Date: Sat, 1 Oct 2022 11:06:02 -0400 From: River Acheron Subject: Silent Hill: Crimson Memories Chapter 3 The Silent Hill universe is the property of Konami. All rights reserved. Also, please consider helping to support Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html 'Silent Hill: Crimson Memories' by River Acheron. Chapter 3 THEN (August 15th 2018) "...and that's the Arkley Mountain Range over there. It really nestles us in, but we like it that way. If it wasn't for all the weird shit that happens here, it'd be perfect!" Jon explained to Donnie and Elliott, as the boys explored the extreme outskirts of Silent Hill, in the woods past the Northeast bank of Toluca Lake, near the border of Shepherd's Glen. They spent the entire week researching Silent Hill's strange past, and all the current rumors and sightings that went along with it. Donnie was impressed. "Beats Chicago, I guess. No mountains, just skyscrapers. We DO have Lake Michigan though, which is nice...ish. Oh, and we have weird shit too believe me! The House of Blues is said to be haunted. Then there's the Red Lion Pub. Chicago is fucking HISTORIC so I guess it goes with the territory! Ohhh...and some years back, there were rumors floating around my school that a shadowy figure with glowing eyes was lurking near the big-ass anchor on Navy Pier. The kids in school called it the Vampire of the Lake. Like LEGIT the entire school was talking about it! This one dude in my biology class, I think his name was Kevin or something...SWORE that his friend saw that figure move around down there at unnatural speeds and had like fangs or something." "Woah! You think it was true?" Elliott asked, as he caught himself just in time from tripping and tumbling down an embankment. "Eh, probably not. But you know what though? I went down there one night with my buddy Kyle, but there was another younger boy chilling out there all alone, like he must have been fourteen or something, and was slumped over the railing like he wanted to throw himself into the lake. Which was odd." "Yeah, I'll bet!" "So we decided to head home." Donnie continued. "Then I kinda lost interest, because the sightings apparently just...stopped. If it WAS some vampire then I guess he found better things to do. haha." The boys moved deeper into the woods, which got thicker and more ominous looking with each careful step. Donnie and Elliott both glanced uneasily at eachother. They felt what was totally lost on Jon. There was - something. It was hard, if not impossible to put into words. It was as if they were entering some sort of sacred space. Donnie felt that the woods were "holy" somehow, but not in a benevolent way. He could FEEL the past here. Not just years, or decades, but centuries. Maybe even beyond that! (there might have been something even beyond THAT, beyond.....it hurt his head to think about and something inside him wouldn't let him ponder further on it.) How was that possible? All he knew was that every fiber of his being was telling him to turn tail and run back to Neely Street as fast as he could. One look at Elliott, and he knew his older friend -who was visibly shaking! - was thinking the same thing......running back to Katz Street, all the way to the Blue Creek Apartments where he lived. Instead of doing that, though, Elliott began to ramble uncomfortably as they kept walking. Almost as if his defenses started to come down. "We didn't have much in Holmepoint Heights....we uh....have Raven Hill Cemetery which was said to be haunted by an old caretaker that died there decades ago. In fact, on Halloween one night, after Hurricane Sandy, my best friend and I, we uh...erm..." Elliott recalled. "Actually, no. That's dumb. Turned out to be a prank anyway. The whole thing...all of it...a prank." Elliott mused sadly. "But yeah. Anyway, just stupid kid rumors, you know? Erm....the next town over though, Cliffwood Beach, has some spots that's listed in 'Weird Carolinas' magazine. There's Big Bad Blue...it's this MASSIVE water-tower that had some rumors of a DEMONIC haunting. Then there's Twin Oaks Park. They have these weird Greek God statues and..heh....me and my best fr...I mean...we all used to say in elementary school that the spirits of the statues there would come alive at night and exact revenge upon the living for thier sins...anyone who was foolish enough to be there after the sun goes down would...." Donnie and Jon both noted that that was the most Elliott talked about his old hometown since he moved to Silent Hill. And even now, he did so awkwardly, as if he was struggling not to say (or recall) TOO much. "Wow!" Donnie replied. "You think maybe..." "Maybe that one is true, after-all." Mused Elliott, more to himself than to his new friends. Donnie didn't want to press Elliott and wisely decided to let it go, but noted the tear that Elliott wiped off his right eye with his sleeve. This time, it was Donnie and Jon that exchanged uneasy glances. "Hey Jon...what's that? A house?" Donnie asked instead, as a little cottage came into view. "Oh..that. That's Wish House. It's an orphanage." ".....In the middle of the fucking WOODS? Don't you find that a bit, Oh I don't know...odd??" Elliott asked, fully composed now....or at least acting like it. He and Donnie found it strange sometimes that Jon seemed to know things that he should not be aware of. While it was true that Jon grew up in Silent Hill, his vast knowledge of the town's history, as well as the arcane, seemed a bit weird to them. "Yeah, well, it's run by some weird group. Religious hippies or something. They call themselves 'The Order'. A lot of people think it's a cult." "Damn! Like the Westboro Baptist Church kooks?" Donnie asked. "I dunno, I think it's more like the Illuminati meets Jonestown. They call themselves "the one true faith" or something like that. Me, Jeff and Matt came out here one night before you guys moved here and heard some fucked up shit, my dudes. Children crying in agony. And adults singing in what I GUESS was Latin but it was hard to make out. All I know is, ya ain't gunna be catching ME drinkin' their Kool-Aid, that's for DAMN sure!" "Don't blame ya." Elliott exclaimed. "Down South, we're used to that crap....you know, the Klan and all that. This seems different though. Almost....occultist." "Almost!?" Donnie said. "It's straight UP occultist!" "Truth!" Elliott agreed. "So...look, Jon...I GOTTA ask! What's up with you, because...." "Oh, and you know what else!?" Jon added, cutting Elliott off. "So a week later, I got kinda brave and came here alone. I peeked into that window right over there, and I saw a bunch of people in crimson robes. You ain't gunna believe this shit, but one of them was Mr. Dean!" "Our GYM COACH!? No fucking way!" Elliott exclaimed. "And I thought the coach at Holmepoint High School was evil!" "Swear to God, El. Don't tell anyone though. I don't feel like being sacrificed to God-knows-what beast these people worship." Donnie and Elliott glanced uneasily at eachother again. They were both thinking the same thing. Was Jon, in some way, mixed up with The Order? Whoever the hell THEY were! NOW I took a break at the boat launch, next to the Silent Hill Historical Society. Smoking a cigarette, attempting to regain my resolve, to say nothing of the throbbing pain in my legs. Normally, I take the bus to the amusement park, so I'm not used to walking this much. As I sat, I tried to make sense of all of this and failed miserably. "What happened to everyone?", I asked the town itself. "What the FUCK was that that happened at the arcade? I know I'm not dead or dreaming, so...what is this?" I knew it was the town itself, though. That much was painfully clear. As I stared - one eye on the Historical Society, and one eye on Toluca Lake, I remembered what Mrs. Weiss told us when my history class took a field trip to the Historical Society a few months back. Basically, the spot I'm now on goes back centuries. During the Revolutionary War this whole area where the Historical Society now stands used to be a P.O.W. Camp. Local legends say that hundreds of British soldiers were tortured to death by Silent Hill residents who fought in the war. The way Mrs. Weiss explained it though, the town went by a DIFFERENT name back then that's now lost to history. After the war, the P.O.W. camp grew to become Toluca Prison Camp until 1853, when the camp was expanded to become Toluca Prison...a fully functioning penitentiary, right here in Silent Hill. What Mrs. Weiss DIDN'T tell us - what Elliott, Jeff and I had to research on our own - was that it turned out Toluca Prison had a dark history. A very BLOODY history. The warden, Simon DeSilva, belonged to some local cult that was only known to historians as "The Order". I knew about them from Jon....that summer, he explained about them to me and Elliott when we found Wish House nestled deep in the outskirts of Silent Hill. He failed to mention the cult was so long-lived, though! In any case, DeSilva had his executioners - his 'red demons', called that because of their red executioner hoods - perform over 700 illegal executions in the 30 years he ran the prison. Finally, in 1883, DeSilva passed away and Toluca Prison's records were made public. The town tore down the prison a year later and this spot remained vacant until this Historical Society was built in 1967 As I thought back to Mrs Weiss' speech, I was reminded of all the things Elliott, Andrew, Jeff and I researched since I moved here: 1890 - The claim that Fredrick Whats-His-Name returned from a "Rusted Metal Deathworld" 1918 - The 'Little Baroness' incident that almost caused the town to become completely abandoned. 1931 - The unexplained creature spotted by 16 miners in the old Wiltse Coal Mines. 1955 - The 'Toluca Lights!' UFO craze when weird orbs of lights were spotted over the lake for three nights in a row. 1965 - The bizarre fire that killed the daughter of the old Gillespie woman. 1972 - The mass-suicide at Silent Hill News and Tribune. 1989 - The Walter Sullivan serial murders. 2002 - The mysterious fire that burned down the Lakeview Hotel in the Resort District, which was NEVER explained! 2014 - The disappearance inside Borley's Haunted Mansion. ...and countless others. Add to the fact that this town has more ghost sightings than any other town in New England. (Jon and I confirmed that with a simple Google search.) At the time, I thought it was awesome...figuring that my boring-ass town wasn't as dull as I thought. 'I guess I'm just another footnote', I thought. I stared out at Toluca Lake, which was as calm as glass, despite the swirling fog and lazy snowflakes that danced upon it's surface. I let out a huge sigh and started walking again, East on Nathan Avenue. After a grueling trek back, I made my way back down Neely Street, and into my house. I rolled my eyes as I noticed the blood on the mirror was nowhere to be found. Not so much as a stain. "Surprise, surprise", I said sarcastically. Nothing really phased me after what happened inside Lakeside Arcade.I collapsed on my sofa to rest my broken body. "Well, Donnie", I said out loud. "You're officially on the dark side of the moon. Over the rainbow. In Narnia's wardrobe. In Neverland without any Pixie Dust. I flew over the coo-coo's nest and landed squarely on Cloud 9." I rubbed my aching temples and groaned loudly. "It's gotta be this town. It's...haunted. Or something." From my vantage point, I could see out the living room window. Neely Street was usually bustling this time of day. Neighbors walking their dogs, mothers picking up their kids from Midwich Elementary School, and drunks getting ready to start off their afternoon at Neely's Bar on the corner. Also, the sun is usually shining bright this time of day, with birds chirping in the blue sky, with the occasional jet flying over to land in Bangor. 'That's all gone', I thought to myself. Neely Street was now just a dead shell, no longer alive. My head was killing me. Partly from the long walk back, and partly because of this awful situation. I can't even be sure if Andrew is in need of help out there, or if someone (or something) is messing with me. With that thought in my head, I glanced up at the mirror just above my head, half expecting the blood to be back. It wasn't. "So what the FUCK am I supposed to do now, huh!?" I yelled into the air, to the town. "Just sit here like some asshole waiting for my next clue? Maybe I'll find a bloody Post-It note taped up to my fridge that's now rotting away?" I began to get angry. "Or maybe try a less subtle approach and I'll wait here for the goddamn telephone to ring, how's that?" I let out a deep breath and sank into the couch as I tried to relax. ....Just then, the phone rang. ......... My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks as I stared at my cell phone. I still was getting no signal, indicated by the big "X" where signal bars usually are in the top right corner of my Android. That did not stop my phone from ringing over and over again. The other weird thing was; my ringer is set to play the theme from Super Mario Brothers, yet the ringer was belting out what sounded like an old rotary dial phone but...slower. Darker. I was one hundred percent sure that that particular ringtone was not one of the pre-set one's in my phone. I never heard something so ominous in my life. Part of me wanted to press the TALK button, while another part wanted to throw my cell phone out of my window and watch it smash on the sidewalk outside. *brrriiiiinnggggg-brriiiiinngggg* *silence* *brrriiiiinnggggg-brriiiiinngggg* *silence* *brrriiiiinnggggg-brriiiiinngggg* In the end, my desperation (to say nothing of my curiosity) got the better of me, and I hit the TALK button. "Hello!?", I answered frantically. "I need help! I'm all alone. What's going on here!?" On the other end, I could hear breathing. Not heavy or threatening, but there was definitely someone on the other-side. "HELLO!? Can you hear me!?", I asked. Knowing that - yes indeed - the person on the other can ABSOLUTELY hear me. "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?", I screamed. Nothing but more breathing on the other end. I pressed "END CALL", and began hyperventilating. "God Dammit! What the fuck is going on?", I hissed. I reached into my pocket with quivering hands , fumbling for my Newport 100 pack. I barely touched it with my finger tips, when my phone rang again. This time there was no hesitation. I hit the "TALK" button hard and screamed into my phone. "WHAT!?", I bellowed?" "...Mr. Culpa?", responded a soft-spoken voice. Whoever it was sounded very familiar. "Yeah, I'm Donnie Culpa", I responded. Calming down some. "Who is this?" "...You don't remember. That is why we must talk. Very soon." I was absolutely positive I heard this voice before. Strange...it filled me with comfort, yet an aching sadness at the same time. "Talk? Talk about what?", I asked. "...You missed your appointment, I'm afraid. I am going to pencil you in for the day after tomorrow. Will you be ready by then, Mr. Culpa?" It was so strange. It really sounded like this person sincerely wanted to help me. There were more important things that needed explaining though, like what happened to everyone. "Fuck that!", I responded. "Where IS everyone? I KNOW you know!" "...What an...odd...question, Mr. Culpa." "Odd my ass! Silent Hill is a fucking ghost town! And speaking of ghosts, strange shit has been going on here as well! So...allow me to ask your creepy-ass again...where IS everyone and WHAT the hell is going on??" "...I can see you're FAR from ready, Mr. Culpa", the voice responded. Still friendly, by now with a hint of disappointment. "Please take measures to correct this, Mr. Culpa. In the meantime, you're better off at Brookhaven." *click* *Beeeeeeeeeeeep* The mysteriously familiar and kind-sounding voice hung up. 'What...the...fuck?', I thought as I put my phone back in my pocket. I knew that voice, but I couldn't place it. It definitely brought up feelings and sadness. Something else as well, that my consciousness was trying to fight. 'Guilt', said that subconscious voice from deep within my memory. I sat on my couch and began thinking. 'Speaking of sadness...why HAVE I been feeling that since this ordeal started?', I wondered. 'Sure, it's only natural, given the circumstances, but...there's something else. Something that runs deeper that I don't want to face. That weirdo's voice accentuated it for a minute and I almost...almost....' I shuddered as my mind switched gears to more immediate concerns. 'He wanted me to go to Brookhaven?', I couldn't figure out why on Earth I'm supposed to go there. Brookhaven is a psychiatric hospital, a few blocks away, over on Carroll Street. I've never been inside before, but the outside was creepy as all-fuck. There's absolutely no business I could possibly have inside that place. 'Although', I thought, 'maybe Brookhaven has something to do with whatever happened in Silent Hill. Or maybe...just maybe...Andrew took refuge there', I reasoned, afraid that Andrew was still around and in trouble. Wasting no time, I fumbled through the utility closet for my Maglite, and some extra 'D' batteries. This time, I'm gunna be prepared. ......... I walked out of my house, my Maglight firmly in my hand, as I navigated the fog-shrouded lifeless streets of the South Vale District. I walked down Carroll Street, passing Pete's Bowl-O-Rama on my right, followed by Heaven's Night...some sleazy strip club. Finally, I reached Brookhaven Hospital. It loomed, like the vestibule to Hell itself. Even before all this crazy shit started, Brookhaven always creeped me out. It was imposing, authoritative, and inspired fear. And - like most everything in Silent Hill - has a bloody history. From what I read, the area where Silent Hill currently is located used to be home to some unknown Indian tribe, back in the 1600's. After the settlers came and founded the town (which went by another name back then), they mysteriously began to die off. There's rumors that the Indians cursed the land or something. Whatever happened, Silent Hill was met with a deadly plague at the turn of the 1700's. Brookhaven Hospital, which was nothing more than a wooden shack back then, was built to treat those who were affected. Eventually though, the original settlers fled, and the town and Brookhaven was left abandoned for nearly a century. When Silent Hill began to become populated again during the early 1800's, yet another epidemic broke out and Brookhaven was reopened to treat the affected. After a brief stint as a field hospital in the 1860's during the Civil War, the hospital was rebuilt and is how it looks today. At some point during the 1920's, a new general hospital, Alchemilla, was built in Central Silent Hill, and Brookhaven switched focus to mental health...Brookhaven's current incarnation. 'I so do NOT want to fucking go in there', I thought to myself. 'What else am I supposed to do though?' In truth, what choice did I have? For three days I've been stuck in a life-less town with no answers and very little hope. Finally it seems like...I dunno...someone or something is trying to help me. Not to mention that my Andrew may be lost somewhere out here too. If that's the case, then I gotta find him. I gingerly walked up to Brookhaven. The three-story gray concrete facade of the building was daring me to enter, with the only sign of life being two trees on either side of three steps leading to a heavy brown door. Above the door stood four rectangular columns that spoke of an Art Deco design that was long dead. Ignoring the 'No Trespassing' signs, I opened the door and walked inside. While the arcade was rotten - ugly - and too real, the hospital was an illusion. Actually, there's really no Earthly way to describe it. The place was immaculate, sterile, and pristine. The black and white square tiles on the floor shimmered with an incredible brilliance, and the white walls stood out without a speck of dirt to be seen. With just a hint of fog coming in from the crack under the front door, the place seemed totally unreal. Kind of like the inside of my house, but even moreso like some half-remembered memory. Almost in focus, but a bit "off". The more I stared at the reception area around me, the more I was convinced that the physical place itself was a bit ...hazy. A bit...not real. I'm not sure how to explain or, or even if it's possible to explain. All I could say as I stared was, "This place is sad" Literally, if it were possible for a place to be sad, the inside of Brookhaven was it. Not wanting to waste any time, I walked to the front desk and stupidly rang the bell and called out, "Hello??" Of course, no one was there to answer me, I half-expected the man with the familiar, soft-spoken voice on the phone to greet me here. (Strangely, I almost wanted him to). The truth is, though...this place is just as deserted as the rest of the empty town. I leaned against the counter and reached into my pocket. "FUCK!", I exclaimed, as I realized that I left my cigarettes back home. "Now I'm really in trouble, I said as I rolled my eyes. I jumped over the front desk and stood behind it, looking around, trying to get some idea as to what I'm doing here. "BROOKHAVEN SUCKS!", I yelled out loud, getting frustrated. The only thing that answered me was silence. I began sifting through patient files that were (strangely) neatly placed on the counter top, as if they were set there just for me. "Lets see what we got here", I said, as I began reading them. BEN LINCOLN Admitted: March 3rd 2009 Suicide Attempt. 48-hour suicide-watch. Released: March 5th, 2009. DOCTORS NOTE: Patient appears to suffer from chronic depression coupled with anxiety. Prescribed Zoloft. Discharged with the recommendation for weekly therapy. RODGER WIDMARK Admitted: October 20th 2016 Severe psychotic fits. No prior history. Transferred: December 1st 2016 (Cedar Grove Sanitarium) DOCTORS NOTE: Psychotic fits increased in intensity over a 40 day period. Long term care is necessary. TANYA JACKSON Admitted: February 14th 2011 Spontaneous loss of memory. Deceased: March 1st 2011 DOCTORS NOTE: Cause of memory loss followed by total synaptic failure not found. MEDICAL EXAMINERS NOTE: Autopsy inconclusive DONATELLO CUPLA Admitted: April 5th 2019 Nervous breakdown Released: April 10th 2019 DOCTORS NOTE: Released into the custody of Gina Culpa - mother. Patient can benefit from outpatient grief counseling. As I stood at my own name, I could scarcely believe my eyes. I never been in this place in my fucking life! Yet...there was my name. As clear as day. Of course, there was the remote possibility that there was another Donatello Culpa that was admitted here eight days ago, but somehow I doubt that. "April 5th to April 10th", I read outloud. Admitted eight days ago, and released five days later. "That means...I got out of this place three days ago. That's...when this craziness started." This was no coincidence. This name is DEFINITELY me! "But...I don't remember", I whined, as I dropped all the patient sheets on the floor. 'Could this be a mindfuck?', I thought. 'A freakout? Like at the arcade?' I had no answers. Only more questions. If I was here three days ago, why can't I remember? What even caused me to be admitted here? A nervous breakdown? And what does any of this have to do with what happened to everyone? Man, if I ever needed my Andrew, it was now. I thought back to the bloody message on my mirror and my heart sank. Even the remote possibility of Andrew in harm's way made me sick to my stomach. What made it worse was knowing there was -nothing- I could do. He could be lost anywhere in town...from the border of Shepard's Glen in the Port District, to the border of Brahms in Old Silent Hill. 'I guess all I can do is follow whatever is leading me', I figured. 'I'm in Brookhaven Hospital for a reason. I'm supposed to be here...little as I may like it. Wherever this is leading me, Andrew is at the end. This much I knew. "I'm coming, baby!", I yelled, as I jumped back over the counter and ran to the elevator, I hit the button for the 3rd Floor and stepped inside. Ready to face this nightmare head-on. ELSEWHERE The late afternoon sun shined brightly and clearly on Nathan Avenue, as the day's traffic began to wind down. A black sedan came flying past the rest-stop, and turned sharply left on Neely Street, where it grinded to a halt in front of 1408. A red-headed woman in her early 30's, dressed in a suit jacket and slacks stepped out of the drivers side, while a dark haired man in his early 40's clad in a gray suit stepped out of the passenger side. "Nice town", said the man as he took off his sunglasses, and soaked in the bucolic surroundings. "I used to come here as a kid, with my parents", replied the red headed woman as she stretched from the long drive from Augusta. "Silent Hill IS nice on the outside, Bill. But...well, it's gilded, as my father used to say." "Gilded?" "Yeah...the 'gold' is only on the outer surface" "What's underneath?", asked the man. Confused, but not entirely disbelieving, as he felt strange ever since crossing the county-line. The woman fixed her fire-red hair as she rang the doorbell to 1408 Neely. "Trouble", she replied. A grief-stricken woman in her late 40's answered the door. She was slightly pudgy, with just a hint of gray in her hair that wasn't used to being so disheveled. She had a look about her that said she wasn't one generation out of Italy. Naples, most likely. She was crying in her white handkerchief. A few seconds after taking her in, both the man and the woman flashed identification cards from their leather wallets that read, 'FBI' "Mrs. Gina Culpa?", asked the woman. "Miss...but si. I'm Gina Culpa.", responded the woman between sobs. "I'm agent Clarice Luksly, and this is William Dulmer. We're with the FBI's Augusta field-office. May we come in?" "Please...please, come in and make yourselves at home.", said Miss. Culpa, in a heavy Italian accent that definitely screamed Naples. "Would you like some coffee? Tea perhaps?" "Nothing, ma'am", interrupted Agent Dulmer, putting his hand up, as Miss. Culpa sat down on her white sofa, which sat beautifully under a huge picture mirror. The late-sun's caustic reflection bounced off it's reflective surface, causing the sunbeam to shoot around the room in a photonic ricochet. Both agents immediately noticed how nice the small little townhouse actually was. The furniture was ultra post-modern, which was unusual in a lakeside resort town, but at the same time, the juxtaposition seemed to work well, and actually accentuated the decor in ways that were both beautiful and vivid. "The Silent Hill Police Department referred you to us", Agent Dulmer went on as he fumbled through his notes. "Your son, Donatello Culpa...sixteen years of age...has been missing for..lets see...it says here...over 72 hours?" "Si..I mean...yes, that is correct. It's three days now and there has been no sign of my bambino", Miss Culpa went on, her tears flowing freely now as she wept into her quivering careworn hands. "Well...well...", interrupted Agent Dulmer, turning the conversation back to business, clearly uncomfortable with the emotion involved in this case, "The FBI has jurisdiction now due to the belief that your son may have been kidnapped. Have you received ANYthing in the mail or any telephone calls regarding your son? Ransom demands? Threats?" "No. Nothing at all! And none of the neighbors seen anything either! I left for work three days ago, and my Donnie was sleeping. He..just got out of Brookhaven....see...he hasn't been to school since...since...well, you have it in your notes, yes? I cannot bear to talk about it." "Yes we do, ma'am, it's okay. Just take it easy", consoled Agent Luksly who was much more comfortable dealing with the emotional aspect of this. "My poor baby was so distraught, you understand? I thought he would lose himself. But he came HOME! I...I went to work, and when I came back that evening, he was just...just...", Miss Culpa began sobbing hard. "...nothing. It's like he vanished off the face of this planet. NON HA SENSO! My husband left us three years ago. I can't go through another loss...I cant...can't", sobbed Miss Culpa. Agent Luksly sat down next to Miss Culpa on the white sofa and put her arms around her, while Agent Dulmer nervously fumbled through his notes again. "We'll find him, ma'am", said Agent Luksly, compassionately. "Of that I promise you." ***************************************************************************** Check out my other ongoing works: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/jack-hamilton/ (A tale of domination and revenge.) https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-fallout-of-jack-hamilton/ (A side story/prequel-sequel to the above that I wrote) If all goes well here, look forward to 'Silent Hill: Crimson Ice', coming after this one is completed! If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, or opinions, please email me at riveracheron101@gmail.com