Re: Silent Hill: Wren/Evie/Luke/Jack
[It was all okay.
Wren viewed the arrivals with silence, grey eyes wide and she almost told Luke not to hurt the boy with the flames licking at his belly. But it was too late by the time her mouth managed to form an o of near sound, and she just pressed her lips back together. It was done, and she didn't look, and she didn't say. The man in the corner, tucked back behind the waterfall of dresses and smelling of iron - no, silver - said nothing. He'd been there for days, bleeding from the gaping maw in his chest and with fingers that grabbed and scratched at the skin of Wren's back and belly, but shhhhh because of Evie, and Wren didn't say a thing.
Quiet, quiet, shhhhh, and she went when Luke tugged on her fingers. Out into the carnage, and she tiptoed around the pools of blood and gristle. She sidestepped an eyeball, and her shoes stayed pristine; that was important, not a drop of red, and there was a bone that she carefully avoided before stepping fully into the world beyond the sanctuary of her closet.
She didn't like it, the big wide open, but it would be okay.
Her fingers were wound, wound tight against Luke's, but she was wide eyes that didn't mind looking at anything. Though what she saw was anyone's guess. Non, not true, but how her brain turned it around into fantasy instead of terror was a mystery and, shhhhh, it was okay. She knew the things she saw were hers. The little girl crying in the corner with no mouth. The nurse writhing on the couch beneath a man with no limbs, blood between her thighs. To Wren, everything smelled of sex and iron, and it felt like life and white clapboard, and maybe the ocean was outside.
It was home. A long, long time ago home.
Jack said something about keys, and she pulled two out of her pocket and held them out, as if he'd requested them. She thought they were pretty, ornate and metal and with twirling ends like fairy tales. Her palm was open, clean and unmarred with red, just like the rest of her, and she looked out of place amid the red, red, red of the others. The dress she wore was white and long, some old moth-eaten thing found in the closet when her tunic was torn, and it made her think of princesses in towers like this one.
Everything would be okay.
She smiled, insanity in her eyes, and she leaned against Luke's shoulder; she would find a new pretty dress if he got her bloody. She kissed his cheek.]