Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found in prologue.
Author's Notes: From what I can tell, this story is going to end ten Chapters from now with 35. I'm one of those folks who basically writes a good chunk of stuff, then goes back and edits again and again and again and again and…you get the picture.
I post stuff once I feel it's up to snuff so that involves a lot of back tracking and what not - the system has worked so far (even though for the most part I still manage to find mistakes later after I post…grumble, grumble)
Once again I hope no one minds how monstrous this thing has become - I sure have had fun writing it though and hopefully it's kept you entertained on a day to day basis, feel bad for new readers starting at Chapter One though…they've got a mountain to climb - LOL.
Now for my commentos and story recs/pimping!
HowlynMad - New reviewer! Thanks for input, bud! Hope you enjoy the rest!
Agent A.T. - Big showdowns in the future, as for side switching, you will see, all I can say is, emotions/feelings are one confusing bitch. o_O
Ayezur Draca - Thanks for enjoying my slices of Soul Pizza and don't you worry your pretty head! Things are going to get worse before they get better but I'll tell you this much - I have a twisted mind when it comes to happy endings…in other words, I can tell you now that Samara is in no way shape or form ever going to join the pep squad if you catch my drift…
Speaking of Ayezur Draca, she's got a fic entitled 'Event Horizon' - read it! She put so much thought into her work it's like…man, just read this, pretty please!
And villianbabe is yet again kicking ass with 'Hybrid War: Underworld 2' which has so many twists and turns you won't be able to stop reading…I should know, I almost missed US History for it!
Speaking of, if ya'll have any stories you want me to read, by all means tell me - I love to read fanfic!
More warnings…
WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE
WARNING: DISTURBING IMAGERY
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Chapter 25
Elm Street - 1985
Angela Walsh crept quietly to the edge of the stairs in her home at 1428 Elm Street. She clung to the front of her white cotton nightgown, slowly lowering herself into a seating position as her eyes locked on the front door, just waiting - always waiting.
Her older brother Jesse had left hours ago and she couldn't help but worry about him. Hopefully his girlfriend Lisa was still looking out for him. If Jesse found out Angela been spying on him for all these weeks he would be furious - but how could she not?
She loved her brother more than anyone. She was not nearly as close to her mother or father as she was to him. He may have been gangly and unpopular but he was always special to her. Sure, she gave him a hard time…but that was her job, she was his little sister.
But all that she had heard the past few days…it was crazy, but how could she not believe? She had heard Lisa and Jesse talking about some diary they had found. It had belonged to the girl who had lived in this house before them. From its pages they had found out about some boogieman, a child killer…Freddy Krueger.
There was something about the name - it just made her shudder. Sometimes she found herself checking her closet or under her bed, worried he'd pop out…and yet she'd never even seen him. She had only managed to catch a few descriptions from her brother and that was only through eavesdropping so she never picked out much.
She did - however - get the gist of who he was and what was going on. This….this monster, was trying to take her brother from her. Trying to possess him. And even though she was very young she vowed she would do whatever was in her power to make sure that did not happen.
The front door opened and Angela tried to stifle her bated breath, making sure she was well hid in the shadows. Jesse entered, followed by Lisa. Jesse was filthy - covered from head to foot in soot and grime. One of his hands seemed misshapen and she couldn't tell why. Lisa, while a little cleaner, still looked about as bad as Jesse.
The two teens looked at each other with love and overwhelming relief in their eyes, Lisa spoke softly, "It's over, Jesse, it's over…"
"You said that earlier," Jesse said with a weak smile.
"I know, I just can't believe it…I'm so happy…"
She started crying and Jesse shushed her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head when she sniffled and pulled away, pointing to his strange hand, "What's that?"
Jesse looked down, "Hmm? Oh, that was some of the shell I couldn't seem to crack off back when we were at the Plant. I was just so eager to get home…"
"Let's get it off," Lisa whispered and began clawing at the mass on his hand. It broke away and she let out a choked cry. Jesse looked down, wide-eyed to see he was still wearing Freddy's glove. He made a face of pure disgust and peeled it off, thrusting the front door open to toss it outside.
Lisa looked at him, "Jesse…"
"It's nothing," He assured her, "It was just…some mistake."
"Do you think we should-"
"No, leave it outside…I'll…I'll deal with it tomorrow."
"What if someone-"
"I'll get it early. Promise," He said, kissing her head again, "Besides, I think I heard the bushes rustle - it probably landed in there. It's hidden well enough."
"I - I guess…" she whispered.
"You should go home, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay…maybe we can do something special later on."
"Oh yeah? What kind of special?"
Lisa drew him close, a mischievous look on her face and Angela felt her skin grow hot, cheeks turning pink as the two teens began kissing and fondling one another. She turned away and softly padded back to her room - she didn't want to risk being caught but she was filled with so many bubbling questions.
She waited for what seemed like hours before she left her room again, creeping down the stairs and walking outside. It took a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the dark – dawn wasn't far off but visibility was still poor as she looked about in vain for what her brother had tossed.
Jesse was such an idiot – anyone could easily find the glove he'd cast aside so swiftly. She muddled about, eventually uncovering it in the bushes. Her tiny hands shook as she took hold of the big, bulky glove, wiping the dirt off.
Even without a hand to warm it, the glove felt hot and it certainly looked terrifying. Sharp stainless steel blades lined along each finger, painstakingly fastened with brassed rivets. For the briefest of moments she had the uncontrollable urge to put it on but she quickly squashed it, instead dodging inside.
She didn't want to take it to her bedroom but she didn't have much choice as she couldn't risk hiding it to be found by her mother or father. Once upstairs in her room, she wrapped it in several dirty clothes she had cast about her floor, storing it in her hope chest, making sure the lock was tightly secure.
As she crawled into bed she kept staring at the chest, thinking about what was inside. Jesse and Lisa had sounded so positive downstairs, and the things they had said…could she dare to believe?
Had Freddy been defeated?
This was the problem with listening in on other people's conversations - you could never get the whole story. At least you couldn't without revealing yourself. Maybe it was time she did just that. Angela worried her bottom lip between her teeth - did she really want Jesse to know she knew? Did she want to face his wrath?
No, she didn't want to make him angry but she did want him to know the truth - more so because she wanted to know the truth. She wanted to hear the whole account of Freddy and what had been going on. The only way to do that was to lay her cards on the table.
Mind made up she closed her eyes, turning herself away from the chest and what lay inside. In her mind she rehearsed what she would say tomorrow, trying to prepare herself to talk with her brother.
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Chicago – 1987
"Mrs. Walsh?" Doctor Sanbourne queried softly.
An older woman looking through a two-way mirror turned. Her face was wrinkled and strained from too much stress, "Yes, Doctor…"
"I'm sure you just saw-"
"Yes, I saw you talking with my daughter…she seems to be a little better today."
"Not exactly, Mrs. Walsh, how long has Angela been involved with," he paused, licking his lips, unsure of how to continue, "how long has she been studied?"
Mr. Walsh, who sat on a couch near by, snorted, "Ever since they found 'em dead."
"Ken!" Mrs. Walsh gasped.
Mr. Walsh continued undaunted, "We woke up one morning to find our son dead. His girlfriend next door too. Both of 'em dead in their beds! Doctors couldn't figure it out then, can't figure it out now…his heart just…stopped beating," he swallowed, resolve melting as his hands shook.
There was a tight silence as Mrs. Walsh drew closer to Sanbourne, whispering, "It was the strangest thing…they said - they said Jesse's insides looked like he'd been in some sort of bus accident…"
Passion overtook Mr. Walsh again as he spoke loudly, "We've mourned our son, Doctor Sansbourne, but we know the truth…Jesse, god bless him, we loved him but…he must have done something to cause it, like drugs or…god knows what else he and his girl were messed up in…you know kids today…"
"We were so worried Angela would end up the same," Mrs. Walsh whispered, "She's never gotten over Jesse's death. We started with grief counselors and it moved up from there. We moved her out of Springwood, brought her here and since then it's been psychologists after psychologist…we just want to know our baby girl is going to be all right, that she won't be like her brother. I couldn't bear losing two, I just couldn't…"
"Shh, it won't come to that, I promise," Doctor Sanbourne assured, "Now you both are against institutionalizing, correct?"
"We want our daughter at home, in our care." Mr. Walsh affirmed, rising to his feet, "She may be messed up but she ain't that messed up yet!"
Mrs. Walsh shot her husband a look before continuing, "We still want to take her in for sessions with you and other therapists, of course."
"Understandable," Doctor Sanbourne agreed, "However, given her current mental state and the interview we just had I'm prescribing some meds that I think will settle her moods - keep her more…organized. There are explicit directions - they are to be taken on certain days at certain times…"
"I think we can handle it, Doctor, can we see our daughter now?"
"Of course," Doctor Sanbourne left and in a few minutes returned with a very much-changed Angela.
Her skin was pale, face tight and withdrawn. Her eyes were narrowed at everyone as she walked towards her parents. Mrs. Walsh held open her arms, "Hello, sweetheart. How about a hug?"
Angela looked at her open arms for a moment, then quietly turned and walked away.
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New York - 1996
"Come on, Angie! You study waaaaaaaay too much!" a classmate laughed, tossing a football in her direction.
Angela sat underneath a tree on campus, her pencil working diligently in her notebook as she looked through the mountains of paperwork surrounding her. She gave a sigh and raised her head, adjusting her glasses, "This may seem like child's play to you, Jeff, but some of us want to pass…"
Jeff stuck his tongue out, "Like that's any fun! Come on, girl, you need to get out there…have some fun…"
"I need to study," Angela insisted, eyes returning to her work. Jeff lowered himself to the ground and hefted up one of her large books, "What's this? 'Professional Psychology: Research and Practice'…god, this sounds boring…and this thing weighs a ton-"
"It's useful," She snapped, grabbing the book away in a flash and batting at his hands, "And it's mine!"
"You really into this head stuff, huh?"
"Actually no, I hate it."
Jeff's eyebrows drew together, "I don't…"
"It's personal," she bit out.
He raised his hands, "Okay, okay…you win. But I have to say I'd be scared if you were the guidance counselor of my kid."
Angela shot him a look, "How did you-"
"Heard you were going into the Counselor Education Program…going to spend some time with rugrats…Professor Rafkin asked me to organize your folder for the board, speaking of, there were some old pictures of you filed in… I didn't know you were originally a blonde…"
Her hand rose to her dyed brown hair, frowning at the memory of the day she had changed it. She remembered being so angry with her parents – she didn't want to be their child anymore, she wanted to be someone else. Changing her appearance had helped, "It's much nicer like this, anyway."
"Yeah, well…blondes DO have more fun so I guess it makes sense."
"Do you mind? I was studying…" she grumbled, gaze returning to her papers.
Jeff sighed, "I'm just saying you should relax…you'll never get close to anyone with this attitude."
He turned and left, leaving her to ponder his words. She let out a depressed sigh and sat her work aside, unable to continue. He was right. She'd have to loosen up if she ever hoped to get kids to confide in her. She didn't want to be like those doctors she had spent so many hours with…that was her whole purpose of coming here, of getting into this field.
She didn't want anyone to go what she had went through. Her eyes landed on one of the many notebooks she had sprawled about, this one dark black. Her hand reached for it apprehensively and she opened it.
Inside there were several newspaper clippings, all with flashy headlines blaring 'SPRINGWOOD SLASHER STILL AT LARGE', 'KRUEGER SUSPECT', 'KRUEGER RELEASED ON TECHINCALITY', 'CHILD MURDERER BURNED ALIVE'.
She turned a page and more articles appeared, a few written by Nancy Thompson, her face at the top of the page, across from it her obituary. Another page flipped and more obituaries appeared, all speaking of strange, unidentifiable causes of death, each of them from Springwood.
Another flip and there was a page of Jesse and Angela hugging – across from it a shot of his tombstone. One last turn and there was a photograph of the glove as well as a picture of Freddy when he had been alive. Angela's fingers traced the picture of Freddy and she scowled, grabbing a nearby pen.
She stabbed at the two eyes, making sure her pen made deep gouge marks. She closed the book – tossing it aside. She pulled her knees up to her chest and one tiny tear escaped, "I'll do what I can Jesse, I'll do what I can."