Nancy's eyes shot open. Her shift was halfway done, but it was so quiet, it was hard to stay awake. But she had to. Couldn't sleep, it was too dangerous. She'd been awake for five days now, caffeine and cigarettes had become a crutch she depended on. It was an addiction that was hard to break.
Quentin had just up and vanished one day, not too long after her mother's disappearance, she missed him. So much. But life went on. The nightmares continued but she hadn't seen Krueger since Quen vanished. It'd been a year now. She'd dropped out of school, moved out of Springwood and gone to Columbus. It'd been a necessity, either move or stay put. Die alone in the hell that was her home. Die in the house that her mother had vanished in. Killed by that monster.
She'd rather not think about it now, a customer had just walked in through the door. A short man, dark brown hair, glasses, a black and white suit. Normal, unintriguing. Nancy mustered up the most friendly customer service smile she could, walking over to him and showing him to an empty table.
"Evening, I'll bring you a menu, sir." She muttered as he sat down. He seemed familiar. But she just couldn't place his face.
Walking back behind the counter, she grabbed a menu and a pitcher of water, a glass and her notepad. Returning to the seated man with a small smile, setting the menu and water down on the table. "Take your time and let me know when you're ready to order."
The man flipped through the pages, adjusting his glasses as he poured himself a glass of water. Nancy stood behind the counter, watching him carefully. Better safe than sorry. Blue eyes scanning over the empty diner as her mind raced. A long sip of coffee, trying to remember. Remember where she knew him from.
It didn't take long for him to raise his head and look over to her, giving a small wave to beckon her over. The brunette gave a small sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she walked over. Smile slowly returning, as if forced by her sleep deprived body.
"Yes? Ready to order?" she brought the notepad out of her apron pocket, flipping to an empty page as she looked at the stranger.
"I'll have a coffee, black, and the number 10. Thank you." His smile was almost eerie, sending a small chill down the young woman's spine. She wrote down the order, giving a small nod before taking the menu back. His fingers moved slightly under the pad, brushing over hers. Cold. His hands were so cold —
She brought the ticket to the small kitchen window, placing it down and ringing the bell for the cook to come pick up the note, then went over to the drip to grab the pot and pouring it into an empty cup before she walked back over to the customer.
Her name tag read Amy, that was what she'd decided to be known as in this town. Amy, not Nancy. She didn't want to be Nancy anymore, didn't want to be herself. Just a stranger in the city, hidden away. Unknown.
"Your order will be ready soon, is there anything else I can get you?" setting the cup down on the table, heartbeat pulsing loudly in her ears. It was unnerving to be around this stranger. She didn't know why he made her so uneasy now, but something in her body told her to run. Get out as quickly as possible. But she was at work and had no reason to leave. Her break would be soon, as soon as he left she'd go out for a smoke, and grab some dinner. It was too late to bother calling it lunch. People didn't eat lunch at nine in the evening.
Soon enough she heard the bell ding. A savory smell of steak wafting through the air. Her mouth filled with saliva, she hadn't eaten yet, a grueling hunger twisting in her gut. As she brought it over to the man, she nearly tripped over her feet, jostling the plate slightly, a few peas dropping to the floor.
After she put it down and said her courteous "Enjoy." She went to get the old broom hidden away in the supply closet. It was time to sweep the floors anyway, so might as well get it done now.
About thirty minutes passed, Nancy swept the floor and picked up the empty plate, giving him a refill of his coffee when asked for. It wasn't too long before the man left, a couple of pin-straight five dollar bills neatly tucked under a teaspoon, along with a ten dollar tip. [Generous] she thought, for such a small purchase.
After picking up the money and placing it in the register, pocketing her part, she gave the cook a heads up about her break, shrugging on her jacket before sneaking out through the backdoor. Pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and placing it between dry lips. It'd been a few months since she'd started, it filled a small void within her, a toxic pastime for her to kill a few minutes of the day. Something to do instead of sleeping.
She was halfway done with her second cig when a silky smooth voice came echoing through the shadows. "Those things will kill you, y'know — "
Her head shot up, eyes searching through the dark parking lot for the source of the sound. The same man from before emerging from the shadows, a sickly smile twisting his features as he walked over. Nancy gave a weak chuckle at the comment, hand sneaking into her pocket, searching for her keys in case she might need to defend herself. But the threat never came. He just sat down on the small empty beer crate. Wearily eyeing the fiery glow coming from her direction.
"If not this, then something else, right?" she tried her best to offer a bit of banter, though it felt wrong. Joking about death so soon after everything. But he didn't know. Of course he didn't. there was nothing to know after all. Only that all of her friends had died. Her boyfriend had vanished and her mother had been murdered right in front of her, leaving no trace of a body for anyone to be able to solve the crime.
A cloudy exhale left the woman as she finished off the fag, crushing it against the wall of the building before tossing it into the trash. "My break's finished, have a good night mister — "
Without so much as looking back or waiting for a reply she went back into the diner. Hands trembling as she walked towards the employee bathroom, closing the door with more difficulty than expected, turning the lock to secure the safe place. The one place she could not be followed into.
As if on queue, she broke down, kneeling onto the floor and letting out all the tears that had built up over the day. She was so tired. She'd have to sleep tonight. She didn't have work over the weekend, and her body was starting to shut down again. It was either sleep tonight or never wake up again. She'd been in one coma in the past year, it had been worse than anything. But she'd woken up. A week later. In the hospital, monitored heavily. She didn't want that again. Couldn't do it again.
The rest of the shift went on like usual. Mind numbingly slow apart from one trucker who stopped by, telling her about the road, joining her on her last smoke break of the night before she helped close the diner for the night. He'd always been nice to her. Never commented on her fatigued appearance. Always polite and non confrontational. Bill had become somewhat of a friend.
The bus-ride home had been as uneventful as it always was. But she could feel eyes on her, eyes that weren't there. She knew because the bus was empty, save for her and the driver. It was always empty, unless a couple of college kids decided to go downtown to whatever bar would let them in. Today they'd decided to stay home, [good] she thought, tying her hair back up into a messy bun before it was time for her to get off.
A small apartment on a shoddy street, just above a pizza place. Sometimes the owner took pity on her and left a box that never got picked up, outside her door. Tonight was not one of those nights. Not that she cared. She'd lost her appetite when the guy had come talk to her on her break. It had made her so… scared.
After a quick shower, a couple of sleeping pills to 'guarantee' a dreamless night and a glass of water, Nancy walked into her bedroom, tossing the wet towel over a chair before crawling under the covers. Twisting and turning before she could get comfortable. Eventually, she drifted off. Falling into a deep and uneventful darkness, dozens of warm hands cradling her naked body, holding her close to the invisible force that kept her under. Dreamless in a way.
There was a thick fog dancing through the dark, the hands crawling off her, leaving her alone in the misty cold. Trying to see what was around her. Eyes peering through the fog, trying to make out the shape coming closer to her. A man, boxy black glasses, a black and white suit, raspy laughter. A twitch of steel claws, a spark of terror gripping her subconscious. No! It wasn't him. He wasn't there anymore. This was just a dream.
The man from before settled down in front of her, shrugging off his coat silently, handing it over to her. Hesitantly, the girl reached her hand out and took it, cold lines of shivers moving up her leg, four claws brushing over her skin. She ignored it as she pulled the fabric over her body, nodding appreciatively towards the man. He offered a smile, extending his hand for her to hold. She took it. Letting him lead her through the fog.
The claws crept higher up, curling around her knee, staying there as a warm breath ghosted over her inner thigh. She ignored it. It wasn't real. Walking along the invisible trail, after the man. His cold hand cradling hers so carefully. It was a dream. She knew it had to be. They came to a stop in the darkness, something soft and wet licking the soles of her feet. Like grass in the morning. Coated in last night's dew.
She looked down to see what she'd expected, before turning around to take in the full view of the area. A forest. Small clearing with a campfire. A tent.
The man gave her hand a small squeeze, pulling her forward into his arms. Her body was numb as she let herself fall against him, let his arms wrap around her, hold her close, hands moving around her waist, nose buried in her hair. The cold steel moved again, sneaking up her thigh, brushing over a scar, a freckle, the small bit of hair above her pelvis. A drop of blood, dripping down her leg, over her knee and down to her foot. Her breath hitched, hand gripping at his shirt, whimpering.
She wanted to wake up. She didn't want the hot breath between her legs to stay, she wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop the claws from cutting into her skin. Wanted the man to let go. Wanted the sweater beneath her hands to disappear.
Sweater? It had been a shirt just before… wait!
The raspy laughter echoed through her mind again, a hot tongue sliding over her thigh, scarred fingers moving against her —
Her body shot up, sheets soaked in sweat, tears dripping down her face. She crawled out of bed, wailing, scratching furiously at her hip, fingers coming back coated in blood. It wasn't real. She'd just scratched herself. It wasn't real. He wasn't back. He couldn't be back.
"Oh but I am back~" a voice whispered in her ear, hot breath cradling her cheek. She closed her eyes, unable to think clearly. It wasn't real. It wasn't! It was just a dream. Itsjustadreamnancy!
The hand crept around her throat, gripping her skin tightly, pulling her head back. She let out a small gasp, tears blowing freely down her cheeks as a tongue moved out to lick them up. She didn't fight. Her body felt like a bag of rocks. She wasn't strong enough to move. "My little girl~"
Another jolt, her body shook as she dragged herself from the bedroom, into the small dark bathroom. The old floor-boards creaking under her feet as she turned the water on in the shower. She didn't look at herself in the mirror. Didn't turn the lights on. She didn't need to see her own fear. Didn't have to visualize the terror she felt. Already naked, the young woman sat down under the waterfall of hot steam. Weeping as she'd done before, one hand moving up to her throat, touching where he'd touched her, the other moving down between her legs, fingertips brushing over her inner thigh, where the hot breath had ghosted over her flesh. The shame came first as her fingers moved higher, touching where she didn't want to be touched. But where she needed it. Hated it. Hated herself for doing it. She cried, moaning as her fingers rubbed circles around her clit, the thick and heavy voice whispering in her ear.
"My girl~" it whispered, invisible hands joining hers, one around her throat, one meeting her other, ghosting over her dripping entrance, a finger slipped in, she didn't know whose. If it was hers or the other. It felt good, it went deeper, caressing her insides, rubbing along wet walls, prodding deeper and deeper.
"My little Nancy~"
She hated it when the invisible tongue moved down her body, licking over her neck, sucking on her breasts, moving down, descending. Taking her clit in its invisible mouth, sucking, unseen teeth nibbling on the sensitive flesh.
Stepping out of the shower again. Hating herself for whimpering that name when she'd cum. Hating herself for remembering it. For becoming aroused from the nightmare. From the trauma. God, she was a fucking masochist. And she hated it. All of it. She wanted to die.