Disclaimer: Get over it. They aren't mine. Really. Only the Chucky doll that my girlfriend bought me (God bless).

A/N: I'm writing this at school on a strange computer with a strange keyboard, so if there are a ton of typos, I'm really sorry.

I just saw Child's Play and I would still be spazzing over it if said girlfriend was happier. Instead she's all hidey in the woods and ignoring me and Abbie, if you're reading this, I mean no offense. I go hidey too. And I love you more than Chucky, I promise. And, unlike Chucky, my promises actually mean something.

Thanks to Charm for note about Chucky' character. Efforts will be doubled in this chapter. Thanks to Shale 101 for being the first person to review who isn't my friend. Thanks to Abbie for her portable DVD player.

xOxOx

I looked up at my old house, wondering why the fuck I had come here. I hadn't been here in over twenty years. It was probably falling apart. There wouldn't be any electricity or water or anything else. It must've been broken into a hundred times, judging from all the broken windows and the boards that had been pried away. Everything of value was most likely gone.

That alone wouldn't have bothered me. It was the memories that came flooding back, ones that I hadn't thought of in years. My workaholic dad, my alcoholic mom, my slutty older sister. But this ain't no sob story, so don't you go feeling sorry for me.

"Well?" Nicole asked. "Are we gonna go in, or are you just gonna stand there reminiscing all day?"

"We're going," I said. "I just don't know what we'll find in there." We walked across the dead grass and up to the door.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Mice. Rats. Crazy homeless people." I grinned, and starting tearing away the boards on the front door. I almost wished there would be someone in there; it would be one hell of an antidepressant to kill someone tonight. Then again, who said anything about being depressed?

"Crazy homeless people?"

I laughed. "Are you honestly scared that some old guy with most of his teeth missing is gonna kill you?" I pried the last board off and kicked the door open. It was pitch black and I couldn't see anything. "Especially with me by your side?"

She shrugged. "I might be less worried if I knew you cared enough about me to defend me."

I ignored her. Frankly, I didn't care if she believed me or not. I stepped into my house. The floorboards creaked and dust flew. How sickeningly cliché. I reached for the light switch automatically and then stopped myself. No electricity in here, unless the ghosts of my family were paying for it. Didn't seem likely; in life they had never had enough to pay the bills. I didn't see why they would in death.

"Come on, help me find a flashlight," I said, walking into the kitchen. It was amazing how well I remembered this place, even after all this time.

"How am I supposed to know where it is?" she said. But she followed me into the house, closing the door behind her. It made no difference; there was no moon out tonight.

"Follow me."

"I can't see you."

I rolled my eyes. "Then follow the sounds of my footsteps." I could hear her shuffling behind me, then her grab my shoulder. "Or hang onto me," I added sarcastically.

She glared at me. Or, at least, it felt like she was. "I didn't grow up here, okay?"

By then we were in the kitchen. I felt around, opening drawers that were, for the most part, empty. There were a few pieces of balled up paper that I should probably look at later, but no flashlight. Everything that wasn't attached to the house had been stolen, even the goddamn refrigerator. Some asshole probably paid a couple thousand dollars on Ebay for Charles Lee Ray's fridge. Idiots.

"No flashlight."

"Now what?"

"Someplace to sleep," I said. "Were there any couches left in the living room?"

"I dunno."

I sighed. "Come with me." I led her into the living room and, to my surprise, there was a couch. The local bums must've fought to the death for it. Even looked like there was a blood stain or two. But that was probably my fault. "Sleep here. I'm going upstairs."

"I'm not sleeping down here by myself." Nicole didn't sound panicked. Just stubborn as all hell. Like Tiffany.

"Yes, you are," I snapped and headed towards the stairs.

She grabbed my shoulder. "Like hell I am. You are not leaving me alone in this house, especially without a gun."

"And whose fault is it they don't have their knife?" I tested a stair. It seemed pretty sturdy.

"Yeah, but…" Nicole sighed impatiently. "I don't want to. It's all scary and shit."

"You call yourself a serial killer, but you're just a fucking wimp." I was halfway up the stairs by now, and really looking forward to a nice, warm bed. The last thing I wanted to do was stay up all night arguing.

"Fucking ass. Fine, then. Have it your way." She sat down on the couch. It made a strange, groaning noise, but it didn't collapse. "And, by the way, if you were wondering, this is why I was yelling at you for being an inconsiderate asshole and not taking care of me."

I rolled my eyes. "Would you just shut up with the guilt trips already? It's late and I wanna get some sleep."

"I'm not fucking guilt tripping you! I'm telling you the truth! You're just too pigheaded to care!"

"Hey, nobody calls me a pig!" I yelled at her.

"You're right. I'm sorry. That's an insult to pigs. You're more like a…a…" she stuttered, looking for the right word. "As cliché as it sounds, there isn't a word for what you are."

"Then maybe you'll finally shut up!" I shouted and stormed up the stairs. Not a good idea. The stair cracked, sending one leg crashing through. I screamed and tried to pull it out. I only succeeded in scratching it up worse, and probably giving myself a splinter to two to boot.

"Oh my God Chucky are you okay?" Nicole shouted.

"My goddamn leg is stuck in the goddamn stair!"

"Oh, is that all? That's good; I thought someone was upstairs."

"Aren't you gonna help me get out of here?" I yelled at her.

"No, I don't think so."

I gaped at her. "No? What do you mean, no?"

She smirked. "I mean no. Instant karma. You deserve it. I'll get you down tomorrow morning. Right now I'm pretty tired. I'm sure you understand.

"And, remember, if you start screaming, or keep me from sleeping in any other way, the neighbors will hear and call the police."

She was right. Fuck, I hated her.

"Night, Chucky," she mumbled. Nicole lay down on the couch, rolled over and was still. She couldn't be asleep already, could she?

"And what if I fall in the middle of the night?" I spat at her. "What then, huh?"

"You won't break anything. You're just a doll. Just shut up, Chucky. I'm tired."

I wanted to start screaming at her. Swears, annoying songs, nonsense. Whatever. But I couldn't. And it pissed the hell out of me.

"Remember that talk you wanted to have? If you get me down, we can talk. I promise."

"Yeah, yeah. You and your promises."

"Aw, come on. Please? Nicky?" Who ever said I was above begging?

She didn't say anything.

"I'll be your friend until the end."

Nicole started cracking up. It was a long time before she said anything, but it was pretty obvious she wasn't going to do anything.

"You're so cute!" she squealed. "But Andy still didn't help you, remember? At least in the movies."

"But you're so much nicer than him."

"While it's nice to see your ego isn't too big to get this pathetic, it's pretty goddamn annoying. And it's ruining my image of you as a ruthless serial killer. So could you shut up? Please?"

Again, Nicole was right. Fucking bitch. I was being pathetic, and I knew it. It had always worked with Tiffany. But Nicole wasn't Tiffany, and it would be really great if I could remember that.

"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled. I tried to adjust myself so I was a little more comfortable, and failed miserably. I inspected my leg. It was bleeding a little, but not as much as it could be. So no claiming that I was going to bleed to death, even though it was impossible. Nicole might not know that.

It was undoubtedly going to be a very, very long night.

XOxOx

Well, there you have it. Chapter seven. It took me two days for my muse to come back, but eventually it did. Hopefully Chucky is in character again (lemme know about that).

Abbie much love. Really.

Much reviews pretty please?