Imperfection
folder
+S through Z › Silent Hill
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,386
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S through Z › Silent Hill
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,386
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Silent Hill, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Imperfection
Imperfection
James hung his head, breath slipping out from between his lips. Room 312. Mary. Past, present, reality, death and life. He didn’t know what the fuck to believe anymore. He had seen it on the tape, he holding the pillow, killing Mary…his love, his wife. If it was true, if she were dead then it had all been in vain and James…
“Shit.” He mumbled, hands fisting in his wheat coloured hair. He hadn’t been able to save anyone, not Mary, not Angela, not himself, not even fucking Eddie Dombrowski. Only Laura would leave Silent Hill untainted but then again, she’d never needed saving in the first place. At his belt, James’ radio crackled to life. The man’s reaction was immediate. He hopped up, hunting rifle in hand, back to the T.V. set but his well practised effort was highly unnecessary. Static heavy words
“James…”
pervaded the silence of the tiny
“Where are you?”
room of 312
“I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you.”
but the voice, to James was unmistakeable. Mary. She had spoken to him before, he was sure and she had been guiding him this entire time. She wanted to see him, she wanted someone to be saved from Silent Hill, she wanted…James shook his head again, eyes falling upon the VCR. According to that, Mary was dead, according to the radio, she was not, he remembered her dead in his mind and yet the letter in his pocket said otherwise. And James was as lost as he had been when he pulled into the visitors centre at Toluca Lake. He didn’t know what to believe but he knew what to do. She, or it was waiting and James knew that was where his answers would lie. He dropped his flashlight and flicked the switch of the radio off.
James stood slowly, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes weighing down upon him. A thousand lifetimes and a thousand curses and a thousand, thousand horrors. He looked across the small room, catching his own reflection in a vanity mirror. It felt as though it had been lifetimes since he had last appraised his own reflection so. Physically he had not changed so much but his eyes had taken on a haunted look, a look he recognised from the depths of Angela’s eyes. He took a careful step toward the mirror, reaching out to brace his hand against the table below it. A wary finger tapped on the glass. It was odd, for a second his reflection had almost looked like that thing. Running his finger over the heavily dusted mirror, James traced the shape of a pyramid over his reflection.
He laughed at himself almost immediately. A major character flaw--more of a character imperfection--his over-analysis. It went well with his need to help everyone. James looked down at his own hands with a smile and he froze. From his peripheral vision he could still see the mirror, could still see where his reflection should have been, head bowed much like his own. But it wasn’t. His reflection hadn’t moved. James looked back up quickly, mouth agape, eyes wide.
The reflection smiled.
James ran his hand over his face, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes, hoping to wipe away the vision he was seeing. His hand dropped and the reflection hadn’t changed. The radio crackled so James toggled at the switch again.
“What’s happening?” James’ voice sounded oddly meek in the foreboding air of the hotel. The reflection didn’t answer; it only shrugged. “Do you--“ James cut his sentence off abruptly. Of course his reflection didn’t know where Mary was. He was his reflection…wasn’t he? The reflection smiled his imperfect smile.
“I’m looking for…” A voice that James didn’t recognize flitted over the static in the radio.
“I’m looking for my Mama…I mean, my mot…”
“I’m looking for Mary.”
“I’m looking for my daughter. Have you seen her? Her name is…”
“James.”
“I’m looking for the woman who murdered my father.”
“Where is Alessa?”
“I’m look…”
“James…”
“Mary, my wife…”
A hundred different voices flooded the radio, drowning out the sound of the static for a brief instant. James’ fingers continued to flick the switch, trying to kill the feed before the voices drove him crazy. He paused, laughed again. Drove him crazy? No, he was already crazy; his unmoving reflection was a testament to that.
“We all come here looking for something, don’t we?” He asked his reflection. “But I guess none of us ever find them…it…” The reflection again shrugged. “Do you know where Mary is?”
But if the reflection was listening it didn’t show it. Instead it had turned its focus past James, toward where the door to the room was. The door in the reflection hadn’t moved but James knew better than to trust his eyes. He had learned quickly that in Silent Hill nothing was ever as it appeared. The blonde turned expecting to see one of those awful doormen or even worse the pyramid headed creature that was stalking him all over Silent Hill but the room was empty, the door shut fast.
He turned back to the mirror and jumped. His reflection was no longer alone in its prison of glass but had been joined by the spectre of the Pyramid Head. James locked eyes with himself, who seemed unaware of the creature, of the doom that lurked just behind him. He hit the glass, hoping to jolt his reflection of the reverie it had fallen into. His effort was in vain. James looked away; partly to check behind himself, partly to block out the sight of his reflection’s inevitable demise. After a moment of silence, James glanced back up at the mirror.
“It’s you.” Reflection James said, his voice the same as James’ but hollow, far off. James couldn’t tell if the reflection was speaking to him or to the Pyramid Head who had not moved from the mirror doorway. The great knife the creature carried fell to the ground with a dull thump. James checked behind him again, uneasy with the difference between the reflection and reality. For a moment, James considered the possibility of the reflection being reality but that thought only served to hurt his head.
For the first time, from the safety of the other side of the mirror, James was able to truly look at the Pyramid Creature. He had seen it before of course, in the apartments when it had torn those mannequin things apart while fucking them and outside the hospital when he and Maria had been running…Maria, yet another Silent Hill anomaly that didn’t fit in James’ head. He pushed the stray thoughts away and focused back on his reflection and the reflection of that which he feared the most in the haunted town of Silent Hill.
His reflection was speaking again. “I knew you would come.” His reflection laughed hollowly. “In this place only you are…” He trailed off, turning away from James to face the monster. The creature in the mirror was stalking forward. As it moved, the thick, graceful stomach muscles rippled. Even covered in blood they were the epitome of perfection. The helmet caught the dim light of the reflected room, gleamed dully. Reflection James didn’t appear bothered by the fact that the creature was walking toward him, bloodstained apron swaying with every step, even though James--safe on his side of the mirror--was having a private heart attack.
The creature was there to bring deliverance. It was there to bring retribution.
“Killin’ a person ain’t no big deal. Just put the gun to their head…” James jumped as his radio came to life again, bringing with it Eddie’s voice. Eddie…he had killed Eddie for what he had done to that man and his dog. Just like Pyramid Head was going to kill him. The thought resonated oddly in James’ mind. He was like Pyramid Head in so many ways, in ways that fit so perfect it made the entire thought impossible. He couldn’t be Pyramid Head, Maria had seen the monster so had James. It wasn’t possible…
In the mirror, Pyramid Head had reached Reflection James and, although much of the creature was blocked by the blonde’s head, he could see the gloved hands on Reflection James’ shoulders. James closed his eyes, ready to hear the hollow snap of his reflection’s neck but no such sound came. He let his eyes slide back open. His reflection was facing him again, hair mussed by bloodied gloved hands, body bent. James could just see the white knuckles of his reflection, gripping the table in a steadfast hold.
James’ throat went dry. He knew now what the creature was doing, what was happening in the mirror. In the back of his mind all he could see was the Mannequin’s legs flailing, liquids, cum and blood and God (though after this James was not sure he believed in God) knows what else pouring from them. The way the creatures that Pyramid Head raped…the way they grunted out of their non-mouthed mouths. He couldn’t…couldn’t watch himself go through that and yet he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from the mirror.
His reflection didn’t seem at to be at all as bothered as James, his head lolled forward, eyes squinted, chest falling and rising deeply. James found himself unintentionally mimicking the stance, hands braced wide on the table, head cocked to watch the mirror. The display before him disgusted him but at the same time some part of him was intrigued, sympathetic and (dare he think it…) turned on. He licked his lips, eyes straying from those of his reflection to the unreadable helmet of the Pyramid Head. James couldn’t see a bulk of the monster from behind his reflection, but his mind could fill in the details he couldn’t see. He had seen enough of the thing, pulling itself out of the butchered Mannequin, he knew the size…the fluids streaming out of the Pyramid Head’s cock.
Unconsciously, James’ hand moved from the table to rub himself through his jeans. It wasn’t until he had popped the button and pulled down the zip that James realised what he’d been doing. With a blush, he removed his hand. There was a slight cry from the mirror, his reflection arching up as the Pyramid Head made its (his, it, whatever gender the fucking monster was) entrance. From his angle, he could see the pasty white thigh of the creature, braced below its hand on Reflection James’ hip. Beneath the table, James’ hand had continued about its ministrations. The monster tipped forward and more pain crossed Reflection James’ face, blonde eyebrows scrunching together in distress. A few more strokes and suddenly that pain seemed to get erased from the reflection’s face.
James choked down a small cry, hand speeding up to keep time with the monster in the mirror. He bit his lip, eyes tearing with the need to blink. He didn’t want to look away…no that wasn’t quite right. He wanted to look away (he did didn’t he?) but he couldn’t seem to make himself, but that wasn’t it either. He sort of liked it--sort of, bullshit he loved it--but then again, his reflection was enjoying the treatment it seemed and he was his reflection, wasn’t he? The thoughts were wiped away as James’ other hand reached down to help finish himself off. It didn’t take long. The speed was too much, the pleasure--the sickness of watching himself raped by a monster with no face--the sordidness of the whole affair. James came hard into his hand, crying out but attempting to muffle the noise with his lip. In the mirror, the monster too had reached climax, the perfect muscles of its stomach clenching as it released.
James’ eyes fluttered shut for an instant, hair falling into his eyes, sticking to his sweat slicked brow. When he looked back up, his reflection had returned to normal, just James standing alone, clothes on, face flushed. James took a step away from the mirror, wincing at an unknown soreness that ricocheted through his body. His mirror image mimicked him well. James wiped his hand off on the back of the chair near the T.V., as did his reflection.
“Waiting for you…” James looked down at his radio, the power light glowed up at him dimly. He turned the volume up. “James.”
“Mary.” He breathed, scooping to pick up the hunting rifle from where he had dropped it. That was right, he was here to find Mary, not play foolish games with mirrors and monsters. With that thought in mind he headed for the door of room 312. Another fatal character imperfection, his ability to forget anything--be it Maria skewered as they ran for the elevator, or holding the pillow over his wife’s face until she died or watching himself get fucked by a monster that could only be called himself--a character flaw that could only lead back to the same routine over and over again.
FIN
[A/N]: I was (still am) a bit nervous about posting this...I'm not positive that it meets my usual bar but whatever. Hope everyone enjoyed it. R&R if you so desire.
James hung his head, breath slipping out from between his lips. Room 312. Mary. Past, present, reality, death and life. He didn’t know what the fuck to believe anymore. He had seen it on the tape, he holding the pillow, killing Mary…his love, his wife. If it was true, if she were dead then it had all been in vain and James…
“Shit.” He mumbled, hands fisting in his wheat coloured hair. He hadn’t been able to save anyone, not Mary, not Angela, not himself, not even fucking Eddie Dombrowski. Only Laura would leave Silent Hill untainted but then again, she’d never needed saving in the first place. At his belt, James’ radio crackled to life. The man’s reaction was immediate. He hopped up, hunting rifle in hand, back to the T.V. set but his well practised effort was highly unnecessary. Static heavy words
“James…”
pervaded the silence of the tiny
“Where are you?”
room of 312
“I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you.”
but the voice, to James was unmistakeable. Mary. She had spoken to him before, he was sure and she had been guiding him this entire time. She wanted to see him, she wanted someone to be saved from Silent Hill, she wanted…James shook his head again, eyes falling upon the VCR. According to that, Mary was dead, according to the radio, she was not, he remembered her dead in his mind and yet the letter in his pocket said otherwise. And James was as lost as he had been when he pulled into the visitors centre at Toluca Lake. He didn’t know what to believe but he knew what to do. She, or it was waiting and James knew that was where his answers would lie. He dropped his flashlight and flicked the switch of the radio off.
James stood slowly, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes weighing down upon him. A thousand lifetimes and a thousand curses and a thousand, thousand horrors. He looked across the small room, catching his own reflection in a vanity mirror. It felt as though it had been lifetimes since he had last appraised his own reflection so. Physically he had not changed so much but his eyes had taken on a haunted look, a look he recognised from the depths of Angela’s eyes. He took a careful step toward the mirror, reaching out to brace his hand against the table below it. A wary finger tapped on the glass. It was odd, for a second his reflection had almost looked like that thing. Running his finger over the heavily dusted mirror, James traced the shape of a pyramid over his reflection.
He laughed at himself almost immediately. A major character flaw--more of a character imperfection--his over-analysis. It went well with his need to help everyone. James looked down at his own hands with a smile and he froze. From his peripheral vision he could still see the mirror, could still see where his reflection should have been, head bowed much like his own. But it wasn’t. His reflection hadn’t moved. James looked back up quickly, mouth agape, eyes wide.
The reflection smiled.
James ran his hand over his face, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes, hoping to wipe away the vision he was seeing. His hand dropped and the reflection hadn’t changed. The radio crackled so James toggled at the switch again.
“What’s happening?” James’ voice sounded oddly meek in the foreboding air of the hotel. The reflection didn’t answer; it only shrugged. “Do you--“ James cut his sentence off abruptly. Of course his reflection didn’t know where Mary was. He was his reflection…wasn’t he? The reflection smiled his imperfect smile.
“I’m looking for…” A voice that James didn’t recognize flitted over the static in the radio.
“I’m looking for my Mama…I mean, my mot…”
“I’m looking for Mary.”
“I’m looking for my daughter. Have you seen her? Her name is…”
“James.”
“I’m looking for the woman who murdered my father.”
“Where is Alessa?”
“I’m look…”
“James…”
“Mary, my wife…”
A hundred different voices flooded the radio, drowning out the sound of the static for a brief instant. James’ fingers continued to flick the switch, trying to kill the feed before the voices drove him crazy. He paused, laughed again. Drove him crazy? No, he was already crazy; his unmoving reflection was a testament to that.
“We all come here looking for something, don’t we?” He asked his reflection. “But I guess none of us ever find them…it…” The reflection again shrugged. “Do you know where Mary is?”
But if the reflection was listening it didn’t show it. Instead it had turned its focus past James, toward where the door to the room was. The door in the reflection hadn’t moved but James knew better than to trust his eyes. He had learned quickly that in Silent Hill nothing was ever as it appeared. The blonde turned expecting to see one of those awful doormen or even worse the pyramid headed creature that was stalking him all over Silent Hill but the room was empty, the door shut fast.
He turned back to the mirror and jumped. His reflection was no longer alone in its prison of glass but had been joined by the spectre of the Pyramid Head. James locked eyes with himself, who seemed unaware of the creature, of the doom that lurked just behind him. He hit the glass, hoping to jolt his reflection of the reverie it had fallen into. His effort was in vain. James looked away; partly to check behind himself, partly to block out the sight of his reflection’s inevitable demise. After a moment of silence, James glanced back up at the mirror.
“It’s you.” Reflection James said, his voice the same as James’ but hollow, far off. James couldn’t tell if the reflection was speaking to him or to the Pyramid Head who had not moved from the mirror doorway. The great knife the creature carried fell to the ground with a dull thump. James checked behind him again, uneasy with the difference between the reflection and reality. For a moment, James considered the possibility of the reflection being reality but that thought only served to hurt his head.
For the first time, from the safety of the other side of the mirror, James was able to truly look at the Pyramid Creature. He had seen it before of course, in the apartments when it had torn those mannequin things apart while fucking them and outside the hospital when he and Maria had been running…Maria, yet another Silent Hill anomaly that didn’t fit in James’ head. He pushed the stray thoughts away and focused back on his reflection and the reflection of that which he feared the most in the haunted town of Silent Hill.
His reflection was speaking again. “I knew you would come.” His reflection laughed hollowly. “In this place only you are…” He trailed off, turning away from James to face the monster. The creature in the mirror was stalking forward. As it moved, the thick, graceful stomach muscles rippled. Even covered in blood they were the epitome of perfection. The helmet caught the dim light of the reflected room, gleamed dully. Reflection James didn’t appear bothered by the fact that the creature was walking toward him, bloodstained apron swaying with every step, even though James--safe on his side of the mirror--was having a private heart attack.
The creature was there to bring deliverance. It was there to bring retribution.
“Killin’ a person ain’t no big deal. Just put the gun to their head…” James jumped as his radio came to life again, bringing with it Eddie’s voice. Eddie…he had killed Eddie for what he had done to that man and his dog. Just like Pyramid Head was going to kill him. The thought resonated oddly in James’ mind. He was like Pyramid Head in so many ways, in ways that fit so perfect it made the entire thought impossible. He couldn’t be Pyramid Head, Maria had seen the monster so had James. It wasn’t possible…
In the mirror, Pyramid Head had reached Reflection James and, although much of the creature was blocked by the blonde’s head, he could see the gloved hands on Reflection James’ shoulders. James closed his eyes, ready to hear the hollow snap of his reflection’s neck but no such sound came. He let his eyes slide back open. His reflection was facing him again, hair mussed by bloodied gloved hands, body bent. James could just see the white knuckles of his reflection, gripping the table in a steadfast hold.
James’ throat went dry. He knew now what the creature was doing, what was happening in the mirror. In the back of his mind all he could see was the Mannequin’s legs flailing, liquids, cum and blood and God (though after this James was not sure he believed in God) knows what else pouring from them. The way the creatures that Pyramid Head raped…the way they grunted out of their non-mouthed mouths. He couldn’t…couldn’t watch himself go through that and yet he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from the mirror.
His reflection didn’t seem at to be at all as bothered as James, his head lolled forward, eyes squinted, chest falling and rising deeply. James found himself unintentionally mimicking the stance, hands braced wide on the table, head cocked to watch the mirror. The display before him disgusted him but at the same time some part of him was intrigued, sympathetic and (dare he think it…) turned on. He licked his lips, eyes straying from those of his reflection to the unreadable helmet of the Pyramid Head. James couldn’t see a bulk of the monster from behind his reflection, but his mind could fill in the details he couldn’t see. He had seen enough of the thing, pulling itself out of the butchered Mannequin, he knew the size…the fluids streaming out of the Pyramid Head’s cock.
Unconsciously, James’ hand moved from the table to rub himself through his jeans. It wasn’t until he had popped the button and pulled down the zip that James realised what he’d been doing. With a blush, he removed his hand. There was a slight cry from the mirror, his reflection arching up as the Pyramid Head made its (his, it, whatever gender the fucking monster was) entrance. From his angle, he could see the pasty white thigh of the creature, braced below its hand on Reflection James’ hip. Beneath the table, James’ hand had continued about its ministrations. The monster tipped forward and more pain crossed Reflection James’ face, blonde eyebrows scrunching together in distress. A few more strokes and suddenly that pain seemed to get erased from the reflection’s face.
James choked down a small cry, hand speeding up to keep time with the monster in the mirror. He bit his lip, eyes tearing with the need to blink. He didn’t want to look away…no that wasn’t quite right. He wanted to look away (he did didn’t he?) but he couldn’t seem to make himself, but that wasn’t it either. He sort of liked it--sort of, bullshit he loved it--but then again, his reflection was enjoying the treatment it seemed and he was his reflection, wasn’t he? The thoughts were wiped away as James’ other hand reached down to help finish himself off. It didn’t take long. The speed was too much, the pleasure--the sickness of watching himself raped by a monster with no face--the sordidness of the whole affair. James came hard into his hand, crying out but attempting to muffle the noise with his lip. In the mirror, the monster too had reached climax, the perfect muscles of its stomach clenching as it released.
James’ eyes fluttered shut for an instant, hair falling into his eyes, sticking to his sweat slicked brow. When he looked back up, his reflection had returned to normal, just James standing alone, clothes on, face flushed. James took a step away from the mirror, wincing at an unknown soreness that ricocheted through his body. His mirror image mimicked him well. James wiped his hand off on the back of the chair near the T.V., as did his reflection.
“Waiting for you…” James looked down at his radio, the power light glowed up at him dimly. He turned the volume up. “James.”
“Mary.” He breathed, scooping to pick up the hunting rifle from where he had dropped it. That was right, he was here to find Mary, not play foolish games with mirrors and monsters. With that thought in mind he headed for the door of room 312. Another fatal character imperfection, his ability to forget anything--be it Maria skewered as they ran for the elevator, or holding the pillow over his wife’s face until she died or watching himself get fucked by a monster that could only be called himself--a character flaw that could only lead back to the same routine over and over again.
FIN
[A/N]: I was (still am) a bit nervous about posting this...I'm not positive that it meets my usual bar but whatever. Hope everyone enjoyed it. R&R if you so desire.