It was over.

His ordeal in Silent Hill might've lasted for days or weeks or months — by this time he wasn't sure, as time seemed to have disappeared within the town, along with reason and sanity.

James was sure that he wasn't quite right anymore, that day after day (or week after week) of being constantly surrounded by unimaginable horrors had broken him, twisted his mind into something strange and dark. He might've been insane, and that might've explained his continued survival.

He had adapted to Hell, and therefore he lived.

But no more. It was over.

He was injured, and bleeding, and limping, and even though Pyramid Head wasn't running after him he just knew that he was going to be caught, no matter how fast he could run, because no siren was going to ring and save him again—

James limped along the ground, his bad leg dragging behind him like a dead weight that served no other purpose than to hold him back. His own blood left a long trail, and James wildly realized that even if he did, by the grace of God (not that he believed in God, not since he had come to Hell on Earth) outrun the monstrous demon behind him, the thing would still be able to find him just because of the thick line of red liquid he left in his wake.

James clawed desperately at the side of one of the various buildings that lined the street in an attempt to help himself along, though he could hear the sound of Pyramid Head's massive knife dragging along the ground almost as if it was right behind him.

He wanted nothing more than to look, to look and see if the monster was behind him, about to strike the killing blow, or take him away to torture him in some gore covered dungeon—

James forced himself around a corner and forward down the street, only to choke in a terrible mixture of shock and despair.

He had come to a dead end.

James clumsily spun around and looked back the way he came, only to see Pyramid Head rounding the corner, blocking his only chance of escape.

With a low cry, James slumped back against the tall cement wall and thrust his hands backward to brace himself. He had no chance of fighting his way out of this situation, and he was going to die.

He was going to die.

Die.

He should've been expecting it, really, but he'd always held some faint hope that he would survive, that he would escape. But now, that hope had been extinguished, and he finally realized just how frail his life really was.

Pyramid Head slowly walked towards him, gripping his six foot long knife tightly in his bloody latex gloves. It slid along the ground next to him, making a terrible grinding noise on the floor.

James could almost imagine it sliding into his body, piercing vital organs and breaking bones. Would he even leave Silent Hill after death? Would he finally be free? Would it be a mercy? Or would he remain in the town, forever damned to this hellish nightmare?

Pyramid Head paused before him, and almost seemed to scrutinize him.

James could feel his skin prickle under the unseen gaze, and the silence became too much.

"Why?" he said, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Why are you doing this to me?! What have I done to deserve this?!"

James didn't expect an answer, but then Pyramid Head spoke, and his voice was more horrible than anything he could've possibly imagined, even in his worst nightmares. It was loud and booming, yet soft like a hiss, one that slithered through his brain and pounded deeply in his heart, enveloping him and punishing him at the same time.

"I hate you because you are beautiful to me."

James fainted.

Author's Note: For those of you that don't know, Pyramid Head's dialogue is from the video game Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords. Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain, says it to the Jedi Exile, who he apparently has a major crush on. I don't have any claim on it, just as I do not own Silent Hill, James Sunderland, or Pyramid Head.

And yes, I know that Pyramid Head doesn't talk. But . . . here he does. It's comedy, so come on.

Thanks for reading!

—snarryvader81 (aka Anna)