CHAPTER ONE
Freddy
"Harper!" The teacher screamed, slamming his hands on his desk angrily. "Wake up!"
Seventeen year old Harper Carbon jerked in her seat, ripping a pained moan from her throat as her headache worsened with the abrupt movement. She gave her teacher a reproachful glance before leaning her head back in her hands and closing her eyes.
"Ms. Carbon..." Her teacher said, a dangerous undertone to his voice. "...I said wake up with the intent of waking you up; not giving you permission to go back to sleep." Harper stared at him, her eyes blurry and red. She regretted nothing more at that moment than going to school. Unfortunately, no one in charge had much sympathy for a student with a hangover.
Her teacher stared at her unkindly. "This is the seventh time you've attended my class in this condition Ms. Carbon. This wouldn't disturb me as much if this was not only your fifteenth day of school here." He walked over to her, his jaw slightly clenched. "Listen up girl. Being new does not give you the right to show the disrespect and rudeness that you've been displaying. It is unacceptable, and I won't tolerate it." He stopped right in front of her desk, crossing his arms.
Harper raised her eyebrows, attempting to ignore the insane pounding in her temples. At his expectant look, she sighed. "Look Mr. Walsh, sir, this is the worst hangover I've ever experienced. My head is in excruciating pain, and the annoying sound emitting from your mouth is only making it worse. So, with all due respect sir...shut up."
Harper sat in front of the principal's desk, twirling a piece of wavy blonde hair around her finger, listening to the droning of the head of the school.
"...unacceptable behavior. I don't know why you continue to do this, as I've warned you of the consequences...but it seems as if you really don't care." Ms. Brody leaned back in her chair, glancing at her reflection, before returning her gaze to her student.
"I'm afraid this is the last straw Ms. Carbon. I told you last time that I wouldn't be so easy on you; and I'm not going to be. Starting today, you are suspended from school. I don't expect to see your face in this building until next Monday."
Harper stared at her, unbelieving. Was she serious? She was banning her from school?
A grin lit up the teen's face.
"Thanks ma'am. You've certainly made my day." Harper got up, gave a solute to her principal, and swaggered out, pursing her lips at the seemingly amplified sound her footfalls made.
"Yo, Carbon!" A low male voice called out, bringing a smile to the girl's face. She turned around, and her eyes met the reason she was hung over in the first place.
"Whoa Snowflake, you look like hell. I warned you not to party so hard." Harper grinned, and lightly punched her friend in the arm.
"Hey D, how you doing man?" She asked, attempting to dodge his extended arms.
"I'm alright girl." He answered, his muscular brown arms finally trapping her against him. "Still feeling the effects of last night a little. But hey, it was worth it." He finally released her when she elbowed him in the chest. "Speaking of last night, a friend of mine is having a little get together with some people tomorrow night. You should come. Ain't no party without my little snowflake present." Harper smirked.
"Ya, I'll be there man. Might be late though...I'll have to sneak out. Just got suspended. Seventh time I've shown up to school with a hangover, and fifth time I've been sent to the office."
He laughed. "Damn girl. Only two weeks of school too. I'm proud of ya."
"Carbon! I said I didn't want to see your face again for a week, and I meant it. Now, collect your work from your teachers, and get out of my school." The principal's snotty voice echoed through the hall, reminding Harper of her pounding head. With a moan, Harper started walking. "Walk me Deryk?" She asked, slipping her hand into his, knowing full well her principal was completely against black and white people being romantic with each other.
"Racist whore." Harper mumbled, making Deryk laugh.
"Ah, she's not the only one. Lot's of folk, black and white, are against us mixing together. It may be 2010, but there are still judgmental people out there."
Harper scowled at him. "Ya, but I still don't like it. All that chick cares about is how she looks. Always wearing her dumb hooker boots, getting her hair dyed every ten minutes. She should lick my cunt, stupid, fucking..."
Deryk slapped his hand over her mouth.
"Calm Snowflake, calm..." Harper rolled her eyes, and got on her motorcycle. "I'll see you tomorrow night D. Text me with the details." D nodded, and she started up her bike. Deryk shook his head fondly as she rode away. No helmet. Still drunk. One of these days that girl is going to get herself killed.
Harper made it home safely, although she received many angry yells and fingers because of her swerving. She swung her leg over, and stumbled back, giggling as she saw the disapproving stare of her neighbour, who shut the curtain when Harper waved. She stuck a cigarette into her mouth and walked into her house, knowing she was going to have a mean confrontation when her mom's boyfriend got home that night. No matter how many times she told her, Harper's mother refused to believe that her perfect and romantic Glen abused her daughter. All the cuts and bruises Harper got, those were all self inflicted.
Dumb bitch.
Dropping her bag on her bedroom floor, Harper took one last drag before tossing the cigarette out the window, and collapsing on her bed. What better way to get rid of her headache than falling asleep? It was only 1306, so she still had a good six hours before she had to face Glen. Kicking off her boots, she leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.
"HARPER!"
Harper's eyes shot open, and her chest automatically tightened. Glen was home.
With a deep breath, Harper sat up, just in time for her door to be thrown open. Glen stood there, his tie loosened, his hair messy, and a bottle of whiskey in his left hand.
"I got a call from your mother." He said, a barely noticeable slur in his speech. "Apparently you've been suspended." He walked into the room, and Harper bit her lip as he began taking off his belt.
"Time for your medicine."
He left Harper in a bleeding heap on her floor, the belt lying beside her. Well, at least that was over and done with. He wouldn't touch her again for at least a week, when her wounds would be virtually healed.
Her physical ones anyway.
When she heard his bedroom door slam shut, Harper pulled herself up, biting back whimpers of pain. She glanced at the clock. 1952. Still another three hours for her mother to get home. With a groan, Harper stood all the way up, so used to this routine she didn't even have to think about it anymore.
Yelled at, beaten, stagger to washroom, pain killers, shower, clean wounds, sleep. As it was, this beating fortunately was not as severe as past ones she'd received, so she was able to look after herself in less than two hours.
She heard her mother enter the house, and heard Glen go down the stairs to meet her. She heard the kissing, and his assurances that he'd properly disciplined the teenage delinquent. And finally, she heard them enter their bedroom and screw each others' drunk brains out.
What a life. She thought grimly to herself.
Hours later, by the time Harper finally fell asleep, Glen had already left for work, and her mother was getting ready for work. Another two hours, Harper would usually be getting up to go to school. This time, she was planning on remaining in bed for another four hours before getting up. That would give her an hour of enduring her mother's lecturing on how she shouldn't hurt herself.
Four hours later, she wasn't disappointed.
"Harper, my god, stop this! There are better ways to handle your issues than hurting yourself! Just because Glen grounded you does not mean you have to litter your body with welts and bruises."
Harper glared. "You're either incredibly stupid, or are in a naive pit of denial. How can you honestly still believe I'm doing this to myself? I drink and smoke my problems away woman. I have no need for self mutilation. You should talk to your boyfriend about this!"
This resulted in a slap to the face. "Stop it! You are not going to blame Glen for your personal problems. Glen loves us very much, you just won't let him show it!"
Her daughter gave her a disgusted look. "Oh please, I hear how much he loves you every night, and I certainly don't want him to love me. Oh Glen, oh Carla! It's enough to make you want to vomit!" Carla scowled at her daughter, then stood.
"I don't have time for this shit. Pull yourself together girl. And don't even consider going out, you're grounded until you're back in school." Those were her parting words as she grabbed her briefcase and left. As if on cue, Harper's cell started vibrating. She flipped it open, and read the text.
Party's going down tonight at Jim's. 6734 2nd street. Starts at 1900. Be there Snowflake.
Harper grinned. This would be good.
Six hours later, Harper had enough tequila, rye and whiskey for about thirty people, and enough weed for about twenty five. She never showed up to a party empty handed.
She shoved her stash under her bed and in her closet. She looked at her watch, and sighed. The next six hours would go by slow.
Well, time to get some sleep. She wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.
She shut her eyes, but they snapped open right away when she heard a thump. Her whole body jerked, and she shot up. What the hell...someone was in her house?
She threw her legs over the side of her bed, and she padded barefoot out into the hallway.
THUMP.
She made her way down the stairs. "Carla? Glen?" The only answer was another resounding thump. It sounded like it was coming from the cellar.
Pulling her long blonde hair into a ponytail, Harper grabbed the doorknob and opened the door to the cellar. A wave of heat rushed out at her.
"What the hell?" She hissed, her eyes wide in confusion. She walked down the stairs, and froze when she heard a sob. Her eyes narrowed.
"Who the fuck is in my house?" She snarled, leaping down the remainder of the steps, and spinning around, came face to face with a young boy, about her age. He was crying. Looking closer, her mouth dropped. It looked...just like Mr. Walsh.
"Mr...Mr. Walsh?" She asked, hardly believing her eyes. He was so handsome when he was younger. Wait...how the hell was...oh. Harper pursed her lips. She must be dreaming.
"Har-Harper?" He asked, his voice wobbly. "What are you doing here?" She gave him a nettled look.
"Well, I live here sir. As to why I'm dreaming about you, don't ask me, because I'm clueless."
His tear stained face contorted into horror.
"You live here? This is where you moved?"
Harper gave him a sideways glance. What the hell was wrong with him?
"No...no no no...Harper, you have to get out! You're not safe here, he'll get you! Harper please, run! Get out of here!"
She stared at him. "Sir, with all due respect...what are you on?"
Tears were flowing freely from his eyes. "No, no, he's coming back, he's coming back again. He has to stay away, you have to get away before he kills you!"
Harper backed away, giving him a creeped out look. "Alright sir, thanks for the warning. Now get the hell outta my dream."
A cackling suddenly sounded throughout the cellar, and her teacher's eyes bulged out of his head.
"NOOOOOOO!"
Harper shot up in bed, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat. Her eyes darted around, before she finally relaxed. What a dream. Throwing the covers off herself, she peeled off her shirt and walked to the washroom. The party started an hour ago, and her mom was coming home in three hours. She had to hurry.
The hot water and steam helped her to forget about the dream, and concentrate on the evening ahead of her.
"And here she is, my favorite girl, fashionably late as always!" Deryk called, as Harper entered the room with her friends, each carrying a crate of liquor. "And of course, bringing us all treats as usual." He swaggered over, placing his arms around her shoulders and planting a kiss on her temple. Harper rolled her eyes, and shoved the crate into his chest.
"You wanna show you're happy to see me? Take care of this." She smirked, and grabbed the bag off her back. "And. If anyone is interested..." She opened up the bag, and dumped the contents on the floor. Cheers erupting around her.
"Now this girl knows how to party." A loud voice boomed. Harper grinned, and got herself a drink. She was going to get wasted.
"So you're Harper Carbon eh?" A deep voice said behind her. Harper turned, and raised her eyebrows. This man, without a doubt, was one of the sexiest she'd ever seen.
"I am." She said, looking him up and down, not too subtly. "And you are?" He grinned.
"I'm Jim Hardrock. This is my party and my place." A smile made it's way onto Harper's lips. Hardrock? This guy certainly didn't waste anytime.
"Sweet deal...Hardrock." Harper said with a wink. Jim's grin only widened.
"You're sharp kid. Most girls fall for it."
"I'm not most girls, dude."
"I can see that. Who'd you piss off?" He asked gesturing to her bruises and cuts. Harper shrugged.
"My mom's boyfriend doesn't take to kindly to me getting suspended from school."
Jim nodded in understanding. "I know what that's like. My old man never liked to find out I was smoking up. Beating me up was on of his favorite past times." Harper smirked.
"Maybe he was just jealous of your last name."
Jim laughed, and clapped her on the back.
"True say girl, true say. So, tell me, where'd you get all this shit?" He looked at the crates of liquor and bags of pot. Again, Harper smiled, and ran her hand through her hair.
"I know people. I'm a regular customer with a lot of dealers, so they do me favours. I give them the money, they get me the smokes and the drinks."
Harper took a gulp of her tequila, and sauntered off, leaving Jim looking after her with a plausive grin on his face.
A few hours later, most people had left, and only about thirty remained, all sitting in Jim's living room.
"Yo!" Harper called out, slapping the guy who had decided to try to wrap himself around her. "Let's hotbox it!" There was a chorus of approving cheers, and the doors and windows were all shut. Several cigarettes were lit, and passed around.
"So, Carbon." Jim started, taking a long drag on a cigarette. "My boy Deryk told me you just moved here. What place was unlucky enough to lose you?"
Harper rolled her eyes, and took another drink, and lit up a cigarette. "Houston, Texas. Moved here about three weeks ago. Mother thought a change of scenery would fix my attitude. Turns out it made it worse." She smirked, and placed the cigarette between her lips.
"Where'd you move to?" Another voice asked. Harper exhaled, and watched the smoke for a few seconds before answering.
"1428 Elm Street." This answer was met with silence. Harper looked around, and saw a number of people look at each other. Majority of the guys smirked at each other.
"Have you heard the stories?" Jim asked, a sinister tone sneaking into his voice. Harper raised an eyebrow, and shook her head. "Naw man. What stories?"
Jim took another long drag, eyeing Harper, sizing her up. "How are you at handling scary stories Snowflake?"
Harper rolled her eyes. "If you're planning on telling me some supernatural ghost story, save it, and lick my cunt. I don't believe in that shit. "
This brought a smile to every guy's face in the room. However, the girls were not too amused.
"Hey, if you're gonna start in with that story, we're leaving." One red head said, her friends nodding in the affirmative. Jim shrugged.
"Go on then little Jenny. No loss to me." With a scowl, she left, the others trailing behind, leaving Harper as the only girl in the room.
"Alright Snowflake, before I lick your cunt," He smirked as Harper scowled. "I'm gonna tell you a little story about that house of yours. I guess you could say it's the only haunted house in Springwood." Harper gave a little yawn, and took another drink.
"About forty years ago, there was this guy who worked in a boiler room. His name," Jim paused for effect, and licked his lips. "was Freddy Krueger. He was a child murderer. He killed about twenty kids before they caught him. He was let off on a technicality though.
The parents of Springwood...they weren't too happy about that. So they tracked him down themselves, and trapped him in an old abandoned shack, and burned him alive. They thought it was over." He took a swig of whiskey, then continued.
"About ten years later, Freddy came back, and killed all the kids who's parents killed him. Except one girl; Nancy Thomas. She lived at 1428 Elm Street." Harper sighed, and took another smoke, wondering when the tale would end.
"She defeated him, eventually. But not permanently. The next guy to live in that house, Freddy possessed him, made him commit the murders. That guy...Jesse Walsh." At this, Harper's eyes widened slightly, and she became slightly more interested in the story.
"Jesse Walsh? As in, Mr. Walsh, my science teacher?" There were a number of chuckles.
"Yes," Jim answered. "the one and only. Well, he and his girlfriend, now his wife, killed Freddy, and lived to tell the tale. Although, he never has come out with it." Harper licked her lips, and sat up straighter. "Is there more?" She asked.
"Oh yes. Next, Freddy went for the rest of the kids who were all in an institution together; killed all of them. Then, he was simply unstoppable. He killed simply because he enjoyed it. Finally, it all ended when his daughter, Katherine, killed him. She was taken away from him after he killed his wife in front of her, and she told. She was given up for adoption. Freddy used her to kill other kids."
Harper's brow furrowed in confusion. "He...used her? How?"
At this, Jim got up and walked over to her, placing his hands on her knees, leaning in close.
"Well, that's the punchline. You see, the only way that Freddy can kill, is through your dreams. He's not actually real. He enters your dreams, and kills you through that. But, he can only enter them if you're afraid of him. Your fear is what gives him power." He leaned back. "He lured his daughter here, and made her afraid of him. She went back to where she came from, and talked about him to people who had never heard of him before. She had no idea what she was doing."
Jim got up, and sat back down. Across from her.
"So that's the story. That's the story of the Springwood Slasher."
"Springwood Slasher?" Harper asked, dropping her cigarette in her cup.
"That's what they called him." Jim said, his eyes gleaming. "He was rumored to have worn a glove on his right hand, with long, sharp blades on the ends, like fingernails. He liked to scrape them along things when he went after his victims." Jim lit up another cigarette, despite the heavy blanket of smoke in the room, and looked at Harper. "So, Carbon...feeling spooked?"
Harper shook her head. She wasn't spooked. She'd stopped being spooked a long time ago.
"So how do you all, know about this?"
At this, Jim's eyes lost some of their amusement. "Because someone told us. Someone who thought he was being targeted by Freddy. My boy Terence. He stopped sleeping, stopped eating. Lived off of coffee and stay awake pills. Well, eventually he committed suicide. Slashed his stomach open. Even to the end, he tried to convince everyone Freddy killed him." Jim shook his head. "Four slashes, perfectly applied. Same distance apart and everything. He was holding a bloody knife in his hand. Dumb bastard."
The happy go lucky atmosphere in the room had changed. Not a smile could be found. Harper looked down at her drink, and shook her head. The things people did. She grabbed a half full bottle of tequila, and stood up.
"Well, thanks for the great time man, but I gotta go. My mom's boyfriend is getting up in an hour, and he'll probably look in on me to make sure I'm still in bed. Grounded after all."
Harper took a swig out of the bottle, and made her way to the door.
"Weeee you be aiight Carbon? Yawanna raaiiide?" Asked Deryk, his words running together.
"Naw man, my house is only a twenty minute walk from here. I'll be aiight."
Harper stumbled out the door, the clear air a shock to her lungs and skin. A cloud of smoke poured out with her, and she shut the door, trying to keep most of it in the room. You couldn't hotbox without smoke.
She took another gulp of tequila, and began the trek home.
The final drop of alcohol entered her mouth when she was under her window, and she threw the bottle behind her, hardly hearing the smash it made when it hit the pavement. She started climbing up the trellis, having to make a number of attempts to grab it. Her lips pursed as she remembered what a bitch it was to get the alcohol down it and into her friend's car earlier that evening.
She made it about halfway before losing her footing, and falling. She cried out, and landed on the rose bushed under her window. She unsteadily got to her feet, unaware of the new scratches she'd acquired from the thorns.
Half and hour later, she climbed through her window, and slipped under the covers, just in time for Glen to poke his head in. Satisfied, he left, and fifteen minutes later, he drove away.
Harper pushed the covers off, and got out of bed, almost losing her balance. She staggered to the washroom, and ripped off her clothes. She stepped into the bathtub and poured rubbing alcohol on her body, her intoxicated state not allowing her to feel the stinging.
After rinsing herself off with the shower head, she wrapped a towel around her body, grabbed her clothes and headed back to her room. She fell unconscious as soon as her head hit the pillow.