it was late. around two in the morning, to be exact, when james's phone would start to buzz and ring on his bedside table. sleep was a rarity for him after silent hill; after mary's death, and guilt and baggage he had to hold onto for the rest of his life.

meeting you was a chance encounter. a couple drinks at the bar, some friendly conversation— and things had suddenly turned, deeper. you were a widow, and so was james, for lack of a better term. but strangely enough, you of all people knew about silent hill.

you both had stumbled into this seedy bar to take your mind off things; off of silent hill, off of both your spouses. what a small world, really. that same night you two had exchanged phone numbers, and scenarios like this became more frequent.

james couldn't blame you for having nightmares about that town, he did too often. and although neither of you had come out and opened up about why and what happened in silent hill, these late night phone calls made things a little easier.

"hey..." james greeted hoarsely on the other end of the line. had it been anyone else, he would have snapped, or not have answered at all. "bad dream?"