"Shit fuck shit!" I cursed, jolting upward in my seat next to Dylan. We were still parked outside the abandoned power plant.

"Calm down, hun. Tell me what happened," he spoke softly, calmly, his eyes trailing from me down to my shoulder.

Looking to where his attention darted, I saw that the cut in my shirt and flesh that Freddy had made during the encounter showed prominently on my real body. There wasn't a lot of blood even though the wound was fairly deep. My friend was carefully dabbing the area with a paper towel. Seeing that the tissue was stained with red, I surmised that he had been tending to the injury and that was why it was so clean now.

"You saw him cut me?" I breathed, eyes lifting to the boy sitting next to me again, "Why didn't you wake me?"

Dylan gave a few more pats before removing his hand and looking back at me, his calm demeanor presenting instead as somber, "You know me well enough to know that I keep an open mind for all possibilities until one is definitively proven..." he paused, reading in my expression that I was fully aware of what he meant, "But this? This sealed the case for me. It's all real..." his tone dropped as did his eyes. He took a deep breath and then showed me a smile, "I didn't wake you because it wasn't life-threatening. I figured you'd kick my ass if I woke you up too soon and interrupted something important."

I grinned back, momentarily forgetting my distress upon witnessing my friend's precise observations regarding our relationship. I knew he wouldn't fully believe my Freddy stories until he had some sort of proof and just the same, he wouldn't discredit it until there was some sort of evidence that it was just a fantasy. Also, I would have been upset if he had pulled me out before it was necessary. However...perhaps he should have woken me when he saw the injury, seeing how it had all ended up...

"I think Freddy may have gotten something from me," my tone grew grave, "I'm not sure, but the way he acted...it feels like he did."

"You mean information about another person?" Dylan clarified.

I nodded, "He was in my head. I tried to fight him, but I think I was too late."

"OK," he inhaled, switching to a studious voice, "While he was in your brain, what exactly did you think about?"

I shook my head, "Actively? Not much. I remember seeing your car. I thought about being in it with you, but didn't actually picture you. Then there was the glove. I saw it clearly- sitting on my nightstand at home... I thought about my mom, but..." I scrunched my face, remembering, "I may have vaguely pictured her, but...I just don't know..."

"It doesn't sound like you really gave anything up," Dylan hummed, "So what did he do to make you think otherwise?"

"He laughed," I shrugged, "He didn't seem upset when I pushed him away. Not until I tried to call Fred out."

"What?" my friend seemed mildly confused.

"I differentiate between his sides by calling the good one Fred," I quickly explained.

"Oh."

"Anyway, I tried to get him to take control and it wasn't until then that Freddy got angry. He was the one that threw me out of the dream; I didn't leave," I finished.

"Hm," Dylan lifted a hand and rubbed his chin, "I don't know. I wouldn't be so sure that he learned anything."

"Why not?" I wondered.

"Because it's too abrupt, first of all," he pointed, "Each time you've seen him, he's been the same- fighting himself and you, and obviously not making any progress. How come all of a sudden, he'd be able to nab something? Just like that?"

I stopped to consider what Dylan was saying, "It does seem a bit odd...but I figured it was because this time he was hurting me, digging into my skull with his claw. Maybe I came in at the wrong time when his alter was in control and it gave him an advantage."

"It's possible," the boy next to me sighed, "But I get the sense there is a trick here."

"It would be in his nature to toy with me like that, but what could he be playing?" I asked, "If he's intentionally making me think that he found a way to someone else...if he pushed me out to make it seem that he was about to go after someone...why? What would that accomplish?"

The two of us sat there in silent contemplation. Dylan was a natural at problem solving, especially, due to his dad, when psychology was involved. My strength lied more in actually handling the problem, like facing danger rather than deciphering its reason. It didn't mean I was bad at it, but I did expect it likely for him to figure it out before me.

"If it's a bluff, then just waiting and seeing that nothing happens would call it," Dylan murmured.

"Yeah..." I agreed, not understanding why he felt the need to say that, "That was my point in asking what the hell he hoped to accomplish."

"I think he's betting on you not simply waiting around to find out what he got," the boy looked over at me, "I believe the trick might be to push you into acting."

Cocking my head to the side, I took a moment to contemplate this, "If I rush into trying to stop him, the greater the chance that'll I'll mess up."

"Exactly."

"Well, the downside to that is that if he isn't lying, then not trying to stop him will put another person at risk and potentially more if he gets to their mind," I sighed.

"That's true, but the good news is is if he has anyone to go after, we know the only two people it could be," the boy grinned deviously, "Because you only thought about your mom and me...and I have no problem staying awake until you've got a plan to squash the threat."

I chuckled, "Alright, but what about my mom? Her schedule is all over the place. When she's home, she's sleeping because if not, she's super cranky."

"What is she doing tonight?" Dylan wondered.

"Uh. Graveyard shift at work, I think. That or she has a date. Either way she's gone for the night," I shrugged.

"Then we need to come up with a plan by morning," my friend decided, placing his hand on the gear shift and switching the machine to reverse, "I'll see what I can dig up on treating people with split personality. Talk to my dad maybe."

"Would that be a casual conversation?" I asked, not wanting any attention drawn to us when the doctor had already checked up on me.

"Yeah, no worries," he laughed as he finished pulling out of the spot and changed gears to drive.

I didn't know if it was just the pressure behind not knowing what was going to happen or what, but I was building up some major anxiety leaving Springwood. The feeling of impending doom was unshakeable. At first, I thought surely something would go wrong before we made it out, like running into police or Lisa Zane. I anticipated that making it to the highway would lessen the feeling, yet my fear only shifted direction then, my being preparing itself to run into some sort of accident that would render us unconscious and in Freddy's world indefinitely and weakened. Once more, upon reaching home, my mind created scenarios of things that could go wrong- learning of a murder or other form of attack... All this tension didn't finally begin to settle until I was sitting on my bed, reading a text from Dylan telling me he had made it home safely.

Only then did I manage to focus on anything other than worry. Picking up my laptop, I looked once more at the information I had saved on spirit traps. If I could successfully make one that would capture Freddy, would I still be able to reach him? Or would he be locked away inside of it? And if I could connect with him, would that still allow him the chance to use me to get out and to others? These were not answers I could find anywhere. I'd have to contact an expert and the closest things I could find were demonologists, who didn't seem to use this technique, Native Americans, and pagans. I had no idea how to get in touch with a native other than to email or call one of the Nations and inquire, hoping I was taken seriously. Other than that, I could easily reach out to pagans. Online, there were groups everywhere to get in touch via internet or in person. It was likely I'd attract some nuts so I suppose I'd just have to pay attention and weed out the crazies myself.

Sighing, I clicked over to Facebook and sent requests to join the largest pagan groups I could find. Next, I found the sites for Cherokee and Chickasaw Nations, the only two tribe names I could remember were still around off the top of my head, and sent each a somewhat pleading, whilst trying to sound sane, email stating my wish to learn more about a particular spiritual practice. All that was left to do now, was wait. Just as I set the computer off to the side and rested my vision on the Soringwood Slasher's glove, I heard a small dinging sound: a Facebook notification.

"That was fast," I whispered aloud as my eyes fell to the small box informing me that I was now a member of Pagans Worldwide Unite.

I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised. The group had over twenty admins so it'd be weird if at least one of them wasn't online. Quickly clicking over to make a new post, I summarized my inquiry in a way that my basic problem was alluded to without actually sharing what was going on: I'm pretty new to witchcraft and was looking for some help regarding spirit traps. If I were to trap a spirit, would I be able to communicate with it without risking it getting free again? And are these permanent or can they be broken? Thanks.

After posting, I re-read it to conclude that it was decent. I hadn't had any more adds by that time, so I went back to looking at the glove. Just gazing at it seemed to relax me. Despite the trouble that had come of acquiring it, it was my most special possession. Besides, nothing bad had occurred and it had all made life much more interesting...though...my brow furrowed thinking back to the judgment its late owner had placed upon me... I didn't like that he thought so little of me. Childish? Hmph. Well, I had gotten the last say in that conversation, now hadn't I? I retorted triumphantly to myself, my smile almost instantly fading...maybe I could be a little childish at times...but my obsession with him was not. I hadn't hurt anybody and I was even trying to help him! Although with as true as that was, I'd be a liar to say I wasn't interested in this darkness as well, perhaps to a dangerous degree...dangerous more for others than myself and it didn't really bother me too much. My biggest concern was how it'd affect those I cared about. Ha! That was a short list of people. It wasn't that I wanted to harm people for no reason; it was just that if some people happened to die, it wasn't too big of a deal.

The sound of music playing broke the silence and caused me to jump. Reaching behind my laptop, I grabbed my phone and answered, "Mom?"

"Hey, sweetie," she spoke kindly with a tired voice, "I just wanted to let you know my plans for the night were cancelled so when I'm done at the store, I'll be home for the night."

"Shit."

"What was that?" her tone shifted immediately to stern.

"Sorry," I shook my head and cleared my throat, silently berating myself for letting my reaction slip out aloud. It was just so annoying that I'd have to watch out for her now too, "I just made a mistake on editing this video," I lied, "See you in a bit, I guess."

"Need anything from the store?" she asked politely.

A fifth of vodka and a stungun that works on demons.

"Snacks," I answered.

"Alright, text me a list," Mom agreed as she hung up.