Disclaimer I do not own any of these characters, i just wrote about them because they are awesome, so yeah, not mine, Konami's.

The 21 Sacraments

Henry Townshend, a five foot six man with short brown hair that was coated with grease, rushed into the operating room of the St. Mary's Hospital. He breathed hard as he slammed the door shut and locked it behind him. His piercing green eyes then darted down to his wound. It was bad, his once white button up shirt was stained from the waist down in blood. His side was gashed and a little bit of his rib and muscle could be seen from the wound. The tops of his blue jeans were stained with blood as well, the bottoms dirtied with mud, ash and dust. His once black shoes were a grey brown color that made them seem dull, like the rest of this place.

He looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. white walls were now tainted with blood and filth small specks of the previous white paint job still seeable through the grime. The cabinets were covered in dust and on some of them, the doors dangled from crumbling hinges, as if holding on for dear life. The white floor tiles were broken and had dried blood staining every crack that riddled them. Windows were Shattered and the operating table itself was covered in a blue surgical sheet that was ripped to shreds and was as dirty as the walls themselves.

The tools used for operating, mainly scalpels, scissors and other surgical appliances, were laying on the floor. The metallic tray that held them lay on the floor in ruins as well. IV bags and the needles that went with that were scattered everywhere as if someone had gotten mad and thrown them about. Henry groaned as his eye sight became unclear, as if he was in a fog. His hands, he noticed, were cold and slowly getting clammy. They were coated in his own blood from holding his still bleeding wound. He stumbled over to the operating table, willing his legs to stop feeling like gelatin and get him across the room without falling. He fell down on the operating table and winced as blood gushed from his side. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to live with a wound like this.

His eyes went hazy as he heard footsteps coming towards the door; his head seemed to turn on its own forcing him to look. It was a young man. Ash-Brown hair hung loosely in his face, slightly covering bright emerald eyes that seemed like they were piercing Henry's very soul. A 5' o clock shadow mustache, complimented the man's high cheek bones and very well rounded chin. He wore a blue zip up jacket and dirty blue jeans that were stained with blood and nothing else.

"Hello Henry" the man rasped. The man's eyelid dropped slightly as he said this, and Henry was tempted to laugh. But his terror kept him from making a sound. This man was not one he wanted to laugh at. This man was Walter Sullivan, a psychopath that was trying to kill him.

Walter sauntered over to Henry and leaned down over him, Henry willed himself to move, but to no prevail. Walter opened his slit of a mouth to speak again, his breath smelled sour, pungent, like death. His voice was cold and made Henry sick to his stomach.

"Well Henry, it seems that I finally have you right where I want you" Walter rasped as he pulled a stainless steel dagger that was covered in blood out of a pocket. Even the hilt was coated with the crimson liquid. Henry tried desperately to move, but his body still refused to respond. Walter plunged the dagger into Henry's right ankle, twisting and turning, carving out chunks of his flesh and muscle, until at last he carved out 01/21 on his ankle.

He picked up the dagger and licked it clean, slicing his tongue open on the sharp blade. With an insane smile he went on to the other ankle, this time he carved the numbers 02/21.

Henry screamed in pain as blood mixed with chunks of flesh and muscle fell to the floor with every carving of numbers Walter did.

Walter carved the numbers 1 through 10 on Henry's legs placing each one in a specific spot, so they reached Henry's thigh. With a flick of the blade walter changed directions, and carved the numbers 10 through 21 across and up the delicate skin on Henry's hips, pelvic area and up his chest.

Henry continued to scream. Blood seeped from the wounds, pooling around his attacker, creating a sort of ring of crimson about him. He
nry was quickly loosing consciousness, but every time he tried to slip in to the blissful nonexistence Walter's blade brought him crashing back. At last Walter got up to his neck carving 20/21 on it. The blade pierced Henry's voice box making it swell with blood. The splurting flow stole his ability to scream, even if someone could have heard him before, Henry was doomed now.

Henry's eyes focused on the insane man as he carved the last numbers, 21/21, on Henry's forehead. With the final number set carved, Walter stuck the point of the blade into Henry's flesh, right above his heart. With a grunt and a quick downwards thrust, He rammed the dagger in and quickly began cutting out a circle, being careful to cut all the main veins and arteries, but not the heart itself.

After making the quick circle all the way around, he plunged his hand into the still warm, damp flesh that was once Henry's. Walter smiled down at Henry's mauled, and dripping corpse before speaking again.

"Oh...how sweet, it was still beating..."

Walter ripped his hand out of Henry's chest and brought the heart up to his lips, giving it a quick kiss before smiling and turning towards the door. He smiled happily up at nothing, "Mother, your sons coming."

With that the blood spattered man walked through the door, and left the hospital with the cadaver of Mr. Townshend still dripping blood and chunks of flesh. Henry would now be stuck forever in the never ending darkness that was called Silent Hill.