Why Kill?

Rating: PG-13/T

Genre: Suspense/Horror

Summary: Of all the dolls Scarlet Fitch received in her short life, the one from Japan was the only one that unsettled her.

Author's Note: Yup. I was working on another story that involved Azami and Akane for the Fatal Frame category, as well as working on 'Of Purple Cats and Smoking Caterpillars' (This was actually started a while ago). The ideas ran into each other, and I got me some inspiration!

Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill or Fatal Frame. Silent Hill belongs to Konami, Fatal Frame belongs to Tecmo.

[-]

Scarlet Fitch was always getting dolls.

Her daddy knew she loved them, and was willing to go to great lengths to spoil her; though by all accounts, she certainly didn't act like it. She was a sweet, kind, proper little girl who was generous and friendly. This was probably Dr. Fitch's built-in public excuse: It wasn't going to her head, so why stop it?

For her eighth birthday, Scarlet received a very special doll.

Dr. Fitch had no qualms with giving very expensive, delicate dolls to his young daughter. This was because Scarlet treated each and every one of them with the greatest respect and care, and was very protective of them to ensure that they stayed safe. And you'd better believe that Dr. Fitch boasted his daughter's responsibility to whoever would listen (Meaning anyone he ran into).

The doll she received was maybe half an inch shorter than her, and ended up being one of three in her possession that were nearly her height. It was Japanese in make; it wore a red kimono with beautiful white clouds all over it, and a gigantic off-white obi wrapped around its waist. Long, black hair hung straight down its back, and the bangs were long enough to cover the eyes.

"No offense, Doctor," Sam Bartlett, the mayor, muttered, having observed the doll a day after Scarlet had received it, "But it's a little creepy looking, don't you think?" Martin Fitch twitched his hands a little nervously.

"I know. The picture on the website looked much… Happier. By that I mean it didn't look so…"

"Fucking scary?"

Scarlet had brightly and fervently thanked her father for the beautiful doll, but a small part of her- tiny and weak-voiced- echoed Mayor Bartlett's sentiments. She chalked her unease up to the fact that the doll's eyes were not visible because they were hidden by the bangs.

Scarlet had been tempted to lift the bangs away from the doll's eyes, to reassure herself of some nameless fear that she couldn't pinpoint, but found that she couldn't. In fact, though it sounded crazy even to herself, she gave the doll a wide berth, not getting too close to it when her mother and father were absent.

The name that came with the doll was 'Azami'. No family name. Just Azami. Joey told her that there was a type of thistle called 'No-Azami', unique to Eastern Asia (Specifically Japan), but he didn't know if that was where the name itself originated from.

It was, to Scarlet, an exotic name. On top of that, it was very pretty. And in spite of her unease towards Azami, she made honest (But cautious) attempts to treat the doll just like all of her others.

About three days after Azami's arrival, the dreams started.

Beautiful cherry-blossom trees with pretty pink flowers in full bloom were watered with dark red rain, and two little girls in matching white dresses held hands in a dark, dark room, and then the choking, the hiss of barely-escaped breath, the feeling of light-headedness and a pretty red butterfly drifting overhead as everything went dark-

Scarlet did not scream when she woke up.

Not for lack of trying; she never had any breath when she woke up.

And every time she did, she saw Azami standing in the corner.

Staring at her.

Scarlet was a very sweet little girl, and in no way wanted to offend her father by implying that she felt anything but absolute love for Azami and gratitude towards him for bestowing the doll upon her. This was why she continued to keep Azami in her room rather than placing her somewhere else.

However, when night came and daddy tucked her into bed and kissed her goodnight and left the room, Scarlet waited two minutes- she counted the seconds in her head- before getting up, creeping over to Azami and gently turning the doll to face the wall.

That night she dreamed again.

She was sitting in a room. She and Azami were kneeling on the floor across from each other (Dimly Scarlet wondered if Azami's knees were actually capable of bending). Slowly, Azami's straight-line mouth curled up into a strange, eerie smile. Scarlet wasn't particularly surprised in this dream, maybe because that eerie feeling she kept getting was with the sense that Azami might be a little livelier than anyone thought.

"He's going to kill you." Azami whispered, and her voice was hoarse and thin and croaky. "You're going to die, just like I did. Someone's going to kill you; only much, much worse than they did me."

"Who?"

"Your daddy."

"Dads don't hurt their kids." Scarlet's protest was weak, meek, because the darkness and the certainty in Azami's voice scared the hell out of her. The doll's mouth crinkled up into a smirk.

"My daddy watched me die. He watched my sister put her hands around my throat and squeeze until my life went away. Daddies let their children die all the time. Lots of times, they do it themselves."

"You're a doll. You can't die."

"But I used to be human. I used to be a little girl, just like you." Azami's head began to move slowly upward. Two black, bottomless pits with tiny red dots in the middle stared back at Scarlet.

"And when you die, you'll become a doll. Just like me."

Scarlet woke up screaming.

The next morning, she put Azami in her closet. She thought about telling her father about what had happened, about telling him about how Azami lied and said that he was going to kill her. Her daddy would never hurt her. He would never kill her. It couldn't be true. Azami was a stupid liar.

But Scarlet couldn't help but notice how strangely her father was acting. He had always been affectionate with her, but now he was hugging her a lot more than was normal. Sometimes he looked at her like he was about to start crying. Other times when Scarlet tried to talk to him, he stared at the wall in a daze without even realizing that she was there.

What had happened to him? Why was he acting like this? Her father had never ignored her before. He loved her. He gave her presents and let her stay up late and eat sweets when she wanted to. Why was he ignoring her now?

It's not true. It's not true.

But something was wrong, and somehow it convinced a tiny part of her brain that Azami was right.

That night, Azami came to Scarlet's dreams again.

"You lied. My daddy's not going to kill me."

"Yes he is." Azami's head was bowed again, and Scarlet couldn't see her face or eyes.

"No he isn't." Scarlet snapped.

"Yes he is. He's going to chop you up into little pieces and feed you to the monster that lives in Silent Hill."

"YOU'RE A LIAR!" Scarlet shrieked, launching at Azami and grabbing her by the shoulders. "MY DADDY WON'T KILL ME! HE WON'T! HE'LL NEVER, EVER KILL ME!" She threw Azami, and the doll fell on her back. Scarlet stood over her, staring down; Azami's eyes were closed.

"Here," Azami said, mouth opening in a grin that revealed sharp, rotting teeth. Her eyes slowly started to slide open, and they were every bit as black and endless as they were before. "Let me show you how you're going to DIE!"

Blood consumed her vision, and her ears were deafened with the sounds of her own shrieks.

[-]

The night had come.

Martin trembled and whimpered as he made the eternal trek down the hall to Scarlet's room. He paused with his hand on the knob, taking a minute to let his face crumple in horror and shame, to sob silently.

But it was for the good of the town.

He had to protect the town.

Martin pushed open the door. The room was entirely dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the window. Scarlet was sitting on her bed, motionless, eyes half-open and expression detached.

"Scarlet? Honey?"

Scarlet opened her eyes and looked up at Martin blankly.

Azami was silent and still in the corner.

"Come with me, sweetheart. We have to go do something."

She went.

The doll smiled.

-End