Categories > Games > Silent Hill > Red Bows and Bare Knees


by Shorttail 0 reviews

Breakdown. Shakedown. Memory. Nothing. All empty. Nobody loves me.

Category: Silent Hill - Rating: R - Genres: Horror, Romance - Characters: Alessa Gillespi, Dahlia Gillespi, Dr. Michael Kauffman, Harry Mason - Warnings: [!!!] - Published: 2006-12-06 - Updated: 2006-12-06 - 752 words

Beak. Break. Meek. Make. Sake. Fake. Lake. Water. Dry. Drier. In water. Memories. In the pond. Staring. Black water. Red water. Thoughts. And. Mind. Pot of water. Something. Yearning. Need. To do something. Something. Memory. Not remember. Want. Must. Not something. Not a thing. Someone. A person. Hate. Or fear. The enemy.

I had lost. To the woman. The woman had won. The woman had caught me. I had lost. It. I had lost it.

Is what I should do I can't do anything is what I should be doing anything I can't do I should I do anything can't do anything is anything I can't do what is what I should do I can't do anything I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't there is no light all the light has gone it has gone I can't do anything is the light gone all I can do is anything no light is there no can do anything.

I can't do it! I can't move! I can't lift myself up from the floor. I want to but I can't. I've lost. I've lost it all. No one loves me. Nobody loves me.

Someone has to save me. Anybody. I don't know anyone. There's no one. All alone. Alone in the dark. The pond is dead. No memory. I'm alone. Someone. Anyone. Tell me what to do. My. My. My. My hero.

Her hair was so soft. So nice. If only I could reach out and touch it. Feel it. Grasp it and hold her and feel her... Blushing. Warm face. Not dead. I was alive.

Darkness faded to the light. But she wasn't there. Other people were. I was awake as ever. The room was huge. With rust on the floor. I hated it already.

Him. He was there. I wanted to murder him. For hurting the girl's dad. But I couldn't. His eyes were stone cold. Not friendly. Why wouldn't he love me? He had to. He...

Warm. Another pair of eyes. Staring. Kind. Playful. It was not the girl. But the dress. It was the same. Same dress. Same blue protective wonder clothes. How did she get it? Did he give it to her?

Not the girl. I'd seen her before. Somewhere. In the dark room. The house. She was in the mirror so many years ago. She was me. And still not really. Not me. Not the girl. Why did she look so happy?

The shadow child. The one the woman had caught. Earlier. But the shadow was gone. She looked just like me. Like the old me.

She attacked. Knocked me over. Straddled me. Her hands on my throat. Squeezing. She said nothing. He did.

The girl was dead. He said it. He said I'd been a bad girl. It was my fault. All of it. The girl who had died. And now me.

The old me choked me. It hurt. He said she would come out. Couldn't stay awake. Dying.

More people appeared. The girl's dad. The woman. And... I was on the floor. Couldn't call out. They couldn't see me. I was a ghost. To them.

The old me. The light shadow. She was standing in the middle. Shining. Bright. Like in the picture in the... An angel. Or something else. She smirked at me. It was her. Her fault I couldn't get up. She was keeping me. Keeping me down. On the floor. On the hated rust.

The man was there too. He had shot me. Earlier. But he couldn't see me. Not now. No, it was more than that. He shouted. At the woman. They were enemies too? I felt a rush. Hope.

The man finished talking. Then he threw it. The bomb. A glass bottle. Red. Not like blood. A nice red. I watched it sail through the air. Heavy and stupid air. The red glass tore it apart.

Crash. The woman cried. The old me who was shining cried too. A red fluid was all over her dress. Stained it. I smiled. Suddenly.

Back to the fight. The old me who was choking me. I pushed her off. She couldn't anymore. Had lost her strength. I pushed her harder. Got up. Triumphed. He was still there.

He had changed. I felt weak again. The old me too. I fell. The rusty floor was hard. He smiled. Walked right past us. Shed his skin. He wasn't a friend. An enemy. With wings. I'd been helping a...
Sign up to rate and review this story