?"
"Yes. Are you an acquaintance of Claudia's? ...Are you one of her followers?"
"No! But I'm looking for her! Where is she?"
"I hear anger in your voice," Leonard sighed. "Your voice is laced with hatred. You want to kill her, don't you? I don't know what she did, but she's still my daughter, despite her foolishness. I would have forgiven her if she admitted her mistakes and changed her ways. But it seems it's too late. ...Heather, will you help me?"
"Help you?"
"I'm trapped and Claudia must be stopped."
"Where are you?"
"I'm not sure. Somewhere in this hospital... I think the entrance is at the end of the hallway on the second floor's west side. If you free me, I can help you. I have a seal. Please..."
The call abruptly ended.
Heather had so many more questions, but meeting Leonard Wolf in person would suffice. This was a significant breakthrough. Still... the word "seal" lingered in her mind. It was a mysterious term, strongly stimulating her thoughts, causing her head to throb.
The hallway on the second floor's west side had been piled high with broken medical equipment, making any hidden door inaccessible. Or at least, it had been that way when Heather first came through.
Now, after the phone call, Heather found the debris gone and a metal door revealed at the end of the corridor. Had the nurse monsters tidied up the mess for her? That's ridiculous. She had faced too many bizarre experiences to be surprised or puzzled by this anymore. Heather opened the metal door. The creaking hinges welcomed her into a crimson-colored passageway. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all stained with a rusty red. Fluorescent lights protruded from one side of the wall, their yellowish glow intensifying the blood-like hue. The ceiling was so low it seemed almost within reach, adding a stifling sense of claustrophobia.
Another dead end?
The passage stretched far ahead, but a metal shutter blocked her path. As she approached, the shutter retracted into the ceiling with a loud noise, seemingly triggered by her presence. Advancing further, Heather found herself in a labyrinthine corridor where automatic shutters limited her options, guiding her movements as if with a will of their own.
A familiar symbol appeared, etched onto the wall.
Heather had seen this kind of mysterious marking before, encircled by an ominous symbol. However, this one felt different. It didn't induce the usual headache. The design must have been altered somehow.
I know this symbol...
Heather traced the symbol with her fingertip, a fragment of memory vividly resurfacing in her mind like a daydream.
--- "Still has an unusually high fever... she still won't wake up... just barely breathing with the IV..."
--- "Why... what is keeping that child alive?"
The vision felt like watching an old video in a dark room. It depicted a nurse, distraught and contemplating the situation. She was Alessa's nurse.
Her name... Lisa... Lisa Garland...
She took care of me so diligently, the only kind presence in that hellish hospital room... but she eventually wasted away, lost her sanity...
Heather's cheeks were wet with tears, briefly recalling the warmth and pain of those times. She wiped her eyes roughly with her sleeve. Strangely, the mysterious symbol had vanished from the wall. Despite the oddity, Heather pressed on, knowing she had no time to dwell on it. Navigating through a dim corridor where the fluorescent lights had gone out, she pushed through a door at the end. She emerged into a narrow, two-story high atrium, the walls further smeared with blood-like stains.
A metal ladder presented itself. Heather started climbing, but froze partway up, stiffening. Another mummy-like monster clung to the underside of the grated floor above, writhing. It might attack, but she had no choice but to proceed. She gripped her shotgun in one hand, ready to shoot, and carefully continued her climb.
The creature's eyes glinted as she neared its level, but it only watched her with an unsettling gaze, making no move to attack. Heather reached the top and glared disdainfully at the monster beneath her skirt before turning away. She exited the atrium, finding herself seemingly back on the hospital's third floor. But this place was drastically different from what she had explored earlier.
Red, red, red...
Illuminated by the lights, the walls, floor, and ceiling all shone with a deep crimson hue. Unlike typical concrete, their surfaces undulated eerily, as if swarmed by countless termites gnawing away inside.
In this accursed place, fittingly grotesque creatures lurked. Crawling on the floor were monstrosities with ant-like mandibles protruding sharply and grotesquely large arms as if fused and swollen from burns. They resembled demons wandering through hell. Even the sight of their blood and flesh splattering from gunfire was revolting, so Heather tried to avoid combat. Underestimating them because they were low to the ground, she attempted to jump over the crawling monsters. However, one of them attacked with unexpected speed. It grabbed her leg, and Heather fell. Her only option now was to use her shotgun.
"Don't touch me!"
With a blast, the creature's head was obliterated, and foul-smelling blood and flesh spattered onto Heather's face and hair. It was a humiliation unbearable for a teenage girl, driving her into a hysterical rage. Heather began to shoot wildly, caring little about wasting ammunition as she cleared the monsters. In a near-frantic state, she searched for Leonard, eventually finding herself on the ghastly first floor of the hospital.
Come quickly. Get me out of here,
Leonard muttered in the darkness of the basement.
He had been waiting for years, trapped by his daughter Claudia. He had grown weary of the dampness, longing for sunlight, yearning to bask in the glory of God. Leonard believed himself chosen, yet here he was, imprisoned by his ungrateful daughter.
Grinding his teeth, his grotesquely transformed face twisted further in anger. He lashed out, splashing water with his sharp arms. Claudia was now a sinner in his eyes for what she had done to him. He resolved to punish her first and then the rest of the wicked. Leonard repeated his oath for what felt like the millionth time, pledging to serve as a warrior of honor and guardian of the seal, offering the blood of sinners.
In her search, Heather checked room C-4, finding no man seeking help but something else peculiar: an altar-like setup. Two stretchers were placed side by side, one with a burning candle and a knife laid beside it, while a mysterious symbol adorned the central parchment. On the other stretcher lay an open book, which Heather picked up.
The book was titled "Lost Memories."
"One of the notable rituals, long forgotten in modern times and recorded only in rare texts, is the sacrificial ritual... Pray, then drive a copper stake into the man's chest, piercing the heart and wetting the altar with the spurting blood to appease and show loyalty to God. Another, higher-ranked ritual involves burning the sacrifice alive. This is reserved for clergy and bears similarities to fire sacrifice seen in nearby religions, suggesting a solar deity..."
The memory burst in Heather's mind like an explosion of flames.
"No!"
She dropped the book, her fingertips burning as if scorched. A chill ran through her, and yet she was drenched in cold sweat. These were memories she should not recall.
Stumbling, she fled the room, collapsing in the hallway, breathing heavily. Her heartbeat pounded fiercely. For a moment, she had relived Alessa's agony and sorrow of being burned alive. Heather wanted to distance herself from room C-4 but realized she couldn't. The knowledge whispered from her buried memories that Leonard was beyond this room, hidden by a secret passage.
Resolute, she stood and retraced her steps, not to flee but to explore deeper into room C-4. Finding an empty IV bag, she recalled the eerie corpse hanging in the treatment room on the third floor. Heather filled the bag with blood collected in a bucket beneath the corpse and carried it back to C-4. She poured the blood onto the altar, following the ritual described in the book. Somehow, this caused a spatial distortion. When she turned around, half the room's floor had vanished into a hole, revealing a passage leading underground.
"Is it Heather?" A man's voice echoed in the dark underground.
Heather descended into a vast cavernous space, pushing back the dense darkness with the beam of her flashlight. The walls were dirty, blackened concrete, with thick, rusted iron bars and a high arched ceiling. Water up to Heather's waist filled the floor, reeking like a sewer. From the depths of the cavern came the sound of rushing water, like a waterfall. It seemed this place used the sewer system and was designed like a prison with iron bars. If someone was trapped here, it could only be...
"Leonard?" Heather called into the darkness. "Yeah, it's me. As promised, I've come to rescue you. Where are you?"
"Thank you. Now finally I can get out of here," the voice replied, still hidden in the darkness. "Claudia's ridiculous dream will end. The 'Salvation for all mankind'—such absurd idealism. Ha! There's no need to share blessings with those who oppose 'God!'"
The voice was a mix of joy at being freed and anger from years of confinement.
"Come, Heather, let's go together. We must punish Claudia. She deserves to die!"
"Wait a minute," Heather said, feeling uneasy about the explicit mention of killing. Even though she sought revenge for Harry, she hadn't consciously considered going that far. She only wanted to ruin Claudia's ambitions, and then... leave her to face legal judgment. Something also felt off about Claudia's claim to "save all humanity." Heather couldn't completely hate her; a part of her felt pity, unable to despise Claudia fully.
Heather steadied herself and asked, "I don't understand. You're her father, right? What are you talking about?"
"What are you saying, Heather?" the voice replied, seemingly exasperated. "Justice transcends family ties. Those who commit evil must be punished, even if they are kin."
Yet, to Heather, Leonard's voice itself sounded evil. Hearing it in person, she felt it was a voice she had heard long ago. A haughty, despicable face faintly resurfaced in her mind.
"Indeed, 'God' is merciful, but that doesn't mean leniency is permitted. Neither good nor evil should be saved. Only those who act righteously are chosen by 'God.' Only the chosen ones will pass through the gate on the coming day. The right to live in Paradise should be granted only to those who hearken to 'God's' voice, like us. Don't you think so, Heather?"
"Whatever you say," Heather replied dismissively, her dizziness turning into a headache. The face of the detestable man came clearly to her mind. "I'm not like you. I don't belong on your side. I don't want any part of that kinda paradise where you are."
"What?" The voice from the darkness was now tinged with anger. "Are you a heretic? Have you been deceiving me? You approached me to steal the seal and destroy 'God,' didn't you, infidel!"
"What are you talking about, what is this seal thing, anyway?"
"Don't play innocent. I won't be fooled again. I will protect the seal, as commanded by 'God.' My duty as a guardian is to defend it to the death. The only thing you'll get from me is a gruesome death!"
"Leonard, could it be that you..." In the resurfaced memories of Alessa, a younger Leonard was holding a young girl's hand. A smiling girl, hiding her wounds under her clothes.
"Death to all those who turn their backs on 'God!'" Leonard's voice bellowed.
Yes, he was always shouting, even at his daughter. The sound of splashing water grew closer as Leonard emerged from the darkness, but his appearance was far removed from the face in Heather's memory.
A bizarre form that seemed part monkey, part fish.
Heather was almost speechless at the sight. His body was covered in countless lumps resembling thick scales, like a fish-man. His forearms ended in sharp, blade-like pincers.
He's no longer human. He has taken on a form befitting of his ugly heart.
Heather aimed her shotgun. There was no hesitation facing a monster, and even if Leonard were still human, she wouldn't have hesitated. The fear and hatred of young Claudia filled Heather's heart. She aimed the gun, filled with righteous indignation on behalf of the abused girl.
The blast from the shotgun sent Leonard flying back into the filthy water. But someone like him wouldn't be defeated so easily. This was a man who had terrorized children with threatening lectures and relentlessly drilled his own daughter with physical discipline. Such a fiend wouldn't die from a single blast.
Leonard swam toward Heather with the agility of a fish. With the last shell fired and no more spare ammunition, Heather smashed the shotgun's barrel into Leonard. She poured the collective fear of the children, the anguish of her once dear friend, into the strike against the monster's head.
Though the underwater blow didn't do significant damage, it seemed to inflict some pain. Leonard stood, raising a roar that echoed like a scream through the cathedral-like sewer.
Heather now wielded a handgun, aiming it with unwavering determination. The gun's muzzle flared, and the booming shots were an extension of Heather's own cries of anguish.
She loved you so much!
She loved you so much!
The wide cavern filled with the death throes of the monster. With a final splash, Leonard collapsed into the filthy water. Blood poured from the multiple holes in his chest, further contaminating the sewer. Submerged and motionless, Leonard's body floated lifelessly. Heather’s mind erased the image of the young Leonard, but her dizziness worsened.
"You orchestrated this, didn’t you? You made them meet!" Claudia’s voice was furious.
"Was that wrong?" Vincent responded calmly, almost playfully, meeting her harsh glare.
"Because of you, my father is dead!"
"Well, isn’t that a relief? He’s been summoned by 'God.' Leonard was quite fond of 'God,' wasn’t he?"
"Those who mock 'God' will never recieve salvation. You will go to hell. The beautiful paradise and God's eternal happiness will be forever out of your reach."
"Isn’t it a bit childish to think 'God' will save you?"
"What do you know anyway?"
"I know a lot about what happiness in this world looks like. I seek happiness too, you know. From my perspective, you’re the one who’s mistaken. Keeping your father alive in that state and calling it happiness is pure self-deception."
"No!"
"Deep down, it's all about revenge, isn’t it? You talk about confirming 'God’s' glory, but in reality, you subjected Leonard to the magic experiments hidden in Silent Hill. It was all human experimentation under the guise of vengeance."
"Stop making things up!"
"You hated your father, didn’t you? I can picture you as a little girl, beaten, kicked, and crying."
"I didn’t hate him! I loved him! I love my father! But the memories of the past are so painful... that’s why! That’s why we need 'God'!"
"You’re like a child. What you call faith is nothing more than a child crying out for love. That’s why you’re all alone."
Vincent shrugged.
Claudia shook her head vehemently, her eyes filled with determination.
"You don’t understand! None of you do!"
Her gaze was resolute, a look of desperation in her eyes.
...Heather found herself lying on the floor of Room S12, where she had first received the phone call. The sewer, the darkness within it, and everything else had vanished as if waking from a dream.
Another distortion in time and space?
She stood up and looked out the window. Despite the ever-present fog, the daylight was evident. The hospital had reverted to its normal, though still desolate, state from the nightmarish otherworld.
"I guess I’ll have to head back to the meeting place... I hope Douglas is okay."
As she was about to leave the room, her boot unknowingly kicked something. She bent down to pick it up and found it was a palm-sized medal. The same symbol that had been engraved on the medal was identical to the one she had seen on the hidden door in the second-floor hallway.
Heather stared at the medal, a sense of familiarity and foreboding washing over her. This symbol, whatever it meant, was clearly significant. She pocketed the medal and stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever awaited her next.
Heather made her way back to the motel, Jack's Inn, which she had agreed upon as the meeting place. As she entered the room, she was greeted by an unexpected presence. A young man, dressed in a fine suit vest and trousers, starkly different from the scruffy Douglas. Heather frowned.
"Vincent..."
"Glad you remembered," the bespectacled young man smirked.
"What are you doing here?" Heather demanded.
"I had some business to take care of," Vincent dodged the question.
Heather pointed her gun at him. Despite his intelligent and handsome appearance, he did nothing to endear himself to her. He was, after all, one of Claudia’s associates and the man who had insulted her father, Harry.
"You’re always so forceful," Vincent said with a troubled smile. "I came to tell Douglas about Leonard. There’s no point looking for him anymore."
"So you know..." Heather's voice trailed off.
"I know everything. You met Leonard... I’ve been watching."
"You’ve been spying on me?"
"This town is my hometown. I see everything."
"And you’re here to tell Douglas? That’s very kind of you. What’s your real reason?"
"I’m not lying."
"Fine, I’ll let that slide. So, where is Douglas?"
"Right, he left a message for you. He couldn’t wait any longer and went out, leaving me here to watch the place. Really, Douglas is so impatient. He should know better than to rush, but he just couldn’t sit still and--"
Heather shook her gun to cut off Vincent’s unnecessary chatter.
Vincent shrugged. "He said the church is across the Toluca lake."
"Is that all?"
"That’s all."
"What does he mean by that?"
"Don't you understand? That's where Claudia is. Across the lake, on the north side."
Heather reacted sharply to his words. "So, you told Douglas about the Church. And now you’re claiming it’s his message?"
Vincent just smiled.
"What are you planning?"
"Nothing... If you want to get to the church, you'd better go through the amusement park. It’s probably the only way there now. This town is tricky, you know. You can’t get there by the usual routes."
"Sending me to the church... that’s your real plan, isn’t it?"
"Well, trust me. I’m not lying."
Trust you? Like I could ever trust you!
Heather thought but kept her silence, heading towards the exit.
"Take care," Vincent called after her. "It’s a long way, but closer than heaven!"
Heather retrieved spare bullets from Douglas’s car and reloaded her handgun, leaving the motel behind. Her shotgun had been rendered useless in the fight with Leonard, so she only had the handgun to rely on. She also carried a survival knife on her belt, but it felt insufficient for the dangers she was about to face.
The amusement park...
When Vincent mentioned it, a sense of foreboding washed over her. She hoped it was just an irrational fear. However, as she advanced northwest along Nathan Avenue, she found herself facing a re-enactment of her worst nightmare. The town was already in the evening's shadow. Although the garish lights had dimmed, the arch-shaped silhouette of the entrance gate loomed in the fog, identical to the one she had seen in her dream at the hamburger shop.
If only it were just a dream... But what if it were a premonition?
Suppressing the urge to turn back, Heather stepped through the gate. As soon as she passed the open iron grid door, an ominous presence surrounded her. It felt as though she had broken through a barrier, stepping into a place even more malevolent than before. This oppressive atmosphere triggered something within her, causing her to double over in pain. She couldn’t remain standing.
Sudden abdominal pain gripped her, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She groaned in agony, struggling to resist. Something was moving inside her, trying to assert control.
No! I won't let you have your way!
The pain subsided almost as quickly as it had come. Heather wiped the sweat off her brow, standing up shakily. Despite the lingering dizziness, she pushed forward, her pace quickening. She hated lingering in unpleasant situations and wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
"A rabbit..."
Ahead, sitting on a bench in the twilight shrouded square, was a mascot rabbit costume, identical to the one in her dream. The rabbit's comically oversized head was stained with blood. She had no desire to find out what—or who—might be inside the costume. It would only increase her discomfort. Similarly, she ignored the mysterious cage-like box, roughly the size of a phone booth, with a mummified creature writhing inside.
She walked briskly over the brick-paved path, some sections of which had turned into a metal grate, clanging beneath her feet. Eventually, she reached another brick gate. If this was truly a reenactment of her nightmare, monsters awaited her beyond the second gate. She inspected her gun again, took a deep breath, and tried to calm her nerves. Mentally, she mapped out the route through the amusement park based on her dream.
"Alright, time to move. Wait for me, Claudia."
With a determined heart, Heather opened the gate. As she pursued Claudia, she felt a mixture of emotions swirling within her, far more complex than before.
Douglas and Claudia stood facing each other in the growing darkness of the amusement park, near the teacup ride. Douglas pointed his gun at Claudia, his expression determined.
"I hired you to find that girl and you've performed serviceably. Our contract is over. I've already arranged for your payment to be deposited in your account... Do you have any other business with me?"
"It's not about the money. It's about Heather."
"What do you mean?"
Claudia frowned at the gun pointed at her.
"Because of your lies, I ended up causing trouble for that girl."
"Lie? What lie?"
"You told me Heather was kidnapped from you."
"It's the truth. She was originally one of us. She was taken from us by that man, Harry Mason."
"No, she was happy with Harry. Besides, claiming she belongs to your 'cult' is a violation of her human rights."
"She is the Holy Mother. The one who bears 'God.' Such mundane matters are beneath her."
"Bearing 'God'...?"
"When Alessa truly awakens within her, she will give birth to 'God.' That is her ultimate joy... something she can't realize because that man had deceived her with false happiness. The liar here is Harry Mason."
"Yeah? What happens when she gives birth to this 'God'?"
"'God' will usher an Eternal Paradise. Everyone will be saved. No hunger, no sickness, no old age, no need to compete driven by greed. People will live by God's grace alone."
"No this, no that, no nothing. It sounds like a dull paradise for castrated sheep."
"I pity you... You still don't understand. You're just a sheep, tamed by this corrupt world. Your clouded eyes can't see the truth."
"Corrupt and proud of it. I've long accepted my corruption. But to prevent you from corrupting Heather with your revenge... I'll kill you."
"Do you think you can kill me? Is it really so easy for you?"
"I can. I've already killed one person before."
"I truly pity you. But that's not what I meant."
A metallic scraping sound distracted Douglas. Still pointing his gun at Claudia, he glanced towards the noise.
A figure reminiscent of a medieval soldier stood there. But rather than a noble knight, it looked more like a thuggish mercenary. He wore thick burlap clothes instead of armor, and his head was covered similarly. However, the weapon he held was not a spear. It was a bizarre contraption with a thin, long blade protruding from the end, similar to a tonfa. He held one in each hand, constantly scraping the blades together, the source of the noise that distracted Douglas.
It was like a cook sharpening knives, preparing to carve Douglas into a meal.
"Do you know about the mysterious power residing in Silent Hill?" Claudia said. "It allows monsters to manifest from a person's thoughts."
"Did you create this filthy creature?"
"Both of us did."
"What?"
"My desire and your fear combined to give this monster its form."
"Fear... mine?"
Douglas stared at the monster, its eyes glaring back from under the burlap. They were filled with hatred, like the eyes of a rebellious teenager.
"You..."
Douglas recoiled, shaken by the memories surfacing from deep within him.
"Kill him!" Claudia commanded the monster in a triumphant voice.
As Heather sprinted through the amusement park, she encountered the expected threats: the hulking giants, rabid dog-like creatures, and even the insect-like monsters that buzzed around her head. Each monster was exactly where she anticipated, just like in her dream. She knew the layout and her destination. Avoiding unnecessary battles, she ran towards the roller coaster station. But the real challenge lay ahead.
Everything had unfolded just as it had in her dream, which meant that the next part would too...
Heather gazed at the towering black silhouette of the roller coaster track, winding through the night and fog. Fear gripped her, but there was no turning back. She had to press on. The resolution was within reach. She stepped onto the rusted rails, trying to banish thoughts of the ground far below. Every step was tentative, her denim skirt fluttering in the high wind as if trying to lift her off the bridge. The wind seemed to push against her, as if trying to throw her off balance.
It's close, she thought, a burning anxiety creeping up her spine. No matter how fast she walked, she couldn't seem to reach the end of the track. Any moment now, the train would arrive, its sole purpose to run her down.
She felt the vibrations through the soles of her shoes, heard the high-pitched whistle piercing the air. A powerful light from behind outshone her flashlight, illuminating the tracks ahead as if it were daytime.
Heather didn't look back.
That was the only deviation from her dream.
With a resolute "Hmph!" she leaped off the track.
It was a desperate, all-or-nothing gamble.
Heather cursed and grimaced in pain. Her body ached all over from the impact of the fall. Despite that, she was unharmed, thanks to the place she landed. It was a tin roof that had dented inwards, acting as a cushion and absorbing the shock. She climbed down and realized it was the ticket booth. Although she had a rough landing, she was fortunate enough not to meet the end she had seen in her nightmare.
Heather used her pocket light to survey the surroundings. The fenced-in area appeared to be free of monsters. The only exit seemed to be the door of a building labeled "Borley Haunted Mansion," an attraction themed around the gruesome murder of a family of four. She went through the eerie attraction and emerged into a wide open area.
This area, too, was familiar—inhabited by the same monsters she had encountered before. Heather sprinted past them, searching for the "path to the church," although she had no idea what it looked like. With the darkness making the area feel like a maze, she moved along the chain-link fence, passing by the outdoor stage, then the "Whirling Rocket," and finally reaching the teacup ride, where she noticed a figure illuminated by the streetlight.
Slumped next to the stairs leading up to the teacup ride stage was a disheveled figure. His suit and coat looked like they hadn’t seen an iron in years. With an unkempt beard, he resembled a bandit. Douglas waved at her.
"Douglas! Are you hurt?" Heather asked as she approached, looking at his outstretched leg. His pants were torn, and blood was seeping through.
"It’s nothing major. Just some cuts and a broken bone," Douglas said, forcing a smile.
"We need to call an ambulance!"
"It’s pointless. They won’t come to this town. Don't worry, I’ll be fine."
"You....you old fool! Rushing ahead and getting yourself hurt like that. Really stupid."
"I know. I’m sorry."
"What happened to you?"
Douglas only smiled in response and instead asked her a question.
"Hey, what do you think will happen if the God that the cult worships actually appears?"
"There’s no way a god from a town like this would have great power. I don’t think the world will change as much as the cult hopes."
"But will it change even a little?"
"Who knows?" Heather hesitated before answering. "Maybe things would be a little better. Perhaps Claudia is right... maybe people would be happier..."
"No," Douglas shook his head. "For a 'merciful God' as Claudia describes, the phenomena in this town are too cruel. We have to stop it, even if it costs us our lives."
"You think you're Superman or something? Playing the hero won’t help. What can you do with those injuries? Just, leave it to me."
"...You remind me of my son."
"Your son?"
"My stupid son of a stupid father."
"You had a family. You said nobody would cry for you except for the debt collectors if you died."
"My son... was killed in a bank robbery. Stupid kid got himself shot robbing one."
"..."
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said you reminded me for a guy like him."
"Maybe... I’d be glad if you had compared me to your daughter."
Douglas weakly smiled and lifted his gun, showing the muzzle to Heather.
"If I took your life here, could I stop the cult’s plans?"
"Don’t be stupid!"
"Yeah, I’m stupid... trying to do something I can’t, and failing in the end."
Douglas lowered the gun and slumped.
"Stop Claudia, Heather."
"I will."
"Promise me."
"I know."
Heather started to leave, but turned back, worried about leaving Douglas behind. With a conflicted expression, she muttered softly.
"Maybe it’s better... if you just..."
"You’re just as strong-willed," Douglas thought as he watched Heather's retreating figure. His son, Daniel, had been the same way when he was young—stubborn, brave, and determined. Douglas had naively believed his son would grow up to be someone great. But Douglas, consumed by his job, had neglected his family duties, failing as a father and ruining his son.
This memory was a painful one, a torment that pierced his heart. The shocking news had come from his superior at the police station. Chris Balmer, the stoic head of the detective division, known for his lack of visible emotions since childhood, had delivered the news with an odd expression. It was as if he had tried to convey sadness but failed, looking like he was smiling in surprise after eating something awful.
"I'm not here to blame you, Douglas, but there's been a terrible incident. Your son was shot and killed by one of our officers," Balmer had said.
Douglas didn't remember much of what happened until he resigned. The shock left him in a daze, like a sleepwalker. All he recalled was the piercing stares of his colleagues, seared into his mind. With a career as a former police officer being nearly useless for finding new employment, and lacking the willpower, Douglas had shut himself away at home, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. After spending the little savings in his bank account on whiskey and gin, he borrowed money to keep drinking. His wife, Katherine, had left him long before, not because of his drinking but because of the constant fights and blame over Daniel’s fate. During the divorce proceedings, he had yelled, "Do whatever you want," in a drunken haze and didn't even attend the court hearings.
Every day, from morning until night, Douglas thought about his dead son. Why had Daniel resorted to robbery? Was it out of rebellion against him? Because he hadn’t been a proper father?
"I was just doing my duty as a police officer, as a guardian of justice, to protect this town and my family... Why couldn’t you understand?"
Luckily, Douglas ran out of people to borrow money from before he became fully dependent on alcohol. Hungry and sober, he was forced to face reality. After a long period of despair, he finally began to recover. With help from a former colleague, he worked as a temporary security guard and, once he had saved enough, opened a detective agency in his apartment. He remembered the reason he had become a police officer in the first place—his sense of justice.
He wanted to help society, to aid people seeking peace. So he dedicated himself to his small, unprofitable private investigator's office. Over time, his emotional wounds healed, and thoughts of his son faded into memory. But now, the past had risen like a zombie to haunt him. Those accusing eyes, like Daniel’s, stared at him when he returned home after being away. The monsters sent by Claudia seemed to embody his deepest fears.
"Daniel... is that you?" Douglas had asked, stunned, his gun aimed but unable to pull the trigger. The monster only glared at him in silence.
"I know, Daniel. It wasn’t your fault," Douglas had said, desperately trying to reach out. "You didn’t really want to rob that store, did you? You were just led astray by your bad friends. It was just a prank that went too far."
Hatred in its eyes pierced Douglas, and he began to cry.
"I know, I know. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine," he admitted, his bearded face twisted with grief. "I should have scolded you, nipped your delinquency in the bud. You looked at me with rebellious eyes, unconsciously seeking that discipline, but I was too cowardly to be a proper father, too afraid to reprimand you, even as a policeman... Please forgive me."
Douglas had fired at the attacking monster, finally giving his troubled son the punishment he should have delivered years ago. But that was all in the past now. Douglas huddled next to the teacup ride stairs, gazing into the misty night. The darkness reflected in his eyes, he smiled bitterly. The pain from his broken leg felt like a message from his son.
Heather walked past the fortune-teller's booth and through the fairy tale house adorned with life-sized figures of Snow White and Cinderella, emerging into the square in front of the merry-go-round. There, in the midst of darkness, a brightly lit spot drew her attention. It was a small ice cream stand. The items displayed there caught her eye, as if placed to ensure she noticed them.
"This is..."
It was a notepad pinned to a board, identical to the one at her apartment. Harry often used such a notepad when he was away, leaving messages like "I'll be late tonight, but save me some pizza in the fridge," or "Got called to the school by the teacher. Did you get into another fight with the boys?"
That familiar handwriting was on the first page of the notepad in the small stand.
No way! How could it be here?
Disbelieving, Heather read the note.
"Dahlia said that girl is a demon. She took my daughter as a sacrifice. It’s hard to believe. I mean, appearances can be deceiving. Looking at the photos in the hospital basement, I thought that girl looked like Cheryl. Is that why I feel this way? I do sense some negative force, but I just can't think of her as a demon. Moreover, she seems sad to me. Why do I feel like she's asking someone for help? But what matters to me is Cheryl. Everything else can wait after I've gotten her back."
Judging by the names mentioned, it was undoubtedly written by Harry. Dahlia referred to Dahlia Gillespie, the ruthless woman who burned her own daughter, Alessa, alive. Cheryl was probably the girl Harry had adopted 24 years ago, who went missing in Silent Hill at the age of seven—Alessa's other half.
It was a mystery. Harry had first visited this town 17 years ago. Even if he wrote this note then, could it have survived until today? That was impossible. Someone would have torn it out to write a new note. Even if the notepad had been left behind because most of the townspeople had vanished, it was strange that it remained unfaded despite being exposed to the elements.
Heather immediately suspected the cult might have staged it. But why?
No.
Heather shook her head.
This had to be a message from her father, transcending time, space, and even death, sent to his daughter. Silent Hill’s mysterious power made it possible. Her father had been involved with the town, and so was she. It might be a message attempting to convey something—similar to the journal entries. What was it? Perhaps a warning? About Cheryl? Or Alessa?
Heather delved into the labyrinth of thoughts, trying to grasp Harry's true intent. The word "demon" troubled her. Alessa possessed a powerful force that made people hate her. Despite being a good girl, her inherent power caused harm to those around her—a dangerous trait now dormant in Heather's heart. Being Alessa's reincarnation, Heather carried that burden.
A headache and dizziness that had been absent for a while now pounded in her head. She recalled the fear she glimpsed while reading the books on the altar in the hospital—the memories of Alessa burning alive, her skin charred in the fire, screaming in agony, her face contorted like a witch being executed, filled with despair, sadness, and hatred.
Lost in thought, Heather found herself in front of the merry-go-round. Lights adorned the ride, glowing eerily in the night, like a trap for summer insects. Without hesitation, she climbed the steps to the ride. There was nowhere else to search. Was the path to the church here? As she stepped onto the platform, lively music suddenly broke the silence. The stage began to rotate slowly, and the wooden horses, once frozen like fossils, started to move up and down.
"Come, enjoy a fun time! Little boys and girls, ride the horse!"
...But it wasn’t appealing. The platform was stained brown as if covered in blood, and the horses were similarly filthy, supported by poles, resembling impaled corpses. Any child would cry rather than feel joy. It was grotesque.
Where's the exit?
Heather searched with wide eyes, examining the stained floor despite the revulsion. Her headache worsened, and the spinning platform increased her dizziness. The cheerful music only aggravated her nerves.
"Enough already!"
Heather yelled in frustration, unable to find the exit. She angrily shot at the moving horses, venting the hatred born from Alessa's fiery torment.
"Neighhhh!"
To her shock, the horses cried out in pain. The merry-go-round shook violently, as if the explosion in Heather's heart had reverberated into the world around her.
Heather snapped back to reality, her hysteria subsiding and replaced by confusion. Footsteps echoed on the wooden stage, growing closer. Emerging from the foggy darkness was... a blood-soaked version of Heather. The same clothes, same boots, the same raven-black hair now stained with blood, and of course, the same face, like a mirror image.
But it wasn't the same.
The blood-soaked Heather wore an expression of anger, her eyes filled with hatred, glaring intensely. It was as if the frustration and revived memories of resentment within Heather had taken form, becoming a physical manifestation, like Alessa using Heather's appearance.
Heather felt a deep-seated fear. Seeing her darker self brought despair and disgust. In an attempt to deny this hideous reality, she fired at Alessa.
Alessa lightly swung the knife in her hand, deflecting the bullets effortlessly. Each shot was struck down with monstrous strength.
Heather could only stare in disbelief, finally understanding.
This was her father's message.
"Beware of Alessa's negative consciousness!"
That was the warning. The blood-soaked girl in front of her wasn't herself. It was a monster born from her own heart. Alessa, who had died seventeen years ago, remained not only in Heather's mind but also in Silent Hill as an obsession. It was a lingering resentment, unable to die, unable to find peace.
It resonated with me. In my conversation with Douglas, I also wished for death. I briefly thought that by dying, I could end everything without having to thwart the cult's plans. My negative consciousness and Alessa's resonated, and in the mysterious power of Silent Hill, it became a monster. Alessa's obsession took form to kill me, to commit suicide, to end everything.
"I'm sorry, Alessa," Heather said to the blood-soaked girl. Fear was gone, replaced by pity. "I won't die. I don't want to die. I have to live on for my father."
She replaced the magazine and readied her gun again.
"I won't let the cult have their way. So rest in peace within me."
Heather shot Alessa with a prayer in her heart. The blood-soaked girl's chest became even more vividly crimson. Her defensive movements weakened. The angry expression in her eyes faded, the resonance power diminishing. With the final bullet impact, Alessa arched back and eventually collapsed. The blood flowing from her body seemed to cleanse the tainted stage of the merry-go-round. Before Heather's eyes, Alessa's figure dissipated like smoke.
A piece of notepaper floated in the pool of blood. It was a message from Alessa.
"It would be better for "myself" to die. There is nothing to fear. Compared to the eternal suffering that the child... the demon will bring when it is birthed, a peaceful and gentle death is what I wanted for 'myself.' Why do "I" reject it and wish to continue? I never thought of "myself" as such a fool.."
Heather shook her head slightly after reading.
"No," she told the other self within her. "Dad told me that struggling not to die might seem foolish, but giving up on living is even more foolish."
The once-lively music had stopped, and the merry-go-round ceased to spin. Its appearance changed, surrounded by stone walls with a doorless entrance opening up. It was as if breaking free from past obsessions, leading her towards a new future.
Heather proceeded down the underground passage that had appeared from the merry-go-round. The walls of the passage, carved out of rock, were inscribed with words:
"Stained by the evils of this world, we hold our sorrows within. Only you can heal us. Each morning, noon, evening, night, we shall call out your name. Longing for the day when miracles pile up, we offer our entire being to you. Even in the darkest of times, we will reach you. This is the testimony of deep faith in miracles."
The words of praise for God were etched all over the walls, illuminated by lights resembling gas lamps.
"Our souls serve faithfully like sheep. Oh Lord, lead us to paradise. No temptation shall shake our faith in you. Save us with your mercy. Oh Lord, grant us grace. Oh Lord, bestow upon us your blessing."
Heather furrowed her brow. The content seemed perfectly normal, but knowing it was the cult's prayer made it feel filthy. It struck her as the whining of spoiled children, rather than the steadfast faith of believers. Instead of enduring faith, it evoked an image of an obsessive stalker.
Finally, the underground passage came to an end. Beyond the unpleasant inscriptions, a staircase leading upward appeared. However, at the top of the stairs, Heather encountered another unsettling sight.
A door with an inscribed plate bore these words:
"This door is the first gate to paradise. Embrace the Holy Mother's lap, admit your deepest sins, and seek forgiveness. Eternal tranquility can be yours."
Beyond the door, a majestic chapel stretched out. Vivid stained glass gleamed in the light, and to Heather's eyes, accustomed to the dark, it seemed like a glimpse of paradise. But it was not a path to paradise. It felt more like the entrance to hell.
For there stood that woman. The figure praying at the altar was the person Heather had been searching for.
"How did you get here?"
Claudia turned to face Heather, noticing her approach, her expression puzzled. Then a smile replaced it.
"It was Vincent, I see. He guided you again. That man, always interfering... but it's fine. I had intended to welcome you eventually."
"Checkmate!"
Heather aimed her gun at Claudia, who remained unfazed.
"Not yet. The time for the new beginning has not come... the time when people's sins will be forgiven."
Claudia continued, gazing up in rapture.
"The silent paradise we long for will be built. The promised eternity of bliss after Judgment and Atonement. Oh, Alessa, the world you desired is nearly here..."
"I don't want that world!" Heather shouted.
Claudia looked at her with a mixture of shock and disappointment.
"Not you. Alessa. Your true self who still sleeps."
"I am Alessa. My little Claudia, my dear sweet sister..."
Heather's eyes saw not her enemy but the image of a young girl she once played with long ago, a girl who smiled sadly.
Claudia's eyes widened in astonishment, her expression transforming into one of joyous surprise.
"Alessa? Is it really you? You've finally awakened!"
"I don't need another world. This one is fine the way it is."
The light faded from Claudia's eyes, her voice filled with sorrow like a sulking child.
"You said it yourself, didn't you? That you wished this world would disappear."
"That was a long time ago. I don't wish for that now."
"Alessa, don't you want happiness? Have you forgotten to all the hopeless suffering in this world? We need 'God's' salvation!"
"The suffering is caused by humans... we humans are foolish. And foolish as we are, we must pay the price. We must reap what we sow."
Heather glared at Claudia once more as her enemy.
"You may dream of paradise, but it's a nuisance to those around you! Besides, I will never forgive you for killing my father."
"I wish only to save the unfortunate. For that to happen, the world must first be reborn. I did what I had to do."
"You self-rigtheous witch!"
"You despise me."
"You're damned right I do!"
Claudia smiled sadly and then laughed.
"That's good... 'God' is growing well within you."
Heather felt pain, the same pain she felt when she entered the amusement park, this time in her abdomen. Something writhing inside her, trying to escape the confined space.
No!
Heather doubled over, desperately enduring.
You mustn't come out! You mustn't come into this world!
Sweat beaded on her forehead. She could hardly stand, let alone pursue Claudia, who was walking away. All she could do was wait for the pain to subside.
It was pitch dark. The hallway behind the door next to the altar where Claudia had disappeared was enclosed by plaster walls on both sides, without a single window to let in any light. Only Heather's footsteps echoed in the square, narrow space, filled with a church-like silence despite being the lair of the cult... but this quiet was soon betrayed. For the first time since the underground passage, the noise returned: the white noise from the pocket radio, warning of an approaching monster. A faint groaning sound came from around the corner at the end of the hallway.
Heather cautiously rounded the corner with her gun at the ready. The hallway split into two paths, one blocked by an iron grate, the other leading to a door further down. There were no monsters in sight. Suspicious, Heather heard the groaning again. It came from the room at the end of the hallway blocked by the iron grate. Pressing her ear against the door, she detected movement inside.
You're lying in wait for me, aren't you? Too bad, that's not going to work!
Sticking her tongue out in defiance, she headed down the other hallway, only to turn back quickly. The door at the end wouldn't open. It seemed she had no choice but to go through the room with the monster to get past the iron grate.
Resolving herself, Heather opened the door.
A large, burly-armed monster stood in her way. Heather scowled and fired her gun repeatedly. The creature didn't even have a chance to swing its deadly arm before it fell, writhing, to the floor.
"Ugh, I'm so sick of you!"
Heather kicked the downed monster in the head with the pointed toe of her boot and moved to the back of the room. It looked like a meeting room or conference hall, but it was in disarray. It was a stark contrast to the well-kept chapel. Tiles were missing from the floor, chairs bound with iron pipes were strewn about haphazardly, and a whiteboard stood in one corner. Heather paused, momentarily startled. She couldn't explain her reaction, but the answer lay in Alessa's memories.
It looked like a classroom, a place filled with unpleasant memories for her. Heather didn't want to probe further. Delving into those memories gave her headaches. Even without probing, she could guess why. Quickly leaving the room as if to protect Alessa, Heather moved down the corridor beyond the iron grate. The scene on the other side was different from what she'd seen through the bars.
It was a familiar state of decay.
The filthy, blood-red contamination spread everywhere. On the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. It was like the red of flames spreading, as if Alessa's fear had infected the place.
Maybe it's because I mistook that room for a classroom...
Heather began to think that her fears and hatred, given form, were mixing with reality, perhaps due to Alessa's special "power." That would explain it. The monsters from her nightmares appearing in the shopping mall, Claudia's delight in her hatred...
Stepping on the metal mesh floor, it creaked and groaned as Heather proceeded down the hallway. Another room appeared. Even if there was a chance a monster was lying in wait, she had to check it out. Until she found Claudia, she had to search every room one by one.
The next room Heather entered was a small, empty one. There were no signs of the otherworldly corruption present. On a desk illuminated by a lamp were a cassette tape and some documents. She pocketed the cassette tape for later and started reading through the documents. They were titled "About the Cult's Symbol."
"The symbol called 'The Halo of the Sun' represents the 'God' and is used as a symbol of the cult. The two outer circles signify charity and resurrection, while the three inner circles represent the present, past, and future. It is typically drawn in red. While it can be depicted in colors other than red, blue reverses its meaning, turning it into a curse against 'God,' which is forbidden."
The mysterious circular patterns Heather had seen several times before came to her mind. They were all drawn in red.
And then...
She pulled the medallion she found in the hospital out of her down jacket pocket and examined it.
"The pattern is different... What symbol is this?"
Heather left the small room and continued down the corridor. A bloated monster blocked her path, sitting in front of a door. It had the same flabby, pale skin as the ones she encountered in the building earlier. The monster slowly got up, its massive bulk shifting with effort. In the building, she managed to escape, but this time, it was clear there would be no running away without a fight.
"Fine, then. I didn't have enough bullets last time, but now I've got plenty," Heather taunted as she fired her bullets into the monster's decaying body. Its flesh split open, spewing putrid fluids.
With a final grotesque scream, the monster fell, lifeless. Although Heather had initially had plenty of spare ammunition, her reserves were now significantly diminished. She needed to find Claudia soon, or else she might not have any bullets left to deal with her... if it came to that. Heather reluctantly stepped over the monster's corpse, which blocked her way even in death. She found herself in a white-tiled corridor, where the sound of crying could be heard. It was a soft sobbing, like that of a young girl.
Heather doubted the child was mourning the dead monster. She followed the sound and came upon a large painting hanging on the corridor wall, depicting an angel in flight. There was no child in the picture.
The moment she stood before the painting, the sobbing ceased. She examined the painting but found nothing unusual. Puzzled, Heather moved away, only for the sobbing to resume. She covered her ears and pressed on. At the end of the corridor, she found a door, which she thought led to another room. Opening it, she discovered it was the belfry, the place where the church bell was rung. The octagonal room had three paintings on its walls, and a large red "Halo of the Sun" was painted on the floor.
To her right was a painting titled "Portrait of Nicholas" with the description "Miraculous Hands, a Doctor of God."
To her left was a painting of a woman titled "Portrait of Saint Jennifer" with the description "Unwavering Faith under Death's Blade."
The central painting made Heather's eyes widen in shock. It was titled "Portrait of Saint Alessa" with the description "Mother of God, Daughter of God."
The painting depicted a woman holding a baby.
"...This is me..." Heather whispered. "I'm the one holding, and I'm the one being held... The me who vanished seventeen years ago with 'God,' and the me who is here now, alive."
Tears welled up in her eyes without her realizing. A flood of nostalgic, bittersweet emotions surged through her. Alessa was crying inside her, filled with sorrow and anger. Heather turned her back on the painting, her face clouded with conflicting emotions. Anger and sadness threatened to overwhelm her.
I can't look at this anymore.
She reminded herself of her special "power," something tied to her suppressed emotions. She knew she had to remain calm and not let her heart be consumed by darkness.
Calm down, Alessa. It's over now. Don't let memories of the past trap you. Look to the future. Let's end this nonsense quickly.
Heather told herself.
Finding no secret doors or hidden passages in the belfry, Heather had no choice but to turn back down the hallway. She thought of forcing open the door at the end of the hallway, the one that had previously blocked her way. The sobbing continued in the corridor, unnerving her. She averted her eyes from the creepy paintings and focused on the floor. Suddenly, she noticed footprints appearing in front of her, as if an invisible being was walking.
A ghost?
The footprints trailed off behind the angel painting. Could this be another of Alessa's delusions?
Heather approached the painting once more and inspected it closely. A vague memory surfaced: Alessa being bullied at school, wandering the church while crying silently. During that time, Alessa had accidentally discovered a hidden passage.
Grabbing the frame, Heather applied force. The heavy painting slid open like a door, revealing an entrance behind it. Another corridor lined with metal mesh stretched out before her, filled with moans and soaked in blood, looking more like a hospital than a church. An abandoned stretcher and an IV stand stood in the corner.
A short way down, Heather saw an elevator, but she decided to explore the hallway further. The path soon ended at a dead end, but there was a room to the side. She opened the door and found a library. The room was filled with old books, and there was a faint musty smell.
One book, left open on an otherwise empty shelf, caught her eye. The word "God" stood out on the page, prompting Heather to read further.
---Silent Hill's Ancient Gods: A Study of Their Etymology and Evolution---
"As with any religion, this one, too, has not remained unchanged throughout the ages. Particularly when the settlers took over, their original religion, Christianity, greatly influenced it. For example, the names and appearances of the gods' messengers seen in the teachings and traditions bear similarities and commonalities with angels in Christianity. There are even rare instances where the main deity, 'Creator of Paradise' or 'King of Serpents and Reeds,' was named after a demon. Naturally, it is not the believers but their opponents who call it that."
Heather shrugged. It didn't seem particularly useful.
She continued deeper into the library and found another open book on a reading table by the wall. As she glanced at the pages, she heard footsteps approaching.
"Hiya, Heather."
It was Vincent, addressing her casually.
Heather frowned. "You again."
"Hey, now," Vincent said with a wry smile. "Don't compare me to some kind of unwanted pest."
"Well, who are you really? What are you scheming?"
"Oh? I thought you already knew..."
"I know you're with Claudia."
"I told you to not lump me in the same category with that madwoman!" Vincent snapped, looking genuinely displeased.
"Well, i still think you're pretty loony yourself," Heather retorted.
"I'm perfectly sane," Vincent replied, sulking. "Even if we're in the same cult, Claudia and I are different."
"So why did you help me out then? Is this part of your plan to resurrect 'God'?"
"It's not uncommon for those who believe in the same god to be at odds. You may not believe me, but I'm on your side. I don't want 'God' to be born. It's just too reckless, too unpredictable."
"So you've been using me to stop Claudia? Why don't you do your own dirty work yourself?"
"Using? I'd prefer to call it a mutual benefit. You hate her too, don't you? Besides, there are things only you can do. I don't have any special powers like you two. And honestly, I am not the type to sweat or getting into trouble."
"How selfish."
"Don't pretend to be a saint. I think you're the worse person in the room, staying calm while they bleed and suffer. Do you enjoy the cries under your feet?"
"They? You mean those monsters?"
"Monsters...?" Vincent frowned. "...I see, they looked like monsters to you?"
He covered his mouth with his hand and chuckled, making Heather uncomfortable.
"What!? What do you mean?!" she demanded.
"Nothing, it's just a joke. Don't worry about it," Vincent said, stifling his laugther and quickly changing the subject. "By the way, I forgot to ask at the motel... did you get the Seal of Metatron?"
"The what?"
"Leonard should have had it."
"...You mean this thing?" Heather pulled the medallion from her pocket. "I found it in his hospital room, but I don't know if it was his."
Vincent looked relieved. "Yes, that's it. As long as we have that, there's no problem. Now, take this..."
He handed her a thick, ancient-looking book.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Heather asked, looking up, but Vincent was already gone. She shrugged, feeling somewhat relieved. Opening the bookmarked page, she read:
---The Rules of Heresy---
"This magic circle, known as the 'Seventh Seal of Virun' or the 'Seal of Metatron,' possesses powerful exorcism and sealing powers. Its influence extends regardless of the target's nature, and its strength places a heavy burden on the caster. Due to its complexity, it's rarely used, which is why it's named after the angel Metatron, also known as Metatron."
The elevator had buttons only for the first floor and the basement. Heather, leaving the library, descended to the basement in search of Claudia. She turned right from the elevator into a corridor. Whether due to the association with the basement or not, it felt much darker than the first floor. The oppressive darkness made it hard to breathe, and her pocket flashlight revealed nothing but bloodstained scenes.
The static from the radio began to hum softly. No monsters were visible yet, but Heather quickly dashed to a nearby door and took cover inside. The small room contained only an old bed with a yellowed mattress. On the mattress lay a familiar-looking book. She picked it up—it was a diary. The handwriting on the pages caught her eye immediately.
"It's Dad's! How did it end up here?"
This diary should have been in Harry’s study back at their apartment. Although Heather had never read it before, she had seen it on his desk many times.
Was it drawn here by the distortion of space and time? Could this be another message from Harry?
"I still sometimes feel that she is the reincarnation of that girl, Alessa. But lately, I’ve been less troubled by it. I can forgive everything now. You were unloved, Cheryl. Or was that Alessa? Now Cheryl is also Alessa. Above all, regardless of who she is a reincarnation of, she is my most beloved treasure. However, naming her that was a mistake. Back then, I still only thought of her as a replacement for Cheryl. When she learns the truth, I worry that she will be feel bad…”
Reading the diary brought tears to Heather’s eyes.
Cheryl… the girl Harry had adopted, who disappeared seventeen years ago. Cheryl… which was Heather’s real name.
Heather’s childhood memories came rushing back. Events from the time she was barely old enough to understand. Back then, she had been called "Cheryl." Harry, with a loving and melancholic look, had called her that. But then, on the day they moved from Portland, Harry suddenly declared:
"Heather, come here."
"But I’m not Heather, I’m Cheryl."
"No. You are Heather now. From today, Heather is your name."
"But why?"
"Because it’s a wonderful name. A girl as wonderful as you deserves to be called Heather. And remember, when you introduce yourself to people, say you are Heather, okay?" Never say you are Cheryl. Forget the name Cheryl. Promise me!"
Young Heather had nodded without understanding, and since then, she had forgotten that her real name was "Cheryl."
Wiping her eyes, Heather thought to herself,
Dad must have given me the fake name "Heather" to protect me. He must have sensed the cult was after us and wanted to deceive them. I’m crying, but not because I’m sad, Dad.
Thank you for looking out for me.
Encouraged by Harry’s diary, the darkness no longer felt suffocating. Heather walked briskly down the corridor, which seemed to be encased in mesh. She left the room where she found the diary, proceeded to the dead end, and then returned to the elevator. This time, she took the left fork in the corridor. Neither the burly monsters nor the obese ones frightened her anymore; she was familiar with them now. To conserve her dwindling ammunition, she dashed past these slow-moving creatures.
There was another reason she avoided unnecessary fights: Vincent’s words lingered in her mind. “Monsters... they looked like monsters to you?”
Though he claimed it was a joke, Heather had realized a disturbing possibility. The monsters were undoubtedly terrifying, but were they always monsters? If not, what were they originally? Were they people transformed by the dark magic swirling through Silent Hill? Or was her own vision clouded by the same magic?
She didn't want to think about it, but both scenarios were plausible. This hesitation made her reluctant to kill the monsters. Ignoring them, Heather ran past and entered the next room. It was another small room with a bed and a nightstand, reminiscent of an isolation ward. An open book lay on the table. Heather felt a strange compulsion—part of her didn't want to read it, but a stronger part felt she must. It reminded her of the time Harry encouraged her to enter the dark woods during a camping trip.
---Aglaophotis---
"A red liquid or crystal similar to the color of blood. This name is taken from the Kabbalistic texts of Judaism, referring to an herb said to grow in the deserts of Arabia, known for its power to expel demons. In addition to ingestion, it can be heated, vaporized, and dispersed to guard against demons. While powerful, it is extremely rare and difficult to obtain."
Heather unconsciously clutched the pendant she wore as a charm. The book's content triggered unpleasant memories that surged up like nausea.
Noticing a photograph, the bitter memories finally broke through. The sepia-toned photo on the table—it was a picture of Alessa. Heather was overwhelmed by the explosion of resurfacing memories. The agony of death pierced her body like a thick stake. Pain and hatred blazed through her, burning her from within.
"I was here!"
Heather gasped, her face contorted in pain, collapsing to the floor. The room, like the others, had no place in a church. It was the memory of a room from Alchemilla Hospital, where she had once lived as Alessa.
...Suffering severe burns from a fire, death should have been certain. But her mother, Dahlia, forcibly kept her alive. Dahlia’s summoning rituals denied Alessa the release of death, extending her agony in unhealed pain...
"Daddy, help me."
Heather staggered desperately toward the door. If she didn’t escape this room, she would be trapped in the endless replay of past nightmares, driven to madness. The nightmares threatened to become real, her skin melting with burns.
Finally, she managed to tumble out of the room. Sitting in the hallway, she panted heavily. The memories and pain quickly faded, bringing a sense of revival. Regaining her composure, she noticed the hallway’s changes belatedly. The church’s transformations had intensified, with vein-like structures running along the walls and ceiling, resembling something emerging from pale, diseased skin. Perhaps this was the manifestation of Alessa’s revived torment.
At the very end of the labyrinthine corridor stood a door—it seemed to be the final destination. There were no other rooms left to explore in the basement. However, the door wouldn’t open. The stubborn refusal felt to Heather like her own heart was blocking her path.
Am I not willing? she wondered. Am I not ready?
Lacking any concrete reason, she felt she needed to turn back. This church was deeply tied to Alessa’s past... Even if it meant encountering more dangers like the ones in the hospital room earlier, she needed to see everything, prepared to accept whatever came.
Heather returned to the first floor, which she hadn’t fully explored yet. The door on the other side of the branching corridor, which had been locked earlier, now opened easily, as if granting her permission. The corridor beyond was still tainted with the color of blood. Despite the decay, the transformation had not fully taken hold here. She entered the first room and felt a chill—it was a classroom. This time, it was unmistakably real.
But why would a school classroom be here? Probably for the same reason there was an Alessa’s hospital room earlier...
Heather tread carefully, feeling as though she were walking on thin ice, fearing an emotional eruption from the Alessa within her. Claudia wasn’t here, but she couldn’t skip this room. There might be something crucial, like a key for the locked door in the basement. One desk, in particular, drew her attention. From a distance, she could see the desk’s surface was rough and uneven, carved with graffiti, likely with a knife:
GO HOME!
DIE!
THIEF!
Seeing the words, a sharp pain stabbed Heather’s chest.
She realized this was Alessa’s desk.
Fearful of another explosive surge of memories and emotions, she was surprised to find none came. Instead, a cold, icy block formed in her heart. Alessa might have closed herself off every day in this classroom, enduring by becoming nothing.
On the teacher’s desk, she found a notebook.
The name written inside was K. Gordon.
"There’s a child named Alessa in the class I teach. You may remember her if your memory is any good. She’s the one I mentioned before, the one called a ‘witch’. She’s likely being abused by her mother. I’ve never seen her come to school without any scrapes or bruises. Her expression is pitifully dark it’s hard to believe she’s only six years old. Such stories are not so uncommon. The easiest thing to do is to just watch and wait, but I wonder if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ve thought about consulting a lawyer but i do have my reservations. So first, I wanted to hear your opinion first."
--- K. Gordon
Reading the words, Heather gave a cold smile. Alessa had never been rescued from her mother Dahlia’s abuse. In the end, this teacher had decided to ignore the problem, pretending not to see it... Perhaps due to the cult’s pressure.
Heather remembered Harry’s note from the basement and felt her cold heart warm again.
I’m not Alessa anymore. There’s no need to let long-past events trouble me now.
Encouraging herself, she moved on to the next room. Two doors stood side by side at the end of the hallway. She opened the nearer one first, finding a small, tidy room with a desk, bed, and shelves. It was immaculately clean, likely a place where a cult member lived. Among the neatly arranged items, there was one thing haphazardly tossed on the desk—a letter. It seemed to be a complaint from a follower.
"There are complaints that Father Vincent is using the organization’s funds for his own personal benefit. I’ve also heard rumors from some members that he is extorting donations. Is he truly fit for his position? While I do not deny his achievements in expanding our organization, should not those who serve our God be valued for their depth of faith rather than their limited talents or talkativeness?"
--- L.S.
“Hmm... interesting.”
Heather smiled faintly, imagining the smug face of Vincent. It seemed like exactly the kind of thing he would do. Heather could gauge the extent of Vincent's popularity within the cult. She started to leave the room but paused in front of the shelf. There was a cassette deck placed on it.
"Oh, that's right..." she remembered, pulling a cassette tape from her pocket. She had found it in a room with documents detailing the cult's emblem and had taken it, hoping it contained some secret that could expose and destroy the cult.
Playing the tape on the cassette deck, a conversation between two men started to play. One of the voices was Vincent’s.
“Do you know anything about the incident seventeen years ago? As a veteran, you must have heard some details?”
A follower-like man responded to Vincent’s question.
“...Heretics, ensnared by their immediate desires, tried to obstruct the awakening of our God using the Seal of Metatron. But our great God overcame this, and the heretics fell into the abyss. However, because of this, our God could not be born in the proper form and went back to sleep within the Holy Mother, awaiting the time to awaken again... That’s all I know.”
“Is that so... Thank you.”
“Father Vincent, is it true that the Holy Mother has been found?”
“Did Claudia say that Alessa has been found?”
“Yes.”
“Then it must be true. She has a special power.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Perhaps due to her deep faith... Something I could never emulate. Nor would I want to.”
“Nor I. Sister Claudia is somewhat frightening.”
“That was a faithless remark from both of us. Let’s pretend it never happened. Forget it. I will too.”
“Yes. But will the miraculous paradise truly be created here?”
“If now is the time appointed by God...”
Heretics fell into the abyss, did they? Heather frowned. They must be referring to Harry, but he had been very much alive until recently... and now he was undoubtedly in heaven. It seemed the cult had fabricated this story to deceive their followers.
Of course, Harry’s heart had indeed sunk after losing Cheryl. And because of the cult, my own heart was plunged into an abyss.
Biting her lip, Heather moved to the next room. It was similar in structure to the previous room but was more cluttered... Heather sensed a feminine touch in the atmosphere. A piece of paper on the desk caught her eye.
It was an old birthday card.
“To little Claudia, Happy 6th birthday. I love you like a real sister. Let’s always be friends.”
Heather felt a pang in her heart.
This was something I—Alessa, back then—had given her.
So, this must be Claudia’s room.
She had kept the birthday card from me all these years.
Feeling uneasy, Heather found a diary on the shelf and started reading it despite herself. Even if she and Claudia were once like sisters, they were enemies now. She had to uncover Claudia's secrets.
“November 10th
She was not dead back then; she was born. I certainly knew that for a fact. But why hasn’t she been found yet? We need her power to build Paradise and ensure people’s happiness. She must have been reborn for that purpose. And I'd really like to meet her again.”
“November 14th
I read the sacred text, the ‘Laudation Scriptures.’ I must thank Father for lending me such a precious book. In it, I found what I was looking for—a method to awaken ‘God.’ But it is too much cruel. When I meet her, will I be able to pull it off?”
“November 16th
Today, I had time to read ‘A Modern History of Refugees’ and ‘Young Slaves: Child Exploitation.’ I do not wish to be a mere bystander of this world. But currently, there is nothing I can do, and that's what's hard.”
Heather was convinced that Claudia had written it. This was indeed her room. It made sense for a high-ranking cult member, but it was ironic that Claudia and Vincent, two opposing priests, had lived in adjacent rooms.
Even so... Heather pondered.
She could understand Claudia’s wish to save exploited children, given her own abuse as a child, as stated in her diary... But what she couldn’t comprehend was why someone who had been abused by her parents would believe in the same religion as them—so fervently that she became a priest. Maybe it was because she was indoctrinated into the cult from such a young age that it felt natural for her to seek salvation from the ‘God’ described in their teachings, even to the extent of trying to bring about paradise as per the doctrines. It was like an animal born and raised in a zoo trying to teach its wild counterparts about the ideal world of the zoo, not realizing that it itself was trapped in a cage.
Poor Claudia... my dear sister.
Heather rushed back to the basement with renewed determination. Knowing Claudia's feelings had brought a new sense of purpose. Her heart was filled with resolve, and she felt confident that this time, the final door would open. There was no hesitation or fear.
However, the basement had undergone a disturbing transformation. The bloodstains seemed to pulse and writhe, as if they were alive, resembling blood clots forcing their way through veins. Heather sensed that the situation was urgent. The increasing power of whatever was trying to be born was affecting the outside world.
I need to hurry!
Placing a hand on her abdomen, Heather sprinted forward.
She grasped the doorknob of the previously locked door, turning it with a prayerful determination. The stubborn door finally opened, and Heather stepped inside. But as soon as she did, a wave of dizziness, unlike anything she had ever felt, overcame her. It was a vertigo mixed with a strong sense of déjà vu.
I used to live here!
She felt it, no, she was certain of it. There was a study desk, a small bed, insect specimens displayed on the wall, and children's clothes hanging on a hanger—all of it was familiar.
This is Alessa’s!
She couldn’t explain it, but she knew it was true. It was as if time and space had warped. This was undoubtedly the bedroom she had shared with her mother, Dahlia. On the study desk was a memo. It was a notepad attached to a board, just like the one she had seen at the ice cream stand in the amusement park.
“Dad…” Heather read the new message.
“Beyond this door is where she is. I have no reason to believe it, but I feel it. But she is not the only one beyond this door. There is something terribly dangerous, something that makes me feel sick—perhaps it’s what they call ‘God.’ Even so, I will open this door and end this absurd tale. I am not a ‘God.’ But I want to save her… no, I want to save them both.”
The date at the end of the message was from seventeen years ago. Dad was here back then... in this inappropriate children's room...
Heather looked around for more messages and found another incongruous item. There was a sketchbook left on the bed. Heather recognized it immediately. It wasn’t Alessa’s; it was Cheryl’s beloved sketchbook. The cover was decorated with a terribly drawn picture of Harry.
A message from Cheryl?
The pages of the sketchbook contained childish writing in crayon. It read like a poem or a fairy tale. The last few lines touched Heather's heart.
"But really, are you going to open it? It's dangerous beyond the door, let's not. Let's play, stay here, don't leave, or I'll be all alone again."
Heather approached the door at the back of the room.
Are you really going to open it? It’s dangerous beyond the door.
A girl's voice whispered in her head, borrowing the words from Cheryl's writing. Alessa was worried, very anxious. Heather reassured herself.
It’s okay. This time, I’m here. It won’t happen again. We’ll end this, together with you, me, and Cheryl.
Beyond the breached door was a seemingly endless corridor. It was filled with an oppressive, unpleasant atmosphere, but no monsters lurked there. Heather pressed on against the increasing pressure of the evil presence with every step. Ahead of her stood a large, imposing set of double doors.
The basement chapel, illuminated by the flickering amber light, echoed with the sound of a heated argument.
“What do I wish for, you ask?” Vincent responded with an untroubled smile. “I wish for both of you to die... That’s my wish. That will bring peace.”
Claudia shook her head sadly.
“You're a priest of the Order, Vincent... When did you stop believing in ‘God’? ‘God’ lives. Just look at this world.”
“I do believe Her. I fear and respect God in my own way, just not with your fanaticism.”
Vincent gestured towards the chapel ceiling with both hands.
“Look at the state of the world you speak of! Is that the work of God? Quite a tasteless ‘God’. No, what you see is merely your own personal nightmare... just like Alessa’s seventeen years ago.”
“Do not blaspheme ‘God’! Traitor! You will rot in hell!”
“I’m tired of that line. Who do you think you are? Don’t pretend to speak for God with such insults.”
"Go home, Vincent, leave this sacred place, immediately! In the name of ‘God,’ I excommunicate you!”
“Oh, dear, you’re ridiculous. When did you get so high and mighty? This is my church. It was built with my power, the power of money that you so despised... Though I’ll admit this atrocious scenary was your idea.”
“If you continue to interfere any further, you too...”
“Are you planning to kill me? Just like you did Harry Mason? You simple-minded woman.” Vincent snorted.
Heather stepped into the basement chapel, which resembled a solid fortress or prison rather than a graceful sanctuary. She approached the arguing pair.
“Well, the guest of honor has arrived!” Vincent turned to Heather. “Let’s get this party started! Go on, Heather, kill this crazy bitch! And the demon who falsely claims to speak for God! Now that the time has come, you can kill her now!”
“You'll go to hell!”
Claudia shouted, her voice filled with hatred echoing through the shadowy chapel.
She rushed towards Vincent, who had turned his back, and collided with him. A sharp blade was clutched in her hand. Claudia stabbed Vincent with the knife.
“Claudia!” Heather gasped. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing... nothing important.”
Claudia replied calmly, looking down at the fallen Vincent, the bloody knife still in her hand. She was unfazed by Heather’s accusatory gaze.
“So, you’re not running away anymore? Is this the end?”
“No, this is the beginning. As Vincent said, the time has come. Alessa, it’s unfortunate you didn't wholeheartedly agree... But even so, with your heart filled with hatred and pain under the guise of revenge, you nurtured ‘God’. I thank you. The sinful era of imprisonment ends now, and all mankind will be freed from suffering.”
“But, A ‘God’ born out of hatred cannot build a paradise, Claudia...”
Heather sighed as she spoke. Her piercing gaze softened with sadness.
“...my dear sister.”
Her desire for revenge against Harry’s killer quickly faded. In Claudia’s eyes, she saw not an enemy to hate, but a girl she once cherished like a sister.
Alessa and Claudia, two close friends, were always together. Although they lived in the same town, their houses were far apart. However, their parents were both followers of the same cult, so they often saw each other. The reason they were "always" together was that neither had any other friends. Their parents, being followers of the same cult, forbade close interactions with other children, deeming those who did not believe in the same "God" as wicked heretics.
During the priest’s sermon, the two would exchange glances and smile at each other. They played in the church's backyard, making flower crowns from wildflowers and exchanging them as gifts. They would chat about the events that happened while they were apart. Yet, there was an unspoken understanding that there were things they would never talk about—a secret that should never be uttered.
"What happened there? Doesn't it hurt?"
One day, Alessa noticed a blue bruise peeking out from Claudia’s chest and voiced her concern. She had a suspicion. Though she didn't intend to eavesdrop, she had once overheard Claudia’s father speaking in the confessional.
"Did... your father do this?"
"No!"
Claudia’s reaction was overly intense. It was the first time Alessa had seen such a hard expression on her face.
"I fell and hurt myself. It’s my fault."
Claudia forced a smile, a heartbreaking smile that concealed her tears.
"My father would never do such a thing. My father is kind. I love my father very much. Really, really, I do."
With those words, Claudia clung to Alessa, burying her face in Alessa’s chest. Alessa’s clothes became wet with tears as Claudia sobbed.
"You feel the same, don't you, Alessa?"
"Yes. I love my mother very much too."
Alessa, too, forced a sad smile, stroking Claudia’s hair as she answered.
"But, A 'God' born from hatred isn’t a true God."
Heather pleaded with her once-beloved sister.
"Why are you trying to bring forth a 'God' that requires someone’s sacrifice? Claudia, remember the kind girl you once were, who dreamed of saving underprivileged children around the world. End this madness!"
Claudia responded with a scornful look.
"It seems you are not entirely Alessa. You are just a stranger who grew up without knowing sadness or suffering. Happy people can be so cruel... they don’t understand others’ misfortunes. Is it so strange that compassion can be born from pain and suffering? Just as only those who have experienced hardship know true kindness, God is also born from people’s grief and sorrow. Why do you deny God’s love? What is so good about this corrupt world? In the new world created by 'God', everyone will be saved."
"...You want to save yourself, don’t you, Claudia?"
Heather looked at her with sympathetic eyes. She thought she finally understood Claudia's inner turmoil. Claudia was still the same sad little girl, pretending to be strong while holding back tears.
"Saving everyone and thus saving yourself? I won’t let you have such a happy ending!"
Heather’s glare returned. Her desire for revenge was gone, but she could not forgive Claudia.
"No!"
Claudia retorted, reacting intensely just as she had that day.
"I only want to save people! It doesn't matter what happens to me. I do not expect to be saved, and that’s fine... I don’t expect forgiveness for the pain I’ve caused you. It was a grave sin, even if it was for mankind's salvation. Yes, I hastened the promised day out of my own selfishness. Sacrifices were made, and those are my sins"
It hurts.
Vincent, crawling on the floor, was in pain. Though he felt as if he were dying, the pain was proof he was still alive. He wouldn’t die just yet. He would keep living. Why else had he become a priest? Why had he devoted himself to the cult? He just wanted peace of mind. He was fed up with the cutthroat life of competing with rivals, chasing money, and being hounded by numbers. So he had donated all the wealth he had painstakingly earned to the cult in exchange for the priestly position.
What’s wrong with joining a cult if it brings peace? He thought long life would be boring if that was all he had, so he sought a bit of thrill. The cult had grown so large thanks to his acumen and assets. Don’t criticize how the donations were collected or used. Claudia, that crazy bitch, always opposed his methods. The birth of 'God' was supposed to be in the distant future. It wasn't something to spend the cult’s budget on. Paradise? Paradise was already here. A quiet life praying to God in the foggy town, away from outsiders, with thrilling magical rituals... that was enough. She was the one in his way, not him.
"Sinful, you say?"
Vincent sneered in his dazed state.
"If you know it’s sinful, then why don't you go to hell first." He shouted, using his waning strength. "Heather, use the seal!"
"The seal?"
Heather looked at Vincent, then pulled a medal from her pocket.
"You mean this?"
"Yes, that’s it. This will end this pointless nightmare."
"The Seal of Metatron!" Claudia gasped, her expression twisting.
However, it was only for a moment before she averted her face and sneered.
"Oh, that’s just a piece of junk. Such a little thing can do nothing. You know nothing about the Seal of Metatron. You think the seal on that medal can kill 'God'? Did you hear that from Leonard? Thank you for indulging my father’s foolish delusions, Vincent."
Claudia swung her knife, gouging Vincent’s chest. Heather had no time to stop her. Vincent gasped, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he looked up at the chapel ceiling, and then he died.
"Pitiful man... but 'God' will save you too."
Claudia offered a perfunctory prayer over the body, then turned to Heather.
"Now, Alessa. There is nowhere else to run."
Suddenly, an unprecedented, heavy pain struck Heather. The entity within her writhed violently. It extended amoeba-like tendrils to invade every corner of her body, every cell. Heather felt herself being consumed. She gasped, sweating profusely.
"Just accept it, Alessa. It will ease the pain."
It's painful.
It's like I've swallowed poison.
Heather had no choice but to endure the agony in utter despair.
That's why he said it, she thought, hearing Harry's voice in her mind.
It's poison. A terrifying drug.
In the hazy, dizzying view of the chapel, Heather felt like she saw Harry watching her from the shadows. Memories of the one time her gentle father had yelled at her flashed through her mind. There was only one time that Harry, normally so kind, had ever screamed at Heather like a demon.
"Don't touch that! It's poison. It may look pretty, but it's a terrifying drug. If you accidentally ingest it, who knows what could happen!"
However, the vision of Harry standing in the chapel was with the gentle face he had when he gave her a birthday present. At that time, he had given her something he had previously forbidden her to touch and said:
"This is called Aglaophotis. It's a deadly poison, but it can also be used as a charm against demons. Keep it with you. It might come in handy someday. But until then, never touch the contents."
Heather clutched the pendant with the charm that Harry had given her.
Watching Heather grimace and curl up, Claudia spoke with a voice full of delight.
"I've been waiting. I've been waiting so long for this. Since I was a child, I believed this day would come. While witnessing the miracle that is you, Alessa, I always knew this Judgement Day would arrive!"
Enduring the pain, Heather stood up and spoke to Claudia.
The outburst was Alessa's anger. Claudia's fervor reminded her too much of her mother, Dahlia. Heather opened the pendant and gazed at the contents.
"What are you doing?" Claudia asked.
"Dad..." Heather murmured, and swallowed the red capsule-like crystal from the pendant. She was half-doubtful that it would really work against the demon. She thought that even if it was just poison, it would be better than giving birth to an evil "God."
The small lump slid down her throat, and she felt it dissolve quickly and be absorbed from her stomach. The pain subsided, disappearing as if it had been a lie. The horrific movements within her ceased completely.
"Alessa, what have you done? What did you swallow?"
Claudia's voice was filled with shock as she witnessed something even more astonishing. Heather retched and spat out something.
It was a writhing mass of flesh.
"This is..." Claudia gasped, and Heather laughed.
"It looks like your 'God' has fallen."
Heather moved to crush the writhing lump under her boot.
"Stop!"
Claudia, with a frantic look, rushed over and pushed Heather aside.
"'God'..."
She lovingly cradled the lump in her hands and brought it to her mouth.
"You cannot kill 'God', Alessa. I'll... take its place..."
Suddenly, something began to change within Claudia. It was the same kind of transformation that Heather had encountered before. The walls, floors, and ceiling of the building began to change.
"...If you won't do it, I'll take your place..."
Her face and arms became marred with dark, protruding veins, as if countless serpents were crawling beneath her skin. Claudia groaned in pain, seemingly tormented by the burden of bearing 'God.' She clutched her stomach and staggered towards the suspicious-looking altar.
There was a long vertical hole in front of the altar, a dark abyss peering up from below. It seemed to be a pit meant to protect and nurture the newly born "God."
Claudia reached the edge of the pit and bent over. She continued to groan in a strained voice. Suddenly, a howl, like the roar of a beast, echoed from within the pit. The floor around the pit distorted with a violent upheaval, and in that instant, a mummified creature clinging to the inside of the pit extended its hand, grabbed Claudia's ankle, and dragged her into the hole.
"Claudia!"
Heather rushed to the edge of the pit and looked in.
Heather's words had been right.
Claudia wanted to be saved. She wanted to heal the wounds inflicted by her father Leonard, to erase the indelible hatred. If possible, she wanted "God" to rewrite their relationship into a good parent-child relationship. Even if it meant she wouldn't be saved, she believed that with the destruction of the old world, her existence and her past with her father would also vanish, as if they had never existed. She had preached love and adorned herself with hypocrisy, but in the end, she just wanted to save herself.
"I'm sorry, Alessa."
Muttering in a voice that could no longer be heard, she took her last breath in her transformed state and fell into an eternal sleep.
"Claudia!"
Heather, now in the pit, rushed over. She mourned before the body of her beloved sister.
"You can't be dead! I promised I would kill you myself!"
Heather was overwhelmed with frustration. It was unbearable that her pitiful sister would die in such a pitiful state. With tears in her eyes, Heather prayed for Claudia's soul.
A voice interrupted her grief, the terrifying cry of a newborn. Crawling across the stone floor of the dome, a grotesque figure approached.
"So this is 'God'..."
Heather stared in stunned disbelief. The creature before her was far removed from any image of a god. It resembled the mummified monsters she had encountered before. Its emaciated body was skeletal yet bulky, contrasting with its underdeveloped and frail lower half, a result of being born from a false mother. This "God" could barely stand, collapsing onto the floor in a manner reminiscent of an insect. Most disturbing of all was its face, bearing a resemblance to Alessa's tormented visage she had seen on the merry-go-round.
The 'God' rose and took a deep breath, exhaling a torrent of flame. It seemed to be a purifying fire meant to burn away the old world in preparation for the new. The flames consumed Claudia's corpse, igniting Heather's fury.
"Because of you, my father was killed. Alessa and Cheryl were sacrificed for you. Even Claudia...if it weren't for you, none of this would have happened. You have no right to exist in this world. I will avenge them!"
Heather fired her gun. The 'God' shrieked with an ear-splitting cry as three bullets struck it in rapid succession. It trembled and fell to its knees, its already weak lower body unable to support its weight. But Heather, too, was running out of strength. Her bullets were spent, and she had no spare magazines left. Her last weapon was a survival knife, sturdy but only the size of a small dagger. Whether it would be enough, she had no choice but to find out.
It seemed that 'God' could not breathe fire while prone. As Heather circled to avoid the flames, it swung its fists in a futile attempt to retaliate. Its awkward attacks mostly missed, but a few blows landed, infuriating Heather and fueling her determination. Heather clung to the 'God,' slashing her knife in a wild fury. She stabbed repeatedly, driven by rage. The 'God' screamed in agony, its death throes echoing through the dome. But it twisted its body, managing to strike Heather with a powerful blow.
The impact was severe. She might have broken a few ribs. Fighting to remain conscious, Heather forced herself to rise from the floor, searching for her dropped knife. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw 'God' inhale deeply. Grabbing the knife and pointing its tip towards the creature, Heather charged.
It was a desperate, suicidal attack. With her remaining strength, she had no other options. If she could at least bring it down with her... She didn't care if she died. She had no desire to live in the new world this repugnant 'God' would create. Engulfed in searing heat, Heather hurled herself at the creature.
"Is it over? Dad..." Heather murmured as if to no one in particular. She wandered aimlessly through the cavernous dome, now devoid of "God", like a sleepwalker. The exit was far above, in the heavens. There was no other way out. Eventually, she collapsed from exhaustion.
What, not again?
Don't touch me. Let go of your filthy hands.
In a state between dream and reality, Heather thought hazily. Her joints ached. Her body stung all over. She felt an exhaustion as if her body had been filled with sand.
In her blurred vision, she saw a shriveled, mummy-like figure. A monster was dragging her helpless body away.
Where are you taking me? To hell? Are you the Grim Reaper? What do you plan to do with me? Eat me? I'll taste awful. Dad always said I was a girl who couldn't be eaten, no matter how you cooked me.
Heather laughed. All she could do was laugh; she couldn't put up any resistance.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Douglas lifted his bowed head. He leaned back against the bench and looked up at the approaching figure.
"Heather... is it really over?"
"Not yet. You're still alive," Heather said, pointing a gun at him. She glared at his bewildered, unshaven face and then burst into laughter.
"Boo, just kidding. Payback for earlier."
Douglas let out a wry smile and patted his chest in relief.
"Heather, so..."
"You don't have to call me that. I don't need that name anymore," the girl said, shaking her head.
Douglas looked at her quietly.
"You want me to use your real name? If I recall..."
"Cheryl. The name my dad gave me."
"I see."
Douglas nodded. He had investigated and found out that Heather was an alias. He figured there must have been a reason beyond his imagination. Now that it was no longer needed, her burden was gone, which was a joyous thing.
"You gonna let your hair color go back too?"
"You knew it was dyed?"
"I'm the great detective Douglas."
"I don't know? Don’t you think this color suits me better than black?" Cheryl said, striking a pose like a model and laughing.
She lent her shoulder to the injured Douglas, and they left the town of Silent Hill. The pocket radio remained silent, and there was no longer any sign of the wandering monsters in the town. However, there was just one...
She felt the gaze of a monster.
It was the mummy-like creature that had pulled her out of the cavernous dome and nursed her with a kind of magical power. She didn’t feel any need to thank it; it was an unnecessary favor. Maybe it was simply tasked with protecting the Holy Mother... though the truth was unclear, it seemed that even now, with everything over, it remained unchanged.
"This is goodbye," Cheryl waved to the mummy-like monster at the edge of town. It was a warning not to follow.
A few days later, a girl was seen placing flowers on her father's grave. She reported that she was okay. That she could somehow live on her own. Not to worry.
"Thank you, Dad."
The daughter offered her words of gratitude.
The clear sky, visible as far as the eye could see, enveloped her.