Book Of The Path

Title: Book Of The Path.

Author: RaveEchidna

Fandom: Silent Hill 2 with splashes of the other games/ movie.

Paring(s): James/Maria, Pyramid Head(s)/James…too many to list

Warnings: Spoilers, Heterosexual sex, Gay sex, rape, snuff, dubious consent, gore, torture, child abuse, death, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, strong langue….lots and lots of very wrong things.

Rating: R-NC 17

Disclaimer: I do not Own Silent Hill Konami and Team Silent do. I just wanted to play with the world they made.

Summary: Slight A.U. a new twist on the ending to the game. James finds that once Silent Hill embraces you nothing can wash away the stain of its corrupted touch come partake in the bloodshed and sin as a tale of madness and vile deeds as it unfolds.
Notes: With much thanks to my team of editors. DarkStorm and Draven Nightshade, and to those that have reviewed.

Agony raked loving fingers through his body, leaving him a quaking huddle on the floor. His eyes, though open, saw nothing; no light existed where he lay. Underneath him the cool flooring leached away the feverish heat from his injured body. A rasping cough ripped through him, leaving a spray of blood on his chest and his painfully cracked lips. Panic raged through him, he could not stay helpless and unmoving on the floor. In his current condition he was nothing more than a mass of flesh to be torn in to, with blood still warm to be lapped up by eager off-colored festering tongues. His teeth sank deeply into his savaged lips stifling his anguished scream. James hauled his abused body from the ground to his unsteady feet. With each movement, burning white overtook the darkness. Shaking hands danced over his body taking inventory of what he had. The disjointed information brought through touch in the pitch black came together into a clear picture. With ease he clicked the light on.


James’s breath hitched as he scampered back. A hand flew up to his mouth, wanting so badly to scream in rage, in sorrow. Yet, he knew that sound drew the demons in faster than light or the scent of blood. In his current state his silence was perhaps the only thing keeping him alive. His mind struggled, cracking from the image before him. He had to turn his head to rip his eyes from the blasphemous art.


“Oh Laura.” The child had joined the ever growing list of souls he had been unable to save. Once again he sank to his knees, the sculpture of twisted razor wire, glass and tender child flesh loomed over him, judging him a failure. “Laura.” The name was little more than a hollow pain-filled whisper. “I should have searched for you, made you understand.”


Curious amusement brushed over James; a flicker within his mind. A feeling of pride nuzzled against the core of his soul. It was so much like a child tiptoeing over to daddy who’d had a bad day at the office to offer over some kind of hand-made gift to make everything all better.


James shuddered forcing himself to stand before the child’s mutilated body. She was embraced in a nightmarish tangle of wire and glass, her tiny body wrapped and held with intimate and tainted loving care. He had no love for the beastly child; some small part of him had so desperately wanted her to pay for the hell she had inflicted upon him, yet seeing her mauled and left on display made tears well up in his eyes. He might not have felt anything remotely positive for her; his beloved Mary on the other hand had loved her, wanting to open their home to the bold child. She had wanted to craft a perfect picture of a family; mother, father and the charming little princess. “I’m sorry.” His voice low and somber, a tone reserved for the dead and those so close to the final fatal moments that anything would be said to ease passing. “I am sorry I could never be the man that she thought I was.” He reached out carefully past the barbs and closed her eyes.


He let out a startled scream when the child’s eyes snapped open. His hand jerked, snagging his knuckles on the jagged metal and glass as he over balanced. “Shit!” James howled in dismay feeling himself twist and bend in a useless attempt to restore balance. His breath rushed out of him. The room had not been so small that his toppling form could fall back on to the blood-smeared wall. Yet he had fallen back against something. A small sound of fearful questioning left his throat. An odd darkness deeper than even the nightmare realm fell over him. The blond man did not breathe, did not blink, as he tipped his head back to look up into a maw of darkest shadow. He blinked, then his mind was unable to process what it was that he was seeing.


Dried and cracked lips moved but no sound came from James as the horror of realization dawned on him. He could feel his heart slam against his ribs; it was that thing, the fiend, the twisted creature, his personal tormenter. His mind howled, screaming at him to flee, to run until his lungs burst, until his legs could no longer hold him. A moan of terror slipped through his stunned silence as he was pressed tightly against the chest of the infernal beast. An arm mottled in flaking gore wrapped tightly around James in a crushing embrace. Tears burned his eyes as impossibly strong fingers latched on to his right wrist pulling harshly on the limb. James yelped then, attempting desperately to free himself from the demon, his feet lashing, trying to strike something soft. “Let go!” he knew it was useless, but when given no other weapon of protest he clung to yelling. If he could just let himself sink into a deep enough rage he would be able to keep the fear from shattering what remained of his sanity. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”


The grip on James wrist tightened, shifted, stressing the bones and tendons to the edge of shattering, snapping. Blood oozed and flowed slow rivers of crimson down his wrist and dropping from finger tip. His breath hitched as the demon’s tongue unfurled glistening black, a line of saliva hung from serpentine appendage. That sight alone was enough to make James redouble his effort to free himself “Mother fucker!” It was rare for the man to ever use that curse, having been brought up better than that, however fear often shatters any self-placed limitations on vocabulary.


A rumbling chuckle came from the creature at James’ outburst. Once again the warm caress of amusement brushed through James. Wordlessly asking *Do you like your gift, she was mounted in your name.* The great wedge shaped hood tipped so slightly awaiting an answer. *Do you take pleasure in the agony?* The tongue snaked over fingers, dipping into gashes, lapping at the deep vermillion liquid. The demon shifted, pressing, purring low as the blood coated his tongue.


Fear and will to live surpassed anger as he twisted within the executioner’s embrace. “You fucking monster!” His booted feet pounded uselessly against the demon’s legs. “That’s a child, a child!” He howled in savage delight as his foot sank in between the bastard’s legs, finding and crushing the aroused hardness under a lightly treaded heel. Gracelessly, his abused body hit the floor dappled with stains as the demon bent over clutching and crying out in pain.


What had been a touch of amusement changed to shock, which in turn was replaced with the kind of anger that would only be appeased with the flowing of blood and broken screams begging for mercy. Primal panic flooded James, a feeling that was all his own, as he shot to his feet. He had never in all his life moved with such desperation. His fingers clawed at an aged doorknob trying in vain to open the thrice-damned door. Under his touch the knob taunted him, refusing to turn and grant him sweet freedom. “No—God—Please!”


Darkness descended once again over the blond, no trace of amusement remained. Heated breath came heavily from the beast ruffling the soft golden strands. James closed his eyes throwing himself against the door. If he did not look or acknowledge the demon, maybe the world would shift over to a less nightmarish reality. After all, he had done nothing severe enough to earn this hell… had he? “Mary,” he whispered under his breath. “Mary, where are you?” Wetness trailed over cheek and neck, tracing the shell of an ear. Once more he threw himself into the door; he had to escape. He mewled when his feet left the ground, the material of his shirt digging into his neck. His hands clawed at the bastard sadist’s single fist that held him with inhuman ease. If only he could pry away a finger, maybe he would be able to then slip out of his clothing. The sinner kicked out, growling when his feet lashed only air. “Stop this I don’t—.”


The dire fiend hissed snapping his wrist and arm, throwing the human into the living art it had sculpted its tongue still lolling out from under the immense red-spattered pyramid cage. The sound; ripping of fabric, tearing of skin on jagged metal and glass was a melody of exquisite misery. *Bleed to please us* Hidden eyes took in each movement and painful twitch, committing them to memory. *Mary is rotting don’t you? Don’t you remember?* The human was beautiful as he curled up into a ball, so perfect. The demon would shatter the sinful Portal; so filled with a need to be punished, a need they he had been born for, a need to fill. Within the darkness of the hood eyes narrowed. How easy it would be to end the suffering, the torment, lips curled into a sneer. *Don’t you understand?* He wanted to give the human the most loving of all agonies. They would break his body, rend his soul, keep the human theirs; become whole.


“Get away from me!” James curled tighter, his body throbbing with each heart beat. He did not want this, he could not take this. Had he not paid, suffered enough within his life? “Leave me alone.” He cringed when latex-gloved hands were placed carefully, hesitantly on his ribs. “Please—God—Mary!”


The slow, feathering touch, the hesitancy boiled away with a scorching wave of malice. Why must the other be so blinded calling to a dead hag, one that had never deserved their James? Yet he called to the departed, whimpered and begged for her, for a powerless God’s aid. *Bleed for my pleasure, scream in ecstasy.*


“Don’t touch me!” James was forcing his eyes to stay shut, clamping the lids down hard enough to paint the normal black red. Why wasn’t it working? When a person closed their eyes demons were supposed to disappear. Yet the hands were still on him, pressing him against the ground, fingering the multitude of scrapes and cuts. James hissed each time the demon pried open the skin, letting the blood well up and spill. He could not run; not this time, the door was too far. The demon loomed over him, letting its tongue lap, dip and stroke the exposed skin and wounds. He had seen the beast be far more aggressive with its lesser hell-spawned kin. “Mary.”


Her name again! How dare the Portal speak it! The apron-clad executioner tangled his fingers within the worn, stained and shredded jacket of the whimpering sinner. One strong tug was all it took for the green layer of cloth to be ripped from his body, the sound impossibly loud within the confines of the room. *Why must you call her? She won’t help you.* Speaking to the human was pointless, for he did not wish to hear, to know, to understand.


James’ skin crawled under the touch; he fought with everything he had to stay still, to be as small and unresponsive as he could. He would not give the beast the pleasure of tears or begging. “Mary.” Her name tumbled past from his lips, as he brought his arms up to cover his head. In his mind’s eye he could see her, his beloved wife, with her little smile and eyes that held a hidden lust for life. “Mary.” She had been his world, and no matter what his friends had said when they warned him he was getting married too soon, the first few years after their marriage had been blissful. Then the illness had set in, raping her mind, body, and soul, twisting her into a bitter creature that would howl and demand death, only to beg and whimper seconds later to live. He had been crushed when the call came with news that, while it was expected, was still too sudden. She’d died in her sleep; peace at last could be hers.


The Beast roared, shattering the mental retreat. Hands twisted, knotting the material of the collared shirt and undershirt around long gloved fingers. Once more the sound of fabric being torn to shreds filled the room, and James curled tighter within himself, his body trembling with fear and shock from the icy touch of the floor. Run. Run now! His mind hissed. You’re going to die.


Within his shadow the Sinner laid coiled, body writhing, twisting. Gloved hands filled with tattered cloth pulled away long enough to throw the bloodied rags across the room. *Do you know, in your fear, in your despair, your beauty is without equal?* Soundlessly, Pyramid Head rose to his feet, reaching down and bending double to snag one of James’ ankles.


“Oh fuck!” His eyes flew opened as the grip on his ankle tightened like a vice. A surge of adrenalin, a blessing from fear, flared through him. He moaned and clawed at the floor at the air as the ground moved under him. The friction of his back against the metal floor reopened cuts and his blood marked a path across the room “Please—just kill me!” He was being dragged, just as he had seen the beast pulling the mannequin creatures. “Kill me!” His tone was on the edge of begging, James had seen all too well what had happened to the four-legged demons, and he would be damned before he too fell to the same grim fate. He snarled, something within cracked the fault lines within his soul, cutting deeper. James lashed out with a well-aimed kick, face twisting into a primordial expression of victory, as under the boot tread bones slid and snapped. He braced himself for the slight drop and rolled to the side. Almost instantly he was on his feet, his mind blocking the horrid sound of the fiend’s cry. He hit the door hard with his shoulder low in place to take the impact. Rotten wood exploded in a rain of splinters.


Before James, hallways stretched into endless black, all of them appeared the same; without his light, without any weapons he was nothing more then a still living slab of meat to be chased down and devoured. Stagnant water pooled randomly throughout the narrow twisting corridor, making stealth next to impossible. Stealth didn’t matter; distance did. He picked directions randomly and hoped that he wasn’t going in circles. A howl of rage echoed, coming from every direction. Each breath he took burned, it wouldn’t be long before that pyramid headed thing found him. Twice now he’d been lucky, with his acts of desperation managing to catch the Red bastard off-guard. He pressed himself tight against a wall; taking long, deep breaths he could run forever, blind within this hell lost with that, that—thing after him. If his luck decided to hold out just a little longer, perhaps the darkness would retreat and he would be able to get some sort of idea where he was within this insane town. Bitterly he wished he could trade both luck and hope for a flash light and trusty steel pipe. With every step he took, the occurrence of puddles grew more common, deeper and longer. Water soon sloshed knee-deep. James screamed, his throat raw, dry voice cracking, as something brushed against his legs, knocking into him and making him stumble. Maybe he should have wished for that damned radio as well. With legs heavy from fatigue he kicked at the swimming abomination.


From the water it rose - the distorted body of a patient demon. Beads of tainted water slid off the slick skin at it staggered closer to James, its jerking movements a vile mockery of graceful, sure steps, the creature was nothing more than a deranged embodiment of suffering. In the not quite total darkness, it seemed to be just as blind as James. Its warped torso twisted in ways impossible for a human. Slowly he started to step back; he’d be in trouble if the thing decided to spew its acid-laced venom. James knew all too well how fast the black tar-like substance could eat through clothing, skin and pavement. If the creature decided to spew its toxic spray, his only hope would be to try and rinse it off in the murky water. He took another step back as the beast shrieked, thrashing about, seeking prey it knew was close.


Heavy, even, sloshing footfalls alerted both James and the lesser demon to the approach of something each feared equally. In that moment, they forgot about each other. All that mattered was preservation of existence. With a shrill cry of terror and a curse, patient demon and man turned away from each other, fleeing in to the darkness. James swallowed a scream when the death cry of the lesser demon drowned out all other sounds. The bastard thing was behind him, no doubt toying with him. “Mary, I think I’ll be joining you soon.” Black spots danced before his eyes as the world seemed to shift. A thread of broken laughter bubbled from what was left of his sanity. His mother in-law, that sneering elitist bitch had been right; Mary had been too good for him and he was going to die in a pit of hell utterly alone. “Mary.” His footing faltered and he fell into the water choking and coughing, as the world and all its cruelty started to fade. James could feel his body sink into numbness, confusion filling him. Drowning was not supposed to be a peaceful death.