Paradise, Wrapped in a Straightjacket

AN: Hey! I'm sure some of you are waiting for me to update Dark Descent, so here's something for you to chomp on in the meanwhile. This fic is more or less a gift for Serpent Spear. However, I'm sure the rest of you will enjoy it. I hope she enjoys it too, though I'm sure she'll like the upcoming chapter a lot more than this one.

As always, please read and review.


Chapter 1: Changes


Heather Mason tossed her keys onto the table in her living room. Another day, another horrible eight hours at work, she thought tiredly.

It had been five months since her father’s death and the incident in Silent Hill. Heather still found it hard to believe that he was gone. Sometimes she expected to come from work and find her father sitting at his chair, reading one of his favorite mystery novels. Then of course, she remembered that her father was gone and that she wasn’t in their old apartment anymore.

Things had changed drastically for Heather in the past few months. In the span of two days she had been swept up in a series of terrifying supernatural events, lost her father to an assault by a former childhood friend and come to terms with the fact that she was once a girl with supernatural powers who was put through the ringer by the person who should have loved her the most.

No matter how long she loved, Heather would never forget the events of those two life-altering days. She had faced demons unlike anything anyone could imagine. Yet nothing she saw amongst the ranks of those monsters could compare to the horror of finding her father’s lifeless body in their living room. There was no doubt in her mind that that image would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She had gone to Silent Hill to take revenge on Claudia. What else was she supposed to do? Throughout her journey through the hellish layers of that town, she was able to keep her sadness at bay, focusing instead on the rage she felt at Claudia’s actions. She needed that edge if she was to avenge her father’s murder. And so she had. She had destroyed Claudia and her “God”. It didn’t matter that the former was rather indirect on her part. Claudia had paid for what she had done.

It felt good to deal the finishing blows to the Order’s “God”. The suffering that creature had caused was unimaginable, and what it had taken from her could never be replaced. Heather had to admit, she derived a great deal of satisfaction from taking out her aggressions, all her anger and frustration at the Order on that hideous demonic parasite. But when the fire cleared and the battle settled, Heather was left with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness inside. Her father was gone and he was never coming back. The grief poured out in waves, and Heather spent the better part of hour sobbing into the cold gravel ground of the Order’s basement before she finally returned to check on Douglas.

What happened afterwards was nearly as trying. When she got back from Silent Hill, the police were all but waiting for her. It was inevitable that somebody would notice something was wrong in an apartment building like that, and Heather knew she had to contact the authorities anyway if she wanted to give Harry a proper burial. Things could have gotten nasty had it not been for Douglas. The body on the roof had disappeared – her father’s killer wasn’t human, after all. From what she could tell, the different realms she had been through were like separate dimensions, so it was likely that body was still stuck back there in that desolate realm.

The situation looked pretty suspicious, but thankfully, Douglas had come through for once. He confessed to being hired by Claudia to track down Heather and served as a compelling testimony that Claudia had indeed killed Heather’s father. He expressed regret that he had ever taken on this job, and admitted that he should’ve checked his client’s background more thoroughly before accepting any kind of assignment from her.

An investigation was launched into Silent Hill and the confrontations that occurred there. They didn’t find much. The bodies of the monsters had all disappeared. Again, not surprising given that they were probably all stuck in another layer of existence. Claudia didn’t leave behind much evidence physically of her activities, and neither did Vincent for that matter. Vincent’s body was nowhere to be found; Heather could only guess at what happened to him. As for Claudia’s, Heather knew for sure it had been destroyed when she gave birth to that monstrosity of a “God”. However, there was enough circumstantial evidence in the form of documents and journals to verify Douglas’ claim. It was an incredible relief to the girl whose life he inadvertently helped turn upside down. Heather would be forever grateful that she wasn’t accused outright of her own father’s murder.

The cult’s “God” had disappeared entirely too. Nothing was left of the foul creature Heather had faced in deadly combat in the Order’s chapel, except for one thing: a scorch mark on the ground unlike any the cops had seen. According to analysis, the burn mark was created by temperatures far exceeding anything available in the chapel, or any homemade device Heather could have come up with. The police knew better than to ask questions this time, and the strange indicator was summarily ruled off as an anomalous detail of the rather peculiar case.

Finally, after several days of investigation by the police, Heather was allowed to move back into her apartment. Douglas offered to let her stay with him a while longer until she figured out what she was going to do. Heather politely declined. She had no intention of staying with someone she barely knew. It was bad enough doing so for a few days while the police cordoned off her home. There was no way she was going through that awkwardness for several weeks, or God forbid, several months.

Besides, it wasn’t like she and Douglas had the potential to be friends or anything. They knew next to nothing about each other, he was far older than her, and there was still the matter of how he led Claudia to her and her father. Heather appreciated what he’d done for her, speaking up in her defense and all, but they would never be anything more than polite acquaintances. The only reason he even helped her was because it was the right thing to do, and because he felt partially responsible for what happened to her dad.

And so Heather was left there, alone, in the apartment she once shared with her dad. The landlord gave her the standard 60 day’s notice to vacate the premises, knowing full well she wouldn’t want to stay in the place where her father was killed. He also offered to allow her to withhold her rent for the remaining time there while she focused on finding a new place to stay. Again, Heather politely declined. She didn’t want pity from anyone, and she wanted nothing more than to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. She had come to regard that place as home, but it was no longer that after what she experienced. Now it was just a constant reminder of what she had lost.

With the help of Douglas and hew new landlord, Heather found a new apartment across town. The rent was affordable for a person her age, and the neighborhood wasn’t a bad one either. Soon she was out of her old apartment and taking the first step towards moving on with her life. The whole relocation took less than a week.

And now here she was. Because she had no one to support her, it was painfully clear she had to get a job. She had some in savings from her dad, but her dad wanted her to use that money for education, and that was what she was going to do.Unfortunately, being a high school student with little qualifications or experience, the only work she could find was at a local department store. It sucked, kind of, but at least it was enough to pay the bills.

She had changed her last name back to Mason. She never really liked the name Morris as a surname. It just sounded weird to her. And knowing the sacrifices her dad had made in her favor, the least she could do was honor him by taking on his real last name. If the experience with Claudia had taught her one thing, it was that hiding behind false identities was useless. The Order would do what they wanted, and no amount of running away would convince them otherwise. If they wanted to come after her again, fine. They could do it without her pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Besides, she liked the name Mason.

She didn’t go to school anymore. School was frustrating enough as it was without her being labeled a charity case. That didn’t mean she’d dropped out. Heather wasn’t a quitter. She never had been, and she wasn’t about to start now. Instead, what she did was petition to see if she could graduate early, which she had. Heather had always been an above average student, and she had no difficulty proving she was ready, much to her own amazement.

Her father would have been proud of her, she was sure of that. The same went for her new job. Heather thought for sure it would be a mess. Instead she ended up doing fairly well in the position. It was a living, but Heather already knew this wasn’t a job she would be keeping in the long-run. She had already started applying to different colleges, hoping she would get in one where the tuition and dorm fees were affordable. As soon as that happened, and she obtained a better part time job, she was out of there.

The eighteen year old settled down for a night of watching TV. Since Heather had no friends and no social life to speak of, there wasn’t much to do with her spare time. She spent most of her nights watching television and DVDs, and most of her weekends sleeping in late and sometimes going shopping. It was a sad life, she supposed, but at least it was a life and one that was relatively uneventful.

There was one other thing Heather did with her time. It wasn’t something she had done often before, but that had changed in the past few months. Put simply, Heather masturbated.

Every morning when she woke up, every evening before she went to bed, and sometimes in the afternoon whenever possible, Heather engaged in some very active self-pleasuring. It had started out of boredom and curiosity. Very soon however, it became an unusual source of comfort to her. There wasn’t much she could do to heal her emotional pain, but there was plenty she could do to make herself feel physically good.

Sometimes she wondered if she wasn’t overcompensating for her misery through that abundance of pleasure she gave herself. Not that she minded if that were the case. She had to get her kicks where she could find them, and there was no safer method than by herself.

After gorging herself on a macaroni dinner while watching her favorite shows, Heather retired to her bedroom for the evening.


~


She lay nearly nude in her bed, clad only in a small pair of underwear. She was showered, full, and she had just finished brushing her teeth. Now she could move on to satisfying a hunger of a different kind.

Heather yawned with sleepiness. She was tired, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from indulging a little. She had been afraid to masturbate back when Harry was around. Her father wasn’t exactly an open guy when it came to things like sex. Heather usually waited until it was very late at night, or when she took a shower, to engage in a little self-pleasuring. Even so, there was always that intangible fear that Harry would find out. Heather knew it was paranoid, but there was always the concern that he would ask what she was doing with a locked door, or why she was taking so long on the shower. And that if he did find out what she was doing, he would be less than approving about it.

Nowadays of course, she no longer had that concern. And even though she missed her father terribly, and would give anything to have him back, a part of her had to admit: she liked having her own place. If she wanted to walk around naked or spend a day doing nothing but lying in bed, she could. Not that she ever did the first one, mind you, but at least the option was there.

She always started the same way. She ran her hands over her breasts, casually fondling the soft, alluring curves. Her touches were light and teasing, intended to awaken her body’s interest. She loved the feel of her bare skin against her hands. Her chest was always very sensitive; she could get herself worked up in no time just by touching it and caressing it ever so lightly. Gradually her hands glided down below her waist, feeling herself through her underwear. She moaned as one hand stroked her tender sex. The other lingered at her stomach, toying with the waistband of her panties.

Soon that effort became more focused. She pressed deeper against her sex, creating the stirrings of a wonderful friction against her. It was her preferred way of masturbating. Rather than focus solely on her clit, she preferred to stimulate her entire pussy. She slipped her fingers into her panties, relishing the feel of her most sensitive area. It was incredible how good it felt just to touch herself like this. She was never big on sex, having turned down several advances from the boys at school. But this was a different story altogether. She never ceased to be amazed at the pleasure she could give herself.

That pleasure was very welcome at the moment. She resumed the subtle motions over her sex, rubbing her palm all over her pussy. The movements quickened as she became more aroused. Liquid heat leaked out of her core, leaving the skin on her fingers slick with growing excitement. Heather felt herself getting close to release. Immersing herself in the pleasure, she moaned as she rapidly stroked herself, playing eagerly with the slippery wet folds. Her clit was hard under her touch, sending currents of joy through her body.

Heather had begun to tense on her bed. She cupped one breast with her other hand, caressing and squeezing the supple mound, and playing with the hardened nipple. She wondered what it would be like to have more; to have someone lick and suck at her breast, tasting that exquisitely soft flesh before moving on to the other one.

Suddenly her eyes squeezed shut as her body was wracked with convulsions. She panted and moaned as the pleasure coursed throughout her, leaving her incapable of any thought save the lustful images playing in her mind.

She collapsed on the bed, one hand still on her left breast, the other shielding her crotch, massaging the area tenderly. She was still rubbing herself, albeit at a far less enthusiastic pace. Heather sighed in post-orgasmic bliss, letting a few tiny moans fly from her lips as the last gasps of pleasure ebbed away. The experience left her drained, but it was well worth the effort. Whew, that felt good, she thought, giggling a bit at what just happened. The young woman smiled; a playful and impish grin those close to her would have recognized as trademark Heather. She lazily glided her hands over her body, before pulling off her panties and reaching for the tissues under her pillow. She didn’t want to spend the night sleeping in a pair of dampened underwear.

When she was done cleaning up, she pulled the covers over her nude body and switched off her nightlight.


~


She often thought about Silent Hill before she fell asleep. It was unsettling, how she could go from thinking about something good and pleasant, to what was by far the worst period in her life.

Sometimes she thought about the people who had been involved, whether it was conniving old Vincent or trusty, reliable Douglas, who was still indirectly responsible for her father’s death. Other times she thought about the locations themselves, and how they reflected what was festering deep inside her soul. The memories came easily to her; far too easily for Heather’s liking. She wished she could just forget about everything that happened and pretend her father had just died of something natural, like a heart attack. But that was mere wishful thinking and she knew it. She would carry the scars of this ordeal for as long as she lived.

Tonight her thoughts were focused on one of the more unusual parts of her journey. She had seen and done many weird things during her time in Silent Hill, but there was one aspect of the story that stood out for its unusual, and ultimately pointless, nature. A series of journals scattered throughout Brookhaven Hospital, displaying something that varied wildly from all the other memos she found. And it was the author of those diaries that captivated Heather’s mind at the moment.

Stanley Coleman.

The name chilled and excited Heather’s curiosity. Who was he? And why was he so different from the other people she had met in that accursed town? She had expected that all cultists in the Order would be the same. They seemed too concerned with “Paradise” and all that bullshit to worry about things like love and happiness. Yet Stanley was just the opposite. He didn’t care about God or Paradise, he only wanted to be with Heather for all eternity.

She remembered the doll she found in the hospital. She’d thought the doll was cute while she believed it was a kid’s, until she realized it was made by a man, not a child. And then she read the journals. One after the other, left in places that seemed to indicate someone was following her around. The writings were exquisitely crafted, penned by a madman, showing an extreme devotion to someone this man had never met in person. At the time, Heather had found it creepy that there was some psycho out there who knew that much about her, and was obsessed with having her, all to himself.

But was he a common psycho? Or was he someone the Order had locked away because they feared his obsession with this woman? Unlike with Leonard, there was no record of Stanley having committed a criminal offense. If he was in fact someone the Order locked away unfairly, there was a chance he could be a distinctly different person from them. He could have been normal in nearly every other way, save for his obsession with Heather.

There were other questions to be asked. How did her know her name? And was it Heather he really loved?

Or was it Alessa?

With the ebony hair and flawless skin, it was obvious to Heather who the doll was supposed to be. That didn’t make the mystery any less baffling. She supposed he could have been an old friend of Alessa’s, but she didn’t remember Alessa ever meeting him before. Weird.

Once again, she recalled how unsettled she had been

Nowadays, she wasn’t bothered by it as much. She was more curious than anything else. The question remained: Why had she found the journals? She had been disturbed by the writings in the diary and had prepared herself to confront him, yet they had never met face to face. By the time she caught up with him, the doll was broken and Stanley was a corpse in the hellish crematorium of the Otherworld. And so an encounter between the two had never materialized, leaving Heather to wonder why the town had carried out this game in the first place. What was the point? Was it so that she realized she was loved by someone other than her father, and thus gained encouragement to keep going with her journey? Or was it so that she saw first-hand how her mere existence brought pain and tragedy to others, even when she was hundreds of miles away?

She preferred to think it was the former. Heather wondered about that frequently…what it would be like to have someone to love her; to hold her and comfort her on her bad days, and make love to her with genuine affection. It was mushy and romanticized, but even tough girls needed a little love now and then. And from what she discerned, Stanley did seem to love her. It was a twisted love, but it was love nonetheless. That was more than she’d received from her own former friend.

And so Heather found herself wondering what it’d be like if she’d met him…what might have happened had she accepted his charms instead of rejecting them. If she’d allowed him to show her in physical form just how much he loved her…

Not that she’d ever give herself over to a complete stranger, mind you. But there was no harm in wondering. Amidst a town full of pain and torment, of insane cultists and ghastly demons, Stanley was the only one who didn’t bode her ill will. Quite the contrary, he wanted her more than anything in the world. Her urgent mission notwithstanding, it would have been nice to feel something like that, with all the pain the Order’s “God” had unleashed on her.

Heather curled on her side and allowed herself to drift off. She had done enough contemplating for the night. She settled peacefully into the well needed sleep, having no idea that she would soon learn the answers to all those questions plaguing her.