Author's note: Wooo! I'm back, baby! Sorry about the long... **ahem**Twoyears**ahem**...wait for the next chapter. Sometimes those hiatuses... hiatusi... hia... sometimes those long creative breaks just sneak up on you unexpectedly. I hadn't intended for it to be that long at all. I've just been so busy, lately (I'm a creative writing minor in college, so sometimes my fanfics and stuff get sidelined by the stories I actually HAVE to write for school... but that's almost over, graduation this winter, woo!) But there is something special about this story I feel, something that prevents me from allowing it all to fall along the wayside, like so many others I've written. So... I'm back, to take another crack at it, and whatnot.

A few words: firstly, I've upped the time period for this story. Initially, it took place in 2008, but I'm bumping it up to 2010. Mostly because I want there to have been more time since Freddy's last big attack (FvJ).

Also, you'll probably notice this chapter is light on the Freddy. He's heavily mentioned, but makes no appearance. This is because I plan to spend a lot of time, not just reveling in the murder and mayhem (though there will be plenty of that later) but also developing my protagonists. I like these guys. Just as much as I like Freddy. And make no mistake, the way I write him, Freddy is the antagonist. He's the bad guy. So, don't expect this to be one of those ultra Freddy glorifying fics, where the characters exist only to be mowed down by him, 'cause that ain't the way it works 'round here.

Anyway, I talk to much. Though, chances are, if you didn't wanna read the author's note, you've already skipped it. So, without further ado, I give you this, the fourth chapter of Nightmare House!

"Asylum"

"Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

-The Cheshire Cat, "Through the Looking Glass"

The following afternoon...

Kyle sighed to himself as he stood looking at the sign above the entrance to the Happy Cow. The sign depicted a large, smiling cartoon cow. The picture of such a happy character simply made him dread what loomed before him even more. Through the diner's large, front window, he could see Lisa seated by herself at a booth inside, absently staring at a menu. Waiting for him. He and Lisa had been back in Athens, Ohio, where they both attended Ohio University, for a little more than two weeks now, after filming the remainder of their footage for their student documentary about the Elm Street house in Springwood. It had been an extraordinarily stressful time upon their return, even judged by the standards of someone who spent as much time around Lisa as he did. And that was saying something.

For one thing, they hadn't gotten as much footage as they'd intended to. After that Lawson guy had found them filming on 1428's front lawn, he'd made sure the Springwood Police Department knew about it too. For some reason, Lawson just hadn't liked the idea of a couple of kids trying to make a film about his new house's dark, bloodcurdling history. Kyle just didn't get some people. And the Springwood P.D. had already had it in for he and Lisa, after the scene Lisa had made at their headquarters just a few days prior. So, filming at the house itself had become an impossibility.

Which had made editing that much more difficult. Lisa was (surprise, surprise) an extremely anal-retentive perfectionist. She had sat beside Kyle as he attempted to edit their footage together, groaning and screaming at him almost the entire time. This, of course, went beautifully in concert with her bitchy personality. Combine this with the fact that they had shit for footage (a few shots of Lisa standing in front of the house in Springwood, a few shots of her standing in front of the ruined campgrounds at Forest Green, or Crystal Lake, or whatever the hell the place was called, and other than that, a bunch of stills of blacked out newspapers, and old photos of 1428), their documentary had been sub par at best.

And, despite Professor Berger's warning, they hadn't gotten it turned in until well past the due date. Which, as promised, had resulted in Lisa's failure of the class. It took a special kind of student to fail out of a class less than halfway through the semester, but Lisa had managed it.

Kyle had faced no consequences. He hadn't actually been in Berger's class; he, along with two others, a boom mic operator and an actress hired to host the damn thing, had been brought on by Lisa from outside of her class. The boom mic guy and the actress had quit during the filming of the scenes at Forest Green after a particularly brutal verbal lashing from their oh-so-sweet director. Lisa, true to form, had promptly shoved Kyle into the van, gotten in herself, and drove off, leaving the other two stranded at the abandoned campground. Kyle had felt like an ass about it, but it wasn't really like it was his fault.

Come to think of it, he hadn't heard from Mitchell or Cindy since then. Hadn't seen them in class either. That was kind of odd.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted, as Lisa looked up from her menu inside the diner and spotted him. Her face changed quickly to an expression of annoyance, though Kyle thought he'd seen a quick flash of relief there too. He sighed again deeply. With her seeing him, any possibility he had of just leaving without her noticing had vanished. If he tried to leave now he'd catch hell for it. Super-bitch hell. The worst kind.

Besides, she had sounded really desperate on the phone when she'd called him. And Kyle did feel a bit sorry for her. It wasn't totally her fault her documentary had turned out so bad. It mostly was. But not totally. And, he had felt slightly guilty about facing no consequences for the documentary's failure, while Lisa had been raked across the coals.

Kyle took a deep breath, before finally pushing open the door and entering the diner. Lisa glared at him as he walked over to her booth, taking a seat across from her.

"It's about fucking time." she growled. "What part of 'meet me at twelve thirty' didn't you understand? Did you get the big hand and the little hand mixed up again?"

Kyle grinned at her, leaning back in his seat. He couldn't help but be amused at how she'd practically begged him to meet her, then instantly reverted to her nasty, irritable self as soon as she thought she'd gotten what she wanted. "Naw, see, I was just paralyzed with joy at the prospect of seeing you again, Lis. I've missed this. I've missed us!"

Lisa rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't even know why I called you."

Kyle shrugged. "Me neither." He started to get up. Lisa reached over the table and grabbed his arm.

"Sit." Though her expression remained stern, some of the venom had gone out of her voice. "Please."

Kyle did. Lisa leaned back, looking away from him. They sat in silence for for a brief moment, before Kyle broke it.

"So... how are things?"

"I'm going to lose my scholarship, Kyle." Lisa still wouldn't look at him.

Of all the things Kyle had expected at this particular meeting, this piece of news, this undeniable proof of vulnerability, was not even close to one of them. It took a moment for this to sink in. "You're-"

"Going to lose my scholarship." Lisa finally looked up at him. "Failing my film class has knocked my GPA way below what I was supposed to maintain. And I can't even come close to paying my tuition now. I've failed out of college, Kyle. I've fucking failed out of college"

"Well," Kyle said after a pause. "That sucks."

"Thanks for your support." Lisa shook her head distractedly.

Now it was Kyle's turn to roll his eyes. He was starting to lose patience. "Look, Lisa, I'm sorry you failed your class, and you lost your scholarship, and whatever. But it's really hard to sympathize with you when you act like the fucking bitch queen all the time, alright? Now, is there a reason you called me here, or were you actually expecting me to be a shoulder to cry on, 'cause I gotta tell ya-"

"We're going back." Lisa said.

Kyle blinked. "Excuse me? What was that?"

"Back to Springwood." Lisa's eyes had grown distant. She seemed to be looking through Kyle. It was a look he'd seen before. He hated it. "We have to finish the documentary."

Kyle shook his head. "You can't be serious. Lisa-"

"No!" Lisa slapped her hand down on the table. "Kyle, we have to finish it! This goddamn documentary has cost me everything. If I don't finish it..." she trailed off.

Kyle looked at her for a long moment before speaking. "Lisa... did it ever occur to you that the reason the documentary failed, the reason we ran into dead end after dead end, was because there was nothing to document? I mean, fuck! You found out about the house on an urban legends website! And all that BS you pulled out about those murders! Your mysterious 'source' that preferred to remain anonymous? The source that didn't fucking exist?"

Lisa slowly looked up at him. The fire had begun to return to her eyes. "You're questioning my sources?"

Kyle grinned sardonically. "Lis, give it a rest. Despite what you think, I'm not all looks and no brains. I know that the reason you couldn't tell even me who your source was, is because they didn't exist. I will give you credit, though, the stories you came up with for that house were hella clever. Like something out of a Wes Craven flick."

Lisa glared darkly now. It was a familiar expression to Kyle. "We had documentation. All the newspaper clippings."

"You mean the two newspapers from 1981 and 1986?" Kyle asked. "The ones that had all the black outs all over them, that didn't even say anything definitive? We couldn't even find any papers from '89 til '99. The documentation in that town sucked something fierce."

"And that didn't strike you as odd?"

Kyle's eyes went wide. "You're right!" he said melodramatically. "It could've only been the result of a string of mysteriously covered up murders! It's the only possible explanation."

Lisa crossed her arms. "What about the coinciding murders at Crystal Lake?"

Kyle shrugged. "Coincidence. Everyone knows about how fucked up Crystal Lake is with all its murders. That place would have been a good focus for a documentary." he paused, remembering something. "Hey, Lis, did you ever hear back from Mitch and Cindy after you, ya know, abandoned them?"

Lisa ignored this question. "And the fact that the victims from the coinciding Crystal Lake murders were both from Springwood doesn't bother you at all?"

Kyle exhaled deeply. "Where's. Your. Proof?"

Lisa glared at Kyle for a long moment, before finally reaching over to a handbag lying next to her on her side of the booth. Kyle hadn't noticed this before. Lisa opened it, withdrawing a plain, manila folder. She tossed it on the table between them, all the while wordlessly glaring at Kyle.

Kyle glanced down at the folder, a puzzled expression on his face. "What's this?"

Lisa crossed her arms again. For the first time, the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "My proof."

Kyle looked at her quizzically for a long moment, before slowly opening the folder. It was full of a bunch of official looking papers, each signed and dated by someone... Carl Williams was the name on most of them. Kyle's eyes widened when he saw the "Springwood Police Department" heading on the first paper. "Lisa, are these-?"

"Police reports." She was smiling smugly now. "Uncensored police reports. All about the murders at and connected to 1428 Elm Street. With names and dates. Those were my sources."

Kyle looked up at her. He was still shocked. "How... how did you get these?"

"Remember when I was kicked out of the police station?" Lisa asked. Kyle nodded. "Well, it was because they found me looking around in the evidence room. That's not where I found these though. If they had found me where I found those, I doubt they would have let me leave. Those were on Sheriff Williams' desk. Not sure why. Maybe they got 'em out when they found out Lawson was buying the place. It doesn't really matter. Those were my 'reluctant source.' The one I couldn't tell you about. You see why now?"

Kyle slowly nodded. He felt surprised and a little touched. "You... didn't want to get me indicted if you got caught!"

Lisa rolled her eyes again. "No, I didn't want to have to use illegally obtained evidence in my documentary. I doubted Berger would've looked too highly on that. Plus, I didn't wanna risk you blabbing."

Kyle was no longer touched. "Hey... I wouldn't have done that."

Lisa waved a hand. "Whatever. My point is, I'm not afraid to use those to their full extent anymore. I don't exactly have a lot to lose right now. But I figure if I can finish this documentary, and shed some light on this whole thing... it won't really matter that I was forced out of school."

Kyle shook his head. "I still don't understand why you think this is such a big deal. A few covered up murders, Lis? People are exposing those kinds of things all the time. I don't understand what makes this one so different that you've decided to make it your cause."

"I'll tell you why." Lisa's voice was growing thick with excitement. "There's a reason we can't find any documentation at all from 1989 'til 1999. It's because during that period, every single resident of Springwood under the age of eighteen – every single one – either died in their sleep, or committed suicide. Every. Single. One."

Kyle's eyes widened. "No way."

Lisa gestured to the folder. "It's all in there. You wanna know why I think the Elm Street house is so important? Because it's at the epicenter of what could very well be the biggest cover up in American history. And there's even more to it than that. A lot more."

Kyle leafed through the papers. They seemed to corroborate what Lisa was saying. "This is unbelievable, Lis."

Lisa nodded. "I've taken a chance showing you this stuff, Kyle. You get that?"

Kyle slowly looked up from the folder. "I'm starting to."

"Good. Now," Lisa leaned forward. "Are you going to help me?"

Kyle looked back at the folder, then back to Lisa. "I... I dunno, man. This is... this is huge stuff, don't get me wrong, but..." Kyle paused. Like Lisa, he had a near obsessive, inquisitive nature. But what he was holding in his hands could get both he and Lisa into trouble and a lot of it.

"That folder's going to be our protection," Lisa said, as if reading Kyle's thoughts. "If the Springwoood P.D. is going to move against us for having it, they're going to have to answer for it, too. I have a feeling the worst thing we're going to get from them is denial. And more attempts at cover up. They're too incompetent to be any real threat. They never even figured out I took those damn papers from their fucking sheriff's desk."

"Well..." Kyle bit his lip. What she was saying did make sense. And his curiosity was really starting to gnaw at him. But still.

Lisa's face slowly darkened into a glare. It was obvious Kyle's indecisiveness was quickly irritating her. Kyle inwardly groaned, steeling himself up for the verbal lashing he knew he was in for. Instead, Lisa did something completely unexpected. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand.

"Look... Kyle..." she spoke every word with great effort. Her face looked as though she'd just bitten into a lemon. Her grip wasn't gentle. "I...can't do this... without you, alright?"she sighed. "I can't operate my own camera... and I don't have the equipment I need to edit the footage. I... need... you."

Kyle's expression turned to one of shock, before slowly morphing to amusement. "Well, God damn. Did that hurt?"

Lisa sneered, dropping his hand like it was on fire. "I need help with this, okay? And you're..." she looked away from him. "You're pretty much the only person I can count on right now."

Kyle's grin slowly faded as he realized that Lisa had basically told him, in her own snippy, anger-filled way, that he was more or less her only friend. This wasn't something he'd ever seen her say... or even thought her capable of saying. He glanced back down at the folder one last time, before looking back up at her. "Ya know what? If this thing is as big as you say it is... then I'm in."

Now it was Lisa's turn to look shocked. "Really? You are?"

Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, what the hell. You've piqued my curiosity." he glanced back down at the folder before looking back up at her. "Besides, this could really be huge! I'm not gonna let you hog all the glory for this discovery."

Lisa smiled. Kyle was stunned. He was pretty sure it was the first genuine smile he'd ever seen from Lisa. "Well," she said. "I guess you are smarter than you look. At least, a little bit."

Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "Um. Thank you." He handed the folder back to Lisa. "So... where are we starting?"

"Well, there aren't a whole lot of threads to pick up on, unfortunately." Lisa opened the folder, leafing through the papers. "There aren't many survivors to talk to. But there are a few. In fact there's a girl from the last slew of murders left alive... let's see, aha!" She withdrew a single sheet of paper, with a photograph attached to it, and handed it to Kyle. "Here she is."

Kyle glanced at the photo, raising his eyebrows. "Hey, she's hot!" Lisa sighed and rolled her eyes. Kyle grinned at her. "Well, she is."

Lisa scowled. "Yeah. She's also insane."

"Huh?" Kyle glanced back to the paper. "Holy shit. You're right." he read further. "Whoa! She fucking killed her boyfriend?"

Lisa nodded. "Yup. And now she's incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital called Westin Hills. And that girl's going to be our focus. I doubt we'll be able to get to her personally, but from what that report says, her father still lives in Springwood. She also attended Springwood High, and a bunch of the teachers she had still teach there. She was an honor roll student, evidently, so it's a good bet they'll remember her. Those will be our starting points. We'll leave for Springwood tonight."

"This is good, Lisa," Kyle grinned. "This is really good."

Lisa smiled back. "Of course it is. And there's something else. A name that keeps coming up in all the reports, though it's really unclear as to why. I have a feeling we could get some real answers with it, though."

Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "What name's that?"

"K... K something, let me see." she opened the folder, scanning the first page. "Ah, here it is. Krueger. Fred Krueger."


Maggie Burroughs awoke with a start, jerking upright in her chair, and swallowing a scream. For a few moments she was gripped in the disorientation that follows immediately being thrust into wakefulness. It was mostly dark around her, though a bright, yet somehow sterile light seemed to be shining from behind her, over her shoulder, casting weird shapes along the wall in front of her. Her disorientation finally began to fade, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she realized she was in her small, cluttered office at Westin Hills. The strange shapes on the wall were simply the large book cases that completely dominated the wall on either side of the door, opposite the desk she was currently sitting at. And the sterile light was one of the floodlights from outside in the parking lot, shining through the small, barred window directly behind her.

Maggie blinked, glancing down at the jumble of papers lying on the open folder in front of her. She had been going over a few patients' files when she must've dozed off. For a few hours, it seemed, judging by the fact that it had gotten dark enough outside for the floodlights to come on. She stretched, wincing at the loud pop that came from her back as she did so. She wasn't as young as she used to be.

She'd been napping more and more at work lately due to the fact that her sleep at night was becoming more and more restless. She wasn't exactly sure why either, which made her uneasy. It could've been something as simple as insomnia (the fact that she thought of insomnia as something comparatively simple was something that might've amused her a few weeks ago, but not now), but Maggie didn't really believe that.

When you were the only daughter and last living relative of a notorious undead serial killer who haunted people's dreams, you took your sleeping problems very seriously. From outside, thunder rumbled. There was an electric tension in the air. It was obvious a storm was coming.

Granted, Maggie herself hadn't encountered her father in the ten years since their confrontation at the troubled youth clinic she used to work at. She'd actually believed he was gone for good for a while there. She'd kept a close eye on Springwood just in case, especially during the town's drive to revitalize itself, luring in new residents and big business with low priced prime real estate. But she hadn't genuinely expected her father to resurface. She'd seen him dragged into the real world and killed with her own eyes. She'd watched as the Dream Demons abandoned him in his defeat. He was gone for good as far as she knew.

Of course, she hadn't been aware at the time of her father's notoriety for returning, no matter how soundly he was defeated.

She had, however, noticed when a new crop of murders began springing up in the town in 2003. The Springwood P.D. did their best to keep it quiet, managing to keep anything from going national (which was a feat in and of itself considering the brutally ghoulish nature of the murders), but when you were keeping as close an eye on Springwood as Maggie was, in a town that was just a few hours away, you tended to pick up on certain things, no matter how swiftly the press was quieted. The murders had reeked of Krueger, even revolving around the same house: 1428 Elm, the house where she had grown up. The murders had abruptly stopped, shortly after they'd begun. But there had been a heavy cost for the two survivors...

It was during this time that Maggie had moved to Springwood, and through a few connections, managed to land a job working at Westin Hills. It hadn't been difficult. She had good credentials from the Clinic, and had managed to get her doctorate in psychiatry back in spring of 2002. She felt that if Krueger was going to resurface, she should be there. She'd stopped him before, and she would do it again, if necessary.

It was when she'd gotten the job at Westin Hills that she was introduced to what was known as the Elm Street Policy. The Policy, developed by Dr. Roy Campbell, the head psychiatrist at Westin Hills, was simple enough: Krueger was a plague. One that seemed to work in cycles in Springwood. And he would be treated as a plague. Those children who knew of Krueger were quarantined. A vaccine was developed: a drug that suppressed dreams (a drug called Hypnocil, that Maggie didn't entirely trust) was given to these kids to protect them from Krueger, until they could be convinced that he didn't exist. And Krueger himself was never mentioned by name, under any circumstances. The policy had a certain Draconian ruthlessness that Maggie didn't like... but it seemed to be working.

It wasn't a flawless plan. Clearly someone had slipped up at some point. Maggie refused to believe that the murders that had drawn her back to the town weren't somehow connected to Krueger.

And there were the kids who hadn't stopped dreaming. Whose dosages of Hypnocil had been upped and upped until they'd been put into a coma...

"Dr. Burroughs?"

Maggie started violently in her chair. Standing in the doorway, looking just as shocked as she felt at her reaction, was one of the night orderlies.

Maggie put a hand to her chest. "Jonathan, you scared the hell out of me."

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, self-consciously. He was a good looking young man, in his early twenties. He was thin, with short-cropped brown hair. He pushed his black rimmed, Buddy Holly glasses back up on his nose. "Sorry, Doc. It's just, uh... Dr. Campbell wants to see you. He needs your help with... you know..."

Maggie paused a moment, before it sank in. "Is it bad tonight?"

Jonathan nodded. "Oh yeah. Real bad."

Maggie nodded back and got to her feet. "Lead the way then."

A loud clap of thunder shook the building as Maggie and Jonathan walked down the hallway of Westin Hills' maximum security wing. Other than the thunder, the hallway was silent. The patience rooms on this wing were all sound proofed, due to their padded walls, and foot thick, iron security doors. On top of that, most of the patients on this wing were sedated at night. They wouldn't sleep otherwise. Standing outside the room at the end of the hall, leaning against the door, rubbing his temples, was Dr. Campbell. His face looked drawn and haggard, and his gray hair was a mess. His eyes were distant, bloodshot, and deeply sunken. It appeared that his sleeping problems were even worse than Maggie's. But who could blame him, when...

A shriek rose from behind the door Dr. Campbell was leaning against. It was very faint, but even through the thick metal, it could still be heard. Campbell looked up slowly when he heard it, starting slightly when he saw Maggie and Jonathan standing there. He hadn't noticed them arrive. Thunder clapped again, not as loud as before, but no less ominous.

"Maggie," Dr. Campbell said breathlessly. "Thank you for coming. I was worried you'd gone home."

Maggie shook her head. "No, I've just been going over a few files." She left out the fact that she'd fallen asleep. Or the fact that she was pretty sure she'd had a nightmare. She knew Campbell didn't approve of her refusal to take Hypnocil, and she wasn't going to give him any more reason to rag on her about it. "So, what's going on? Why is she so upset."

Campbell paused, shuddering as another shriek rose up from behind the door. "I... I'm not sure. It happened just after sunset. She was fine... lucid, at least... but then suddenly, she just started screaming. She refused to take any of her medication, and none of the orderlies could get near her."

Maggie exchanged a glance with Jonathan at that. There wasn't a whole lot the patients at Westin Hills could do to keep the orderlies away from them if they had to be restrained. It got pretty rough sometimes. But it had to be done for the most part. Maggie and Jonathan both knew that if the orderlies couldn't get near Dr. Campbell's special case, it was because he wouldn't let them near her.

But again, who could blame him, in this case...

"There's another thing," Dr. Campbell said softly. "I... I don't think she's been taking her Hypnocil."

Maggie started at that. "What? Dr. Campbell, you're supposed to be making sure she takes it!"

Campbell didn't reply. Part of Maggie wanted to sympathize with him. He didn't want to risk this patient overdosing on the drug for obvious reasons... even if it might be more hazardous to her health not to be taking it.

But at the same time, part of her wanted to wring his neck. He'd never had a problem putting all of the kids in D Wing into comas ramming the stupid drug down their throats.

Maggie sighed deeply. She'd been meaning to talk to Campbell about his particularly unique situation with this patient, and now seemed like as good a time as any. "Dr. Campbell... I've been thinking about this for a long time and I really believe that it might be best from now on if you left the care of this patient in... other hands."

Campbell's head snapped toward her. For the first time since they'd arrived in the maximum security wing, he looked fully lucid. "No! She's my responsibility, I'll take care of her!"

"Dr. Campbell..."

"NO!" Campbell shouted suddenly. At the sound of his shouting, the shriek rose again from within the room. Campbell looked toward the door before looking back at Maggie. When he spoke, it was in a calmer tone. A pleading tone. "Dr. Burroughs... Maggie... she's all I have left."

"I know that." Maggie said softly. "But you've got to think about what's best for her. I just think that as far as treating her goes, you should leave her to someone else."

Dr. Campbell's eyes narrowed. "To you, you mean."

Maggie groaned. Her patience was beginning to wear thin "Roy, I'm not suggesting you shouldn't be allowed to see her at all, alright? But you're being unreasonable." She met his gaze. "I just think, that given the position you're in, you're a little too close to her to properly treat her, medically speaking. It's not good for either of you."

Campbell's jaw visibly clenched at this, but he didn't reply. After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Alright. Alright, I'll think about it. It's you she wants to talk to tonight anyway."

Maggie raised her eyebrows again. "Me?"

Campbell nodded, turning toward the door, and sliding a card through the locking mechanism. A red light at the top of the door, above its reinforced window, clicked from red to green. "Yes. You. She asked for you by name."

Jonathan put a hand on Maggie's shoulder. "You want me to go in there with you?"

Maggie thought about it, then shook her head. "No. That'll most likely just upset her. It's probably best I go in there by myself. She likes me, I don't think she'd try to hurt me."

Jonathan nodded. "Alright. Just tap on the window if you need anything."

Maggie smiled. "Will do." She nodded to Campbell, who nodded back before pulling the door open. Maggie entered the room, and Campbell slowly closed the door behind her.

It was dark inside the room, and oppressively silent, thanks to the padded walls. It took a moment before Maggie's eyes adjusted. The room was almost completely bare. There was a toilet in the corner of the room, and a bed with restraints on it on the wall opposite the door. Huddled on the bed was a girl. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her face buried against them. Her arms were wrapped around her shins. Maggie slowly moved to sit on the bed next to her.

"Hello, Lori." she said.

Slowly, Lori Campbell raised her head. Her long, blonde hair was messy, and unkempt. It hung limp in front of her eyes. Her cheeks was streaked with tears. A weak smile formed on her face when she saw Maggie.

"Hello, Dr. Burroughs." she said. Her voice was weak and raspy from screaming. "How are you?"

Lori's tale was truly a tragic one. She had been the primary target during the last Krueger go around, due to the fact that she and her father had been residents of 1428 Elm at the time. Lori had watched as all of her friends were picked off one by one until only she and her boyfriend Will were left. The two of them had managed to defeat Krueger by pulling him into the real world and killing him at Camp Crystal Lake, though God only knew what they were doing there.

That hadn't been the end of it, though. According to her file, roughly two months after they defeated Krueger, Lori and her boyfriend Will were having sex (for the first time)... when Lori strangled Will to death.

She claimed Krueger had taken possession of him.

Needless to say, she'd been incarcerated at Westin Hills ever since.

"I'm alright, Lori." Maggie said gently. "And I've told you before, you can call me Maggie. Now, the real question is, how are you? Your father tells me you're upset."

Lori chuckled slightly, wiping the remaining tears from her face, with the long sleeves of her white patient's uniform. "That, Maggie, is what's commonly known as an understatement."

"Why were you so upset?"

Lori shrugged. "He wasn't going to let me talk to you."

Maggie rolled her eyes. Dr. Campbell's judgment was definitely becoming compromised by his proximity to this case. He wouldn't let Lori talk to her until she started screaming her lungs out? Psychiatrists shouldn't be allowed to treat their own children. She pressed on. "He also tells me you haven't been taking your Hypnocil."

Lori grinned again. "Nope. Sure haven't. Those things'll make ya crazy, doc."

The patients at Westin Hills were typically encouraged to maintain high spirits and a good sense of humor, but Lori's, on the rare occasion when she displayed it, tended to be on the macabre and unsettling side.

Lori's face fell. "Besides, I've seen what that shit does to you. And it keeps you from dreaming. I read somewhere once that if you can't dream, you lose your mind. Is that true?"

Lori surprised Maggie a great deal of the time. She hardly came across as insane. Desperate and frantic. But who wouldn't be, given what she'd been through. "The study of dreams isn't an exact science, Lori. Even with all the advancements we've made, we still don't understand them. There's just something undeniably primal about them. Something that refuses to be unlocked."

Lori nodded. "That makes sense. It's what makes...him...so effective."

Maggie paused, watching Lori for a long moment, before finally speaking. "Who are you talking about, Lori?"

Lori looked back up at her, a humorless smile tugging at her lips. "Who do you think I'm talking about, Maggie?"

Maggie nodded, looking Lori straight in the eye, and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "Lori? Have you been seeing him lately? Since you stopped taking your Hypnocil?"

Lori's lower lip trembled. A tear ran down her cheek. She sniffed and wiped it away. "I... I don't know. I've... I've been seeing something. Hearing something. Something bad. In my dreams. At least, I think I have..." she buried her face in her hands. "It's so vague! I don't know what it is, but I know it scares me."

"Have you told your father?"

Lori shook her head. "No. His answer for everything is Hypnocil. He won't make me take it anymore, but he wants me to. I don't want to though. Because they're not all bad, Maggie. I've had good dreams lately, too! But... they're as vague as the others. Just... flashes and images... but I feel safer after having them!" another tear ran down her cheeks. "Do you think it's brain damage or something? From the Hypnocil? Is that why I can't dream anymore?"

"I don't know." Maggie said. But she didn't think that was the case. It felt like there was something more going on here. Call it intuition. "These things you've been seeing and hearing... can you remember anything from them? Anything at all."

Lori looked up at her, and nodded slowly. "Yes. A little. That's actually why I wanted to talk to you tonight. Dad doesn't like me talking to you. He thinks you're trying to steal me or something, I think. But one of the things I remember for my dreams. I think it was a message...for you..."

Maggie arched an eyebrow. "For me?"

Lori nodded. "Yeah... although..." She looked at the ground.

"What?" asked Maggie. "What is it?"

"The message was all weird. It didn't use your name. It used a name, but not yours. I'm not sure how I know it was supposed to be for you, but I do. And... it was talking about someone's father." Lori's brow furrowed as she tried to remember. "Daddy. That was the term it used."

Maggie felt her heart skip a beat. A long moment went by before she gathered up the courage to speak again. "Lori, what was the message?"

Lori looked up at her again. "It said 'Tell Katherine daddy will be seeing her soon.'"

Another clap of thunder shook the building. Outside, the sky opened up, and rain began to fall in sheets. The storm had begun.