Chapter 5

Since things had quieted down over the last few month since the incident, I dropped my guard and stopped expecting the unexpected.

The morning it happened I was doing my early routine- wake up, shower and eat breakfast while watching the news in the living room. I had another appointment at noon that day and wanted to leave early.

I pushed down the door handle, but nothing happened. When I jammed the key into the lock and twisted it with a jerking motion, I noticed that I hadn't locked unconsciously either. The keys were turned again in my incoming frenzy.

It been nonsense to think so in the first place anyways, since I never locked any doors around my home whenever I was there, even going as far as to often not shutting them.

I pushed against the door again and when there was seemingly no outcome, panic began to bubble up inside of me.

I flung myself against the flimsy wood over and over, but it wasn't giving. It was all explainable; I tried to reason with myself. We had had a change in weather the last few days and the wood deformed and blocked up due to that, but logic didn't do anything for my panic attack.

My shoulder hurt to the point that I couldn't handle causing more damage to it. I tried to settle down, but the ticking of the clock seemed to mock me. The air around me felt stagnant and suffocating.

:::

It was a morning just as any other. Another morning he woke up alone in his bed with a cold sweat covering him and the blankets a tangled mess around him.

After he had shaved and washed himself in the bathroom, he walked into the kitchen where his father was already sitting at the table reading the most recent newspaper.

"Good morning, James." The elder man sat as he looked up at his son.

"Morning, dad." The blond male answered and sat down with a newly poured cup of coffee next to his father.

He lifted the pages the other already finished off of the table and began to flip through them absentmindly.

"Where have you been yesterday? Not that you have to check up with your old man or anything..."

"I was with Henry. We went to Silent Hill..."

"Are you okay?" The newspaper was put down onto the table as James was observed closely.

"Sure." The blonde took a sip from his coffee. The conversation of last night and its sudden ending was still clocked inside his head, not leaving him. He didn't really believe that Henry was a nut case. No, the other man seemed sane, but then again he did as well.

Maybe he should just forget about it, but something told him that he really shouldn't let it go that easily. He took another thoughtful gulp.

"If you say so..." He looked his son over once more, still worried for his well-being. "Oh, that reminds me. The inhabitant of room 312 came by this morning. Her sink broke again."

"I'll take care of it." James dressed up and went out the door.

Room 312, Rebecca Nightville, she somehow managed to break her sink over and over again in the last few months, it seemed. It was only after the third time and an offer for dinner that he got a little suspicious. Even more so when she answered her door only dressed in her underwear some time ago.

When he passed room 303, his thoughts and his body came to an abrupt halt there. He leaned closer to the door and just listened.

The sound of sniffing and sobbing came out of the room and James didn't waste any time and knocked on the door softly.

"Henry? Henry is that you?"

"James...?" The voice from inside sounded desperate.

"Open the door please."

"I can't..." He answered.

"What do you mean you can't?" James tried to stay as calm as he could manage.

"I mean I CAN'T! The lock is jammed or something." The other sounded frantic; panicked even. His words came out in a fast rush of loud words.

"Hold up, I'll get you out right away." He turned to leave and Henry must have heard it too, since he began to talk urgently.

"Please don't leave." There was a short bang on the door. "I think I'm going into shock..." He mumbled almost as a quiet afterthought.

"Okay, get away from the door." The blonde male waited about half a minute before kicking the wood. It didn't give until he repeated it a second time.

As he entered cautiously he noticed the small dots of blood on the floor in the doorway.

"Henry?" He called into the room.

"Yeah?" The shorter male whispered back in a hushed sound.

"Where are you?"

"Behind the kitchen counter." James walked a few more steps into the home and found Henry hunched up and pressed close to the fake wood.

"Hey." There was no answer. The other reminded him of a frightened child so he kneeled down close to him only to be wrapped up in surprising strong limbs and pulled close to the warm body. The sniffling got louder; more out of relief than the still lingering fear. "It's okay now."

"I thought I was going to die." The brown-haired seemed to suck in my scent, clinging to me like I was his only chance of survival in this.

"Are you claustrophobic?"

"No. I just have an issue with locked up doors…" Henry looked ashamed as far as he could tell, but it was hard to get a clear look when he was still clinging so tightly.

"Does that have something to do with the Copycat Case by any chance?" His surprised gasp carried through the room. James began to think about the newfound information.

He told me locked himself in to keep himself safe, but how could me manage that when he freaked out over a blocked front door? Unless, he didn't have it back then, but that would mean that he picked it up during the case.

Another thought struck the blond.

What if Henry never actually wanted to stay in his apartment in the first place?

:::

"Were you held hostage, Henry?"

"What?" James smelled faintly of soap. It was calming. He held me in his arms like a cage would keep a bird captive. I liked that thought. Inside there I could be safe from everything.

"Obviously you were lying to me yesterday." My head shot up from his chest and I looked at him with big eyes. "There is no way in hell you would willingly lock yourself up; not with this fear of yours and not with your personality." Silence stretched between them. "I know that you don't really know me, but if it counts for anything, I won't judge you for what you tell me."

"You will." Of course he would. Heck, I would tell anyone that told me that nightmarish story that they were completely out of their mind if I hadn't been there myself. It was irrational; simply impossible to imagine.

"I won't." The blond seemed like he meant it. He looked at me as if he could simply figure out all of my secrets that way.

"There is no way that you won't think I'm crazy." I averted my eyes and gathered myself, trying to make another escape.

"Try me." His hand caught mine. His skin felt warm against my clammy own. "Just trust me. Please, Henry."

I sighed. My legs were wobbly when I walked over to the couch and made a motion for him to follow after me. Then I sucked in another deep breath and began.

"Did you ever hear the name Walter Sullivan before?"