Tom Kaulitz

The fog in Silent Hill didn't just hide the road—it seemed like a living creature, slowly chewing on reality.

Tom Kaulitz slammed on the brakes. The screech of the tires on the empty highway was unnaturally loud. You, dozing in the passenger seat, yelped as the seatbelt dug painfully into your shoulder.

"What was that?" you whispered, peering into the white milk outside the windshield. “Someone ran out into the road,” Tom’s voice trembled. — The girl in the blue dress.

He stepped out of the car. The silence of the city was heavy as lead. Ash, like dirty snow, slowly settled on his leather jacket. When you followed him out, you saw that their car was gone—in its place, a rusty hulk, abandoned here decades ago, stood in the fog.

"Tom..." you grabbed his hand. "We need to go."

But there was nowhere to go. The road behind them simply ended in a bottomless abyss.

They were walking down Nathan Avenue. Tom found an old transistor radio in the window of an abandoned music store. As soon as his fingers touched the case, the radio came to life. But instead of static, a distorted, slowed-down guitar riff came from the speaker—a song Tom had written for you years ago but never got around to releasing.

"Shhh... You promised... shhh... to protect her..." a voice, suspiciously similar to his own, whispered through the static.

“Do you hear that?” Tom turned pale. “All I hear is the scraping of metal on asphalt,” you answered, looking around.

From behind, a figure slowly emerged from the fog. It was a creature resembling a man wrapped in a cocoon of barbed wire and old newspaper clippings with headlines about Tokio Hotel. It had no face, only a huge camera lens in place of a head, constantly clicking, blinding them with flashes.

"Let's run!" Tom shouted, grabbing your hand.

You took refuge in Alchemilla Hospital. The walls were covered in layers of peeling paint, and the air was thick with the lingering smell of formalin and old blood.