Lost in Nightmares
A Silent Hill Fan-Fiction
Story is rated MATURE for disturbing content and adult situations. Please be warned that it is meant for a mature audience only.
This story centers on Heather Mason and the aftermath of the game. I got the idea for this story from Shattered Memories, of how shes been going to a doctor to try and open up about her repressed feelings. The idea of that interested me. What if she'd woken up to find that it was all just a dream? That she was actually in a mental institution, being evaluated by a doctor and having no recollection of why she's even there in the first place? What would happen if she were to convince them to let her prove to them that the place was real?
Questions, comments, and reviews are always welcome.
Was It All Just A Dream?
"I have no right, by anything I do or say, to demean a human being in his own eyes. What matters is not what I think of him; it is what he thinks of himself. To undermine a man`s self-respect is a sin."
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
An overhead lamp buzzed noisily, the solitary noise the only source coming from inside the sterile hospital room. Small in appearance, one would think that it belonged to that of a patient in an asylum. However, it did not. Or rather, those who were overseeing the room from behind the large two-sided mirror liked to think that they were providing more than just the typical care that you would see at an asylum.
Lying on the one bed that occupied the room, a young woman breathed softly as she continued to dream. As a precaution, all four of the woman's limbs were held down with secure straps to hold the body in place so that they couldn't trash about. It wasn't a necessity when it came to this particular patient, but with the recent budget cuts and layoffs, they were forced to take extra measures when it came to detaining their patients.
Standing behind the two-sided mirror, several doctors monitored the patient. Waiting for her to wake up so that they could study her actions and determine the best way to conceive an idea of her condition. They' never come across a case such as this. Delusion and paranoia were just a few of the words that had been used to describe her.
Suddenly out of nowhere, a hoarse scream explodes throughout the small room on the other side of the glass as the patient awakes to find herself in an unfamiliar location.
Trying to sit up, Heather Mason found herself unable to do so due to the thick leather strap that was secured tightly around her mid-section. Struggling against the device that held her down, curse words began flying from her mouth as she vainly tried to break free of the cuffs on both her ankles and wrists. Panic began to take its hold on her. Waking up in a mysterious room, strapped down to a bed? With all the shit that Heather had been put through in the past twenty-four hours, there was no telling where she was or what was going to happen to her.
Observing her surroundings, Heather came to the conclusion that she had woken up in what appeared to be a hospital room. Of course, the room was nothing like she had expected to see—sterile white. A window to her left let in rays of sunlight, bathing her in an orange glow. On her right was a counter, complete with cabinets and a sink to wash your hands in.
"W-Where am I?!" Her parched throat made it hard for her to speak. She then began thrashing, trying desperately to remove the cuffs from her arms and legs one last time before letting pit a huff and falling back on the bed in defeat.
Immediately, she began to try to formulate some logical explanation of what the hell was going on. The idea that she was locked up in some sort of mental hospital didn't go over so well with her, and she knew from experience that this was not a position that she wanted to be in. If she was held prisoner by the Cult (if that's who was running this place) then that could only mean that their plot for the total damnation of earth went beyond a simple birthing of their God.
Keep calm... You'll only succeed in causing further complications if you panic. What do you remember?
Recalling the memories of what had happened in the past several days, Heather began to go over everything that had transpired that night.
A blinding flash of white light as Valtiel was dying in front of her; Claudia was lying on the ground dead; her and Douglas were trying to find a way out of Silent Hill, but something somewhere along that part had gone wrong. She couldn't remember exactly what that something was; it was as if there was something in her mind, blocking her from remembering and when she tried to, the back of Heather's skull started to slowly build a throbbing headache.
And then there was the incident with her father.
Yes, she did remember finding him dead in their apartment when she'd returned home from the mall after meeting Douglas for the first time. Guilt racked her over her fathers death and having been powerless to prevent it, it made her feel so weak. His death had hit her pretty hard, vengeance burning fervently in her heart over what had happened to him. Things for her would never be the same without him. It was the one and only reason she had made the decision to brave the horrors of Silent Hill, all to avenge his death.
It had been that bitch, Claudia Wolf, who had been behind everything that was happening. The self-righteous woman had acted as if she didn't have a care in the world, especially when it came to the decision of taking another persons life, like he was nothing but a roach beneath her boot that she could crush. A psychopath with no one that could stand in her way. Heather had told herself that devious bitch pay and she had stayed to those words til the very end.
She remembered her encounter with Vincent, a man that she had begun warming up to even though he was part of the Cult. The man was more of a renegade than Claudia, believing that the teachings were misconstrued and that they needed to restructure them. It had resulted in his murder no less, the man dying as a martyr to make sure she had everything she needed.
There was even that moment she'd felt in the church when there was another presence inside her. No, she didn't mean the child she had been impregnated with. This was something much more different. Heather had felt someone else invade her mind, for the briefest of moments trying to take over her body and force the birth of the Cult's god. But she had won out, and had forced it away.
"Hello!?" Can anyone hear me? Where am I!?".
For what felt like hours, she laid in the bed, screaming her hoarse throat out to whomever might be listening. She was scared. After everything that had happened to her, Heather had through that there was nothing that could frighten her as much as that place had done.
She was dead wrong.
This granted the inquiry of exactly how long she'd been unconscious, her skin did feel a bit dirty and clammy now that she was in the state of mind to notice, and her blonde hair was quite greasy from lack of attention. If she had to guess, Heather figured that she'd been out for about a week or two, which was strange.
The room she'd woken up in was nothing like any hospital room Heather had ever seen before. Something wasn't right about the place either. It made her wonder if she was even in a hospital to begin with. The atmosphere it gave off wasn't that of a place where you could feel safe, where you knew everything would be okay. No, it felt ominous. Being in Silent Hill, she had become use to hallucinations and if this was in fact one, then it was the best one she'd seen yet. As far as room's went, she'd been expecting a little bit more.
Instead, she was strapped to a bed in a cold, sterile room that smelled to much like industrialized cleaner. The room was generic all right, it was this that confirmed her fears—she wasn't in any normal hospital.
Throughout her time in Silent Hill, Heather had gone through a hospital where she'd encountered a man named Leonard Wolf, someone who had offered to help her and then attacked her after thinking she'd been trying to play him. For several minutes, she'd thought that maybe she was in the hospital in Silent Hill, but found it to be unlikely. The room she was in was far to clean to ever be located there. Compared to the walls covered with decades of rust and old blood of that hospital, it was almost like she was in heaven.
If this was heaven, they really needed to do some remodeling. Not to mention they also needed to ditch the obvious BDSM look because this was not something that she was into. The setting was much to bland, there was no overly dramatized guy in a bathrobe with brilliant rays of golden sunlight shooting out from behind him.
Out of nowhere, a loud beeping noise filled the room, the card reader next to the door which she had previously failed to notice flashed from red to green and then the soft click of the door unlocking echoed in the quiet room. I wonder who it is? She turned her head in the direction of the door as it slowly swung open and a man in a doctor's coat walked in a moment later. His hair was gray and balding at the top, and he wore a pair of thick, oval-shaped glasses. He smiled when he looked over at Heather, then pulled out a pen and began to scribble something down on the clipboard he held in his hand.
"Ah, Ms. Mason. It's good to see that you're awake." The man said, smiling brightly.
"Who the hell are you?" Heather asked. The question was more authoritative and alarmed than what she had meant for it to be.
"My name is Dr. Kevin Allers. I'm a specialist here at Einsland Psychiatric." The man who had just introduced himself as Dr. Allers looked at her from behind his glasses, a look of nothing short of professionalism steeling his gaze and making him unreadable.
Heather could already tell that she wasn't going to like Allers. There was something about the way he carried himself that told her he wasn't a nice person, that he would do whatever it took to attain the desired results he wanted. He kind of reminded her of Claudia, nothing short of strictly doing his job and caring for nothing else that happen to revolve around it.
An impression that couldn't be replaced was left on Heather about this man. From the smugness of his demeanor, to the way he was dressed and even how his gaze seemed to linger on parts of her that it shouldn't. It made her skin crawl. He wasn't someone who should have been in this kind of practice, there was a darkness about him that felt more animalistic than some of the monsters she'd faced in Silent Hill.
"And why exactly am I at a psychiatric hospital?" She asked.
"Ms. Mason," He said her name with a smirk perking up at the corner of his mouth, as if she was the butt of some joke. "Do you really expect me to believe that you don't know why you're here? After the previous conversations we have had, I'd of thought you would have figured that out by now."
"Our... previous conversations?" She questioned. She had no idea what the hell the man was talking about, she'd never even met him until just now. "But, I don't even know you and I don't know why I'm here, either."
Dr. Allers let out a sign, shaking his head as he scribbled something down on his clipboard.
Heather just stared at him, wondering what it was that he was writing down. All those hospital drama's she'd watched in the last four years, she knew that it couldn't be good. The guy probably thought she was some nut job, and was trying to get his fifteen minutes of fame by trying to uncover whatever it was she had supposedly done.
"I suppose Dr. Kaufmann will have to come in and talk with you this time, since it's clear you do not wish to cooperate.
Heather had no idea who that was, but figured that it must be another doctor. She didn't know why another doctor needed to be called into the room, it wasn't as if having another brought in was going to change anything. Nothing was making any sense! She needed to get out! Out, out, out, out! But the damn straps were holding her down, making her efforts to get free futile.
The door to the room opened once more and another man walked into the room. He was dressed much more casual than Allers, his hair cut short and a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he noticed that she was looking at him. There was something about him that seemed familiar. As if Heather had met him before. Where exactly, she had no idea.
"It's good to see that you're awake, Heather. I'll take over from here, if you don't mind, Kevin."
"No, not at all." Allers said sarcastically before standing up and leaving the room.
After Allers had left the room, the new doctor that had taken his place in the chair licked his lips in what she noticed to be a habitual manner before the soft clicking of his pen could be heard as he began to write down his own observational notes. He didn't bother looking up at her as he wrote, his attention solely on his notes and what he was preparing to talk with her about.
During this, Heather took in the man for what he was. He looked to be maybe five years older than her, his hair a thick mess of brunette curls and his naive dark eyes that were glued to the clipboard. His attire was much like Allers, all business. It confused her how someone so young could actually boss around a guy like Allers, this guy had to be a protégé or something.
"And you are?"
"My name is Michael Kaufmann, I'm the chief psychology examiner here at Einsland Psyche. You may call me Michael though, if you would like too." Before continuing, he glanced over at the window and then back to her. "So, Heather. I heard you say you don't remember why you're here."
"Yeah. There isn't much I remember, but I do know where I was right before waking up just now."
"I see." Michael nodded, writing down more notes as he urged her to continue on and so she did.
A moment before she was about to start speaking, Heather began to question exactly why she would want to talk to a complete stranger in the first place. She didn't know Kaufmann from squat, for all Heather knew he could easily be with the Cult and was just trying to find out what she knew. But, if that were true wouldn't he already know what had happened? With how she felt, it was likely that quite some time had passed since then.
It would seem that for now she was going to have to play along with all of this, to outsmart the trickster.
It was going to be tough, but Heather was confident that she could pull it off.
She decided to start with telling him of how she'd been running through the theme park with Douglas, killing Valtiel, Claudia swallowing the fetus of the Cult's so-called god that she herself had puked up and then waking up here. He seemed to be genuinely interested in what she was telling him, writing everything down as she spoke. It was a relief to know that at least someone in this place didn't think she was completely crazy, that he didn't think she was living in a fantasy world she had made up.
Then again, it never occurred to her that Michael Kaufmann could just be using this as a way to get her to talk about what had happened in Silent Hill.
She was in a psychiatric hospital after all. There was no telling what they thought she had done, for all she knew, they could be trying to get a confession out of her for the deaths of Vincent and the others. No, it couldn't be. From what she'd learned from Allers, Heather had been in the hospital for a good while now. Which would explain why she had no recollection of anything prior to the final events that had taken place in Silent Hill.
"How do I know that I can trust you?"
"That is a good question," Michael sat the clipboard down and rubbed the bridge of his nose gingerly. "You can't really, its up to you whether or not to tell me what you feel is right from wrong and from there, I put the pieces together to make a final prognosis."
He was making a good point.
She didn't really have much of a choice on what she could and could not do, with being in a hospital and all. It was obvious that she was in here because someone had brought her to this place, thinking that the people at the hospital could help her. They would keep Heather as long as they saw fit, it looked to be out of her hands.
From a young age, her father had always taught her to never trust anyone. To always be wary of the intentions of others and what they wanted from you, because it wasn't always going to be good. However, she felt that it didn't apply here. She felt that she could trust him for now, that maybe it would pay off in the end for her if she opened up about what had happened.
"So...you're here to just talk?"
"Yes, Ms. Mason." He said. "I want to help you bridge the gap that is separating what really happened from what you think happened."
"But, I know what happened!" Heather argued.
"Then by all means, tell me."
Heather cut her eyes at him.
All the trust that she'd had for the man quickly melted away, her defenses being put back up as her suspicions of Kaufmann peaked. No way in hell was she going to be talking to someone who wouldn't believe her, she was not some psychotic episode that was going to be made fun of. She would sit in this room and wither away as a mute before she'd ever let that happen.
"What's the point? You'll just think I'm crazy like I'm sure that other guy does." Heather replied, turning her head away from Michael.
While she had her head turned, Kaufmann continued to talk to her about what had transpired with her about what she thought had happened.
He told her about how the cops had found her lying in the middle of the road in the country just outside of Detroit, covered in blood and grime. They'd thought she was dead at first, but upon discovering that she was still alive, Heather had been taken to a hospital. It wasn't until a week later that they'd been able to identify her and had transferred her here to Einsland Psychiatric, where she'd been ever since.
What she gathered as Michael continued, all of this had been several months ago.
That was strange, considering she had no prior memory to any of that happening. And when she tried to remember, all Heather came across was a blank slate that made the headache she'd thought gone throb even worst than before. It was like someone or rather, something, was trying to prevent her from remembering what had happened.
A sigh escaped her as she stared out the window, not sure what to make of all of this.
"Ms. Mason, I assure you that there is no need to feel pressured about what you need to say. Our conversations have always been confidential, no one else knows about the details of our discussions, I assure you."
Heather had trouble believing him. After all, Heather's father had taught her to be wary of those she encountered, that they could be trying to get close to her for unknown reasons. Most times, she could tell when something wasn't right about someone, a strange aura that emanated from the person's body. She didn't feel a bad one coming from Michael Kaufmann. He was bright, a calm feeling that gave her a strong feeling of serenity.
"Do you think maybe I could have something to eat? I'm starving and would like to get out of these cuffs, if you don't mind."
"I can have that arranged," Michael told her as he let out a chuckle. "However, you must understand that I will have security personnel present. Can't have you trying to escape from the facility now, can we?"
"Guess not." She agree'd.
"I'll be getting us a room while Randy come in to help you out of the room. Let's try to get somewhere with this, shall we?" He placed his hand gently on top of hers, a sincere gesture. "I'd really like to help you, Heather."
The warm feeling of his hand on hers made her flush, the contact with another human reminding her of how awkward it always was. Normally, Heather would have slapped anyone for invading her personal space like that, but this time around found it very grateful. It was a much needed contact and she didn't regret that she had allowed him to do so without making a fuss.
Standing up, Dr. Kaufmann said his goodbyes and then left her alone to her thoughts in the room as she laid there waiting for this guy named Randy to come help her out of her bed.
When the time came for them to continue their conversation, Heather was going to get some answers out of Michael. Something wasn't right. Things just weren't adding up, the pieces of the puzzle were out of order and she was slowly struggling to put them back into place. It was on the tip of her tongue, but, Heather couldn't quite find the words to form it.
She found it almost comical how everything in her life always led to Silent Hill. It was like she was an ouroboros, one that was constantly being drawn back to its beginning in a state of flux that was going to intrude in her life until the day that she died. Either way, Heather knew that eventually something was going to have to be done. That she would be forced to go back to that place.
Maybe he would have answers for her.
Regardless, she was going to find out one way or the other.
She had to... for her father.