A/N: So my door was moved (out of sympathy for yelling at me, I suppose) and now there is a bathroom in my room and I feel all Nancy Holbrook-ey. But hopefully I won't wake up in my bath and then walk into my room to find it snowing. So this chapter has a bit more plot (Only like... one line at the end hahaha) but next time i promise it'll be a plot convention!
It was dark.
She could barely see her own hands. She had no idea where she was or what she was doing there. All she knew is she was not alone. She walked slowly, trying to avoid tripping over anything. She'd come back from the grave and kill herself if she died from tripping while being haunted by a child molester from her past.
It began to brighten up only a little, she could now see her surroundings, but everything had a dark bluish tint. It must've been in the middle of the night. There was a staircase in front of her and broken pictures hanging crookedly on the wall. She walked past it and into the living room. There were trophies and medals on the mantelpiece but she was too far away, the name was illegible from where she was standing. She turned around and walked back to the staircase. She held tight to the railing and slowly stepped up. She was only about halfway up the staircase but she had seen about a dozen more broken frames, but a few were intact. Then it finally processed.
She was in Quentin's house. The trophies on the mantelpiece were his, the broken photos of him and his family. She held her breath and panicked. Why was she here? Was she dreaming? Was Quentin okay?
The thousands of questions that were racing through her mind were interrupted by a low scream of a man in pain. It caught her off guard and hadn't her grip on the railing been so tight she probably would've fallen backwards down the staircase.
She wanted to help. She really did, but her legs were frozen; they refused to move. The voice was one she recognized but it was not Quentin's. No, it was the voice of his father's, Alan Smith. Just like that, more questions began flooding her mind, and she was reminded of the last time she'd dreamt of somebody being killed in her dream.
It resulted in her staying at a mental institution and her mother's funeral.
When the blood returned to her legs they ran the wrong way, it seemed that Nancy was no longer in control. She made it up to the front door, the screams and pleas getting louder, with every intention of opening it up and running out. The door was locked from the outside though. She turned around, leaned her back against it, and when she heard the familiar cackle of her worst nightmare her legs gave out. She slid down to the floor, burying her face in her knees and squeezing her eyes shut.
"I think it's time for you to wake up, Little Nancy. Wake up…"
"Nancy, wake up!"
Startled, she shot right up with a gasp. She was covered in sweat and the sheets around her were a mess, but she noted she was where she was supposed to be, in her bed, in her dorm, at Westin Hills. It was bright; morning had finally come. She turned her head to find that Quentin had been the one to wake her up. His eyes were red, and by now he knew he'd woken her up from a nightmare, only worsening his worries.
Nancy brushed away the pieces of hair sticking to her face and sat up straight, crossing her legs. Quentin sat down and looked at his hands. Nancy tilted her head and grabbed both of them, drawing his attention to her. He waited a few seconds before saying, "My dad's in the hospital."
Nancy was shocked not because Quentin's father was in the hospital, but because his father was still alive. Nancy looked over Quentin to see Allison wasn't in the room and then her eyes shifted to the bottle of pills on the table beside her bed. They hadn't been touched. She mentally kicked herself for forgetting, she could've been killed! But if he asked, she would tell Quentin she was taking them like she should've been.
Nancy reached out her hand to push the hair out of his eyes, and he watched her carefully.
"Why is he doing this? Just because he can't have us he goes for our parents?"
Nancy simply shrugged, "They also killed him."
Quentin pinched the bridge of his nose, and kept his focus on the floor. Nancy suddenly remembered the events of the night before. "Quentin… Nurse Kate told me that the ward was meaningless and this place doesn't have anything like that, but I know she's lying."
"Nancy, you don't know-"
"Yes, I do! Please just say you believe me."
He put his hands up in defeat and nodded his head, "Okay, I believe you."
Nancy ran her fingers through her hair that was greasy and sweat drenched. She probably looked like a complete mess. Nevertheless she continued with the topic. "I want to go find it."
Quentin nodded again. "Okay. If it means that much to you then I'll go with. What did it look like again?"
She explained in complete detail every inch of the hallway and the boarded up doors. Quentin shook his head and told her he'd never seen a place like that, not even in his dreams, so he wasn't sure what it really did mean.
"I've seen it before. If you're going to look for it, I'm coming with you."
They both looked up to see that none other than Jacob had been eavesdropping on them.