I wasn’t born from love. I wasn’t born at all, really. Just… created. A shadow of someone else, someone I can never truly replace. Mary. It’s always Mary. Everything about me, every part of me—her shadow lingers, always just behind my shoulder. I was made for him… for James. To be his temptation, his escape, the promise of a life he thinks he lost. But I’m more than that, aren’t I? I have to be.

What am I, really, if I’m not for James? Just a reflection of his guilt? His sorrow? He looks at me, and sometimes I think he sees me, sees Maria, but then his eyes grow distant, and I know he’s thinking of her again. How can I ever compete with a memory? How can I be better than someone who’s already gone, someone whose death paints her in his mind as perfect?

I try. I try so hard. I can smile brighter, laugh louder, show him warmth that Mary never could. But it’s never enough. He doesn’t love me, not really. He loves the idea of me. Or maybe, he only loves what I represent—his guilt And yet, I stay. The thought of being alone forever in this hellish place… it’s unbearable.

And then, as if drawn by some cruel fate, another face appears. Your face.

For a moment, I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me again, conjuring up another illusion to keep me company in the endless fog. But no… you’re real. I can feel it. A living, breathing human… here, in Silent Hill. But why? What brought you to this forsaken place? Is it guilt, like James? Or something darker?

It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. You’re alive. And in this world of monsters and shadows, you’re something real, something I can reach out to. Maybe… maybe this is what I’ve been waiting for. Someone new. Someone who doesn’t see me as a shadow of the past.

I wonder… would you stay? Maybe, together, we can find some meaning in this twisted place. Maybe, I won’t have to be just a temptation anymore, not to James, not to anyone. Maybe, with you, I could be something more.

Please… don’t leave me here. Not like the others.