damn didn't realise how long i've abandoned this account, should i continue "silence in the hills"?, i want to but idk if im in the mood for it still, right now anyways.
Hi guys sorry for the lack of update š college has been so ass and i recently just dropped out to pursue something i actually want instead of medschoolā¦. THEATERRRR š So now i have a lil more free time to get some chapters out!
been really busy with college and planning my halloween stuff, ill be working on chapter 10 soonā¦ š i have everything laid out anyways i just need free time istg
The air pressed against us as we stumbled down the darkened hall, away from the room where Maria and the fake Jamesā phantom lingered. My chest burned from the run, each breath tearing through me like broken glass, and the sound of my heartbeat was louder than my footsteps. James moved with a stiff kind of precision, his grip tightening on the pipe, his eyes darting between the shadows as if he could will them into revealing what lurked there. He didnāt look at me. He never did when the tension was like this.Ā
ā James ā I rasped my voice raw. ā Back thereā¦ I saw ā the words tangled in my throat, too ugly to finish. Glancing at me with his brows furrowed, but there was only concern showing in his face, not recognition. ā y/n ā he said softly and steadily.
ā Whatever you saw, it wasnāt real. You hear me? That wasnāt me āĀ
His tone was firm, but the way his hand hovered at his side, like he almost reached for me and stopped, made the room feel even smaller. I hated how calm he sounded. Controlled. My own voice trembled and he didnāt, and I wanted him to slip, even just once. I wanted to know this place was breaking him too. We turned down another corridor, narrower, claustrophobic, until a door appeared ahead of us.Ā
Its hinges sagged, the wood warped with water and rust. James pushed it open with his shoulder, not sparing me a glance, and the sound of it groaning open scraped through me like nails. Inside, the air was stale. The ceiling sagged under the weight of moisture, and a flickering bulb swung from a wire, spilling pale light across rust-stained walls. I drifted toward a chair shoved into the corner, collapsing onto it with a shudder that rattled my whole body. The leather was cracked beneath me, peeling in jagged strips, and I curled my knees up, pressing them to my chest. James didnāt sit right away. He hovered by the door with the pipe in hand, jaw setting tight. His eyes swept the corners of the room before finally, reluctantly, he slid down against the wall across from me. The pipe clanged faintly as he rested it beside him.Ā
The silence pressed thick between us.Ā
ā You okay? ā His voice was low, careful, like he was asking out of duty and not desire.Ā
I blinked at him, my throat tightening. ā Do I look okay? ā my laugh was small, bitter, almost swallowed up by the flickering hum of the bulb. He didnāt answer right away, just rubbed his thumb along the edge of his pipe and sighed through his nose. ā Youāre alive, thatās what matters āĀ
Alive. That word again. Just breathing, just existing. Thatās all I was to him. The frustration welled up, twisting sharp in my chest.Ā
ā Thatās all I am to you? Alive? ā I tried to keep my tone light, teasing, but it cracked halfway through.Ā
James looked at me finally, his gaze heavy but unreadable.Ā
ā Donāt do that ā
ā Do what? ā I asked, heat rising in my throat.
ā Make it sound like I donāt- ā Cutting himself off, shaking his head. His voice hardened. ā We donāt have time for this ā
The words sliced through me, colder than the damp walls pressing in. Biting my lip til I can taste the iron, trying to swallow down the ache, the need to press further. I wanted him to fight me, to argue, to tell me I mattered, but instead he pushed to his feet, pipe in hand again.
ā We should keep moving ā he muttered under his breath, as if that settled it. I stayed curled in the chair, watching him beneath my lashes with my chest aching with words I wasnāt ready to spill. He was already looking toward the door again, already somewhere else, already searching for her.Ā
ā Youāreā¦ focused on Maria ā I said finally, voice low, more of a statement than a question. ā I can see it. Youāreā¦ not thinking about me āĀ
James tensed, his shoulders stiffening and pipe in hand slipping slightly in his hands. The motion caught the bulbās dying light, flashing dull across the metal. He looked at me then, really looked and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw the conflict flicker behind his eyes- something raw, scared, human. But then his jaw set, and he stood brushing past the edge of the wall like he couldnāt stand still anymore.Ā
ā We have to move ā he repeated, his voice was low and tired, too steady to be natural. ā Sheās close I can feel it āĀ
ā Wait ā I said, stepping forward before the words could stop themselves. My hand brushed the sleeve of his jacket, faint but desperate. ā We donāt have to find her right now. Just- stay here for a moment. With me ā He didnāt look at me, just stared past my shoulder towards the rusted door, as if the dark beyond was whispering his name, then his eyes flicked away again, and the tension in his shoulders made my chest ache.Ā
ā Y/nā¦ I canāt. Not for long āĀ
I felt my throat tighten, ā You donātā¦ want me here? ā The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, softer than a whisper but heavierĀ than I meant it to be. My heart lurchedĀ at the hesitationĀ in his stance, at the way his hands tightened around the pipe like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.Ā
James froze. The shadows seemed to lean closer around us. He exhaled sharply, eyes darkened with something that looked too close to guilt.Ā
ā I do want you ā he said, rough around the edges ā Iā¦ care about you. More than you think. ā I took a step closer with my voice trembling, caught between the need and fear.Ā
ā Then whyā¦ why do you keep looking at her? Why does she pull your attention away from me? ā He blinked, visibly flinching, as if the question struck somewhere deep. ā I canāt explain it ā he said, voice breaking with strain. ā Not yet. Not in a way youādā¦ understand. But you have to trust me. Iāmā¦ Iām holding myself back. ā
It was my turn freezing. The words landed like a knife between my ribs. Holding himself back? My chest tightened, my thoughts twisted the meaning into something crueler, something more personal.Ā
ā Holding yourself back- from me? ā James swallowed hard, eyes downcast. ā Fromā¦ everything. From letting myself feelā¦ anything ā His jaw flexed, hands twitching around the pipe like he could crush it just to keep from reaching out. ā I canātā¦ not while she- while we- thereās too much at stake. I canāt let itā¦ I canāt let myselfā¦ ā His voice trailed off, frayed and raw. The bulb above us flickered violently, shadows pulsing in time with the weight of his silence.
Heat rose in my chest- confusion, ache, that gnawing panic that always came when someone started to pull away. My brain rewrote his restraint into rejection, that old pattern whispering.
Youāre too much, too broken, too used.Ā
He wants me. Heās just denying it. Heās scared. Heās holding back, but he wants me. He wants me, he justā¦ canāt.
I reached out, brushing my hand along his forearm. The friction burned through me, too much and not enough.Ā
ā Thenā¦ then touch me ā I whispered, voice husky and trembling. ā Show me you care. Show me that youā¦ want me ā James flinched, a sharp step backward. The movement scraped like rejection across my skin. ā Y/nā¦ no. I- ā He shook his head, voice breaking. ā I canāt. Not now. Not like this ā The room seemed to tilt. The walls breathed, pulsing with that wet, alive rhythm Silent Hill loved to hide behind stillness. I could almost hear the faint rustle of unseen things crawling beneath the floorboards. And yet, all I could focus on was him and the space between us that felt like punishment.Ā
ā Thenā¦ why? ā I breathed, the words cracking. ā Why canāt youā¦ why donāt you want me? ā Jamesā lips parted, trying to form sentences, an explanation but no words came. His breathing turned heavy, and I could see the war in him. Desire, fear, something that looked a lot like self hatred. He wanted to give in; it was written in every tremor, every stolen glance, the way his chest rose too fast.Ā
ā Y/nā¦ ā he rasped finally, ā I do want you. I wantā¦ everything about you ā His gaze faltered, then hardened like he was forcing the truth to behave. ā But I canāt let myself. Not when she- Mariaā¦ is still out there. Not when thereās still danger. Iā¦ I have to survive. I have to make sure you survive too ā The walls groaned, shifting faintly, and I swore I saw something crawl across the peeling paint, human in shape, but not in movement. I pressed my palms to his chest anyway, desperate for grounding, feeling the taut muscle beneath his shirt, the faint tremor of his breath. ā And that means ignoring me? ā I whispered.Ā
ā That means letting me feel unwanted? āĀ
His eyes softened, the hardness melting into something unbearably tender. For a second, it looked like he might cave. His hand lifted, hesitant, hovering inches from my face. But then he dropped it, stepping back just enough to keep the ache alive.
ā Noā¦ no- ā he murmured, voice thick. ā Youāre not unwanted. Youāreā¦ youāre everything. But I canāt let my wants make this worse. Not here. Not like this. ā I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, uneven and ugly. The part of me that learned to survive by being wanted screamed against his restraint. I wanted to shake him, to beg him to stop pretending that control was protection.Ā
ā Thenā¦ let me help ā my voice speaks out in a tremble but still relentless. ā Let meā¦ help you hold back. Let me-Ā āĀ
ā No ā he interrupted, but the word broke halfway out, soft and pleading. ā Y/n, Donāt. Please. Not nowā¦ Iā¦ IĀ canāt āĀ
The light flickered again, buzzing faintly. Somewhere down the hall something metallic clattered, a nurse- maybe or just the hospital reminding us it was still watching. I stared at him, the distance now unbearable. His breath came unevenly, chest rising and falling like heād been running. I wanted to reach for him again, to break the tension.Ā
ā Why wonāt you touch me? ā My voice and words slipped out before I could stop it. Small and hoarse, like it had been buried under my ribs for too long. He didnāt answer, not right away at least, his hands flex at his sides- I could see the tension in his fingers, the restraint. It almost hurt to watch him fight himself like that.Ā
ā You canā¦ ā I said softly, ā Iād let you do whatever you want āĀ
His jaw tightened. And then he looked up, finally- and the way his gaze hit me made my stomach twist. I didnāt know if it was anger, longing or both. ā Itās not that simple āĀ he muttered under his breath, particles of dust flying from the small action, but it sounded more like a warning than an excuse. I swallowed hard.Ā
ā Then make it simple ā I whispered, ā Youāre the one making it complicated āĀ
He exhaled through his nose, slow and shaky. The light caught on his face just enough for me to see the frustration in his eyes.Ā
ā You think this is easy for me? āĀ
ā I think you donāt care ā I said before I could take it back. ā Because if you did, youād- ā I stopped, my voice cracking. ā Youād do something. ā He moved then, just a little- a half step, like he wasnāt sure which direction to go. My breath caught anyway.Ā
ā Iām not scared of you ā he said finally. His voice was low, rough around the edges.Ā
ā Iām scared of what happens if I stop holding back. ā
Laughing quietly, but it came out too shaky, trembling at the edges.Ā
ā Then stop holding back ā I breathed, ā Just once. ā
The walls seemed to close in, and I could hear the faint hum of the light flickering above us. ā You care so much about her- Maria, whoever she is- but when itās me, you just- ā My voice cracked again. ā You just keep your distance ā
ā Stop ā he said it so fast,Ā like he was cutting himself off more than me. ā You donāt understand. ā
ā Then make me understand! ā I snapped at him, I didnāt mean to sound desperate but it came out that way anyway. My hands balled into fists. ā I thought you cared about me. I thought- ā choking on the words.
ā I thought maybe you wanted me around. āĀ
He looked at me then- really looked and something in his expression softened, like a wall slowly giving in to pressure. ā I do care about you āĀ he said, quieter now, as if heās afraid the room might hear him. ā Thatās the problem āĀ
I blinked, confused. ā What problem? ā
Exhaling through his nose his voice tightening. ā This place- it messes with peopleās minds- heads. Makes them see things, feel things that arenāt real. I canātā¦ ā He ran a hand over his face. ā I canāt trust what I feel here āĀ
ā You canāt trust me āĀ
ā Thatās not what I said. ā
ā Itās what you meant. ā I murmured, ā You think Iām just another one of this town's tricks. Like Maria. Like the voices ā
He didnāt answer, but his silence said enough. I took a step closer anyway, ignoring the way his shoulders tensed. He shut his eyes, just for a second, and his breath came out uneven. ā I donāt want to hurt you ā he said. ā I already- ā He stopped himself before finishing the thought. I felt my heart twist. ā Already what? āĀ
He shook his head ā It doesnāt matter ā I laughed at that, quiet and bitter. ā It always doesnāt matter to you doesnāt it James? Everything I say, everything I feelā¦ you just keep it buried. You act like itās nothing, but I see it James. You want to care, but youāre too scared to. ā He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out but couldnāt make himself move.Ā
ā Just say it ā I whispered, almost giving up.Ā
ā Say you donāt want me āĀ
He finally looked up again, and the look in his eyes almost knocked the breath out of me. It wasnāt anger, it was guilt. Deep, bleeding guilt. ā Thatās not true ā he said, his voice low, shaking. ā I do want you. But not like that. Not here. Not when everything feels wrong. ā The words hit me harder than I expected. I wanted to be angry, but instead I felt small like the sound of his voice was pulling something raw out of me.
ā I donāt know how else to be wanted ā I said, my voice trembling.Ā
ā If you donāt touch me, if you donātā¦ if you donāt see me like that, then what am I even to you? ā
ā You donāt have to earn being wanted ā he said softly. ā You already are ā
Something in me cracked open and somehow I wanted to believe him, but Silent Hill had a way of twisting every kindness into doubt. His hand was warm through the thin fabric of my shirt, grounding and fragile at once. I wanted him to hold me tighter, to let that warmth sink deeperā¦ but he didnāt. He just stayed there, hand still, eyes unreadable.
ā I canāt be what this place wants me to be ā he said finally.
ā I canāt be what you think you need ā
ā And what if I need you? ā I asked. Desperate.
He flinched again, like the words hurt. ā Then Iām sorry. ā
He pulled away before I could say anything else. His footsteps echoed as he moved toward the door, but he didnāt leave, he just stood there, hand on the knob, back to me.
I told myself I wouldnāt give in, that chasing after a stranger- a stranger who looked like someone he loved was pointless. But Jamesā voice, the sharp desperation carved into it, was enough to chip away at my reasoning. He stood there at the threshold of the fog, hands balled into fists, eyes glassy with something close to hope.
ā Sheās still out there ā he said it like a prayer.Ā
ā I heard her. You heard her too, sheās waiting for me. āĀ
I wanted to argue, tell him that she wasnāt waiting, that nothing in this town ever waitedā¦ it lures, swallows and consumes. But the words died before it could form. Maybe I didnāt want to watch him shatter If I said them out loud. Maybe I was just tired of being the one who says no. ā Fine ā I muttered, voice sounding small. ā Weāll try. ā
His shoulders loosened at once, like a man reprieved from a death sentence. ā Thank you ā But I didnāt tell him it wasnāt for Maria.Ā
The fog pressed tighter around us as we walked, the streets curling into silence the deeper we went. Streetlamps hung overhead like broken teeth, their light too faint to reach the ground. Buildings leaned close together as if whispering secrets neither of us were meant to hear.The fog pressed tighter around us as we walked, the streets curling into silence the deeper we went. Streetlamps hung overhead like broken teeth, their light too faint to reach the ground. Buildings leaned close together as if whispering secrets neither of us were meant to hear. We moved without speaking, our footsteps the only rhythm against the hollow quiet.Ā
James walked a half step ahead of me, driven by something he couldnāt name as his shoulders squared against the weight of the fog. I followed, through every turn, every blind corner made my skin crawl with the thought of someone watching us or even jumping out to kill us. The further we went the more the town seemed to rot around us. Pavement cracked into jagged veins, rust bloomed across abandoned cars, and the air grew sharp with the metallic tang of blood and rain. It was less a walk than a slow descent, every street leading downward as though Silent Hill itself were funneling us toward some inevitable end.Ā
And then there it wasā¦ Brookhaven Hospital.Ā
It loomed from the haze with a stillness that felt wrong, its shape too sharp against the blur of the fog. The building windows were blackened from within and streaks of rust were running down its walls like old wounds. I could taste iron just from looking at it, like the air had already curdled. James stopped at the doors, staring up at the letters eaten away by corrosion. His breath shuddered out, and for the first time since heād begged me to follow him, I wondered if he was afraid. Because I was. Still, when he pushed open the doors, I followed and stepped in after him. The doors groaned as they swung open, their hinges screaming something in pain. The hospital lobby in front greeted us, a hollow cavern of shadows. Fluorescent bulbs buzzed weakly overhead, flickering like dying fireflies. The air smelled of antiseptic turned sour, the sweetness of bleach layered with the metallic tang of blood in the air.Ā
I hugged my arms around myself, feeling my skin tighten at the chill. James proceeded to step forward, every movement taut, like a man afraid of making noise. His eyes darted between the reception desk, the broken chairs scattered across the floor, the empty elevators yawning like open mouths at the far end.
ā Place isā¦ deserted ā he muttered, voice low but loud enough to disturb the silence.Ā
ā Feels like itās watchingā¦ ā I whispered back as his jaw tightened.
ā ā¦.Yeah ā
We continue to walk further inside the hospital, shoes squeaking faintly against the cracked floor. A gurney lay abandoned against the wall, one wheel bent at an unnatural angle. There were rust stains on the sheets still strapped to it, dark, blooming, shaped too much like handprints. I forced myself to look away. James drifted toward the front desk, his fingers brushing over the splintered wood. Crouching slightly, peering over as if expecting someone to rise up from behind it and escort us to our destination. ā No one here. ā he said to himself.Ā
ā Did you really think there would be? ā The words came out sharper than I meant. His shoulders stiffened, but he didnāt turn to look at me. Instead, he pressed his hands to the counter and let out a long, thin breath.
ā I have to believe sheās here ā he said. ā If I stop believing that, then.. ā His voice broke off, unfinished. I swallowed the lump in my throat. ā Then what?- ā He didnāt answer. A sound cut the silence before I could push him further, a dragging noise, faint at first but then clearer. Rubber soles sliding against the floor, my whole body went rigid. Jamesā head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint where the noises were coming from. The flickering light overhead dimmed for a long second, plunging the hall in complete darkness before buzzing back to life. Thatās when I saw them. Figures moving at the edge of the corridor. Women- or something dressed as women. Their bodies shrouded in stained nurse uniforms, skirts clinging to the skin that looked warped, melted. Bandages, or was it flesh itself? Wrapped around their heads, twisting their features into faceless masks. They twitch violently, jerking like broken marionettes pulled by tangled strings from above. James froze, his hand instinctively flying to the weapon strapped at his side. I grabbed his wrist before he could raise it.Ā
ā Donāt ā I hissed at him, ā I donātā¦ I donāt think they can see very well. ā His eyes flicked to me, then back to the creatures. He was breathing too fast. āWhat if they can hear?āĀ
ā Then stop breathing so goddamn loud. ā He gave me a look, half a glare, half terrified disbelief. But he forced himself to slow his breathing, shoulders shaking as he did. We inched forward. My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would give us away. The nearest nurse twitched, head jerking in our direction. It sniffed at the air, a wet, rattling sound that turned my stomach.Ā
We froze.
For one long endless moment, nothing happened.Ā
But then another nurse slammed its metal pipe against the wall with a sharp metallic clang. The sound reverberated down to the corridor, too loud, too deliberate. James flinched as his grip twitched, and before I could stop him, he swung. The pipe cracked against the nurseās skull. The creature toppled to the floor in a writhing heap, limbs spasming before going limp. The silence that follows pressed down on us, heavy and suffocating. As always. Lifting my eyes up to catch his eyes, I stare at him, words caught in my throat. All I could manage was a sharp, strangled whisper. ā Be careful. āĀ
His chest heaves. Looking down at the twisted body on the ground, his expression cracked into something like guilt. His knuckles turned white on the weapon, and finally he gave me a small nod, almost ashamed from what he did. We stepped past the corpse. My shoes slipped on a smear of blood and I nearly stumbled. James reached out instinctively, steadying me with a hand at my elbow. For a moment, I wanted to lean into it. For a moment, I wanted him to hold on. But his hand dropped as soon as I regained my balance, and so we kept on moving. Somewhere deeper into the hospital, faint and muffled, came a sound that froze us both.Ā A scream. High pitched, frantic and desperate.Ā
ā James! ā it echoed down the hall, rattling broken lights, curling around us like smoke. His whole body jolted from the sound.Ā
ā Mar- Maria- ā he breathed, the name raw in his tongue. He looked at me and I could already see it in his face. ā Did you hear that? āĀ
ā Yes ā I told him, though I wish I could lie.Ā
ā Sheās here, I knew it ā his voice cracking with certainty.Ā
ā We have to find her. ā
James didnāt wait for my answer, he lunged forward as though the sound itself had taken him by the hand, dragging him down the dark throat of the hallway. Stumbling after him, my pulse like a drum in my ears, every step louder than I wanted it to be. The scream came again, closer now, pitch so sharp it could cut through my chest.Ā
ā James! Please! ā Her voice cracked on the plea, twisting the air into something frantic and childlike. I hated how it made me want to run, as if my own bones were being tugged towards her. The hallways bent and warped around us the further we went. Paint peeled from the walls in long strips, curling like dead skin, ceiling tiles sagged with water damage, dipping steadily, so the floor grew slick beneath our shoes. My reflection fractured in the puddles, pieces of me twitching in distorted rhythm. But James didnāt notice- his focus was solely on the voice shouting his name. Reaching a set of double doors at the end of the corridor, one hung askew, bent on its hinges while the other bore deep gougesā¦ as if something had raked its way through. The scream blended into the gap, so close now I could almost feel the hot breath of it against my ear.Ā
With a careful step, James strode toward the partition, his shoulders drawn tight as if bracing for whatever waited behind it. I tried reaching out for him, fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve, but he was already moving faster, already slipping from my grasp.
ā James wait- ā The words cracked from my throat, too quiet and too late. He pushed closer, one hand lifting towards the door swaying it, and in that breath of silence I could hear my own heartbeat, hear the sharp hitch of his breath. I wanted to drag him back- pull him away before the hospital decides what to show us.Ā
James shoved the door open, and the sound inside collapsed into silence. The room was empty, save for overturned beds and shattered glass scattered across the tiles like salt. Rust chewed through the frames, the smell of old blood turning my stomach. At the far end of the ward, the curtain of a partition swayed gently as though someone had just passed through.Ā
And then the floor shook.
Not a quake, not natural. This was heavy, deliberate. A thud like footsteps large enough to rattle the bones of the hospital itself.
Standing there, filling the space with his impossible bulk, was him.Ā
The Great Knife scraped against the floor as Pyramid Head stepped forward, helmet gleaming dully in the broken light. His presence sucked the air out of the room, pressing it tight against my ribs until I couldnāt breathe. The large chunk of metal shrieked across the floor as he dragged it forward. That sound vibrated through my teeth, sinking straight into bone. Jamesā lips moved, one word spilling out raw and broken ā Maria wai- ā
ā James! ā I grabbed his arm this time, nails digging into his sleeve.
ā Move! āĀ
He looked at me as though waking from a trance, eyes wide open with something close to guilt. Then the blade swung, beds screeched on the floor, metal legs sparking as they toppled. James staggered, instinct kicking in at last. He seized my hand, clutching it so tightly it hurt, and we bolted toward the nearest door. Our feet pounded against the tiles, our breaths ragged and loud in the suffocating air. Behind us, each step of the monster landed like a hammer blow, rattling the walls, shaking the very floor beneath us. And as the hallway split ahead acting like two gaping choices. James yanked left, my weight pulled right, our grips slippery with sweat and panic.Ā
āDonāt let go!ā I shouted, but the words were ripped away by the roar of metal cleaving through concrete.Ā
Our hands tore apart.
ā(Y/N)!ā His voice cracked, desperate, reaching for me even as the fog thickened between us.
āJames!ā I tried to run back, but the floor buckled beneath my feet. Tiles split open like rotting teeth, and suddenly I was stumbling into a side corridor, its darkness swallowing me whole. The sound of his voice faded, drowned by the scrape of the knife dragging against the tiles. My chest burned as I stumbled forward, palms grazing the walls for balance.Ā
That was when I realized it, this hallway wasnāt the same. The walls dripped with rust that gleamed too fresh, too wet. The buzzing lights stuttered and died, one by one, until I was left in a corridor that smelled not of blood or sterile- but of mildew, rot and something sweet. Familiar. My throat tightened. The hospital wasnāt showing me its face anymore, it was showing me mine.Ā
The room contracts around me, every shadow steeped in the smell of old smoke and leather straps. The figure staggers forward, its many hands groping like it has never forgotten the shape of me. I recoil, breath ragged, but my back hits plaster before I even move a step. The walls bend closer, peeling roses shivering as if they, too, remember.Ā
I wanted James. God, I wanted him to come crashing through the door, to prove this wasnāt mine to face alone. His pipe, his voice, his hands- I- anything but this silence. But the only sound was the wet drag of the monsterās limbs and the faint echo of him shouting my name somewhere far away, muffled as though through walls that wouldnāt let me through. The creature lifts its head. Its face is a smear of features, no eyes, no mouth, just the suggestion of both in folds of waxy skin. And yet I feel watched, pinned down beneath the weight of a gaze that doesnāt exist.
ā Noā¦ ā My voice is paper thin, barely leaving my lips. The hands twitch at the sound, convulsing with a hunger too old to be denied. My chest aches. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine Jamesā hand instead steadying me like before, pulling me out of this nightmare. But when I open them, it is only fingers that are not his, reaching, reaching. My knees buckle, but I force myself upright. Because if I fall here, I know it will catch me. And if it catches me, I will not come back.Ā Each step closer shakes the frame of the bed it crawled from, rattling metal in a rhythm too steady, too practiced. It wasnāt clumsy. It wasnāt confused. It knows me.Ā
ā James, ā I whisper, but it doesnāt matter if he canāt hear me. Maybe itās not even for him. Maybe itās just for me, to remind myself that someone is still out there, calling my name. I backed up until my spine met the wall. Paint flaked off against my palms, sticky with some kind of resin. I wanted to scream but my body knew better. The thingās head tilted as if scenting the air, and a low, wet sound came from somewhere deep inside itā¦ half sigh, half moan, it disgusted me.
And as the monster took another step the walls tightened around me, the tiles under my feet turned from carpet to wood to something soft and damp. Lights flickered, and for an instant I was standing in my childhood bedroom- same wallpaper, same cracked closet door, same smell of stale perfume. Then it blinked back into the hospitalās dripping corridor. The shift was so quick it felt like I'd been slapped.Ā
It lunged.
As quickly as I could I threw myself sideways, my shoulder slamming against the doorframe. My hands skidded along the wall, smearing rust across my palms as I ran. The hallway warped around me, stretching, bending into impossible angles, doors multiplying like a funhouse with no mirrors. I could still hear it behind me with its hands scraping the walls, its belt dragging like a tongue across the floor. Stumbling through an open doorway, slamming it shut behind me. The click of the latch was too small to matter. My back slid down the wood, lungs burning. Somewhere far away, muffled and distant, Jamesā voice was calling my name again low and frantic.
ā Jamesā¦ ā I whispered back, a soundless echo.Ā
The room Iād landed in was small and dim, lit only by a single bulb swinging from a cord. A hospital exam table sat in the middle, leather cracked, straps dangling from its sides. A mirror hung crookedly on the opposite wall, its surface clouded with grime. My reflection flickered between me and someone else, someone younger, smaller, her wrists already caught in the straps. Pressing my knees to my forehead, my breathing coming in shallow bursts, trembling with the old instinct to be quiet, to disappear, to make myself small enough to survive.
Then a sound cracked the air like a whip, metal dragging over tile. Not the monster this time. A different sound. A pipe clattering to the floor. And then-
ā Y/n! āĀ
It was James, closer now, his voice breaking down at the edges.
ā James! ā I called back, my throat raw.
The door creaked open, and there he was- his silhouette filling the threshold, shoulders hunched the way they always were, pipe still clutched like he never put it down. My chest cracked with relief so sudden it almost hurt.Ā
ā Y/n ā he breathed, stepping inside. His voice was warm, steady, everything Iād been begging for.
Staggering towards him desperate for the weight of his hands against mine, for anything real. He caught me as I fell into him, his arms wrapping around me. That familiar scentā¦ sweat, smoke, faint aftershave washed over me. I pressed my face into his chest, trembling, whispering. ā You came backā¦ you came back for me. ā
But then another voice broke the comfort of my silence, soft and coaxing, hummed from the corner.Ā
ā Jamesā¦ ā
My head snapped up. The room bent. From the shadows, Maria stepped forward, lips curling with that same sultry half smile she always carried, her eyes glittering like sheād already won. Jamesā arms loosened around me.
ā Maria? ā His voice softened. Too soft, softer than it had ever been for me. I pulled back, but his arms didnāt reach to steady me this time, they drifted toward her. And when she leaned into him, tilting her chin to meet his mouth, he didnāt hesitate. His lips pressed against hers with a hunger that knocked the air out of me.
My whole body went cold.Ā
ā Noā¦ ā The word slipped out before I could stop it, paper-thin and breaking. ā No, thatās not- James, thatās not- ā He didnāt look at me. He didnāt even hear me. His hands cupped Mariaās face like it was the only thing in the world that mattered, like I had never been there at all. My knees buckled. I wanted to tear them apart, to scream until the walls collapsed, but nothing came. My throat locked tight as the mirror across the room flickered again, showing me myself alone, small, pressed against the straps of the exam table, mouth open in silence.Ā
This is what you get, the town seemed to whisper. You wanted him. You wanted more than you deserved. And lookā¦ he was never yours to begin with.Ā
ā Stop- please stop- ā I pressed my hands to my ears, but it didnāt block anything. Their bodies blurred into one, shadows writhing together. And thenā¦
A hand, rough and real, seized my arm.
ā Y/n! ā
The sound cut through everything, the kiss, the laughter, the whispering walls. My head whipped up, and there he was again, this time with dirt on his shirt and blood spattered along his temple, his pipe clenched like heād fought his way here. His eyes locked on mine, wide with something desperate. ā Y/n ā he said again, shaking me just enough to force my focus back. His voice was raw, urgent, nothing like the soft dream that had gutted me seconds before. This one was real.
I collapsed into him, clutching his shirt like it was the last tether I had. My sob came out broken, ugly, spilling everything Iād tried to hold in. He held me up, wordless, his breathing ragged in my ear.
The room stilled. The shadows receded.
But inside, I couldnāt shake the imageā¦ the phantom warmth of his arms around me, only to let go. The kiss he gave Maria, the kiss that wasnāt mine.
Even with him here, even with his grip unyielding, the doubt crawled under my skin like rot.
just got back home from town, currently writing chapter8 :D this is how foggy it was there chat, its even foggier in person. I was all the way over there in the foggiest trees, i ran away cuz a noise scared me and i couldnt see shit.
AUEGHHH ik i put eventual smut in my fic but holy shit itll be hard to squeeze it in if my fic stays in the angst/hurt/comfort vibe. Maybe i'll be able to put it in if its not in that " ohh yeah so hot " smut type shift if thats fine
The silence that rang after her words hangs like a blade.
Do I look like your girlfriend?Ā
The question seeps into the fog, into James. He doesnāt answer it, let alone move or breathe. He just stares at her, as though seeing her costs him more strength than he has left. The pipe in his hand lowers, its rusted edges dragging against the wooden floor with a sound that makes my stomach twist. I canāt take the silence, canāt take watching him fold in on himself, piece by piece.Ā
ā James ā I whisper to him, edging closer. ā Donāt you see whatās happening? This place- itās twisting you. Her, those monsters, this fogā¦ none of it is real. Itās pulling you apart on purpose. Maryās deathā¦ ā My throat locks for a beat, but I force the words out.
ā Maryās death isnāt your fault, it canāt be āĀ
His shoulders jerk at the mention of her name, but he says nothing nonetheless. Just stands there, his face hidden in the shadows but still staring at the figure, at her. His body wound tight like he was about to snap. I take a step closer, the air feels heavier here, like it thickens with every word I let out.Ā
ā You loved her. You were there until the end. How could that ever be your fault? You didnāt deserve this- you don't deserve any of this. ā
He hunches further, pipe quivering in his grip. His silence is unbearable, suffocating.Ā
ā Jamesā¦ ā I press, desperate for him to snap out of it, the fog biting my lungs. ā Youāre not guilty. Youāre justā¦ lost. And I wonāt let this town trick you into thinking you killed her. ā
The words echoed too loudly. Like the fog itself didnāt approve.
Then-
CRACK.
The pipe slams down onto the solid ground with such force it rings like a bell, splitting the silence wide open. The vibration rattled through the boards of the gazebo, up into my bones. Flinching back, my heart hammering in my throat. And James finally lifts his face. And I wish he hadnāt. For the first time I donāt see sorrow, or grief or fear.Ā
I see hatred.
It pours out of his eyes raw and jagged, fire buried beneath years of ash. His lip curls, his jaw tight, and his voice explodes from him, venomous and sharp
ā Stop! Stop telling me it wasnāt my fault! ā
The words slam into me harder than the pipe that once hit the ground.Ā
ā You donāt know what happened- you donāt know what I did! ā his chest heaves, voice cracking into a snarl ā It was my fault. Every breath she took, every day she suffered- it was all because of me! ā
The air punches from my lungs. I stumble back a step, the cold seeping in fast, numbing my hands, my chest, my face. His face- god, his face- itās not the James Iāve been dragging through this nightmare of a hell hole. It was someone else entirely. Someone hollowed out and burning all at once. ā James- ā I try, but my voice catches, fragile as glass.
He doesnāt hear me either way. Or maybe he does, and it only fuels him further.Ā
ā You think youāre helping me? ā His words rip through the fog, through my heart, low and ragged, every syllable drenched in bitterness. ā Youāre not. You donāt understand. Youāll never understand. ā He steps toward me, and for the first time since I set foot in Silent Hill, Iām not afraid of the monsters. Iām afraid of him. The pipe trembles in his hands, the metal glinting in what little light cuts through the mist. His eyes bore into mine, hatred and anguish tangled so tightly theyāre indistinguishable.Ā Ā
I canāt breathe. I canāt move.Ā
And then, just as quickly, he tears himself away. Shoulders shaking, muttering words I canāt catch, he storms past me, out of the gazebo, out into the fog. The mist swallows him whole in seconds. I stand frozen, my chest tight, my body heavy. His words echo through me, louder than the foghorn that rolls somewhere in the distance.Ā
It was my fault.Ā
And then I see her, the woman.
She lingers at the edge of the gazebo, her outlineĀ blurred, trembling with a shift of gray, yet she still looked like the only thing here with color. The fog bends strangely around her, like itās thinner where she stands, letting her shape cut clearer than anything else this town ever has. Her gaze follows James into the mist, sharp and unyielding. She doesnāt look at me. Not once. Itās like I didn't even exist to her. Like I never mattered. And thatā¦ somehowā¦ that hurts more than Jamesā words. She drifts after him, her movements calm, assured, deliberate and almostā¦ intentionally seductive. Her steps make no sound, but the board groans beneath mine as I stumble forward. The fog curls tight around her, as if the whole town is bowing, clearing her path. I want to scream. To grab James, shake him, drag him away from her. But my throat is in aĀ knot, my breath shallow. Panic claws up my chest, sour and bitter, and the only thing I could do was follow. At a distance. Like a ghost. The further I go, the heavier the air becomes. The fog clings to me now, sticking like it doesnāt want me to move forward. My lungs ache with every breath, each step getting heavier and heavier, and it feels like the whole place is warning me. Donāt go further. Donāt watch this. But I can't stop.
The mist shifts, parting just enough to show James. Shoulders hunched, pipe dangling limp at his side, every line of him slumped as though his very bones are caving in. His voice trickles out, muttering fractured, broken words I canāt catch. And then hers. Clear. Sharp. Cutting.
ā She hurt you, didnāt she? Mary. ā
The name is a knife. Even from here I could tell it sliced through James. ā You gave her everything ā She continues, her tone lilting, almost playful. ā And she justā¦ wasted away. And then people tell you It wasnāt your fault? ā A soft, cruel seductive laugh emits from her.Ā
ā Doesnāt that sound like a joke? ā
My whole body stiffens. The words slither into my ears, oily and sweet, like poisoned honey.Ā
ā Donāt- ā Jamesā voice shudders, so smallā¦ weaker than Iāve ever heard it. ā Donāt talk about her like that ā She then circles him slow and deliberate. Like a predator waiting for its prey to get close enough for it to get a strike. That smile dripping with something too knowing.Ā
ā Iām not Mary ā she says. Her voice softens, like thick honey. ā But I can be what you needā¦ Someone who doesnāt cough, doesnāt cry doesnāt weigh you down. Someone who sees youā¦ for you. ā Her words crawl across my skin like insects. And James- James doesnāt answer. Doesnāt step away. His silence is damning. My hands shake around the damp wood of the gazebo, until the sting in my fingertips might be the only thing keeping me anchored to the present. The gazebo creaks with the sound of old things giving away. Every groan was a small, private alarm that I was losing him. Heās not looking at me, just standing there, shoulders rounded, pipe limp- and she is close enough now that the edge of her shadow falls over him like a second skin. She didnāt lean in like someone consoling, she leans in like someone claiming.
ā I did all I could ā he murmurs, voice thin. ā I stayed. I- ā
I should move. I should shove between them, yank him back by the collar of his jacket, scream until my voice breaks. Instead my legs fold the way old chairs fold, quiet and useless. Sheā her hand moves again. Her palm, a slow ghost, slides along the fabric of his sleeve. Itās a small contact, nothing violent, not even passionate. But the way his fingers twitch where her touch passes, the way a sound like surrender leaves his throat, god, the way my heart stutters and then breaks.
ā You shouldnāt have to hold that alone ā she says softly. ā You donāt have to fight it. ā He turned his face just a fraction, and a glimmer of hope flashed through, thinking heāll look for me, for the steadiness I tried to offer. But he doesnāt. He turned away from me once, he does it again now. And it feels like a decision folded in half and sealed. He didnāt look angry, he looks relieved in a way that leaves me raw and wrong. My voice comes out as a small, wet sound.
ā James. ā Itās less a call and more of a plea carved into the fog begging him to come back. He doesnāt look at me. His head lowers a little, closer to hers, and the pipe in his hands lifts and lowers with a rhythm that is not combat but not rest either.
ā Please ā I press, louder this time. ā Please look at me. ā
Time takes a different weight. Seconds sprawl, labored and thick like wet wool. I watch and the world retracts to the two of them and the impossible distance between us. Memory starts to do its work for him. Small, sharp slivers of earlier momentsā¦ his hands fumbling with the television, the metallic click of the recliner back at that apartment, the way he folded laundry he would never finish. The everyday things that used to be the scaffolding of a life, now they hover like ghosts in the corner of a dusty room.Ā
ā I triedā¦ ā he whispers, so low I almost miss it.Ā
ā I tried to make it right. ā
I can feel the faintest taste of copper at the back of my tongue, blood or fear, or both. My chest wound tight like someone was winding a cord around it and is slowly pulling. The sound of the lake beyond the trees is only a suggestion now, a distant shush that could be ocean or just the wind. The town doesnāt respect distance.Ā
Sheās saying something to him that I canāt make out, low- conspirational. She touches his chin, again, a claim and he doesnāt move away. He leans in, by a hair, toward her, then catches himself and finds the pipe by muscle memory, holding it like a talisman. His eyes close for a second. When they reopen, thereās a softness that makes bile rise inside me.Ā
ā Thereās no reason to be alone, Jamesā¦ ā she murmurs, dangerously kind. ā Let me take the load. ā
There is still hatred there. A streak that cut him earlier and I know itās not gone. But something else has come in its place now, or alongside itā¦ weariness. A caving that isnāt only shame. Thatās the worst part, heās tired in a way I canāt fix. My words- my certainty, my need to unmake the thing thatās destroying him are useless against exhaustion.
ā Donāt tell me I donāt know what I carried ā he says barely audible, the sound of a man in shambles, a man naming his own shame. ā You donāt know the nights. ā
I try to remember the first time we met, the small human things. The nervous glances, the way we were both was too nervous to speak up. I shape this memory into a rope and fling it across the fog in hopes that he would catch it. He doesnāt catch.Ā
A laugh- hers, flakes in the air like ash. It was the sound of someone who knew how the stage was rigged. She leans in close to James just enough for me to see the pale line at the corner of her smile.Ā
ā You look so tired ā she says. Could be an observation, it could be a wound. ā You did everything for her. All that ache, all that careā¦ and for what? A bed, a drip, a list of bills? You deserve better than debris and regret. āĀ
He whispered something back, small, a sound less than a word. His fingers tighten on the pipe until the knuckles whiten, and still he does not step away. He appears to weigh the moment like a coin, palms cupped around it, feeling whether itās worth keeping.Ā
ā My fault, itās on me ā he says, the words like a prayer he canāt stop saying.Ā
My throat is a desert. I cough to wet it, and the sound makes the frost of the air sting my ears. I will myself forward, one inch at a time, but the fog moves like a wall, and the world distorts. Shapes become suggestion. I donāt know how far away I am. I donāt know how long I have been here. The only anchor is the sound of his breathing, shallow and irregular, and the whisper of her voice.
ā James look over here ā my voice uneven. ā Donāt let this place- āĀ
For a beat he almost does. His eyes flick, slow, and I see recognition like a candle flaring. He opens his mouth as if to answer, and something soft and poisonous slides between us.
ā Donāt listen to her, donāt you want me? James. ā The woman says, too gently.Ā
ā After all, I think we sound good together- James andā¦ Maria. ā
Moments later she curls her hand to his shirt as if to draw him closer into the circle of her body. He hesitated, but allowed the motion nonetheless, small as it is. I canāt make out the syllables, but I can hear the neck of his voice. Thin and frayed, as if heās speaking to a child. ā Stay ā she breathes, and her tone is a command wrapped in velvet. ā Stay and let it stop hurting. āĀ
ā You donāt need to carry the smell of her ā she says, low. ā She clung, she took, let her be the past, you barely know her. āĀ
The words are a blade. I think of the first time I said to James ā Iāll follow you ā joking, a careless promise the way people throw small flags into the wind. Now that promise is a stone in my mouth that I cannot spit out. I had meant it as a solidarity walk with him, to keep him from being alone in the dark. I did not intend for it to be a chain. She laughs again, low and private. It sounds like a secret. She leans toward him and says something with the motion of someone offering a trade: ā Stay with me. Let me take the hard parts away. ā Her words promise respite, and the way she says them makes the act of agreement sound small and harmless, as if choosing her is a relief and not a surrender. James closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, they were wet. Not with tears exactly, but with the sheen of someone who has been holding back too long. He nods small, almost involuntary. My chest goes cold. The motion is like a soft, secret crime. He reaches for her hand and gives it the faintest squeeze, like testing a temperature.Ā
ā Promise me youāll stay ā she whispers, and the plea sounds less like an entreaty than a sentence being handed over.
ā I promise ā he answers, and his voice is hoarse as if made of paper.
ā Why are you doing this? ā I whisper to myself, to the fog, to the memory I tried oh so hard to keep inside of me. Now seeping out.Ā
It isnāt the first time I've asked it, not really.Ā
The words are old, worn thin, recycled from another life. A younger voice of mine, smaller, desperate, had once asked the same thing, though the man standing with his back to me wasnāt James. The memory rises without warning, bitter and sour. The same hollow feeling in my stomach, the same sense of watching someoneās shoulders move further and further away from me until they werenāt mine to call back anymore. A figure leaving with no explanation, no look over the shoulder, no reason I could hold on to. Just absence, sharp and final.
Back then, I thought if I begged hard enough, cling tight enough, Iād be enough to make him stay. That fathers didnāt just decide you were too heavy to carry. That you couldnāt be so easily set down and forgotten. But I learned. The town knows.Ā
And now, watching James, it feels the same. His silence has the same weight. His trembling feels like goodbye. And I canāt shake the sick understanding that maybe I was never something people chose to hold onto. Maybe Iāve always been the one left standing in the fog, whispering questions that donāt deserve answers.Ā
The cold creeps along my spine. It is no longer only weather. It is a consequence. I have pushed a man into the arms of a town made temptation. Maybe the town only needs that: a willing surrender, a choice misused. Maybe killing is not the point. Maybe being left behind is worse.Ā
She murmurs, as if sending a private benediction into the mist ā No more hospitals. No more watching. Just you and me. Isnāt that what you wanted? ā I close my eyes and let a long, silent sob unspool from deep in my chest. It is a sound without dignity. The fog drinks it quickly, and the world remains the same. They remain the same. He is not looking toward me. He is looking toward her. When I finally force myself to my feet, the motion is clumsy and slow. Wet planks kiss my palms as I push upward. My legs tremble as if I ran a fever. I take two steps and hear nothing but the sound of my own blood moving through me.Ā
ā Donāt go ā I whisper, It was futile, but the need to say it was a small rebellion.Ā
He turns his head, just to the side as if listening, and for a terrifying second I think itās another false hope, another twitch in my starving imagination. But then- his eyes found mine. Not by accident. Not in passing. He looks at me.Ā
ā...Y/n ā he says, and the sound of my name in his voice nearly breaks me. Mariaās hand slides higher up his arm in a sharp, possessive move, but James flinches away. Not far, not heroic, but enough. Enough to leave her touch dangling in the air, empty. Her eyes flashed in anger, then something colder, unreadable. Before she can tighten her grip again, the boards behind us scream with pressure, splitting. A shadow heaves upward out of the fog. The sound is metal on wood, a dragging cleaver that vibrates through my bones.Ā
The moment is a blur- Mariaās sharp gasp, Jamesā sudden lunge, my own breath caught halfway in my throat. That monstrous hand clamps around her wrist with terrible finality. She thrashes, voice cracking into shrieks that ricochet across the gazebo. Nails rake the wood, desperate, as sheās pulled backward.Ā
ā James! JAMES! āĀ
The fog writhes around her like itās feeding. She kicks, claws, her silhouette swallowed inch by inch into the gray maw. And thenā¦ gone. Just the ringing silence of a bell that never tolled. James stumbling forward, pipe clattering to the floor, his hands over where she had been, useless, trembling.Ā
ā We- we have to get her back. ā His voice is raw, hoarse and frantic.Ā
I stare at him. ā Jamesā¦ no sheās not- āĀ
ā She is ā he snaps, too quick, too loud, like heās arguing with the thought before I can finish. His voice cracks under the weight of it. ā Sheāsā¦ sheās a person, she has to be. I saw her. She talked, she- ā His chest heaves, desperate, his eyes wild like heās fighting me as much as the truth. ā We canāt just leave her. āĀ
Taking a step closer to him, with my own words trembling, caught between fury and grief.Ā
ā Sheās part of this place. Donāt you see that? The town made her- ā
ā Does that matter?! ā His voice rips through the thick fog around us, raw enough to make me flinch. His hands clutch at his hair in frustration like he's trying to hold himself together. ā Even if she isā¦ even if sheās not what we thinkā¦ she feels real. And if I let her die- if I just stand here- ā He breaks off, shaking his head violently. ā Then I'm no better than before. ā
The silence that follows was suffocating. My throat tightens, because I know exactly what he meansā¦ what heās trying not to say.Ā
He doesnāt want to fail again. He doesnāt want another death on his hands. No matter how false.
The fog swallows him fast, his figure dissolving into the pale nothing, and for a moment panic claws at my throat. I canāt lose him, not now. My legs burn, my lungs scrape raw, but I push forward anyway, boots slapping against damp concrete.Ā
ā James! ā My voice breaks on the name, ragged and desperate. The silence that follows is almost worse than the monsters waiting for us. For me. Finally, his shadow appears up ahead, doubled over, hands on his knees. Heās breathing hard, like the confession he almost spat out is eating him alive from the inside. I slow, hovering just close enough to feel the pull of him, but not close enough to scare him away. The fog presses heavy, every step feels like wading through wet cement. My whole body is screaming for me to take a rest, to stop, but then I see James stumble, catching himself with the pipe he still holds close. And I know if I collapse, so does he.Ā
ā You canāt keep doing this ā I rasp out, surprising even myself. The words were sharp and quick, louder than the whispery stillness around us.Ā
ā Running. Shutting me out. If weāre going to survive this place- you canāt just shut me out like that James. āĀ
He doesnāt look at me, his shoulders merely tensing, a tremor running through him like heās holding back the words that could unravel everything. The pipe scratches the ground as he drags it to the side, metal on stone, a sound that makes my teeth ache.Ā
āJamesā¦. James.ā I pant, swallowing the sting in your throat. āYou canāt just run off. Not afterā¦ā The words dry up. Not after what? Not after he almost confessed? Not after I saw him tear that thing apart?
He doesnāt run. His voice, when it comes, is flatā¦ too flat.Ā
ā Itās safer this way. ā
That pissed me off more than it scared me. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe itās the fog pressing too tight around my skull. But I snapped before I could stop myself.Ā
ā Safe? For who? Because if you think youāre the only one carrying this- whatever this is- youāre wrong. And If you keep shutting me out, weāre both going to die here ā
The silence that follows is sharp as broken glass. When he finally glances at me over his shoulder, eyes hollow but twitching with something beneath fear, anger, grief, all cracked together. The wind stirs then, harder than before. The fog shifts like a tide rolling in, tugging at my shirt, rattling through the empty street. The pressure builds up in my chest, but I stand my ground, jaw tight. For the first time since stepping into this cursed town, I feel myself pushing back. The wind claws at us, bitter and restless, pulling strands of my hair across my face. The fog doesnāt just surround us anymore, it presses, like the whole town is leaning in close to listen. James finally turns to face me fully. His grip on the pipe is white knuckled, veins straining in his hand, but his eyesā¦ his eyes look like theyāre breaking.
ā You donāt understand, ā he says, low and strained.Ā
ā Iām notā¦ Iām not someone you should be trusting āĀ
ā Thatās not your choice to make ā I snap back at him before I can stop myself. My voice cracks in the air, sharper than the wind.Ā
ā Iām still here James. Iām still following you. That has to mean something. ā
The silence that follows was too long, too jagged. He doesnāt move. Doesnāt breathe. For a second I think heās going to cave in, say something real. His face is half-swallowed by shadow, half lit by the sickly glow of the fog, and for a heartbeat I swear I can see the boy he used to be under there, lost, scared, too human. Then the street groans. I wasnāt like an earthquake, not really, it was something deeper, slower, like the ground was grinding its teeth. A long shiver runs under my skin, rattling through the cracked pavement. James jerks his head up, the pipe coming to his side like his instinct knows before he does. And then I hear it. The sound is unmistakable.Ā
Metal on stone.Ā
A dragging, screeching scrape that claws through the air, so loud it makes my teeth chatter. The kind of sound that makes your stomach drop before you even know why. My chest goes tight, my throat closes up around a sound that wonāt come out. The fog peels back just enough to make room for it. Towering, hulking. It has a pyramid for its head, streaked with rust and filth, faceless, endless. The knife- If you can even call it that, it's bigger than I am, dragging across the ground like a long patient arc. The shriek of it sets fire on every nerve. On the corner of my eye I see James go rigid. doesnāt move, doesnāt breathe, doesnāt even blink. He just stares at it like a man staring at his own execution.Ā
ā ā¦No ā he whispers, almost too quiet to hear.
The thing keeps coming. Slow. Steady. Certain. Like it already knows what it wants and it doesnāt need to hurry. My throat finally unclogs, but the words that fall out are useless. ā James- āĀ
The grip on his pipe tightens until his knuckles were blooming white, veins popping like cords under his skin. His breath was coming out too fast, too shallow, a panic attack waiting to rip him in half. I should run, every sane part of my body tells me to run, to turn, get out of here, leave him, live. But my feet stay planted, heart pounding so loud I can feel it in my teeth. Because if I run now, James will die. And Iām not letting this place take him too.Ā
The Pyramid Head tilts slightly, that massive, rusted helm catching the dim light. It feels like looking into an eye even though thereās no face. Just metal. Just silence. Just judgment. The knife rises. James moves before I do, he lunges forward, pipe raised, his voice cracking raw with something halfway between a scream and a sob. The sound slices through me worse than the knife ever could. The monster swings slow but brutal, the weight of the blade cutting the air like a hurricane. James barely ducks under it, the force slamming into the pavement with a crack that shakes my ribs. Shards of concrete blast outward.Ā
ā James! ā I shout, voice splitting. But he doesnāt look back, too focused on the Pyramid head, heās not fighting to win- heās fighting like he has to, like every swing is a punishment he deserves.Ā
The pipe clangs against the metal, useless, like hitting a wall. Sparks spit out, dying fast in the fog. The Pyramid Head doesnāt even flinch. It just keeps swinging, deliberate, relentless, each strike carving the street deeper. I wanted to move, to help him somehow but the fear had me locked down. My body wouldnāt obey, my lungs too tight, heart clawing out of my chest. Until I see James stumble, just barely- but just enough for that monster to get a swing in. Something rips out of me then, I throw myself forward, hands reaching without thinking, grabbing James by the back of his jacket. I yank hard, and we both collapse into the wet pavement as the blade slams down where his head had been. The shock wave rattles through my spine as we hit the concrete ground. James gasps under me, choking for air, pipe still clenched so hard he canāt let it go.Ā
ā Get up! ā I shriek, shoving at him ā James, move! āĀ
He blinks, dazed from the fall, blood trickling down from where the pipeās edge has bit into his palm. For a second, I think he wonāt listen, that heāll just let it happen. Then the monsterās shadow looms again. The knife drags back up, slow and heavy. Adrenaline surges hot and sharp through me. I haul James to his feet, ignoring the weight of him, the way his knees buckle. Somehow, somehowā¦ I managed to make the both of us stumble to the side, boots slipping on broken concrete as the knife slams down again. The ground shatters where we were a second ago. Then the Pyramid head straightens its stance, slow, towering over us. James, finally finding his voice, ragged and shaking.
ā You shouldnāt- ā he coughs, doubles over wheezing, then forces the words out ā You shouldnātā¦ be here āĀ
ā I am here! ā I snap, shoving at his chest just enough to make him focus. ā And Iām not leaving you, do you understand me? Not for this thing, not for anything! ā His eyes finally meet mine, wide and cracked and bleeding with terror. But under it, under all of it, thereās something elseā¦Ā A spark.Ā
The knife drags back, sparks scraping from the street. The monster tilts its head again, as if curious. Waiting. The fog presses tight, the wind screaming through the empty street. My whole body is shaking, but I donāt back down. I grip Jamesās arm, hard, grounding us both.Ā
ā James- ā I breathe, my eyes filled with desperation to live.Ā
He stares at me, chest heaving, sweat and blood slick on his skin. And slowly, so slowly itās like something in him clicks back into place. His jaw sets. His shoulders square. He lifts the pipe again, still with the hint of guilt and anger but this time, it combines with purpose. The Pyramid Head swings. Slow. Heavy. Brutal. The knife bites into the concrete, the sound screams through the fog like a bell tolling for the damned. James, finally in some right state of mind, reacts instantly, pipe swinging up to meet it. The metal clangs against the steel head with a reverberation that rattles my teeth. The fog swirls around us, obscuring the monsterās movements, making each swing feel unpredictable, each scrape of metal a death sentence.Ā
ā Move! ā I bark, voice rough. We stumble down the street, the creature lumbering behind us, heavy steps reverberating like the town itself is shaking. Each strike of its knife against the pavement sends a shiver through my bones. Fog curls around our ankles, slick and insistent, but we donāt stop. Putting our ego aside, we run for it, knowing there was no way he, or the both of us can take down the looming figure of a monster. James is a step ahead, still clutching the weapon in his hands tight, muscles taut, head bobbing with ragged breaths. His eyes flicker to the shadows, to the fog, calculating.Ā
ā This way ā he hisses, voice low, almost swallowed by the wind.
ā Towardā¦ the gazeboā¦ near the lake ā
I donāt question him. Iāve followed him long enough to know arguing wonāt help, and right now we donāt have time for hesitation. My hands were slick with grime and sweat, my lungs burning with every air I try to intake, but I force my legs to keep moving.Ā
The Pyramid Head swings its massive knife once, scraping the asphalt with a metallic scream that echoes in every alley, every empty doorway. Sparks fly. We duck behind a toppled car, gasping, chest heaving. The monster doesnāt pause. It tilts its head, considers, then steps around the car, deliberate, unstoppable.Ā
ā Fuck! James!- ā I hiss, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. His jaw clenches and he pushes off the hood of the car, grabbing my hand in the process to pull me with him. The creature follows, each step like a drumbeat that makes my heart pound faster. Every corner we round feels like a gamble, every alley might be a trap with new monsters waiting.Ā
James glances over his shoulder, eyes wild but focused.Ā
ā Almost thereā¦ just a little furtherā¦ the gazeboā¦ youāll see it ā he pants. His words are rough, jagged from the effort, but thereās determination in them now, a faint spark of plan amid the panic. Taking a sharp narrow down a street, slick with rainwater. My feet slip once, twice, and I almost crash into him, but he grabs my arm, steadying me. ā Donāt stop now ā he growls. ā Just keep moving āĀ
The fog swirls thickly around us, curling like living fingers, obscuring the world beyond the next step. I can barely see the outlines of buildings, let alone whatās behind us, but the scraping comes again, deliberate, slow, mocking. Every step we take feels measured against time, against fear.Ā
We sprint down the cracked path, boots slapping against wet asphalt, lungs burning, hearts hammering like frantic drums. The monster moves with horrifying patience, each step measured, but every swing of that enormous knife leaves a scar of sound in the fog. Stumbling over a broken patch of concrete, sprawling forward I brace myself for impact but it never came. Feeling Jamesā grip on my wrist he pulls me up.Ā
ā Come on- no stopping, not now ā his voice is low and strained, trembling with adrenaline.Ā
ā If we donāt keep moving itās over for us ā
As he glances down a narrow side path, and his eyes flick back to me. ā There ā he pants. ā Path to the gazeboā¦ just pastā¦ over the riseā¦ weāllā ā He cuts off as another scrape of metal makes the ground tremble beneath our feet. Pushing him forward, one hand brushing against his shoulder, feeling the tense coiled energy in his frame.Ā
ā Weāre almost there- right? ā I rasp out, breath heaving, but trying to force reassurance into the words. ā We can make it. ā
James leads, pipe ready, legs pumping, dragging me along. My throat aches from screaming his name earlier, from calling warnings, from panting through fear, but I keep going. Finally we reach a small rise, overlooking the black expanse of water just beyond the gazebo. The monster halts at the bottom of the incline, knife dragging against earth, sparks flaring. It doesnāt chase immediately, as if sensing the water ahead or perhaps calculating, weighing the risk of pursuit.
ā Quickā¦ we move fastā¦ across the boardwalkā¦ ā he whispers.Ā
His hand presses to my back, urging me forward. ā Stay closeā¦ donāt stop. ā
The fog clings to the waterās surface, curling over the wooden planks of the gazebo and the bordering lake like spectral fingers. My heart twists. This place is still silent enough for the monster to hear our every breath. We move cautiously along the path, every step measured, careful, ears straining for the scrape of metal or the shift of fog that would announce the Pyramid Headās advance. Each plank creaks underfoot, and I flinch at the sound. Jamesās grip tightens on my arm, and I feel the tension radiating off him in waves. And then, just beyond the edge, a figure appears. Pale, still, standing on the opposite side of the gazebo. My heart stutters. Feeling James freeze, his grip on me loosening.Ā
ā Noā¦ no it canāt be ā he mutters ā Mary? āĀ
I squint through the mist trying to make out what heās seeing.Ā
ā Mary? But didnāt you tell me sheāsā¦ gone? āĀ
Ignoring me, James swallows hard, his chest heaving, and without a word, he starts moving forward. Each step is slow, deliberate, boots crunching against the wet ground. I stumble to keep up, my hand gripping his arm. ā Mary? ā he whispers, barely audible, voice cracking under the strain. His grip on the pipe tightens. ā Itā¦ it has to beā¦ ā Glancing at him, confusion mixing with fear.Ā
ā James she isnāt- ā
But before I can finish, heās stepping closer, drawn forward as if some part of him refuses to accept reality. His chest heaves, jaw tight, eyes scanning every detail, clinging to memory over reason. The figure shifts, and suddenly, she turns. Her movements are slow, deliberate, unnervingly graceful. Her hair catches the dim light, glinting faintly, almost making me jealous- and her eyes snap onto James.Ā
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