Disclaimer: see the intro

Chapter 1

Her regularly scheduled day of nothing was disrupted by a rather impatient knock on the front door. She paused the movie and answered the door, feeling rather curious as to who would come this far out of town to bother her.

"Are you Jordyn Poletti?" She noted the man's rough voice.

"Depends on who's asking." Jordyn sharply snapped back. She wanted this figure to know his visit was bordering annoyance.

The man proceeded to flash a badge. "Detective Carl Hagen." He noticed her frown. "Don't get me wrong now…I'm here to seek your help."

"My help?" Jordyn now assumed that this was going to where she feared to tread.

Carl nodded before going on, "I know you moved way out here for a reason and I apologize for intruding on your solitude…"

She cut him off, "Get to the point, Detective!"

"My daughter is in the hospital—in a coma."

"My condolences, Detective, but I'm afraid I don't know the creep that did it."

"Oh but you do!" He was livid now. "Or did, I should say." This conversation was lasting much too long for her. They were already practically saying his name—a name she wished she could just forget. Jordyn knew she was more than willing to move on—yet a part of her forbid it.

"Well, even so, Detective, as you know, I have no contacts with anyone."

"But you know how." His livid demeanor changed to anger, "Dammit, that bastard has my daughter—that's why she's in a coma!"

Jordyn's face fell then and she tried not to cry, "He's…holding her hostage? Why?" She didn't understand. Jordyn knew him well enough that he wasn't the type to let his victims live for very long. He infamously toyed with them for a few moments before going in for the final kill.

"I'm here to find out why, Jordyn." Carl's reply followed her as she slowly sunk into the nearby armchair. She tried to keep the memories from flooding her. "Are you ok?"

Jordyn replied without looking up, "No. I'm not ok." She hesitated, making sure she was safe from her memories before continuing. "Detective, common sense should tell you that he's the reason I reside out here in B.F.E.—why I chose to socially deprive myself. When I woke from my coma, I foolishly told doctors where I had been. The media got wind of it and turned my story into a freak show."

"You were hard to track down." Carl calmly agreed with her living arrangements.

Jordyn sighed, "If I could help you and you're daughter, Detective, I would."

"Why can't you?"

Finally she stood up and faced him at eye level, "I have no way to reach him." That simple reply brought tears to her eyes, "I can't really even explain how I was able to reach him in the first place. The whole thing was like a fluke, some loophole. I can't get to him like the sleep depraved teens seem to. Believe me, I've tried."

Carl rubbed at his chin in thought. "Did you try hypnotism?"

"Everyone from the crackpot hypnotics to someone serious about the craft." She sighed and ran a hand through her long hair. "They could do nothing."

"Maybe if we work together, we can think of something."

She roughly shook her head, "I'm sorry, I…I can't willingly face him if we actually found a way to him."

"Why not?"

The answer was in a form of a memory that slipped through her defenses, shaking her to the core. Instantly, as she tried to push back against it, she brought her arms around her as if the temperature rapidly dropped. "I'm assuming he is most likely highly upset with me…and I don't want to find out if it's true or not."

"Why would he be upset with you?"

She looked at him in shock, "Don't you know anything of my case?"

Carl shook his head, "All my focus was on trying to find your current locale. I didn't get the chance to read up on what drove you here in the first place. All I know is that the media latched onto your sordid tale."

"I see." She took a deep breath. "Well…you're aware that I was in a coma, I hope." Carl nodded. "I was supposed to die…that's what the coma represented—one foot in the grave for me. But instead, I became suspended. Doctors were baffled and couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. When I awoke nearly three years later, I was completely fine, as if I was never really near death. I tried to explain to them where I was, but they just blew me off. They did nothing to stop the media frenzy."

"So he's upset with you because you attracted the media?"

"No. He's upset because I left him rather abruptly. I'm assuming that's why he is killing again. But it doesn't explain why he is holding your daughter prisoner instead of just killing her."

"If I had a choice of the two, I'd gladly encourage a hostage situation." He replied as he twitched in shock from her words.

"Oh, Detective…I'm sorry…I didn't mean it that way…"

"I know…" He sighed. "If you can't help us the way I'd like, can you at least come with me to visit her?"

Jordyn grimaced. He was pretty much dragging her where she didn't want to get involved. But you ARE involved, Jordyn. All he is asking is to at least pay respect to his daughter. "Alright. Just a visit though…and then after, never contact me again. I just want to forget my whole affair with him." Carl nodded understandably.

Jordyn stood just outside of the room near the open door, facing the window that separated the room from the hallway. She could hear the semi-personal conversation between the doctor and Carl. Her eyes were fixated on the motionless young woman on the bed, strapped to a heart monitor. Apparently, the girls' heart fluttered dangerously close to flat-lining and now they didn't want to take any chances. What is he doing to you? Taking his rage of despair out on you?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Carl. "It's ok to come in, she doesn't have anything contagious—she's just in a coma."

Timidly, Jordyn stepped through the doorway. "How long…?"

"Three weeks." Carl answered her half question.

Suddenly, Jordyn shook her head, "This is pointless. I don't even know why I agreed to come here." She proceeded to turn out of the room.

"Jordyn!" Carl's needy wail stopped her in her tracks. "Stay just a few minutes at least."

With a sigh, Jordyn gave in and resumed her stance at his side. Just then, another figure entered. "Mr. Hagen! How is she?" A boy called out.

Carl glanced over his shoulder, "Hey Thomas. Same as yesterday."

Thomas then noticed Jordyn. "Who are you?"

Carl answered for Jordyn, "This is Jordyn Poletti."

"THE Jordyn Poletti?" Thomas was surprised. She simply nodded, feeling suddenly insignificant.

"You know her?" Carl blinked.

"I know of her." Thomas replied. "Jordyn Poletti, one of the rare Krueger survivors." He stuck his hand out to Jordyn, "My name's Thomas Wilkins, a real admirer of yours."

She had visibly flinched on the mention of his name, even if it was just his last name. "Nice to meet you, Thomas." There was a bit of silence. "So…are you friends with Ms. Hagen?"

"She's a classmate, but yeah we're friends." Thomas answered.

"Thomas comes in almost everyday." Carl added.

"Well, when I'm not swamped with homework." Both men chuckled. Jordyn just nodded. Thomas checked his watch. "Oh I'm going to be late for Session."

"Better get going." Carl advised.

"Session?" Jordyn asked.

"It's a therapy group. A bunch of us meet up a few nights a week and we bond over mutual things." Thomas explained.

"Like what?"

"The man that haunts our dreams." Thomas' voice was strained in sadness. Jordyn wished she hadn't asked. "You should come. Everyone would be delighted to meet you."

"I better not." She began, but Thomas pleaded with her. "Ok, just a visit then." She was really getting upset on how she was being dragged into things she wanted nothing to do with.

"Awesome. You can just sit and spectate." Thomas brightened up and led the way to a room on the floor above. During the elevator ride, Jordyn made it clear that she wasn't up for talking. Luckily, Thomas used up the time to explain the details of how Claire Hagen ended up in a coma. Jordyn listened as patiently as she could. Finally they arrived on the correct floor and were soon in a room at the end of the hallway. "Here we are."

"Thomas, we're just about to start." A woman with a clipboard addressed him as other kids sat around her. Thomas took his usual seat, Claire used to sit in the chair next to him…so Jordyn sat there instead. "Oh, it seems we have a new therapy member."

"No, I'm just a spectator." Jordyn corrected her.

"If the monster is plaguing your dreams, then here is the place to share your anxieties."

Jordyn frowned, and Thomas jumped in to explain. "It's ok, Elaine. This is Jordyn Poletti." Jordyn shot him a look and he whispered, "Sorry."

"No way." Another kid spoke up. "I thought she was dead."

"Alex, that was rude." Elaine berated the other boy.

"Sorry." Alex apologized.

"Well, Jordyn, it's a pleasure to have you among us." Elaine opened up the hour with trying to make Jordyn feel welcome. "The presence of a survivor will certainly boost our spirits." Thomas smiled when the others agreed. "Please…share your experience with us." Jordyn glared at the woman. "It's alright. Talking about such things is a way to heal the soul. Some of us might have had the same experience…"

Jordyn couldn't believe this woman. "I seriously doubt it."

"Pardon me?" Elaine was taken aback when Jordyn interrupted her. "Share your pain with us."

The woman just kept urging Jordyn to partake in the group and finally, Jordyn snapped. "Stop talking about him like that! Stop insinuating things! You don't know him like I do!" Jordyn stormed out of the room, unable to take anymore accusations about Freddy Krueger.

That night, Jordyn lay in bed unable to close her eyes despite that the amount of tears she had just shed left her exhausted. Slowly, she rose from the bed and stumbled in the semi-darkness to her dresser. Her hands reached out for the handles of the bottom drawer and it opened with no resistance.

In the rear right hand back corner of the drawer was the item she sought. It was a tattered shoe box missing the lid, so the objects inside the box were easily seen. She pulled the box from its spot and sat back against her bedpost, setting the box in her lap.

Timidly, her fingers brushed against a brown fedora. It wasn't his hat—just a duplicate from a department store window that made her think of him. She brought the fedora to her nose and took a deep breath. An unfamiliar musty smell consumed her and she quickly let the hat fall lopsidedly into the box. It didn't contain his smell.

She picked up the hat and set it aside in order to get to the other objects in the box. Actually, they were newspaper clippings of long ago—articles of his early years of killing. Jordyn turned the hat upside down, allowing the open end to face her. One by one she let each clipping fall into the hat.

"Why Freddy…why now?" Her voice was a mixture of exhaustion and sadness. "Why can't I just let go?" Her hand dove into the pile of clippings and angrily crumpled them. "You haunt me without really haunting me." Quickly, she pulled her hand back, as if crumpling the papers was a sign of betraying him. She retreated further, as if he was coming out of the box at her. Jordyn turned away and scrambled to bed. She just couldn't deal with this now. Pulling the covers completely around her, she curled up into a ball and let the tears come again.

A/N: Wow, so much excitement. Can ya handle it? Do you likey my story? Am I out of my mind? Well, stay tuned for more insanity!