Long chapter, prepare yourselves…
Too Young
Chapter 2: Mistrust
Down she fell, like a lead weight dropping into a bottomless pit; a bottomless pit from Hell. Glancing up, Natasha could see the catwalk and the haunting mirage of the power plant getting farther and farther away from her, until finally it disappeared completely. She could imagine Freddy standing at the edge of the railing, looking over it and snarling as his prey slipped through his claws. But this was his world, and she knew he wasn't done with her.
From below, from the black depths of Hell, Natasha could hear screams of agony. So filled with pain and anguish, they hardly sounded human at all. The air began to grow hot. The heat had a smell to it; a smell Natasha could only guess was burning flesh. A glow like that created by fire, moving and alive, began to illuminate her surroundings. She thought she had been falling through nothing, with nothing around her. Now, Natasha could see the air she breathed was not air at all, but some kind of gray smog, and surrounding her on all sides, as if she fell through a well, were rocky walls.
The wall was close, and hoping she could stop her descent, Natasha reached out with both arms and legs, digging her fingers into the jagged rocky surface. She cried out in pain as the sharp, knife-like covering ripped out her nails, and tore into the soft flesh of her fingertips. Emanating from all around her, Natasha could her Freddy Krueger's wicked laugh as he observed her fighting for her life.
Refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching her die, Natasha dug in harder, ignoring the blinding pain her hands were causing her, and bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was working! She was slowing down! Another hundred or so feet and she would be stopped.
Suddenly, the texture of the wall changed. She screamed and jerked her hands free as the rocky surface transformed itself into human flesh. Repulsed, she looked at her hands, seeing her own blood and tissue mixed in with the foreign physical matter.
"NATASHA!"
Recognizing the voice, Natasha looked back up at the wall. Her eyes widened in horror as her heart leapt up to her throat. There, her body melted and molded into the fleshy surface of the tunnel, was her mother.
"MOM!" she screamed, panicking as she saw her mother's flesh ooze off of her bones, and drip down the hot, tissued wall.
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" the fleshless skull of her mother spat at her.
Speechless, Natasha could only stare at her mother's burning and charred remains, too shocked to do anything. But she didn't have to stare long, for she had built up enough momentum that she was falling again.
"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE, HELP ME!"
Suddenly, invisible hands wrapped around her torso. She struggled, sure it was Freddy. To her surprise, the grip loosened, and gently began to rock her back and forth.
"NATASHA!"
Hearing her mother's voice again, Natasha felt rage building within her. "FREDDY YOU BASTARD! LEAVE HER ALONE!"
"NATASHA, IT'S OKAY!"
Natasha began to feel a funny sensation come over her body. It felt as if her body was being pulled, ripped from this grisly scene. She closed her eyes, as the world around her swam.
…
"NATTY, IT'S OKAY!" her mother cried, terrified at the sight of her daughter's tantrum.
"NNOO!" Natasha let off one more anguished cry before her eyes flew open, wide and rolling, inspecting the room for any signs of threats.
"Natty, you all right?" her mother asked in concern. Diane could see that her daughter was very distraught. On the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Natasha took a couple of seconds to catch her breath. I'm okay. For one more night, I'm safe. "I'm fine, mom." She glanced down at her hands, the memory of what happened in her dream still clinging to her thoughts. She wasn't surprised when she saw that all of her fingernails had been ripped off, and they were bleeding badly. Quickly, so her mother wouldn't notice, Natasha grabbed two handfuls of sheets, wrapped them around her hands to stop the bleeding and hid them under the covers. She prayed that the blood wouldn't seep through.
When she glanced back up to her mother, Natasha could see she didn't believe her. "Really mom, I'm alright. I just had a dream, that's all," Natasha assured, hopping her voice didn't betray the panic she still felt from the dream.
Suddenly, her mother's demeanor shifted from compassion to anger. Diane knew what was truly wrong with her daughter, and she couldn't believe it. Natasha had regressed. Again.
"You've been taking drugs again, haven't you?"
Not waiting for an answer, Diane jerked herself up from the bed and began pacing the room. "You will not jeopardize your chance of going to Harvard. Natasha, you received a full ride scholarship! I will not have you killing yourself under my roof. If you want to kill yourself, do it in college!"
Diane headed for the door, but before she had stepped out, she turned and faced her daughter once more. "By the way, who's Freddy?"
Natasha met her mothers glare, and for the thousandth time, wished like hell she could cry on her mother's shoulder, spilling all that had happened to her over the past six months. She wished she could confess that in that time, she had failed nearly a dozen children. She had let Freddy Krueger take their lives. She wished she could tell her mother that Freddy was the reason she had taken drugs, trying to pollute her body enough that she wouldn't have to have the Keepers responsibility. She wished she could tell her mother that it was Freddy who had taken the life of her baby sister, Irene, not SIDS as her parents believed.
But she couldn't. It was useless. Adults never believed the children.
"Nobody," whispered Natasha.
With a slam of the door, her mother left the room.
…
The light-hearted jungle type music erupted from the Lion King alarm clock at precisely seven a.m. With a heavy sigh, Libby Morgan rolled onto her side, and tiredly hit the alarms snooze button. It was a Thursday, the worst day of the week in her eyes. She knew that all day long she would think of nothing but what she would do Friday afternoon, and the following two days. The answer to that was of course nothing. She could think of nothing so good as spending the whole weekend in her house and safely behind closed doors, watching movies, and listening to music; an escape from her reality.
With the same jolly music, the alarm again blared to life. Has it really been five minutes? She again rolled over and hit the alarm, but this time, hit the turn-off button. Not allowing herself another chance of drifting off to sleep, Libby hastily threw off her covers, and made her way over to her dresser. Rummaging through the tangled mass of clothes, she finally found a set that matched, dressed, and headed for the bathroom.
After a quick shower, Libby set out to the kitchen. She smelled pancakes, her favorite breakfast, and she knew her mother had fixed them for a reason. Times had been difficult, and her mother was attempting to make up for it.
"Glad to see you awake," her mother, a beautiful thirty-five year old brunette said from her position by the stove.
Libby got out plates and silver ware for the both of them and sat down at the table. She watched in silence as her mother finished her cooking and served the hot blueberry pancakes onto the plates.
"So, you're about ready to finish your first week at your new school. How you like it?" her mother questioned in an attempt to break the awkward silence. It was a sound she had become used to in the last year, but she was never surprised by how loud the silence could be. It was almost deafening.
"It's alright," Libby mumbled, slightly annoyed that her mother had once again asked the same question she had already asked a dozen or so times this week. "The teachers are nice, but I can tell that they are careful with me."
"Careful? What do you mean by that?"
"You know…treating me with kid gloves. I can tell that they're afraid to pair me with…certain…people…in-groups. You know, stuff like that," Libby continued eating the pancakes, hopping her mother would drop the issue.
Sophie turned to glance out the small window above the sink. Outside, she could see the small, quaint town of Springwood, Ohio coming to life. Lawn sprinklers were jarring into action; paper boys were throwing the daily paper into peoples yards, not even trying to reach the porch; important looking business men dressed in their fancy hundred dollar suites climbed into cars, ready to make the long trip to the nearby city for a long days work. This was the town Sophie knew Libby needed to be. Springwood was a place where one could sit back, relax, and watch the world pass them by. With time, Sophie knew her daughter would get better.
"Well," Sophie began, not sure how to comfort her daughter without putting her words too bluntly. "I'm sure they'll relax after a bit. You just have to show them that you can handle anything they would throw at you."
Seeing that Libby was finished with her breakfast, Sophie stood and took their plates over to the sink. "You best be getting ready, Sweetie. School starts in a half-hour. Call to me when you're ready for me to drive you."
…
Twenty minutes later, the Morgan's gold 1999 Chevrolet Silverodo pulled up alongside the old, antique structure of the Springwood High School. Teenagers were busily hustling about, meeting with friends and exchanging notes before a full day of classes would begin. No one paid attention as Libby awkwardly got out of the truck, and fixed her bookbag into a more comfortable position on her back.
"Hey, Libby!"
Both Libby and her mother glanced in the direction of the yell. A girl Libby's age and dressed in loose fitting clothes enthusiastically waved in Libby's direction. Smiling sheepishly, Libby gave a small wave in return before turning her back and once again, facing her mother.
"Isn't that the Hamilton's daughter? Our neighbors?" asked Sophie. The Hamilons were an odd bunch who kept to themselves. Sophie had only seen the family a couple of times in the last week they had been in Springwood.
"Yeah," answered Libby. "Her names Suzie. I met her the first day."
"You never told me. You can invite her over to our house sometime if you want," offered her mother. She needed to get Libby hanging out with friends her own age again. She hopped this Suzie could be one who would get Libby opened up again.
"Sure," said Libby flatly before turning from the truck.
"Liberty," came her mothers' voice. Whatever her mother wanted, Libby knew it must be serious, for serious matters was the only time Sophie used her real name. "You have counseling after school today. Don't forget." She leaned close, softening her features, "it would really please the doctor if she knew you were making friends."
Libby slowly nodded her understanding. Her doctors had been trying to convince her for quite some time that friends, especially female friends of her own age, would do wonders for her psyche. Libby didn't necessary want friends. She liked being alone. When she was alone, nobody could judge her, nobody could hurt her. But possibly, if she at l east acted like she had made friends, maybe they would all back off, and leave her alone. She made a mental note to at least find out a little about Suzie, so she could sound like she knew her.
Her mother smiled sweetly, "Have a good day, darling." Sophie put the truck in drive, and pulled away from the curb.
Libby stood and watched her mother drive away until the truck was no longer visible. Libby let out a long, deep sigh, wishing she could be home, and not with hundreds of strangers crowded into the same building like cattle.
She turned, thinking that she should get to her first class, when she suddenly collided with another student. Books and papers flew everywhere. The two girls landed in a heap on the ground.
"Little bitch, watch where you're going!" cried the older girl, not even bothering to see if Libby was all right. People were beginning to stare, and some rude kids even began to call at Libby, making fun of her for running into one of their own.
"I'm sorry. Can I help…"
"NO! Just leave me alone!" screamed the girl. Having gathered her books, she jumped up and stormed off.
Libby just sat on the sidewalk and stared dumbly after her. "No, no, don't worry about me. I'm just fine," she mumbled under her breath. Libby began to gather her bookbag and the few papers she had been carrying by hand. She hopped that the girl had not taken any of her notes.
Libby stopped short. There, on the pavement, were two bloody handprints.
Realizing it was obviously the girls' blood, Libby turned in the direction the girl had sped off to. Wherever she had been heading, she was nowhere to be seen.
"You alright?"
Libby froze. It was a man's voice that had spoken, and Libby reluctantly looked up, meeting his gaze with hesitance.
He was in his mid-to-late forties, Libby guessed, and was dressed in a gray suit. He had big, kind eyes, and a smile that Libby found oddly comforting. The man offered his hand to help Libby up.
Libby could do nothing but just stare, wide-eyed at the mans outstretched hand. She knew he just wanted to help, but she felt that all-to familiar feeling of fear and helplessness come over her. Not saying a word, Libby refused the mans hand, hastily stood, and not giving the man another look, sped off in the direction of the school's main entrance.
…
How dare that little runt, thought Natasha as she hurriedly weaved around all the other underclassman standing outside the school. Running into that girl had re-opened the wounds on her hands. She had bandaged them, but it hadn't taken long for the blood to seep through. She would have to stop in a bathroom before her first class, and re-bandage her fingers.
"What's up, Natty!" she heard a girl call out from her left.
Glancing over, Natasha saw her best friend, Brittany Mendon, standing under one of the schools huge maple trees, talking with more of her friends. She couldn't talk long, but she figured they would think it odd of her to just keep walking, so she changed course to meet them. As she approached she carefully hid her hands so her friends couldn't see the blood.
"So, you ready for the senior meeting this morning?" asked Brittany.
"Senior meeting? What senior meeting?"
"You know the one right after the bell, before first class? Jeez, where have you been lately? You always seem gone."
"Speaking of 'gone', did anybody hear what happened to Stacie O'Neal last night?" piped Jordan Adams, Brittany's boyfriend.
The surrounding crowd leaned in, not wanting to miss any bit of the latest gossip. Everyone save Natasha. She knew all-to well what had happened to her, and she wasn't entirely happy that she had to relive the experience again. But to blend in with the crowd, Natasha also paid full attention to Jordan, pretending to be extremely interested.
"She was nearly gutted last night. Her parents found her in a heap on the floor of her bedroom this morning. She had four deep cuts on her stomach. They think it might be self-inflected."
There was a rush of "Ohs" and "Whoa's" from the crowd as the thought of one of their own class members attempting suicide.
Natasha couldn't stand it; she didn't understand why people couldn't see what was right in front of their eyes. You idiots, she wanted to scream, Stacie didn't try suicide! It was Freddy!
Natasha turned on her heal, and ran for the nearest entrance, leaving her friends gaping after her.
All right now, that's the end of Ch. 2. The next chapter is where it really takes off, I promise.
I want to thank the couple of readers' who have left me reviews, and I ask that more people leave me reviews. It really helps me in my writing to know what people think.
Also, does anyone out there know what the title of Springwood's newspaper is? The only movie I see it in is Nightmare 6; it appears when Maggie is walking in the rain and the newspaper has on it "Nine, Ten, Never Sleep Again" in big, bold letters. I can see at the top it says The Springwood , but I can't make the last word out. It is in Chapter 17 on the DVD if anyone wants to check it out. If you know what it is, please tell me.
