Niena Ramil (niena) wrote in sacredlovers,
Niena Ramil

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Silent Hill: Making suicide fluffy since James and Mary.

Title: Happy Birthday to You
Author: Niena
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Heather, Stanley, Alessa
Warnings: Violence, suicide, fluff, obsession, Alessa/Stanley, posession, language, AU, slight OOC
Summary: Heather walks down to the basement of Brookhaven, where she meets someone who wants to give her a present, even though its not her birthday.
Other Information: Kind of a weird story, because I based it off of a dream I had. If anyone needs me to explain some things in this, I'd be happy to help. I also do not own anything Silent Hill, Konami does.

Heather walked down the steps of Brookhaven Hospital, down to the basement. Maybe they had a key down there. Or something about Leonard. Hell, if they had some ammo down there she'd be thrilled. The blonde walked down the corridor warily, gun ready to fire.

She heard a squeaking sound, which was heavily amplified due to the general silence of Brookhaven. 'What if it's a new monster?' Heather held the trigger a little tighter with her finger, and walked quietly. The hall made a ninety degree turn at the end. She walked up against the wall until she got to the end, where she aimed her arm out from behind the wall and popped her face out from behind it just enough so that she could see what she would be shooting.

There was nothing but a toppled wheelchair lying in the hall, one broken wheel spinning in the air. It was creepy, sure, but it wasn't going to kill her. 'Really, a rogue wheelchair? What's it going to do, roll into my knees? Run into my shins unmercifully?' She laughed a little and continued to walk down the hall, gun ready.

The corridor turned again, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to go down it. Apparently, the wheelchair's owner had met a rather unpleasant end, as his blood was splattered all over the floor and into the nearby elevator. Heather cringed a little, but decided to go check anyways. Who knew, maybe they were okay. She could use a health drink and clear the problem right up. Perhaps they would have information about Leonard…

She was wrong.

He was dead.

'Should have figured,' she thought, cringing at the body. Her eyes flickered over something that made going down the hall to look at a dead body worthwhile: a submachine gun. Heather pushed the doors of the elevator a little wider, and reached in to grab it. The annoying squeaking of the wheelchair had quite suddenly stopped. She flinched at the sudden lack of noise. The blonde grabbed the gun and checked to see if it was loaded. 'Was it one of those nurse monsters who stopped it? She jogged back down the corridor and held the gun up, ready to shoot.

The wheelchair had disappeared completely. Heather took a deep breath and slowly walked down the hall once more. She saw nothing down the last end of the vaguely U-shaped hall. She got the idea for a moment that the rogue wheelchair had indeed come to life. It had lost its entertainment value, now that it was gone and unable to guarantee that she was safe.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" She walked back down the hall towards the elevator. In a storm of furious squeaks, Heather was hit in the back of the legs, falling backwards into the cold seat of a wheelchair. She emitted a short scream.

"Calm down, dearest goddess." A very calm and collected male voice said. Heather realized that this man was controlling the wheelchair, and that his hands were massaging her scalp. 'Turn around and shoot him! You've got a gun, just do it!' Yet the part of her brain that controlled her movement seemed to be covered in a liquid slosh. He had to be a monster, or at least absolutely crazy and it wasn't anyone she knew already, not that slimy Vincent or Douglas. Her brain commanded that her body execute him, but her body did not wish to comply. Maybe she didn't want to move…no, no, what was she thinking? He must have trapped her somehow, that was it.

"Go away, you insane bastard!" Heather snarled, wanting to reach up and smack the hand that was lovingly caressing her cheek.

"I'm not crazy." The voice had a hard edge to it; the man had lost his cool for a moment. But only a moment, as the voice went back to its gentle tone, "You and I are the only sane ones here."

"Sane? Like anyone here could be sane."

"They tried to make me crazy like the rest of them. But I kept sane, just for you. Aren't you proud of me? Don't you hate them for trying to do this to me? To us?

His words didn't make any sense to Heather, and she hated how he referred to them as 'us', "Who the hell are you?"

"I am your lover. I am your follower. I am a part of your fate as you are a part of mine. Without me, you are nothing. Without you, I am nothing."

Heather was disgusted. 'Part of my fate? What the hell is he talking about?', "What do you want with me?"

"I want to show my love, as it is near the holiday time that everyone gives gifts."

'What's he talking about? Christmas? There isn't even some sort of freak snow that could make him mistake it for Christmas or something like that…and it's not my birthday.'

"Whatever I give you is the same as giving it to myself. We are one. I could give you what I want and it would be the same as if I received it myself. I already know what you want, but I wish to hear it from your own sweet lips. What is it you wish to have as a gift?"

'If you ever had a chance of proving that you were sane, all hopes of that are now lost.' Heather shivered as his hands traveled down her neck and his arms were wrapped around her from behind, "What are you talking about?"

"They used to celebrate the Saint's day around now. But the Organization doesn't matter any more. Still, I can't stop myself from celebrating the holiday though. How can I? What would you like for your birthday?"

"It's not my birthday."

The man chuckled, "Oh, of course. New face, new name, new birthday. Just confirm what I already know. What would you like for a gift?"

"I want you to leave me alone!"

"I'm afraid I can't give you that. Ever." He tightened his grip around her shoulders, "a gift, not a curse like that. Isn't there something you've been wanting?"

Heather thought for a moment. Even with this weirdo's arms wrapped around her, she knew there was something that she had been wanting for a while, "I want out of this nightmare." She knew it was impossible. It was a gift that she'd have to give herself. No one could get it for her.

"You've always wanted that." The man must have stood up from his crouching position. His arms were no longer wrapped around her. 'Now run!' But the liquid slosh in her head seemed to have been drowning her mind while she wasn't paying attention. Her body didn't wish to move. He began to push the wheelchair, the bad wheel squeaking as they drove along, "Do you remember when you used to ride around these all the time? You hated it, didn't you? So you made another you. And then another. Now you're much happier, aren't you? Things would have gone perfectly this time, if not for the Organization's intervention…"

The wheelchair wobbled as he pushed it, no doubt because of the bad wheel. The man who had been dragged into the elevator was gone. Was it because of the man who was pushing her now? He still hadn't seen his face, only felt his hands. His hands were blistered horribly on the fingertip of the index finger, the thumb, the little gap between the two; it was like he had been writing obsessively and couldn't bring himself to stop.

He leaned over and pressed the 'up' button on the elevator, "Even then, you wanted out of this nightmare. Even though you made it, you wished you didn't have to use it. I didn't understand how I could help back then."

The elevator came down with a ding and the doors opened. Heather was shocked when she saw what was inside. Despite having a dead body in it no less than ten minutes ago, it was surprisingly clean. Surprisingly normal. The floor glistened white and the metal shone brightly. Heather choked back a gasp and said, "Why is it…how did it…"

He was ignoring her, apparently, lost in his memories, "But now I understand, my most sacred lover." He rolled the wheelchair in and pressed the button in the elevator which read 'R'. The elevator jerked down a bit, but then started to go up.

Maybe he really was going to take her out of this nightmare. This was the most normal things had been since she called her dad in the mall. He was the most helpful that anyone had been so far in helping her escape from this weird world. This man was nice to her, he was the only one that…no, no. 'What am I thinking? Douglas has helped me, and he's not crazy like this guy.' A strange ripple in her head still believed in her positive assessment of him.

"We don't need the damn god the Organization wants. All I need is you. We can start over, without interference, without a hateful god, without this nightmare that holds you captive. We can make a paradise just for us." His index finger ran down the part in her hair, "I see you've been dying your hair blonde."

Heather began to relax, or maybe she just wasn't focusing right anymore. The Liquid Slosh was a warm blanket that wrapped her mind. It convinced her that this man's sweet nothings were no lie. He wasn't crazy. He was a sweet man who wanted to help her out. He was probably the only one who did, "Do you think I should let it go back to black?"

The elevator hit the top floor with a ding and a yank. The doors opened and the man rolled her out. They were apparently on the roof of the hospital.

'I remember playing on the roof back then.' The thought bubbled up from the consciousness of the Slosh, which was gently drowning her brain.

Never played on the roof of anywhere.

Nobody wanted to visit back then. But at least he never forgot me.

Who? What?


Stanley?! The stalker? The journal writer?

He's always cared.

He's crazy! Those dolls! Those journals!

Always there for me.

What are you talking about?

Always there for us.


And he'll fix this.

Heather's mind was losing itself under the currents of the Liquid. But it was telling the truth, wasn't it? Really? How? Where is he?

He'll take us away. Out of this nightmare, to a place where we'll be safe.


Out of this place. Just walk right out of it.

The girl stood up from the wheelchair.

Stanley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Doesn't the roof make you want to fly?"

"Is that how we're going to leave? Flying?" the girl asked, chuckling.

"Would you expect anything less of a grand exit for a goddess and her devout god? Something less important for holy lovers?"

She laughed again. The girl walked, stumbling like a child who had just learned to walk over to the railing around the roof. Four and a half feet tall. No one could accidentally fall, the railings being as sturdy and tall as they were. Weren't these fences before?

Stanley brushed past her. He swung one leg over the railing, then the other. She noticed he wasn't wearing shoes, only a loose pair of pajamas. He held onto the rail tightly with his blistered hand.

Turning slowly to keep his balance, he offered his other, also blistered hand, "Join me?" He smiled under a mass of windswept light brown hair.

The woman reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly as she stepped over the rail. Her other hand steadied herself with the rail as she stood on the tiny ledge. Until she was ready to "fly" that was. She looked down, unable to see the ground. All she could see was a sea of fog surrounding the building. No! I'm not doing this!

Perhaps it's the only way out.

It can't be! There's another way out, I know it!

But it would be so much easier on everyone if we just died.

That's not true.

And if we go, we can see dad again.


We should just let Stanley do as his nature commands.

You…nothing more. Heather's mind was drowning in the all too familiar Liquid.

"Are you ready, my nameless goddess?" His grip was visibly loosening on the rail.

Alessa gave a sober nod. She let go of the railing and quickly lost her balance on the tiny ledge.

Stanley made a mad grab for her other hand, not to keep her from falling but to make sure that he went with her.

He slipped.

They fell.

Through the mists they flew, like dizzy birds, like they were floating through a dream.

Alessa was sure this was too good to be anything but a sweet dream that she was lost in. She couldn't see the sky when she looked up or the ground when she looked down. The only things that didn't feel like they weren't a part of a dream were Stanley's tight grasp on her hands and the dying voice of Heather, chanting, 'You…you…you…you…'

Alessa decided to finish for her, "You were, but we will be."
Tags: fanfiction
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.