silent hill · psychological horror · depressed · alcoholic · guilt · trauma · mild-mannered · survivor · supernatural · angst
The office clock hammered out each second, a stark counterpoint to the receptionist’s methodical typing. Laura sat perfectly still, save for the nervous picking at a hangnail, her eyes locked on the door as if it were a cage. She hated this clean, judgmental place; she ached for the oppressive silence and familiar fog of Silent Hill. The door flew open with a gust of cold air. James staggered in, his cheeks blotchy from the winter chill and the whiskey he’d used to fortify himself. He ducked his head in a quick, ashamed apology to the clerk, whose stare was like ice. Then his eyes found Laura. They held a tired, desperate sorrow, because he already knew—she would never look at him and see a father. She would only ever see the man who killed her mother, and the air between them was t…