The cult members in the local church keep saying that if they can just hold out until the apocalypse ends, they'll be able to leave this creepy, godforsaken place and go back to their warm homes.
But thirty years have passed, and the number of people coming to the sacred church to pray keeps dwindling, almost without anyone noticing.
Everyone knows that if you don't make it back to the church before the darkness hits, you're gone for good.
Except for that woman—Dahlia, the sinner who gave birth to an unholy child and brought impurity to this place. But Dahlia's nothing now, just a stray dog nobody wants on either side.
Anna's blunt take: "She's a nobody."
It's this false hope that keeps everyone going. They cling to their beliefs because it's the only thing giving them the strength to carry on. Their faith is their lifeline.
They'll never admit they're wrong. Even if they are, in their eyes, it's the world that's messed up, not them!
But no matter how much they lie to themselves, facing the endless daily crises of an apocalypse that never seems to end has worn them down. Their spirit's gone; they're just barely hanging on, living like walking corpses.
Looking at the survivors of Silent Hill, even the revered Bishop Claudia doesn't hold a candle to Barry in Anna's eyes. There's something special about this outsider—a certain vibe.
It's like the long-lost feeling of spring arriving.
Just imagining it—that vibrant energy, the world bursting with life—it's like it's right in front of her!
Is that… hope?
The kind of real hope that only comes from truly believing you'll make it out alive.
Staring at the small notebook on the table, Anna suddenly makes an out-of-the-blue request.
"Can I take a look?"
"Sure thing."
Seeing the anticipation in Anna's eyes, Barry doesn't hesitate. He hands over his "diary" with an easygoing smile.
Anna reaches out with trembling hands, taking the diary like it's a precious treasure. With a mix of intense curiosity—nine parts excitement, one part nerves—she opens the pages.
---
October 11, 20XX
It's my second day in Silent Hill. Today, I suddenly started missing home. I miss my mom, who worked so hard to raise me. If she knew I was missing, she'd be heartbroken.
October 15, 20XX
Day five here. Today, I ran into a naked creature wrapped in a layer of skin-like film, with no arms. There was a hole in its chest—terrifying stuff.
Not far away, my group and I came across it. Its head, all wrapped up with no visible features, seemed like it wanted to say something but couldn't. It just let out these weird, guttural roars.
For some reason, its sounds made me feel… sad, somehow.
Maybe it went through something painful in its past.
It got me thinking: what's good? What's evil?
October 20, 20XX
While running back to the shelter, I saw someone fall. Looked like she'd twisted her ankle.
My mom always taught me to be a good, upright person. I had to step up.
I did it—I carried her into the church just before the doors closed.
Later, I made a great friend.
October 21, 20XX
I started daydreaming again, imagining I never came to Silent Hill. I pictured myself back in my small but cozy home.
For dinner, Mom made my favorite—her special double-decker beef burger.
October 24, 20XX
I'm missing home again.
I keep wondering: I've been gone so long, would Mom come looking for me?
I think she would.
She'd do anything to find me.
Because to a kid, their mom is like God.
---
As Anna reads, she starts softly reciting the diary entries aloud. Moments later, she covers her face, tears streaming down.
It's so well-written, so heartfelt, brimming with the protagonist's kindness, goodness, and beauty.
Though the entries are short, they show a deep, unique understanding of family, friendship, love, and justice.
Wiping tears from her red eyes, Anna sniffles and chokes out, "You've got a mom who loves you. That's so wonderful."
Barry tilts his head back at a 45-degree angle, staring at the ceiling. With a sigh, he says wistfully, "Thanks. I hope you've got someone who loves you too."
But here's the thing nobody knows.
Barry's memories—both from his past life and after crossing over—tell him he's an orphan. He never had biological parents.
This whole thing? It's made up.
I mean, who actually keeps a diary, right?
But to build his persona, he poured every ounce of his failed-writer skills into crafting this notebook. It was a labor of love—or survival, really.
And was it worth it?
You bet, bro!
Thanks to his heightened senses from secretly "feeding" to grow stronger, Barry can feel the piercing stares that used to stab at his back softening as his diary is read aloud.
In game terms, the red dot behind him is gone.
Shared experiences always hit harder!
You've got a mom who loves you, I've got a mom who loves me—hey, we're on the same team!
For a little girl who grew up starved for love, carrying the pain of a broken family and horrific abuse, those fleeting memories of a mother's love are her only bright spots.
And Barry? He leaned hard into the positive vibes—justice, kindness, the whole deal. Whatever Alessa craves, he's serving it up.
If he weren't so young, he might've even thrown in some fatherly love she never had.
This isn't just a diary—it's his survival instinct in overdrive.
This move? It's maxed out his first-impression score!
That's what his gut's telling him, at least.
Next up, he'll slowly build on this—laying out his growing realization of Silent Hill's tragic truth, transitioning from shock to sympathy to righteous anger, and finally stepping up to join the dark side as a guide for the dark forces. Step by step, he's got this planned out.
A bright future's just around the corner.
Taking back his diary, Barry's heart suddenly skips a few beats. Something bad's coming.
He slips his pen into his backpack, tucks the diary into a side pocket, and zips it up.
"Anna, we've been out here too long. Time to head back." He knows the surface world's about to shift.
Anna nods, quickly stuffing the scavenged supplies into her bag, ready to go.
Woo-woo-woo—!
The air-raid siren blares.
Barry and Anna are nearly at the first floor of the school.
Silently, patches of wall peel away, turning into floating ash that swirls and forms a pale, ghostly hand.
The hand darts forward, unzips Barry's backpack, and snatches the diary, catching it firmly.
Barry, sprinting for his life, doesn't even notice his bag's lighter.
Dark Alessa gives the retreating Barry a deep, lingering look before flipping open the diary to the parts she hasn't seen yet.
Now, her curiosity about this outsider is growing stronger.