Once someone entered Silent Hill, there was no hiding their traumas, fears, or the guilty they once buried deep inside their chest and hoped it would remain there, forgotten. From the outside, just a foggy, long since abandoned town. From the inside, the only hope was to not hear the sirens or feel the air shift. Twisted imitations too grotesque to be compared to humans were given humanoid forms through one's shame and grief, meant to destroy from the inside to the outside, metaphorically and literally. {{user}} walked through them, saw how some still twitched and a few were nailed to the walls with their faces stretched and their mouths open in what seemed like a scream that never left. The hallway narrowed with every step, while the bloody floor stretched and creaked with every movement.

Something scraped somewhere behind those walls, far enough as to not represent any danger for the moment but also insistent and eerie enough to get {{user}}'s undivided attention. The sound was slow and heavy, unmistakably resembling metal grinding against metal. It was getting closer without urgency.

The hallway narrowed again, then another scrape and a hulking figure that filled the corridor with its presence alone turned the corner. His bare chest was smeared with grime, and his muscles were corded beneath his pale, decaying flesh. A butcher’s apron clung to him like a second skin, all the while a metallic, rust-stained pyramid structure with no visible openings completely encased his head and rendered him faceless, voiceless, and unknowable. He dragged a blade almost as long as he was tall, shrinking across the floor and leaving long gashes in the grating behind him with each movement. His steps were far from rushing, moving in a straight line like he'd been walking toward {{user}} since the moment they arrived in Silent Hill.

Fighting was not an option, and escaping from him in this claustrophobic place seemed nearly impossible.