Play@YSDC

"Wow, you must have lived here a long time!" Lily walks up next to Rochelle, thinking there's no way she could seem more hostile than her brother. Even if she was the one with the tire iron. "So you must know about all the great places to go, right? Have you been to the lighthouse? I saw it on the way here, it was really pretty even with the fog. Is it always foggy here? How does anyone drive?"

Now that things are calmer, questions are going off in her mind like fireworks. Finally, there's someone new to talk to!

"Well, I was actually born here. And I went to school here. And then I couldn't stand it anymore..." her voice trails off, the smell of dead rabbit still seeming to cling to her clothes, her hair, her skin, after all these years... "Anyways, I went to the big city. New York. Worked in a bar and saved to buy my own. It was great, then 9/11 hit and everything changed. And I realized that small towns have their good sides. I sold up and moved back here. Old Annie was looking to sell her bar, I bought it and kept the name." She smiles. "Silent Hill is a nice place. But I was too young and, well, you know, family can be hard. But my folks are dead now, so no more problems in that department. But the fog is actually unusual. It does get foggy every now and again, of course, but not like this."
"What made you come out here? Vacation?"

Charlie looks lost in thought for a long few moments, then he gives her a harsh and toothy grin. "Hostile? Me? Ha! I'm a sweet-faced kitten when I'm handled right." That phrase seems loaded with meaning, but there's no sexual innuendo there, which is strange.

There's no answer at the door though somewhere, in the fenced off back yard, a dog starts barking.

"I know what you mean about family," Lily mutters. She glances briefly at Charles, but her next words aren't exactly about him. "My parents kicked me out of the house for dropping out of school. My brother's taken care of me ever since. I'm... I know I'm lucky."

Shuffling her feet on the porch, she looks at Rochelle, then shrugs. "But I bet you don't care about that, right? Everybody's got a sad story about a bad childhood."

Her face lights up when Rochelle asks about the trip. "Twenty-first birthday celebration. I'm going to get ideas for new paintings here. I'm kind of an artist." Though her statement is modest, the grin on her face is anything but.

"21? Well, congratulations! You're of age now by everyone's standards. I can even offer you a drink in my bar when we get there." She rings the bell again and bangs on the door.
"And I do care about your story, just because everyone has some sad story to tell about their childhood doesn't mean those stories should not be told. And Ican show you some really picturesque spots for painting." She listens at the door...

She shouts "Hello??? Is there anyone there? Please, we need help, please, open the door, we need to call the police."

There's no answer and no sounds coming from within.

"Oh, fuck this," says Charlie, pushing past her and pulling open the door to reveal a simple hallway with a grey ragged carpet spread across it, mud-stamped with footprints over the years, and with a single envelope with a bloody fingerprint lying on the floor, the letters spread out across the carpet, heading around to the right to the first open door. There are two more doors to the right in the corridor, two to the left, and one at the end with a window that looks out on the back yard.

"Anyone here?" demands Charlie, as he stamps over to a small side table with an old-fashioned phone. He picks it up and starts using the dial. 9. 1. 1.

He waits.

Lily's excitement is shattered by her brother's complete lack of propriety, and the scene behind the door. Wondering if Charles will mind, she creeps into the house and picks up one of the letters.

She considers the possibility that some strange festival might be going on. Like in other cities, where people dress up as zombies or pirates. Maybe this is a mystery town.

"What the hell....?" She looks around and also picks up one of the letters.
She goes to the open door, "Hello....?" and enters the room.

Charlie pulls his head back from the phone, looks at it for a moment, then picks up the entire phone and throws it across the hall, jerking the cord out as he goes. The phone hits the wall with a crash and breaks apart. He stares at it, panting, for a long moment, then straightens his tie.

The living room is much like any other cottage with flowery couches and a rocking chair with a ball of wool with two knitting needles sticking out of it, though it's all arranged around an old-fashioned large radio rather than a television set. Display cases around the walls proudly display a variety of plates. There's some sort of yellow tape visible on the other side of the glass window, dimly made out in the gap between the curtains.

Lily jumps at the sound, arms thrown in front of her face. She stares at Charles, panting as he does even though she hasn't exerted herself. Then, slowly, her hands clench and her mouth curves with disapproval.

"Charles, you can't go around barging into people's houses and breaking their telephones!" She walks right up and jabs him in the chest with a finger. "For all you know, somebody really is home, and congratulations! They think we're burglars now!"

Lily pauses.

"At least they can't call the police on us. Because you broke the phone."

For a moment, to any outsider, it looks like the threat of violence is imminent. There are no uncertain terms of what is about to happen, that she is about to get smashed across the room, though, of course, being his sister Lily knows better than this. Then Charlies bursts into laughter, big, rolling laughs. "Sis, you really know how to break the tension." He pats her on the shoulder, then brings her in close for a brief hug, before heading into the living room after Rochelle.

Rochelle picks up the knitting needles, turns on the radio, walks to the window and peers out.
"Whatever did the police say to you that made you smash the phone?" She asks, still looking out the window. "Oh boy is that guy disturbed." she thinks to herself. She's seen worse in 18 years of tending bar, but she knows a bully when she sees one.

Lily just stands there for a few seconds, staring after Charles with an expression of utter bemusement. She's annoyed, because he never takes her seriously; she's confused, because she doesn't know if she really wanted to be serious; and she's relieved, because that was a stupid thing to do.

He could have hurt her if he'd taken her seriously. It's not hard to feel the pain of imaginary bruises under her dress. No, she didn't mean it. It was just a joke to break the tension, like he said.

She takes a moment to pick up the rest of the letters, then follows him.

"There weren't cops on the line," says Charlie, as if it's the most obvious thing. "We'll have to walk it."

Rochelle turns around and faces Charlie: "Run that by me again: You dialled 9-1-1 and the phone was picked up by someone who were not the police???? I have dialled 911 in this town on more than one occasion, it was always answered by the police. So, you either dialled wrongly, or you're lying. Which is it?" Rochelle has had it with the boy.

Charlie swings his weapon back and forth thoughtfully. "Maybe I'm lying, maybe I'm not, but I didn't dial wrongly and if you think that then you're either stupid or hopelessly naieve. Which is it?" He snickers. "But then, you can always go next door and try to make the same phone call. I'd be interested to see what happens to you...."

Lily shakes her head, not wanting another potentially violent argument. "Does it really matter? Whoever Charles called, it didn't get us anywhere - and if we went next door, he'd probably just throw the phone again."

"It'll be faster if we just go. So let's just go." She points at her wrist, as if there would be a watch there, and taps her foot loudly.

"Does it really matter? Hmmm. Let's see: I don't know you or your brother, but I do know that lil bro has a violent temper, a tyre iron and is always just an inch away from knocking the living daylights out of you, Lilly. So, yes, it does matter."
She turns to Charlie "You think you are soooo intimidating, but, you know what? I had breakfast for 18 years with someone who was really scary, so, your childish behaviour does not really work on me. If you don't want to tell me who answered the phone, fine, but payback's a bitch." Thoughts of screaming, things breaking and tears flood through her mind, and then the memory of the moment she hit back. Her breathing slows. She draws herself up to her full height, and walks past the siblings, out of the house. Leaving the house, she does not look back nor wait for the pair. She walks up the road towards the town centre of Silent Hill, in the direction of the police station.

Charles just stares after her, frowning. "She's not all there, is she? Why would I destroy my way outta here?" He shakes his head, utterly mystified. "Look, sis, let's just follow her a short distance behind her. They'll go for her first."

"I don't know." Lily takes her eyes off Rochelle to look at the tire iron in Charles's hand. She's wrong, of course. Charles would never hurt her.

Never.

"I do think we should follow her, but..." She looks up at him, furrowing her brow. "Who are 'they?' There's somebody dangerous out there, isn't there?"