DISCLAIMER: In order to maintain authenticity to character, some characters might have different viewpoints than my own, and use language or have actions I do not agree with. But if every character had my system of beliefs, there would be no legitimate character development and diversity. Any language one may find offensive, I apologize in advance. Those words I do not use, so please, keep this into consideration.

Painkiller Overdose

Days went by with nothing happening.

Normally I would have found this to be a blessing sent from the heavens themselves, but knowing there were more of them out there, the quiet felt more threatening than comforting. Constantly anticipating an attack, not just from the Remakes but any number of killers, was far from relaxing. On top of anticipating the nightmares Freddy would willingly gift me now that he was back.

Except he didn't.

For whatever reason he was keeping his distance. Sure, I was still dreaming. Lucidly, at that. But Freddy wasn't really there. If anything I would see him lurking in the background, almost like he was watching me from afar. Snippets of charred flesh, the vertical Christmas colors, the shape of his silhouette (that distinct hat and glove) would pop up here and there in a flurry of motion but not for long. I'd figured by now he didn't need to stick so close, that he could go off and main as he pleased (which he probably was).

But he wasn't terrorizing me like he had at the start. At least, not in my dreams.

Maybe it was my paranoia, forever waiting for the next round of torture, but I was seeing Freddy fucking everywhere. And I mean everywhere. He popped up like every basic jump scare in the Beginner's Guide for Horror Movies. Behind me in the fogged up bathroom mirror, ogling me with his eyes. Walking from one room to the next almost nonchalantly. Grinning through a window. He'd only be there for a split second, gone quick enough to have me questioning my own two eyes.

Jason and Michael were a concern as well. Knowing they too were getting their kicks in the most violent of ways (and knowing they were leaving some witnesses behind), I made a Twitter account to try and monitor all of the people from town and even the neighboring ones. Trying to keep an eye out for any reports of spooky, scary men in masks murdering civilians. Despite their vacation, I would still catch a glimpse of Jason walking along the border of the woods. A watchguard patrolling the area. Occasionally I would see Michael instead. Only...he didn't seem to be on guard the way Jason was. No, Jason was actively walking the perimeter, changing posts and looking for any signs of danger.

Michael was just watching the house with intense focus. Usually at night, too.

To make matters worse, Tasha and Zoe must have had a fight of some kind. I had heard them arguing that night but Tasha refused to admit anything was wrong. Even if her puffy eyes and raw, red nose gave it away. Smile on her face she insisted everyone and everything was just dandy (the word choice alone was an indication things were far from fucking dandy). No matter how many times I reminded her I was there for her, she would just reply with a solemn:

"I know."

Maybe I was just projecting but, It felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around me. Everyone except Trey, who had continued to text me, updating me on his well-being and safety. Plus, he would slip in the occasional reminder of our upcoming date.

A distraction was what I needed. Maybe the unusually quiet week was a sign. Now I could focus on my own life again. Change could be good. Getting away from home could be really good for my mental health. Soon the fall semester would start, and it wasn't too late to find on campus housing. Surely some folks would leave and a spot would open up. Except…

Will I even be alive when classes start? And if I am...can I really bring all of this onto campus?

Thursday night I lay in bed, heavy eyes glued to the ceiling as my thoughts raced. Would things ever go back to normal again? My own Mother couldn't look at me the same. Whatever happened with Zoe wasn't something Tasha would confess quite yet. Tom was...well, not too different. Just not around during the week. Brain a whir, dizzy with thoughts, all I needed was some sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come.

Yes, I was exhausted. But for whatever reason, I could not fall asleep for the life of me. Eyes closed and tucked under the covers I rolled onto my side, clutching the fabric close to my chest. Overstimulated, it had a hard time slowing down a single thought. For minutes on end I waited and waited to fall asleep but my heart wouldn't stop racing. Goosebumps prickled the back of my neck and that suffocating weight of eyes watching me paralyzed my body. Months ago I would have chalked it up to anxiety. Now there was no doubt in my mind someone was watching me sleep. Because I could hear the low, steady breathing, being muffled by rubber. Feel the cold and empty eyes that stared in my direction.

Michael was in here.

I froze up (not that I had even been moving, anyways), terrified that if he knew I was awake, he would kill me.

He isn't going to kill you, my brain reminded me, he needs you.

As true as that statement was, I wasn't going to doubt for a moment that my murder by his hands was always a possibility.

I wondered if he could see well in the dark. If he could, he'd probably noticed by now that I was trembling, and I clenched my jaw in an attempt to stiffen every muscle in my body. It failed, of course, and I gave in, exhaling loudly. Unaware I'd been holding my breath for that long.

"Michael?" I asked, soft as I could, but the words came out raw, "Is that you?" A stupid question for two reasons. One, it obviously was. Two, I don't understand sign language. In response to my stupid question, I heard him exhale loudly. He didn't sound irritated, but he didn't sound friendly, either. Once again I froze up; what the hell was I supposed to do? Or say?

Ask him about that night. How many times has he stood near your bed, watching you?

"Michael, that night at Dani's house, after everything that happened with Freddy. I saw you. Watching me in my sleep. Why...were you watching me sleep? And why are you watching me sleep...now…?" I tried my best to sound friendly, weakly adding chummy inflections to my words. Somehow, the room got quieter, his breathing almost impossible to hear. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes: despite the pitch black darkness, I could still see (if only barely) his shape. The Shape.

He just stood there, observing me as I laid in my bed. It was jarring to see that painful dark Shape stand there, so still it was nauseating. It didn't look real. Careful not to provoke him, I sat upright, gently folding my hands in my lap. Finally Michael moved, and I flinched, but he didn't approach me. Instead, I heard the familiar sound of books sliding against the shelf. Michael opened one, and immediately dropped it, letting it fall to the floor. I winced at the sound.

"Michael, what are you doing?" I whispered to him. He ignored me, opting to pick up another book, open it, and drop it. One by one he plucked a book from the shelf, pried open the pages and then dropped it. Each thud louder than the next. Someone was bound to hear, no way the whole house would sleep through this. Finally the thudding stopped, but only because Michael had found what he was looking for. I leaned over, turning my bedside lamp on, illuminating the room. In his hand was my false book, cover wide open. Michael turned his expressionless face to me, lifting Freddy's glove out from the book. Glove in hand he dropped the book to the floor, one final thud that made me flinch. Even in the dull, dim light of my dingy lamp the blades reflected, and Michael's shoulders dipped as he let out one pissed off breath.

He didn't need to speak; it was obvious he did not approve.

"I'm sorry. I took it that night, a-after you killed Freddy. I couldn't get rid of it. I don't know why. And then he told me I should keep it and I really didn't know what to-" Michael didn't care what else I had to say. He was already taking long strides towards my bed, and dropping the glove onto it he reached for me. Grabbing me by the shirt collar and forcefully yanking me from the bed. Adjusting his grip he wrapped his hands around my neck, and slammed my back against the wall. A framed photo fell to the floor, the glass shattering and scattering shards across the hardwood. My nightstand shook with the force of impact and my lamp toppled over, the bulb bursting and the light disappearing. The way he was choking me, pressing against my carotid artery, I would have been able to understand the seriousness of his "message" but still be able to breath. Instead, he had me hoisted up, legs and feet dangling far above my bedroom floor. Completely removing the "safety" of his chokehold.

"Uh oh," Freddy's voice taunted me, a delighted jilt in his tone as he observed the situation somewhere unseen, "How're ya gonna get yourself outta this one?" He snickered, and my eyes darted all across the room trying to find the source of the voice. There he was, arms crossed, leaning against the dresser he'd carved up (the one I'd hastily painted over with black paint), watching the situation unfold in sheer delight.

Clawing at Michael's hands, I tried to wheeze out an apology, and beg him to put me down, but it was impossible. The man was completely still, like he had turned to stone the moment he'd lifted me up. Caught in stone hands I was helpless, kicking my legs in a last attempt to free myself. Michael didn't budge. Not even when my bedroom door flew open, the doorknob smacking the wall; it sounded as though plaster had cracked. Surely a hole would be left behind.

"Michael!" It was Tasha. Probably expecting the worst (and figuring she was equipped to handle the situation) she was first on the scene. In the dark I could see the shape of her rush towards us, lunging towards Michael and clutching his left arm, partially dangling from it as she tried to pry him off of me, "Let her go!"

"Ah, the cavalry's here!" Freddy announced, laughing at Tasha's weak attempt to free me.

"Let go!" Tasha continued to kick at Michael, like a cat thumping its hind legs against a toy. He didn't let go. Michael did loosen his grip by removing his left hand, his right fully capable of holding me up on it's own. Like she was a simple insect, a pest and nothing more, he swung his left arm back sending her flying back. I heard her body hit the floor, her head smacking against the dresser and her body going limp. Freddy clasped his hands together, cackling loudly.

"And she's down! Myers continues to have the upper hand," Freddy added his little commentary with ghoulish glee, "How will the bitch turn it around?"

Able to return his freed hand to my throat, Michael leaned closer, looking at me as if he was searching for something. Did he want me to react a certain way? What did he want from me? Whatever he wanted there wasn't much time left for me to figure out. Black spots were taking over my vision.

"Need a hint?" Freddy asked, holding up his right hands and wiggling his fingers. The blades rubbed together. My eyes fell to the glove Michael had dropped on the bed, and I extended my right arm, reaching for it with desperation. I kept my eyes locked on the glove, urging it to come to me. It did just that, flying through the air, the fabric sliding onto my hand more snuggly than I'd remembered it being, secure as could be. Using all the strength I could muster I drove it into Michael's side not once, but twice. Finally he released me, more so in surprise rather than pain, and I fell ass first to the floor, my back still against the wall and the glove still on my hand.

Gasping for air, my throat screaming in pain, I watched as Michael inspected the fresh wound in his side. Slick blood glistened in what little light there was, his entire left rib cage wet, and from behind the Shape Freddy sneered in approval. Michael lifted his head, returning his attention to me. Still trying to catch my breath (trying being the main word here) I brought my naked hand to my chest in a fist, circling it in a clockwise motion a couple of times. Unable to speak I mouthed, Sorry. I pointed to my throat, and then back to him, before crossing my left arm over my right in an X. Protect. I hoped to God he understood what I was trying to say.

I had to protect myself. You could have killed me. I'm sorry. For everything, my head throbbed as my inner voice pleaded, hoping to God he could hear it if I really, really tried. Slowly, Michael tilted his head.

"Girls!" Mom's voice called out from the end of the hall, her frantic footsteps approaching my open door, "Is everything okay?" I heard her skid to a stop, gasping loudly as she caught sight of Michael standing there. Tasha was still unconscious on the floor and I was wheezing. Frozen in fear she gripped the door frame for balance, Tom coming up from her rear, gun in hand.

"I've had just about enough of this bullshit!" His face was twisted into a scowl as he trained the gun on Michael. He knew damn well bullets wouldn't work, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try, "I want you to get the fuck out of my house. Now!" Michael didn't acknowledge him, and continued to stare at me. He pointed at my hand right, at the glove specifically, and bent his left arm across his chest, his right vertical over it, hand in a fist with his thumb free. Lowering both arms he turned, walking towards Tom who stepped aside, "Lorraine c'mere,." He didn't need to tell her twice. Mom quickly ran to his side, hiding behind him, allowing Michael to leave through the open door. Tom followed him, leaning and peeking out the door, out into the hall. Mom quickly tip-toed towards me, kneeling down, her fingers reaching for my neck, brushing against it gently.

"Oh honey, your neck," she winced as if she could feel the pain. By now I'd already forgotten about it. I was too busy watching Freddy, who clapped sarcastically.

"Color me impressed," Freddy shrugged from his corner, before resting his right elbow on the top of the dresser, "Who knew you had it in ya?" His wicked eyes rolled down, landing on Tasha, "Someone should check on this one. Why don't I...take her off your hands?" I saw that flash of violence in his eyes before he disappeared. Tearing the glove off of my hand I tossed it aside, crawling towards Tasha's unconscious body.

"What the hell is this?" Tom asked, picking the glove up from the floor and holding it up in his hand. Unable to speak, only able to let out weak and wispy huffs of air, I tried calling Tasha's name, shaking her shoulders. Behind her eyelids I watched as her eyes danced all around. She was dreaming. Mom had joined me by Tasha's side, and was gently feeling the back of her head.

"No blood. Should we take her to the hospital?" Mom looked to Tom for guidance, and he nodded.

"Yeah, we don't want her to be unconscious for too long. Ash you should come too-" I shook my head aggressively, "Ash you were just about throttled by that asshole, you need to see a doctor." I shook my head again, pushing myself up and scrambling to my bedside table. Opening the drawer, I pulled my journal out, flipping to a random blank page, digging my pen out from the bottom of the drawer. Fast as I could I scribbled down what I needed to:

She is dreaming. Need to stay. Sleep. Make sure Freddy doesn't hurt her. I will heal.

Finished, I handed him the open book, and as he read it he let out a sigh.

"You sure?" I nodded.

"What's going on?"

"Lorraine, go start the car. I'll bring Tasha down," Tom instructed. Mom looked hesitant, staring at me with matronly concern. I nodded, mouthing to her that I was okay. A reserved look on her face she departed, leaving Tom and I behind. Lips pursed and brows furrowed he closed the journal, handing it back to me "You sure about this?" With a huff I rolled my eyes, nodding again and motioning for him to exit. Careful not to hurt her any further Tom scooped Tasha up, carrying her out of my room. The second I heard the front door close I ran into the bathroom, throwing open the medicine cabinet. Pushing bottles and capsules aside I found what I was looking for.

Ramelteaon, Mom's sleeping pills.

Flipping the bottle around, I scanned the small print for instructions.

Take this medication by mouth with or without food 30 minutes before bedtime, or as directed by your doctor.

I did not have thirty minutes. Twisting off the cap and shaking about five pills into my palm I mentally counted them out, doing my best math in my head.

If one equals thirty minutes, two would be fifteen, three would be….like seven minutes? I need to fall asleep faster than that. My body could heal from damage quickly but I had no idea what kind of effect medication would have on it. Overdosing was not on my to do list.

A giant light bulb popped up over my head, and carelessly, I poured God knows how many pills into my hand. Not time to waste I popped the pills into my open mouth, swallowing them dry. Rushing back to my room I jumped onto the bed. Back straight, legs crossed, and hands resting gently on the sides of my knees, I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Meditation was part of astral projecting, so who says I couldn't try to meditate my way into a dream? That should work, right?

Right?

"Ash!"

Tasha shot up from her spot on the bedroom floor, hissing as the back of her head pulsed painfully. She rubbed the throbbing spot with her hand, frantically looking around the room. Michael was still throttling Ash, and Tasha held onto the dresser, pulling herself up as fast as she could. There had to be something she could use as a weapon. Head jerking left, right, up down she scanned the room for anything she could grab onto. Nothing. Zero options left Tasha let out a guttural battle cry and charged forward, leaping onto Michael's back and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Let. My. Sister. Go. You. Asshole!" With every word she pulled back on his neck harder and harder, but the man wouldn't budge, "Mom! Tom!" Tasha cried out for help but it didn't seem to be coming. Cold sweat bubbled up near her hairline, Ash's face was losing color, her green eyes bloodshot and bulging. Clearly, Tasha was doing nothing to help the situation. But maybe Tom could.

Accepting the situation Tasha let Michael go, sprinting out of the room and down the hall. She needed help.

"Mom! Tom! Wake up!" She screamed, practically breaking down the door as she ran into it, throwing it open. Immediately her bare feet slipped in something wet and warm, and without a chance to catch herself Tasha fell face first on the floor, straight into a sticky puddle of blood. Feeling the warmth on her cheek and her palms Tasha lifted her chin from the floor, gazing up at the foot of the bed. A stiff, pale foot was sticking out from underneath the bed cover.

Shakily, Tasha pushed herself up, teetering back and forth as her feet tried to get a grip despite the blood. An array of scattered red stains were seeping through the comforter. She could hear the dripping of thick liquid plopping off of the mattress and onto the floorboards. It was obvious what was under the floral fabric, but she just had to know for sure. Using both hands Tasha ripped the cover off, tossing it aside and screaming at what she had uncovered.

What had once been her mother and step father was now just a mess of limbs and body parts, organized like some twisted puzzle. The limbless torsos of each were centered, while the torn off arms and legs were laid out near the open wounds they'd once been connected to. Raw nerves and creamy white bone jutted out, their arms and legs had been broken, twisted into strange angles. All that was missing were their heads.

Coated in blood and now drenched in sweat Tasha backed away from the bed, bumping into the wall, her hands searching for the open door. As she stepped out into the hall again, breathless and silent, she realized there was someone standing not too far from her. Afraid to look Tasha stood there, peering as best as she could through her peripherals. Whoever it was did not charge at her. Instead they walked away, rounding the corner and heading down the staircase. Ash's bedroom door creaked loudly, and Michael appeared, his presence alone knocking the window out of Tasha. She watched him, wheezing loudly, nose whistling. Ash's limp body was cradled in his arms, her neck bent and head bobbing at her with wide, dead eyes.

Michael's breathing was jarring, too loud for the all too silent house where the stench of death was nearly suffocating Tasha. Ignoring her entirely he turned away, following the other figure down the stairs. Maybe it was the shock, maybe she had nothing left to do, but Tasha followed. Bright red footprints trailed behind her, and she even left behind red streaks on the bannister as she carefully went one step at a time. Yellow light, dim and sickly, flickered from the kitchen, an ominous glow that beckoned Tasha to follow it. What else was she to do?

Candles, a variety of saturated primary colors, were lined on the kitchen island, circling the bastardized centerpieces that were Tom and her mothers heads. Mouths agape, tongues swollen and eyes practically popping out of their skulls, blood dribbled across the marble, splattering onto the tiled floor. Tasha was so distracted by the tableau of death she almost didn't notice the stretching, popping sound coming from her left. Trembling, she turned, finding Michael still gripping Ash's limp and lifeless body. Jason - who must have been the second person in the hall - had both of his hands wrapped tight around the top of Ash's skull. Twisting left and right, the skin of Ash's neck wrinkled and split, blood spurting and tendons tearing as Jason tore her head off in a slow, sickening motion. Finally, he tugged hard enough, the rest of her muscles stretching and snapping, sending blood flying across the way, splattering across Tasha's face.

Carelessly Michael dropped the headless body, and Jason carefully placed it in front of the other two, adding to his collection. Ash's severed head stared back at Tasha, accusingly.

"Tasha?" For a moment, Tasha thought it was Ash who spoke her name. But her lips did not move, "Tasha what's going on?" Turning around, Tasha's heart dropped to the floor as Zoe gently closed the front door, approaching her with quiet confusion.

"Zoe," Tasha half whispered, shaking her head, "No, no Zoe you can't be here…"

"I came to apologize. I was wrong. I-" Zoe stopped dead in her tracks, Michael moved so efficiently that Zoe barely had the time to register what was happening, her mouth opening in a long and drawn out scream as he grabbed her by the hair. One hand cupped her chin, while the other pressed down on the top of her head and the massive crack of her neck sucked the rest of the sound out from Tasha's world. Only the roar of her blood rushing through her veins reached her ears as she watched Zoe's body collapse into itself. And as it hit the floor, time caught up, sound returned, and Tasha realized someone was screaming.

She was screaming.

Maybe she screamed for a few seconds, or maybe she was screaming for minutes. When it finally died on her tongue her mouth was a cavern, dry and deserted with nothing left to offer. Even her eyes burned, not just with tears but with pain, with loss. It didn't matter that Jason was closing in on her, with Michael pressing his chest against her backside. It didn't matter that Michael was gripping her shoulders, and that Jason was beginning to press the tip of his machete to her gut. She was trapped with nowhere to go. But with nothing left...she didn't care.

Zoe had been right.

Tasha deserved this.

She closed her eyes.

"Giving up just like that?" She hadn't been expecting hot breath by her ear, or the coarse voice attached to it. Jason's machete was no longer threatening to slice her up, and she whipped around, unaware that four claws had replaced the thick fingers where Michael once held her in place, resulting in four minor slices in the flesh of her upper arm. Freddy stood where Michael had been, snickering to himself as he lifted his hand, admiring what little blood of hers painted the blades.

No. No fucking way...Tasha's body still trembled, only now it was shaking with growing anger, and she watched with rage as he lapped up her blood from his knives.

"Yes way. Saw you get knocked out during that little spat with Mikey. Couldn't help myself I guess," that smug shitstain wiped the rest of her blood onto his thigh, "Gotta say, this was not my most subtle work. I thought you'd catch on. Guess you're the Tweedle Dum to Ash's Tweedle Dee," Freddy leaned to the side, looking past her at the false massacre he'd crafted. He looked down, kicking at the fake Zoe's corpse, before sighing, "Bounty won't pick that up."

The tea kettle of her anger reaching a boiling point, Tasha let out a furious roar, spit flying from her teeth as she launched herself forward. Throwing all of her weight onto Freddy, who merely laughed as she attacked him, Tasha landed what would, in reality, be a brutal blow. It sent them both to the floor, the world around them changing on impact from her home, to his. Hands wrapped around his throat Tasha squeezed with all of her might, straddling the dream demon. Baring her teeth at him like a wild dog. Clearly enjoying himself Freddy continued to laugh as she 'choked' him, not even attempting to fight back. He bit his lip, sneering at her with all the grime of a gutter in his eyes, "I knew you were the kinky type." With another monstrous bellow Tasha curled her right hand into a fist, pulling back and swinging it at him like a wrecking ball, delivering a bone cracking hit to his jaw. This began a series of vicious punches, each one as strong as the last, determined to turn that pizza faced fuck into pulp. Hit after hit she wailed on him, until she'd decorated him with red.

All it did was make him laugh.

"Stop laughing!" Tasha grabbed at his collar with her bleeding knuckles, yanking his face up close to hers so she could scream in, "I've had it with you! With all of you!" Enraged, her face red as her blood and eyes wild, Tasha's chest heaved and her heart burned. Up this close she could see the sheer delight he was getting from all of this in those sickly blue eyes, in his grin. She was fucking feeding him, all worked up like this. But how could she not be? Just looking at him reminded her of all the heinous things he'd done to Ash, the atrocity he'd tried. And in thinking about it, she saw his eyes light up with wicked realization. He was reading her like a book.

"Aw, now don't tell me that's what's got ya all worked up," Freddy lowered his voice, clicking his tongue in disappointment, "I didn't even get to finish."

"You fucker," Tasha hissed, pulling back for another punch only for Freddy to disappear from her grip, a vanishing act that caused her to drive her fist straight onto the splintered wood she knelt on. Something slammed loudly behind her and Tasha's instincts had her off the floor in a second, turning to find the basement door had opened.

"Going down?" Looking over her shoulder Tasha saw Freddy had materialized behind her, and with a vicious kick against her back, sent her head first through the open door. Without a rail to catch her, Tasha tumbled down the wooden steps, and was able to physically feel the change of impact as they turned from wood to steel. Her fall ended with a painful smack against the floor, her back aching, legs still caught on the last two steps. Head fuzzy with pain Tasha tried to focus her eyes. In the movies the boiler room had always varied in appearance. Tonight it seemed that Freddy had chosen subtly. It looked so...normal. Aside from the blueish green light that had no real source. Steam screamed overhead, chains rattled and water trickled onto the floor in a dripping rhythm that only worsened the dizzy, cloudy feeling in Tasha's head. Freddy had started his descent, his stride patient and slow. He was a man who had not one drop of rain on his parade.

Determined to finish what she had started Tasha pulled her legs back and off of the steps, planting them as firmly as she could on the metal floor before pushing herself up. If she could ignore all of the pain for now, she could take this Christmas sweater wearing fuck down. Bruises be damned. Wiping drool from her lips with her forearm Tasha glared at the dream demon, who was already starting to laugh again.

"You Hartley twins never give up, huh?" Freddy asked, dragging his blades across the railing, the sound sent an eruption of pain through her skull, but she did not cover her ears. Instead, she clenched her fists once more, staying steady as he approached, "It's more amusing than admirable."

"And you never shut up," Tasha lifted her arms, jerking her head at him, "So put your money where your mouth is, and let's do this."

"Natasha Hartley. Brash. Confident. " Freddy had made his way to the floor, but Tasha did not move. The burnt skin where his brows should be raised slightly, a condescending look sat on his face, "Emotional. Quick to put up a fight. You're no good with words so you use your fists instead. There's no need to pretend with me, Tasha. I know everything about you. It's all," Freddy reached forward, tapping the center of her forehead with a claw, "right here."

"Your stupid little intimidation tactics won't work on me. You don't scare me."

"Oh but you are afraid of something. Everyone is."

"So what are you afraid of?"

"It's all in there," Freddy ignored her, "Afraid of what I'll do to your cunt of a sister. If it helps, you'll be dead before I split a hair on her head," Krueger grinned at her, his eyes scanning her face for a reaction of some kind. When he didn't get one, he withdrew his hand, and began circling her, "Or maybe you're afraid I'll go after that little girlfriend of yours." Tasha's heart thumped aggressively, and she heard a snicker behind her, "Oh yes, that's the ticket."

"I think I know what you're afraid of," Tasha turned around and spat at him, her green eyes ablaze.

"All the things I can do to her," Freddy continued on, beginning to circle her again, "I can see the list of possibilities in that moronic head of yours. So many options.."

"Maybe you're afraid of me. Of Ash. You're afraid of women, right? Cause that's who always beats you. Strong, powerful women. Kristen...um...Alice….Nancy!" At that Freddy's face twitched with irritation. Now it was Tasha's turn to look smug, "That's it, isn't it? I'm not scared of you, and that scares you. Doesn't it? That's why you're trying so damn hard to feed off of me. Are you scared, Krueger?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Freddy glowered at her. All around the two of them the boiler room grew darker, the mysterious green light was turning red, and growing stronger by the second.

"What? Did I strike a nerve?" Tasha scoffed, "You can dish it but you sure as shit can't take it. Maybe that's why the remade version of you gets put in shit, and you don't." Freddy came to a full stop, all the venom of a snake in his expression, "He gets the video games. Even your buddies Michael and Jason are still in the spotlight. They get games, they get new movies. People aren't forgetting about them, but people are forgetting about you," ever confident Tasha prodded Freddy's striped chest with a finger, "You're nothing. You're nobody. You're irrelevant. That's what you're afraid of. I think-"

Tasha knew mouthing off to the dream demon was a deadly idea, but a distraction was better than immediate evisceration. So she'd been anticipating his rage to pop off any second, and was far from surprised when he swung at her. Unfortunately, she was still too slow, and the cold metal plate of his glove stung her cheek as he backhanded her. Fresh blood dribbled down to her jaw, and landed in her clavicle, continuing down her chest. Gingerly touching the already throbbing wound Tasha looked up to find Freddy was far from done with her. The very tips of his blades were centimeters from her eyes, his arm shaking mid air, his body frozen mid-lunge. Based on his confused and rather pissed off expression, Freddy wasn't sure what happened either.

Behind him, Tasha saw Ash standing there, drenched in sweat and shaking just as much, if not more, than Freddy was. Her arms were outstretched towards the pair, her eyes manic and face drained of all color (more than she already was).

She looked...sickly.

Freddy's eyes rolled in his skull as he tried to get a look at whatever Tasha was staring at. In seconds, that anger vanished, replaced with cruel amusement.

"Well would you look at that. Little Ash showed up to save the day. Like I said, you two never give up," Freddy's eyes found Tasha again, an eager smile on his face, and for a split second she felt that instantaneous fear thump in her chest.

"Wake her up," Ash demanded, arms still shaking, "Let her go."

"You know you can't hold me back for long, Ash," Freddy sighed, almost patiently. Tasha could already see his muscles twitching, his elbow bending and his neck craned as he grinned at Tasha.

"You made a deal. My family stays safe," Ash yelled back at him.

"I never made a deal with you. I tolerated your whiny little pleas and I bided my time. This bitch's time is up," Freddy's smile grew wider, and Tasha found herself able to break eye contact, sending a frantic look her sister's way.

"Run," Ash instructed.

Tasha broke into a sprint but Freddy broke free of Ash's mental grip, the recoil sent her flying into the wall and she crumpled to the ground. Freddy laughed and his left hand shot out like a snake and clutching Tasha's ponytail before she could get far. With ease he spun her around, her back slammed into his chest and Tasha cried out in pain. Her scalps burned as Freddy pulled harder, forcing her head back, her vulnerable neck exposed to his blades that flustered with excitement towards her skin.

"Ash!" Tasha's voice sounded garbled as she yelled for her sister, despite the tension in her throat. Ash was moaning, fumbling around like a newborn fawn as she tried to stand up. Tasha tried to pry Freddy's fingers off of her hair but failed miserably, only causing him to laugh again.

"I think your family has been too much of a distraction for you. You should see this as a favor," Freddy spoke, almost nonchalantly, and he began to press his blades against Tasha's throat. Skin broke, and she felt hot blood bubble up.

"Wait!" Ash screamed, managing to sit on her knees and hold up a hand, "Wait! You're not gonna wanna do that."

"Oh?" Freddy did pause, but he was sneering, "And why's that?"

"Because I took enough sleeping pills to put me to sleep permanently," Ash slurred a little, her cold and tired eyes shining with just the smallest glimmer of spite, "They left me home alone. If you don't wake her up, or if she doesn't wake up at all, no one will be home in time to save me. I'll be dead and you'll be without your little battery…"

Tasha had always been confused when people said tension was "so thick you could cut it with a knife". Now she understood it. Freddy's steadfast grip and bloodied blades contemplated their next move, all while Ash stared up at him from her spot on the floor. Tasha still held onto his left hand, still trying to pry his fingers off of her follicles.

"And if I don't need you anymore?" Freddy proposed. Ash shrugged.

"You don't," Ash admitted, "But you want me. You're addicted to me. What happened to all of that talk about what you're gonna do to me? Gonna let me chicken out of that?" Ash's head was bobbing as she spoke. Tasha couldn't believe her ears, what was Ash doing? She had to be lying. She was just trying to pull one over on Krueger, and he was testing her, and he was gonna punish her if he saw it so. Tasha gazed at Freddy from his neckline. His eyes were shifting all about, deep in thought. Was...was this working?

Finally, he snickered.

Just a short huff of hot air from his nose, and Tasha heard a chuckle rumble up his chest into his throat.

"Would ya look at that?" Tasha felt Freddy's fingers slither away and his blades retracted, "Girl's gone and grown a pair." Both of his hands gripped her shoulders and he threw Tasha aside. All at once her body jolted, the feeling of falling having been enough to startle her awake. Buckled tight in the backseat of Tom's car Tasha let out a breathless gasp, lurching forward and latching onto the driver's seat.

"We need to go home immediately!" Tasha screamed in Tom's ear, and both Tom and Lorraine let out screams of surprise. In his panic Tom jerked the steering wheel a little too hard to the left, and the car began to spin. With one aggressive stomp on the brake the car skidded to the side of the rode, the three inside screaming until it came to a halt. Only inches from an intimidatingly large tree.

"Tasha," Lorraine sputtered out between gasps for air, a hand reaching for Tasha's cheek, "Your face, it-"

"Drive dammit, drive!" Tasha yelled over her mother, smacking Tom's shoulders, "We gotta go home!"

"Stop hitting me!" Tom twisted and slapped her hands, "We're goin' to the hospital. You could have a concussion."

"And Ash could be dead!"