The screen suddenly went black in the midnight live broadcast room. When it turned on again, I shouted to the camera, "It's stuck." But the audience responded, "The anchor's special effects are great." That was until the smell of disinfectant from a nursing home wafted through the mist, and the sound of fingernails scratching came from the iron door behind me.
They didn't know that there was no "escape button" in Silent Hill in 1960. The live broadcast equipment in my hand was not a prop, but the only shot that recorded me becoming a "sacrifice". Now the barrage is still saying "please continue", but if I take two more steps, I can see my name written on the medical record.
