Nightmare of Silent Hill Entry 04

I agree with him, nodding. "We should allow her to finish her statement. Then it should be read by a specialist, afterward."

He furrows his busy brow. "Should I be the one to finish the interrogation, considering her mental state?"

I hear the rambler get louder. "Yes. You're trained to deal with trauma victims. It will suffice," - I am interrupted by the rambler. Roger and I pay attention to the commotion. I don't know Roger that well, just enough to know that he cannot be aware of my sexual pursuits in the office. He is not fond of me much, the feeling is mutual.

The guards are trying to fruitlessly silence the ratty man. Between their loud shushes and the man's yelling, I have trouble making out any words. The one word I catch freezes me in place. "Alessa," echoes across the office loud and concise. I unflinchingly tromp across the room toward the ratty man. The guards notice me, stand at attention and address me. The tattered man calms at my presence, eyeing me. I take in his appearance. He is in worn black t-shirt and jeans with graying work boots. This is all covered in a dark tan modern trench coat. He appears clean, though his brown hair is whipped around his head out of a loose ponytail. His features unsettle me. Attractive high arched eyebrows, defined cheekbones and thin lips are warped by a mask of insanity. This is further enforced by a single velvet glove on his right hand.

I ask the guards shortly, "Name and reason for questioning?"

The one on the right answers, "Edgar Dale. Wanted for questioning as a person of interest in a string of brutal murders along Virginia and DC."

I bring my attention back to Mr. Dale. He stares back at me with rust-colored eyes. That one is a companion investigation that was taken over by a profiling group out of the DC office. The file did come across my desk at some point. The murders were seemingly random people butchered like cattle. It was delightfully gruesome. I care more about what Mr. Dale seems to know about the Silent Hill case.

"How do you know that name you called out, Mr. Dale?" I ask him.

He stays silent for a moment. Finally in a rushed babble, "The bricks told me of her, of her savior, of your doom." He stops again.

I did not immediately dismiss it for mad rambling, instead I bid him continue.

He does, giving a long speech,

"She's much too old for me now.

Quickly, she grew, I don't really know how.

Cute young things, cooing in my ear.

SHHS ensigned on their wear.

The screeching rats clawing on rusted walls.

The wire has barbs, clanging it's retched call.

The rats burn a pretty green color.

I can't see through the fog.

The Church makes puppies into dogs.

The dark and iron hides the moon.

You're all gonna need your tetanus shots soon

Have you seen the man with the iron box on his head yet?

Don't worry, he'll soon make you all his pet.

He still owes me a ham sandwich."

Something strange then happens with the mad man. His expression straightens, fixing into a sane look. His eyes become severe and his mouth forms a line. He leans toward me. He whispers with a stern voice, "You are all going to die." He leans back up with the same severe look on his face.

'Fucking crazy.' I wave at the guards to take him away. Mr. Dale stares at me while the guards drag him away. He got under my skin, that one. I shake it off and look at Agent Collins. He is entranced by the girl in the interrogation room.

______

Zoe

I manage to shake off the cloudiness in my head after the Agent leaves the room. The sterile featureless room mocks me. I escape one prison just to enter another. I can't even think about that place right now. I had been telling my story on autopilot, letting the words come out without thinking about them. The Agent was a nice man, with far too many demons of his own to be of any solace to me. I could tell he thought I was sick and absolutely nuts, but at least he seemed to credit it to the apparent trauma on my body. His assistant however was sickened by the words I said, excusing herself frequently. She thought I was just plain crazy. It's the look in people's eyes gives it away when they address you.

I feel so numb. My face, my hands. I can hardly believe I'm alive, let alone still aware of myself. Part of me wants to curl of in a ball and never speak again while the other wants to run free under the moonlight, laughing. 'What now? What will I do if these people let me go? Go back to college, back to my parents, my few friends. Kyle.' Thinking of him physically hurts me. I cringe and double over. I should of told him where I was going and why. I didn't because I didn't want him to follow me. It's like I knew something horrible was going to happen. 'Can I tell him what had happened? Can I repeat this story to him?' I would have to explain all this to him somehow. I could use what the FBI was likely to declare this as: Girl assaulted by group of mysterious individuals in small abandoned town. There would be no mention of my statement except to support that I was suffering from psychological trauma as a result of the attack. That's if they didn't pin the dead body on me and lock me in a white room for the rest of my life. I can't think of that either. Another jolt of pain strikes me as Alessa's face comes to my mind. This one doubles me over to the point of putting my forehead to the table.

I stand abruptly, forcing the thought out of my head. I face the giant mirror on the wall. At first, I see the sterile plain room with dead-looking desperate me sitting in the middle of it. I look away to see something out of the corner of my eye. It's me but twisted. Corpsely pale with my hair in my face. Rust-colored eyes stare back at me with gleeful malice. A shudder rushes through my body as I stare at the twisted me. It, she, me mouths the word "Mine."

I gasp and turn away.

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Roger

When the Director walks away to deal with the unruly man in the office, I begin thinking about the crazy I have to continue to interrogate. I walk over to the interrogation room she's in. She's sitting quietly, probably lost in her own thoughts. 'Gawd, I'm tired.' I think as fatigue hit me. We probably still have four more hours of interrogation, as well. It's not like I have anything better to do other than sleep. I'm staying in a hotel about 15 minutes away from the office. 'What's the point? She's going to get an insanity plea regardless.' I look down at the water bottle I brought for her.

When I look back up at her, she starts to change. I furrow my brow, confused. Her hair starts to darken, from root to tip, turning pitch black. Her skin loses its color fading to white. I look back down and shake my head. 'I must be exhausted if I'm seeing things.' I look back up and everything is back to normal. I feel a tap on my shoulder that makes me jump. I whip around to see the Director looking rather impatient at me.

He says, "I didn't mean to startle you but I would like to continue with the interrogation now."

I nod, wondering where Judi is. I can technically start without her but she is probably still in the ladies room not feeling well. I enter the interrogation room without her. Zoe notices me but doesn't say anything. I settle back down in one of the uncomfortable metal chairs. I place the bottled water on the table. The girl timidly takes it and unscrews it. She takes a deliberate swig before putting it back down. Judi comes in shortly, looking slightly less ill but more tired. She sits down and fiddles with the recorder. When she starts it again, I take that as my queue to talk to the girl. I ask her, "Zoe would you like to continue where you left off?" She nods and begins to speak again.