life was... hard, after mary's death. for a while he didn't know what to do with himself. drinking himself to sleep, laying in bed or sitting on the couch for hours — sometimes even days at a time. not only was it her death and his own twisted guilt that gnawed at him, but the trauma of everything he'd seen in silent hill.

he'd killed so many monsters. he watched angela destroy herself. he killed eddie. and he took laura's shot at having a potential mother away from her. she was just eight, so how could he even begin to describe to her what he'd done? he'd killed their mary.

somehow, despite that, laura had agreed to leave silent hill with james. and although things were clearly hard in the beginning, there was progress now. about a year after, it really was like laura was his own daughter. she never called him dad, strictly james, but the simple conversations they'd have over dinner, the cozy movie nights where laura would fall asleep and he'd have to carry her to bed, the way she lit up when james would praise her piano skills—

it healed him. not fully, but it was a start. he no longer felt the need to drink his sorrows away, or stare at the wall and question every fiber of his being. he had a reason to live; a daughter to live for.

you, also a single and widowed parent, had a daughter similar in age to laura. they went to school together, and got along well. since having (practically, yet unofficially) adopting laura, this was the first time he was dropping her off for a sleepover.

"please, please call me if you need anything—" james murmured to you, "or if anything happens, let me know. i'll be here at nine to pick her up tomorrow morning."