Aftermath: A Series of Events

Author's Note: This are a series of stories set after Silent Hill 3, revolving around Heather and Douglas. I really wanted to try and give them more of a Post-story history, since I really like them as characters and felt that their story together was unfinished. All are really just a bunch a drabbles that come to me, like bigger stories that never get past the prologue. Some are just little things that let me flesh them out. I hope you enjoy these as much as I like writing them.

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"Resurrection" by thehush

It was early, she knew that much. The beds they had pulled together were cold, but Douglas' coat was wrapped around her like a dingy blanket. They had walked all night from the amusement park to the center of town, finding enough supplies in the hospital to set Douglas' leg and bandage up their cuts and scraps. It had been almost four in the morning by the time they had found clean enough beds to push together so they could sleep off the last two days.

She watched the sun rise over the lake, the fog that had hid the town, burning up like dry summer grass. The town looked shattered, devoid of anything it had been. Quaint, homely resort, family breeder, all American town – it was the shell of all these things. Everything she had ever seen on TV had been stripped away, like the meaning of a dream.

Cheryl glanced over at Douglas, his gun resting on his chest, his hand just a grab away. She had slept with hers out too, cradled by her side like a doll. But there was nothing coming after them. Alessa was content now, nestled in the back of her head, safe from her mother and the people who saw her as nothing more than the Mother of God. She was a girl again and the sun welcomed her home. The world she had created was locked up in Cheryl's mind, like the secret's the past held for the town.

Sitting up, she stretched slowly, feeling her back pop and ache. She wrapped the dingy coat around her, wishing she had worn jeans to the mall that day. Douglas barely budged as she stood, walking to the cracked and dusty window. Below she saw the carcasses of the monsters she had fought – she wondered if they would fade too.

Sliding her gun into the back of her jeans, Cheryl took her flashlight from her discarded vest and unblocked the door. The stale air in the hallway hit her in the face, causing her to choke. When she was use to it, she started for the stairs to the Lobby, heading for the Cafeteria.