Post by Cheryl Mason on Feb 18, 2022 16:29:55 GMT -6
Heather hated familiarity.
Rather, she and her father moved and changed so often, that she never knew what it felt like to become familiar with her surroundings. Even with her father, they were always changing names and appearances, their real names becoming something that was only whispered between themselves when her father deemed it safe.
Even after everything that happened with Claudia and the cult, Heather was having trouble adjusting to familiarity. It was frustrating how something so simple like the Starbucks barista asking for her name could make her flounder.
"Heath... no, sorry, Cheryl. My name. It's Cheryl." She knows that the overworked barista isn't actually giving her a suspicious look, but she can't help but feel like the barista somehow knows her, knows her history, and knows what she did. The barista simply tells her the total and sends her off with an overpriced latte.
She can't come back to this store, they'll remember her face, her name. Someone will notice her unbleached hair, overhear her name, and Claudia will surely come and-
Cheryl takes a deep breath, mentally counting to ten slowly.
"Claudia..." the name leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, though she pretends it's from the coffee, "Claudia is dead. She can't hurt you anymore... She can't hurt us anymore... Alessa is at peace, I can finally live a peaceful life..." she assures herself, hand slowly reaching and wrapping around the pendant around her neck to ground herself. The pendant is empty of its original contents, but after going back to the last home she stayed at with her father, she managed to find a small photo of him to put inside. He'd always be with her, like he promised.
She missed her dad so much.
Cheryl sniffed, pretending to be teary eyed because of dust in her eye, and took a swig of her coffee. "Bleh... How did he ever drink this?" she muttered, moving to the counter to add a small mountain of sugar into her cup.
Her phone rang, notifying her of a new message. She peaked at the screen and groaned. "Right... I have a shift at the call center tonight," she sighed, pocketing the phone, "...I shoulda taken Douglas' offer. Oh well." Cheryl finished her drink, tossing it into the overflowing trash can before heading back home to prepare for the night.
...
Cheryl gasps, eyes darting open, taking in the unfamiliar woods that she had called her to. She should have known that she'd never be free of Silent Hill. She would grow familiar to the dull amber glow of a campfire, the pain of rusted hooks piercing her shoulder yet leaving no scars, and of an Entity far less forgiving that the ones she faced in Silent Hill.
Yup. She really hated familiarity.