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Before she’d met James- wonderful, sweet, romantic James from Ashfield- and moved out of that town with the horrible secret, Mary had been a Shepherd.
She had been a twin once as well, and while everyone said her sister had died in an accident, Mary knew the truth. She’d been watching through a crack in the door as her father held her sister under the water, as she flailed and twitched, banging her hands and arms on the sink in desperation. And as her sister stopped moving, Mary had crept away to her room to think about what had happened.
She was still thinking about it when her older brother, Adam, came to take her downstairs, so her parents could explain what happened, and teach her the truth.
She supposed that’s when she got so weird.
It was when she was 19, at the town fair, she meets James Sunderland.
He had only been passing through, on his way to Silent Hill down the road, when he decided to stop for a drink, to stretch his legs.
Mary had been running a cotton candy stall, something with a few friends from college, (as all from Shepard’s Glen returned eventually) but everything stopped for her when she saw him.
And, well, she would say it was cheesy to say it was love at first sight, but when she looked at him, and when he looked at her, she felt something.
Enough of something that had her convincing Sally to take over for her, so she could duck out the back of the tent so she could go talk to him. And before she knew it, she had hopped into the car with him.
Their first date was in Silent Hill that very day, and they knew they were meant to be.
When he’d dropped her off that night, she gave him her phone number, for she had her own number now, and shyly asked him to call her tomorrow.
He called her that very night, right as she was climbing into bed, and they spent the next three hours talking about…well, any and everything! She listened to him tell her all about Ashfield, and in return she told him as many sordid stories as she could remember about Shepherds Glen and Silent Hill.
Usually that side of Mary chased away the boys, got her the weird girl label in school. Instead, he asked her out again, and again, and again!
Day trips to Silent Hill, where she’d lead him around, reciting tales of gore and murder and death to him, all the while he’d encourage her to continue, asking questions and taking pictures. Picnics in the woods and by the lake, shadows of missing men and women lurking over them. Trips into Ashfield, him leading her around, telling her stories of places he’d been and places he hadn’t.
So, three months late, two dinners with her parents and one awkward shopping trip, and James invites her to meet his father.
“He’s a bit of an odd one, but he wants to meet you,” James had said over the phone, and Mary jumped on the chance to meet Frank. He’d made excuse after excuse to keep her from meeting his father, but now was the time.
All dressed up and nervous, James led her into the apartment building, and her eyes lit up. She could tell already, the place had a history, and she loved it. She would have to ask Frank all about the place, the nitty-gritty details, the stories and tales the place held.
The dinner is spent happily, and she’s relaxed, more relaxed than she’d ever be at home, as she listens to James’s father talk about his tenants.
So relaxed, that it takes her a minute to realize why James is kneeling on the carpet in front of the couch, why Frank has out a camcorder, why she suddenly has tears in her eyes.
She says yes.
The next three years are spent in almost bliss.
Her parents are angry, but then Adam marries and she doesn’t have to worry about fulfilling the family duty. (she’s grateful- James encourages her weirdness, but she knows murder is a bit much for him)
They fight- not too often, and only about petty things. Moving to Silent Hill, moving to Shepherds Glen, taking over South Ashfield Heights, that kind of thing.
Then, she gets sick.
It starts as an aggravating cough, she notices it one their latest, and last, trip to Silent Hill. Their anniversary- lucky number three!- is cut short when she passes out while they walk along the lake, and she finds herself in St. Gerome’s hospital within the week.
At first she can handle it. The tests and needles, questions and James by her side with that frightened, worried look. But as the months pass, as she grows weaker and sicker and more hateful, she can’t stand to see him.
No longer is she the girl who ran ahead to point out lingering bloodstains from a murder that happened years ago, but now a bitter woman. James is no longer the enthusiastic young man who followed after, listening to her, but now a grieving husband.
He’s mourning her before she’s passed, and it eats away at her.
“Why don’t you find some other pretty thing to fuck!” she screams at him one day, tired of being looked at like some kind of dying animal, some pet to be put down. “Go away! Get lost!”
And for once, he leaves.
And it’s the loneliest night she’s faced in that cesspool.
Until the girl shows up.
She’s young, but she’s seen too much. She tells Mary as much, sitting on the edge of the bed at midnight, her family is dead, and all she dreams of is fire. She stays until the nurse comes in the morning, and is taken away with a reprimand.
Mary smiles for the first time in ages. Even James notices the change.
And so Laura visits her, James too, until the day comes, the dreaded, dreaded day.
She has two options: Stay at St. Gerome's, or go home, and pass there.
She picks home. She’s tired of bleach and cleaners, people in and out at every hour of every day. All she wants is James nearby, and her favourite blanket and her favourite mug of something hot.
(she’s so cold, lately)
A letter she leaves for Laura, and she leaves the hospital, leaning on James as he half-carries her to the car.
“I love you,” she tells him.
“I love you, he replies.
And it’s the last thing she hears.
When she was a child, Maria died. She drowned under the ice cold water in her family home, held under by a father who did not weep for her poor bloated body.
She never got to be 19, to go to fairs or college or on picnics.
She never met James Sunderland, or Frank, or Laura.
But she wakes a woman, fully formed, memories from a dead woman stirring in the back of her skull as she stares out into the lake.
Footsteps echo behind her, and she turns with a smile.
“I don’t look like your girlfriend, do I?”