They say 3 is a magic number. I agree. Glad about the success about my series so far. Glad for those of you who have kept reading. I also appreciate if you get the reference in this part of the series. And I'm hoping I'll move on to a part 4. If I've done this well so far, it's quite likely. Thanks for reading, I dare you to play Silent Hill at midnight, and never EVER sniff potatoes unarmed. ...Randomness.

The very second James and Heather entered the apartment, both of their radios burst into static, although it was hard to hear due to the noise of a hummer being dropped in a blender. Heather knew that noise all too well. One of those annoying flying things. She hadn't yet picked up a name for those yet besides "the flying junkyard". James found another one of the monsters he encountered in the tunnel a while back. He remembered it fondly. It was too disgusting to give a nickname to.

James easily tore through his monster, but Heather was stuck, weaponless. That stupid dog made her lodge it in a fence. Smooth move, Heather. James tried hacking at it with the chainsaw, but the blades of the vicious creature smacked it back, completely dodging his move. Nice one, James.

As for Douglas? He had just made it home. He hopped out of his car and ran into the apartment building, casually strutting by. He opened up the door and yelled, "Sorry I'm late, Heather, I-" He stopped. No sounds of snoring, no T.V. turned up way too high while rock music bellowed through the apartment. No Heather.

Instead, the apartment was completely trashed, a chair topped over, a chopped-in-half piece of wood with nails in it, a broken vase. "...What happened here...?"

Douglas ran into the bathroom, the toilet soaking wet, along with the floor. "Aw, gross...but Heather couldn't have flushed herself...Heather, you here?" No answer. That couldn't be good.

He ran into her bedroom. No Heather there, either. "The pendant is gone. Heather wouldn't lose it...she must have run off." He slammed his fist against her bed, where he noticed a small note laying down. "...What the hell?"

It read:

"Dear Dennis Douglas,

My sweet, adorable, loving, sexyfying boyfriend, I have left for someone more sexyfying. I love you, remember that, sweetcheeks. But you're just not hot enough for a girly girl like me. So I've left, like I said. But I haven't gone to Silent Hill, that's for sure. So don't head to Silent Hill. I haven't gone to Silent Hill. No way, I haven't. So don't go there, you know, to Silent Hill, cause I am not there, Dennis Douglas. I love you, Mr. Boombastic.


"...She's gone to Silent Hill, hasn't she. And who the hell wrote this note?" He ripped it to shreds. He looked in her closet. The katana was gone. "Someone's kidnapped her. She musta tried to fight this guy." He grabbed the submachine gun. "And I'mma gonna fight him too, if he hurts her. Time to go back to Silent Hill." And with that, Douglas left the apartment.

Meanwhile, Heather and James had made it further into the apartment building. James found a flashlight. Woop-dee-doo, Heather thought to herself. She already had one, the thought of needing another was completely pointless, unless they had to split up. But glory, glory, hallelujah, he had also found a map. Heather had her share of happiness-she was no longer unarmed. James had found a handgun. So there the two stood, checking the map. "Been here, been there, yep, definitely been there, too...hey!" He looked behind Heather. There was a large metal fence, barring up the rest of the hallway. But from behind those bars...a key!

He handed the map to Heather. "We gotta get that key, Heather. Watch and learn." He kneeled down and shined his flashlight toward the little piece of salvation that would unlock something somewhere someplace. He reached in for the grab. Nope, missed it. He tried again. Nope. "Awwww..." he kept trying.

Heather watched as a little girl peered around a corner on the other side of the bars. She pondered whether she should tell James about her presence, but she decided not to. James just kept his eyes on the key, completely unknowing of this child. Suddenly, the girl ran over, stomped on his hand, and kicked away the key. She let out a tiny "Ha-ha!" before running away.

"OW!" James yanked his hand back. Heather snickered.

"Wow, James. Just wow. You got beat up by a girl." Her snickering turned to laughing. Then hysterical HEE-HAWS. James walked over to her and stomped as hard as he could on her foot. "AGH!"

"Hurts, doesn't it? Score one for James." He smirked and walked by like he was some kind of superdude. Uh-huh.

Heather ran over and stomped on his foot. "Score one for Heather."

He yanked her hair. "Score two for James."

She kicked him in the groin, satisfied by his moans. "Score two for Heather."

The two continued this mild mayhem for a while. Heather had made it to 28. James had made it to 4. Heather was quite happy by her victory so far. Suddenly, the two wrestled into another apartment room. They stopped instantly.

There was a corpse slouched in an easy-chair, soaked in blood and seemingly staring at a static-filled television. James was puzzled by the fact that the corpse was wearing his clothes. Heather had a block of ice in her throat. She started to cry again.

James stopped her. "Stop, just stop! You've been randomly bursting into tears this whole time. Please tell me what's wrong...please?"

The ice started to melt. It melted a little more, and a little more. "...Let me tell you"

Douglas was driving down the fog-covered road. He sighed. Where was Heather? He knew he couldn't truly replace her father, and he knew that he wasn't the best father himself. Maybe she really had run away. Maybe she had gotten sick of him. Maybe she wanted to see Harry again, and she would kill herself to do it.

Meanwhile, Heather was blurting out her whole story to James. "So what was Vincent like?" James asked softly.

"Pffft, that Vincent. He acted like he was on your side at first, and then when he got ya all happy, he hit you where it hurt. Bad. Such a hypocrite." She shook her head and placed her hands on her hips all angry-like. "Maybe he was trying to help me, but he didn't have to be such a jerk while doing so. Besides, he used me half the time."

James sighed. "Maria seems to have a double personality herself. I don't know what to think of her..."

Heather rolled her eyes. He's going on about Casper again. "Still, James. Like, if someone made a movie about my life and what's happened so far...and they put me and Vincent together, you know, all intimate, it would give me major goosebumps." Heather shuddered at the thought of that. That wouldn't be a very good movie, she thought to herself. Suddenly, she and James stared at each other.

"...You know, James, for a weirdo guy who has an imaginary friend and terrible fashion sense, you're not so bad." She smiled at him, the first time she ever seemed really, truly friendly towards him.

He seemed to think of a comeback for a moment. "You know, Heather, for a snotty teenager who almost killed me when we first met, you're not so bad either." They both shook hands. Friends.

Heather tried to say something, but stopped herself when James' radio burst into static again. She wondered why her radio didn't. The two looked to their left, and when they looked to their right...pure terror.

A muscular, humanoid figure stood behind another barrier of metallic, rusty bars. A pyramid-like helmet with a distinct shade of brownish-red rust or blood coating it hung mysteriously over his shoulders. He wore what looked like a butcher's apron, also soaked in blood. And he had a HUGE, HUGE blade. Grunts and moans were the only sounds coming from him.

" God..." Heather was whimpering, backing away. She knew her handgun couldn't do squat.

James was backing away too. Sure, his chainsaw was pretty powerful, but it didn't stand a chance against what that monster was holding. So the two just watched this strange, tall, monstrous creature tower over them easily. Thank God he was behind bars. If not, he could take them down easily.

So they just ran, ran as fast as they could. Adrenaline pumping through their veins, fear filling up the mind, anxiety surrounding them like...well, fog. They didn't care where they were going, they just wanted to get as far away from that monster as possible. They both guessed they wouldn't have to encounter that freak of nature again. They were wrong.

They kept running...running...pacing...pacing...jogging, and exhaustedly walking into another apartment room. A dead body lazily rested in a fridge. Vomiting was echoing in the apartment room.

"Awww, disgusting. Is someone blowing chunks?" Heather snapped, looking around.

James pointed to the bathroom door, toward a rather heavyset man whom was hurling wildly into a toilet. They both ran over to him.

"Hi name's James." James said loudly, over the noise of the barfing.

Heather nudged James hard. "This guy looks like he has the hygiene of a dead pig. And the smell of one. ...And the weight of one." James stomped on her foot again.

"BLAAAA- ...Hey...the name is Eddie." He looked over at James and Heather, waving politely, then continuing to do his business.

"Hi, I'm Heather, and you're faaaaaa-" James covered her mouth. "Sorry, Eddie. Heather here has a big mouth-OW!" He took his hand off in a flash. She bit him.

Eddie finally stopped his series of "BLAGUGUGUGUGUHHHHS" and looked back to James. "Uhhh, that dead guy there, it wasn't me, by the way. He was there when I came in."

James kneeled down and shined his light on Eddie. "That's...okay...well, you're not friends with that red pyramid thing, are you?" Eddie shook his head, and James heaved a sigh of relief.

"Those monsters scared the hell of out me! So I came in here and started..." he wiped some vomit off of his mouth, "...well, you know." Heather gagged.

"That's...okay too...well, this place really isn't safe. You gotta get outta here. Stay safe, Eddie." James elbowed Heather again. "Get some manners, will you?!"

"B-b-bye, Eddie. May your vomit always be..." she looked into the toilet and shuddered. "...chunky?"

They both left the room, leaving Eddie to release some more of his...well, you know.

That's the end of part 3. Did you like it/hate it? Turn slightly disgusted toward the end? Ah well, so did I. Which is weird, cause I'm the one who wrote it. Still, hope there's room for a part 4 :)

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