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I got a letter… The name on the envelope said… Mary… my wife’s name.

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@embodies​ said:  ‘ there’s no love left.  was there ever any? ’  - from amélie! bc we love two ppl who killed their own spouses 

          i  look  like  mary,  don't  i?    you  loved  her,  right?  

          the  fleeting  image  of  maria  passes  through  his  mind,  forms  a  knot  that  coils  and  writhes  in  his  stomach  like  a  ravenous  serpent,  ready  to  devour  him  from  the  inside  out.    the  memory  sickens  him  —  not  maria,  but  his  own  weakness.    the  idea  that,  even  subconsciously,  he  could  create  a  carbon  copy  of  his  wife,  tailored  to  his  wants  and  desires.  

          or  maybe  you  hated  her.  

          bile  threatens  to  rise  in  his  throat,  and  it's  only  by  biting  down  on  his  lower  lip  until  the  pink  flesh  splits  and  bleeds  that  he's  able  to  resist.    a  small  river  of  blood  pours  into  his  mouth  instead,  stains  the  tips  of  his  teeth  until  he  runs  his  tongue  along  the  enamel,  sucks  it  clean.    but  you  can  never  truly  clean  blood  away,  can  you?  

          '  what  do  you  mean?  '    he  asks,  in  a  tone  that  would  sound  almost  defensive  were  his  voice  not  already  conditioned  to  sound  so  defeated.    '  of  course  there  was.    i  loved  mary.    no  —  i  still  love  her.    you  really  don't...  feel  the  same  way?    about  your  husband,  that  is.  '

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happy b-day sh2 !!!!!!!!!!!

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in light of the sh2 remake, here is how to differentiate between the James, good luck

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verses dump. 

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@alphateamsfinest​ says:  ‘ where have you been? ’ 

      his  lone  wolf  persona  had  become  somewhat  of  a  crutch  in  recent  months ;  it  made  it  easy  to  distance  himself,  keep  others  at  arm’s  length,  without  the  risk  of  developing  any  sort  of  attachment  that  could  be  used  against  ( or  torn  away  from )  him  later. 

       however,  the  comfortable  isolation  he’d  gradually  settled  into  –  like  submerging  yourself  into  scalding  hot  water,  an  inch  at  a  time,  ‘til  your  skin  numbs  itself  to  the  pain  –  had  made  it  considerably  more  difficult  in  recent  days,  needing  to  adjust  to  relying  on  others  for  survival. 

       he’d  snuck  off  on  his  own  without  a  word  and  only  now  returned,  though  he  looks  considerably  more  haggard  and  shaken  than  usual.  relatively  fresh  blood  coats  his  hands,  lays  in  a  messy  splatter  across  his  jacket,  though  none  of  it  appears  to  be  his  own.  green  eyes  are  glossy  and  distant  as  jill  speaks,  and  there’s  a  considerable  delay  before  he  turns  his  head  to  look  at  her,  vacant  expression  almost  haunted. 

      ‘ oh...  i,  uh-- ’   he  trails  off,  briefly  glancing  down  at  his  hands.  why  won’t  they  stop  shaking?    ‘ i  just... needed  some  fresh  air,  i  think. ’ 

     it  doesn’t  answer  her  question.  he  doesn’t  look  like  he’s  in  any  state  to. 

[regrief]

     a quick note about his resi verse:  mary’s sickness had been studied at an umbrella-run facility, and the “experimental” procedures and drugs they’d tested on her were, of course, variants of umbrella’s viruses.  he does end up making his way back home, where mary had been displaying even more troubling symptoms for the past two weeks.  her mood swings had grown worse, the horrible things she said to him even crueler. 

     unable to take it anymore, he finally decides to kill her, and justifies it by telling himself that she would’ve turned eventually.  in keeping with tradition, the trauma is too much for him, and his mind blocks out the memory entirely.  if and/or when the survivors are able to reach his house, he’s heartbroken over the discovery of mary’s corpse, and mourns her openly while chastising himself for not getting there sooner. 

[regrief]

it’s you that makes my heart skip a beat and it’s you that makes my life complete for you, the sun will forget to shine the day won’t break

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 @ubcs​  says:  ‘  i  think  there’s  something  wrong.  ’  

            for   all   that   he's  seen  in  the  past  twenty - four  hours,  it's  surprising  that  a  simple  string  of  words  can  cause  such  immediate  worry.  his  long  fingers,  caked  with  dirt  and  dried  blood,  tighten  their  white - knuckled  grip  on  the  steel  pipe  with  which  he'd  armed  himself  at   the   office.   he'd   been  lucky  enough  that  carlos  had  come  along  when  he   did  --  navigating  a   multi - story  building  whilst  fighting  for  his  life  had  proven  enough  of  a  challenge,  but  the  minute  he  set  foot  on  the  streets  below,  he'd  been  severely  out  of  his  depth. 

            the  two  had  stuck  together  ever  since,  fought  side  by  side  to  ensure  each  other's  continued  survival.  james  had  promised  not  to  abandon  him,  but  freely  admitted  that  he  also  wouldn't  leave  the  city  without  his  wife,  stuck  at  home  on  the  other  side  of  town.  if  the  time  came  to  go  their  separate  ways,  he'd  fight  his  way  back  to  mary  on  his  own,  extraction  be  damned. 

          currently  holed  up  in  a  wing  at   the  hospital,  they'd  been  searching  for  medical  supplies  to  little  or  no  avail.  james  had  all  but  pleaded  not  to  go  inside,  though  he  wouldn't  explain  why.  his  heart  beats  rapidly  within  his  chest,  seemingly  faster  with  each  passing  second,  as  they  wander  the  painfully  familiar  halls.  the  acrid  stench  of  blood  assaults  his  nostrils,  invades  his  memory.  he  thinks  he  could  be  sick--  and  then  carlos  breaks  the  silence,  jarring  him  from  unwanted  thoughts. 

     ‘ what  do  you  mean? ’   he  asks  warily,  brow  furrowing  as  his  lips  curl  into  an  anxious   grimace.    '  i  don't  hear  anything... '   all  things  considered,  that  might  be  the  problem.  

[regrief]

     ending 01 :  leave.   after the final confrontation, james chooses to own up to his guilt and acknowledge his demons, leaving the town behind forever and starting a new life.  he no longer feels the need to punish himself, but the weight of his actions hangs heavily on his heart. 

       he comes across a stray dog one night, scruffy and hungry, and takes it to a shelter in the hopes that they’ll house and take care of it.  when he’s told that the dog is probably destined for euthanisia, he immediately adopts it instead.  while notoriously bad at taking care of himself and his own needs, he finds some solace, some meaning, in having to wake up every day to take care of someone else. 

       he wants to heal.  it seems like a good first step. 

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             𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥  𝐦𝐞  𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡   when  i  say  this  ―  i’m  kinda  helpless  and  i  need  you.     /     indie  blogs  for  maria  &  james  sunderland  of  silent  hill  2.   written  by  peach  &  cole. 

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@reguile​​ says: ​ ‘ perhaps you’re happy without me. ’ 

    a  sickness  stirs  within  his  gut  at  her  accusation,  nausea  quickly  rising  up  through  his  stomach  and  threatening  to  invade  his  chest.  anxiety  spikes,  and  his  first  reaction  is  to  assuage  her,  placate  as  best  he  knows  how.  her  temper  is  a  volatile  one,  to  be  sure ;  he’s  certain  that  he’s  dealt  with  one  like  it  before  --  but  where?  when?  another  life,  another  time,  he  assumes,  though  not  a  terribly  happy  one,  if  the  implication’s  to  be  believed. 

     absently,  he  wonders  if  he  was  ever  truly  happy  without  maria. 

     mary. 

     shit. 

     ‘ don’t  say  that, ’  he  croaks  weakly,  an  almost  pleading  tone  creeping  into  his  voice.  it’s  not  as  though  she’s  providing  much  to  their  unlikely  partnership,  traversing  the  town’s  desolate  streets  with  naught  to  offer  but  a  snide  comment  or  whining  complaint  every  now  and  then.  but  the  alternative -- the idea  of  being  without  her,  of  being  alone  in  this  nightmare --  is  a  thought  that  shakes  him  to  his  core.   ‘ i--  i  need  you.  okay?   just...  stick  close  this  time,  alright? ’

[regrief]

a quick look into some important parts of the fan-translated version of the SH2 novel, and how they relate to my take on james.  warnings for depression, suicide, alcoholism. 

re: apathy, depression, willingness to die. 

01.    On the other side of the dirty clouds was a vision of himself.  Reflected in the mirror was his own face, hard and stiff as if it were the face of a corpse.  Actually, I guess I am dead, James Sunderland thought.  My heart's as good as dead anyway.  He wasn't filled with a sense of loss, he just felt like his life wasn't worth living anymore.  He had become indifferent.  Work, free time — none of it really mattered anymore. 

02.    A dark red pool spread across the floor underneath their mangled remains.  He found that even after his narrow escape from death, he felt no sense of relief. 

03.    Strangely enough, even in this hopeless state, James felt no fear.  In fact, it was like his self-preservation instincts had been completely turned off, and all he felt now was peace.  In this mentality of self-abandonment, James hung his head, closed his eyes, and silently awaited the cold touch of the executioner’s blade. 

04.    His desperate search for Mary... he couldn't just give that up.  Just the thought of seeing her again, even just once, was enough to make him continue on even now as things were becoming more dangerous.  She was the reason why, no matter what, he had to live.  Even if it meant risking his life. 

05.    Out of the corner of his vision, James could see countless pale hands reaching up from beneath the waves. They surrounded the boat, waiting for the chance to pull it down to the bottom of the lake.  “Come here, come here,” they beckoned; an invitation to lure James into the abyss.  He tried desperately not to see them, keeping his gaze firmly locked in the direction of the hotel.  It was his beacon to guide him away from temptation.  James knew that if he were to look away for even a moment, he’d find himself drowning in those dark waters.

his entire reason for returning to silent hill was to take his own life, unable to live with the knowledge of what he’d done to mary, and unwilling to live without her.  this is forgotten upon arrival, however, and the note from “mary” that he so desperately clings to is conjured by the town as a way to draw him in.  he naturally feels fear when encountered with various monsters around town, and their deaths sometimes provide a a sense of accomplishment, but his apathy is too great to genuinely care about his own survival beyond finding mary again.  he holds tightly onto that goal, needing something to keep him moving forward; if he allows himself to stray, he fears he might just give up. 

re: grief and coping. 

01.    At any rate, after he lost his wife, James took to drinking and began to conceal his sorrow with outbursts of anger.  It affected everyone around him to the point that his coworkers didn't want to put up with his sullen behavior.  Before long, he was treated like a trouble-maker. 

   obviously, mary hasn’t been dead long enough for this to be true.  his drinking began during her illness, brought on by the stress of hospital bills, sleepless nights spent pouring over medical texts, and mary’s ever volatile behavior towards him.  he refused to let that anger and frustration surface around her, and it more often than not was misdirected at other people around him, which he’d quickly and quite pathetically apologize for. 

02.    It was no wonder then, with these kinds of thoughts in his head, that James found himself wishing for a miracle.  Did she really die three years ago?  Or had she died and somehow been revived?  [...]  But if she really has been alive this whole time and didn't try to contact me until now, maybe she's been trying to avoid me?  What if she ran off and has been living with another man...?  [...]  For a moment, he felt a burning surge of hatred, but it soon drowned in his melancholy mood.  More than anything, he just wanted to see Mary again, and more than anything else, he dreaded that meeting. 

it’s implied that his hesitation to reunite with mary is because he’s unsure why she took three years to contact him, most notably his worry that she simply grew tired of him and shacked up with someone else.  even when they were together, this was a prevalent concern; his employment as an office clerk doesn’t provide much money, if his beaten up and rusted old car is any indication, and he constantly worried that one day mary would get fed up of living such a financially simple life and leave him.  in reality, his hesitation (unbeknownst to him) is coming to terms with her fate. 

03.    First Mary, and now Maria... Because they shared the same beautiful features, it was like losing the same woman twice.  They slipped away until they remained nothing but a memory, leaving James with twice the grief.  An overwhelming feeling of emptiness that felt the same as death.  He wanted nothing more than for this madness to end.  [...]  With great effort, James finally got back on his feet.  He remembered his wife’s face, the face of a dead woman.  That lovely face was the foundation of his entire being, his reason for living.  These feelings of grief and sorrow were only a distraction. Searching for Mary, holding on to the belief that she was alive — those were the only things that mattered now. 

re: mary’s illness. 

01.    He wanted to escape.  He wanted to run away.  It would be so easy to just turn around, climb back though the barricade, and run... but he didn't.  [...]  He couldn't leave a dangerous monster to wander around and cause more harm.  However, the true reason he hated this thing had nothing to do with any sense of justice.  It was disgust. 

mary’s illness weighed heavily on james to the point that his psyche all but cracked, and between his own stress and that of visiting mary only to be met with cruel words and spite from a woman who no longer resembled his wife, part of him grew to hate her.  what few good memories he could cling onto were lost in a sea of disgust and a desire to be free, to unchain himself from all the pain it was causing him.  his decision to kill her resulted from a mixture of hate and love, and he can never tell which emotion was stronger in that moment. 

02.     This thing was no mannequin.  It was another monster. Though it had a different form than the squirming monster from before, he had no doubt that they were related somehow.  Oddly enough, he found that being confronted by this grotesque being didn’t bring up the same feelings of hatred and disgust that the other monsters had. 

unlike the lying figures, whose misshapen bodies and acid-spitting “mouths” are meant to represent not only james’ feeling of being trapped, but also mary’s sickness and tendency to say mean, hateful things to him, the mannequins are born of his sexual frustration and desire.  naturally, he doesn’t experience the same subconscious anger he felt towards the lying figures, though he doesn’t know why. 

03.   That was the moment when he'd been condemned to despair — the ending to his happy life.  Indeed, it was almost like he had died before his beloved Mary...  Trapped in a living death that left him with nothing but a husk of a soul, and a heart that felt nothing but never-ending pain.  It only grew worse with each day he had to watch his wife slowly waste away.  His frustration swirled like a frigid storm until it swelled into a cold mass of fury... 

04.   She would yell abusively, all her words turning into hateful curses that struck him like nails through his chest. It was more than James could bear. It was such a sorry sight, watching her heart turn ugly as she slowly withered away.  The beautiful, gentle soul that he had fallen in love with had gone from the world.  That’s why he...  More retched memories spilled forth.  He couldn’t stand to watch her suffer.  That’s why he had to end it with his own hands... 

re: guilt and mercy. 

01.    A large bloodstain ran across the surface of the road as if painted there by a giant brush.  James recoiled in shock.  Seeing something so closely related to death opened emotional wounds.  [...]  Ever since he lost his wife, he had always been indifferent to the rest of the world, and as much as he wanted to just walk away and forget he ever saw the blood-stained pavement... this was something he just couldn't let go.  There's just no way he could bring himself to abandon someone who was probably dying, given the amount of blood the person left behind. 

02.     Truthfully, he sort of envied Laura in this regard.  Envy like an ugly, monstrous dog with a disease-ridden and painful bite.  James had courage... only it was more like recklessness.  I really can’t stand that kind of weakness.  I don’t want to go outside.  I just want to stay shut-up indoors.  Being alone really is the best thing.  I don’t want anyone else to get hurt... because of me... 

03.   But if that’s true, then why am I so reluctant?  It’s just a monster.  Something that’s going to kill me if I don’t kill it first.  But what if... what if it really isn’t?  [...]  And if anything was to be gathered from her appearance, she’s probably suffering immense physical pain as well.  If James looked at the situation that way, it almost seemed pitiable. 

       Then, at most, it’d be nothing more than a mercy killing, right?  [...]  It has to be painful for anyone that disfigured to live.  Monster or human, the best thing would be for it to die.  [...]  I made the right choice... didn’t I?  Even if he could make himself believe that, the whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth.  He felt Maria’s hand on his shoulder.  “James... you did what you had to do.”  Maria offered words of consolation, once again as if she knew exactly how he was feeling. 

guilt, guilt, guilt.  even now, he’s rationalizing his decision to kill mary as a merciful act, down to the references to her disfiguration and pain.  and maria, born of james’ desire for mary, consoles him over it.  he wants to hear that she understands why he killed her, even while grappling with his own self-doubt as to whether his choice was the correct one. 

04.    If this really was the truth, then it should have made it feel easier to kill them one-by-one.  It would be an act of compassion, ending all their suffering.  To think that I’m really “helping” them... that’s a lie.  Only an excuse.  Like I’m trying to run away from something... but what is it? 

re: maria. 

01.     James checked the condition of her injury.  Blood oozed from a scrape on her upper arm.  “Sorry.”  The monster only gave her a scratch, but James still felt the need to apologize. 

even if not by his hands, maria was injured, and the guilt set in.  if he’d just acted faster, maybe he would’ve been able to protect her. 

02.     The thought of this woman who looked exactly like Mary dancing in such indecent clothing and exposed to men’s greedy eyes...  It was like seeing Mary herself endure public humiliation.  Almost like the inquisitive eyes of a stranger watching her in her sickbed... 

03.     He stole a quick glance at Maria, who was still clinging nervously to his arm.  If he was so worried about her motivations, why didn’t he just ask her right now?  He tried to form the words, but he kept hesitating, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.  It was that uncertainty, among other unpleasant emotions swirling in his mind, that always made speaking with Maria so difficult. 

again, confusing maria with mary.  their personalities are completely different, and yet, memories of being unable to be fully honest and open with mary, or saying something and having her lash out at him in response, unconsciously nag at the back of his head. 

04.   “Maria...where are you?”  In James’s mind, Mary and Maria were beginning to overlap.  As if Maria was trying to replace Mary.  Maybe the last traces of his wife’s existence were no match for the need and concerns of a human being who was still alive... 

05.   Suddenly, he heard a voice calling out his name. It was like... a beautiful sound from heaven.  Like the song of an angel, so captivating and breathtaking that it could even wake the dead.  Heart lightened, James turned around.  There was that lovely face he had been pursuing for so long...  “Mary?”  “I’m Maria!”  She glared at him, the annoyance plainly visible on her face.  “Oh, sorry...” James shrank away.  [...]  James found himself to be overwhelmed by her furious accusations. 

mary’s late personality bleeds over into maria’s, dredging up traumatic memories for james of having to hold himself together while enduring verbal abuse for her sake. 

06.    However, even though she had changed into a demon — even though she wasn’t really the woman he loved — he couldn’t bring himself to shoot.  She had been his guide as they wandered through the town’s streets together.  She had been a smiling face to ease his loneliness.  Even now, just seeing her Mary-like face healed his heart. 

re: the outcome. 

     “Mary, I’m back.”  James smiled.  He had left the hotel and backtracked all the way to the parking lot by the highway where she was waiting.  She had always been here, waiting for him.  “Sorry, it’s probably pretty cramped in there...”  He opened the trunk of his parked car. He lifted Mary’s curled up body and set her in the passenger’s seat.  As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he spoke to her.  She was silent, resting inside a sleep from which she would never awaken. 

      “Mary, I remember everything now.  The real reason I came to this town.  I wonder what I was so afraid of?  As if there were anything in this world that could be scarier than losing you...”  He started the engine and stepped on the accelerator. 

     “Now we can finally be together... just the two of us...”  Staring blankly ahead at the mist-enshrouded lake, James kept his foot pressed down on the gas pedal.  The smile never left his face. 

     “I love you, Mary.”  As the car began to slowly sink to the bottom of the lake, James pulled his wife close and gently held her.  Their wish had finally come true.  They would be together.  And now they had an eternity to enjoy their happiness. 

arguably the most depressing, albeit poignant of the potential endings, and my personal favorite.  i like “leave” as well, but there’s something beautiful and tragic about james coming to terms with his guilt and learning to be at peace with his decision to die.  honestly, i think it’s the only real way for him to fully atone for his actions and deserve to be with mary in the afterlife.  i hope they’re happy together in death. 

[regrief]

        REGRIEF.    james sunderland  of  silent  hill  2.    punished  by  cole.    private  &  selective.    originally  est.  2014,  revamped  november  2022.  

      a study in  :    self-hatred,  a  desire  for  punishment,  repressed  memories,  apathy  and  grief,  manifestations  of  a  damaged  psyche,  descents  into  madness,  vicious  cycles  beginning  anew,  atoning  for  your  sins,  realizing  there  is  no  truly  happy  ending,  and  coming  to  terms  with  death  ―  including  your  own.  

        heavily  affiliated  with  @reguile's  maria.  

       links.    carrd.    promo.    playlist  &  more  coming  soon.  

[regrief]

 @lobselvith​ says:  ‘ tell it to yourself.  say it’s just a nightmare. ’ // hope you don't mind me popping in here 

     the  cry  that  tears  suddenly  from  his  throat  as  he  falls  back  and  lands  hard  on  his  backside  reverberates  between  the  room’s  rusted,  metallic  walls.  wide  eyes,  alight  with  panic,  come  to  rest  momentarily  on  that  which  he’d  tripped  over  in  his  fearful  haste -- a  dead  body,  by  the  looks  of  it,  left  to  unceremoniously  bleed  out  after  what  he  could  liken  only  to  a  massive  craniotomy,   the  jagged,  mutilated  mass  of  its  brain  bared  for  all  to  see.  amidst  the  blood  soaking  into  its  clothes,  james  swears  he  catches  a  glimpse  of  green  fabric,  the  hue  almost  unsettling  in  its  familiarity. 

       an  attempt  to  put  as  much  distance  between  himself  and  this  new  entity  proves  futile  as  he  clumsily  scurries  backwards  across  the  floor,  only  for  his  back  to  quickly  collide  with  a  wall.  his  pulse  echoes  in  his  ears,  the  almost  deafening  sound  matched  only  by  the  words  that  inexplicably  enter  his  mind,  a  voice  that  manages  to  sound  like  every  soul  and  no  living  being  all  at  once.  the  creature’s  elongated  limbs,  its  lean  musculature  twisted  and  split  in  a  grotesque  show,  move  almost  tauntingly  as  he  perceives  it  to  fix  its  eyeless  gaze  on  him. 

       its  voice  almost  seems  to  slip  from  various  cracks  in  the  walls,  the  erosion  in  nearby  rust,  and  still  it  originates  very  distinctly  from  his  mind,  a  voice  that  simultaneously  feels  as  though  it’s  been  there  forever  and  should  never  have  been  let  in.  his  skull  throbs  as  he  shakes  his  head,  willing  every  muscle  to  look  away  from  the  strange  entity,   and  finding  himself  unable. 

       ‘ you--  you’re not real, ’   he  practically  gasps,  stumbling  over  the  words  he  so  desperately  wants  to  believe.  dull  nails  dig  half - crescents  into  his  palms,  trying  to  ground  himself  with  the  pain.   ‘ haven’t  you  done  enough?  what  more  do  you  want  from  me? ’