Chapter 7: Distraction
6am…
Plumes of smoke floated into the air as Maggie silently smoked her third cigarette in a row. It had a few hours since waking from her dream and found out her puzzling discovery. Her torn chequered shirt was strewn across kitchen table next to an empty mug that minutes before had her coffee. Her fatigued body sat in front of the shirt as she confusedly stared at the garment. In the past she had experienced strange and erratic dreams before. But that nightmare was something completely different. It was out of control. Despite trying to dismiss the sensations in the dream, it all felt so real. Every punch she struck against that creep's face and every slap he gave her was so convincing. It was only when she found the small cut on the corner of her lip and the way her arm ached when she rolled it back and forth, that she knew that just maybe her dream could be real. Her left hand ran over the gashes in her shirt, and she mumbled quietly. "It's just your medication. It could be some side effects. Making you think that your dreams are real"
Her fingers dug in between one of the slits in the cotton fabric and she trailed it along a few pieces of black thread. She sighed out loud, pondering how these tears had happened. Pulling her hand from the garment she carefully inspected her fingernails on each finger. They weren't that long or even that sharp. There could be no way that she could have created those slits in the shirt. It had to be something incredibly sharp. Like those four knives on that fucker's weird glove.
"Listen to yourself" she reasoned with herself, "You sound fucking crazy. Get yourself together Maggie!"
She heaved a long sigh, more confused than ever. Her legs trembled underneath her as she rose to her feet and crossed the room to the stack of patient files on the desk. Her deliberations diverted to the fact that there were more deaths than what Paul had initially told her and Doc. But why would they lie to them? Were they afraid of how they would react? She knew that there were more files in those cabinets. Did they have details of other deaths? But Paul had disclosed that there were other files that had information about the kids who were discharge. However, it was in another filing room. But where was it? Why were they not shown it?
Raising her right hand, she lightly tapped her fingers on the top file. She grimaced slightly at the dull ache in her shoulder blade and held back a groan of discomfort as she lifted her arm and rotated it back then forth. It seemed to be strained, like a muscle was pulled. Her thoughts lingered back to her dream, and she frantically began to pace the room. Why did she see the apparition of Brandon in her dream? Doc had told her throughout the years that dreams were signs or connections to a person's life. It could be a symbolism of their fear, a memory, something trivial or of real importance. Maybe she was subconsciously thinking about Brandon. He did look to be rather on edge, terrified to a certain degree when she had passed him in the corridor. It could be playing on her mind. But then again, it could be a side effect too of her new mediation. It had been what, a few months since she started taking the clozapine. It could take a little while for the side effects to happen. However, the side effects only occurred when she was awake. Or did she have an episode in her dream?
Her body twisted to the right, and she marched over towards her suitcase and bent down to lift out the small green first aid kit. Inside was a leaflet detailing the side effects of the Clozapine and she eagerly read the list.
Clozapine.
Side Effects:
Blurred vision, confusion, dizziness, faintness, or light-headedness when getting up suddenly from a lying or sitting position, fainting. Fast, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse, fever, nausea, shakiness in the legs, arms, hands, or feet. Sleepiness or unusual drowsiness. Sweating. Trembling or shaking of the hands or feet. Unusual tiredness or weakness. Vomiting. Anxiety. Chest pain. Convulsions. General feeling of tiredness or weakness. Headache. Hyperventilation. Irritability. Muscle spasm or jerking of the arms or legs. Severe or continuing headache. Sudden jerky movements of the body. Sudden loss of consciousness. Trouble concentrating. Muscle ache or pain. Muscle weakness. Nightmares.
Her eyebrows raised sharply as she read the last word. Nightmares. They quickly darted up to two other side effects. Muscle spasm or jerking of arms or legs. And then – muscle ache or pain. That had to be it. Everything she was experiencing was side effects. Her gaze fell towards the shirt on the kitchen table, and she felt her lips curling down into a frown. But there was no way she could have caused those four slashes on her shirt. It was implausible. She could link the side effects to her aching arm and the image of Brandon in her dream. But the thought of that apparition in her dream creating these rips in her shirt was insane. The vision of that horribly scarred man flashed before her. Again, her focus was on his red and green sweater. Then his eyes. Where had she seen them before? She knew she had. But how?
She snatched the shirt from the table and rolled it up. "Stop thinking about it. Okay?" she muttered.
Crossing the room to her suitcase she discarded her tattered shirt inside and gathered her clothes for the day ahead.
…
Doc threw a curious glance at Maggie as they drove towards Westin Hills. Usually, she was in a talkative mood in the mornings before work. However, she seemed a little apprehensive, jittery. Her responses to his chit-chat were short and abrupt. As he pulled the car into a car space, he turned towards her. "Maggie, are you okay?"
Her hand grasped the silver handle of the door, ready to twist it down and push it open. "I'm fine Doc"
"You seem very quiet this morning" he continued. "Did you get a good night's sleep?"
Maggie pursed her lips together and nodded once, glancing at him. "Yeah, I did"
Doc scrutinized her face, particularly around her eyes. They seemed a little red, puffy. "Don't lie Maggie. You looked tired. Your eyes look a little red"
Snapping her eyes closed Maggie held back a sigh of aggravation. He was right, she was exhausted. How was she going to manage on five hours of sleep? Normally, she would have a good eight- or nine-hours sleep. She turned to face him and shrugged her shoulders.
"Did you have a dream?"
"No" her hand pulled at the handle, opening the door slightly. "Just couldn't sleep. I'll get an early night tonight"
Doc sighed and watched as she exited the car. Her back was stiff, shoulders rigid and tense as she began to take her bags from the back seats. He knew all her mannerisms throughout the last fifteen years and when she was apprehensive. Avoiding eye contact, lack of communication. Tension in her arms and body posture. Just like now. He didn't want to press her on the issue, to constantly bombard her with questions this early in the morning. He would let it slide for the day. But if her mood didn't pick up within the next day then he would have some words with her.
As they entered the hospital, the first thing that Maggie noticed was the atmosphere had shifted. The nurses and other staff seemed twitchy, downtrodden. Sullen, grim faces greeted them as they crossed the foyer to the elevators. The door to the lift slid closed behind them as they strolled down the corridor towards their offices. She glanced through the double doorways towards the kids' rooms and frowned, there was no one about. Not even a member of staff.
"Where is everyone?" she glanced over at Doc.
"I'm not sure. Wait here" he turned on his heel and ventured down to their left. He picked up his pace as he noticed Kenneth chatting quietly to another male orderly.
Maggie stood uneasily and watched as Doc began a quiet conversation with Kenneth. Doc's face twisted, his chin dropping down as his mouth went agape in shock. His lips then clamped shut, compressing into a thin grim line. He nodded once and lightly patted Kenneth on the back, as though he was comforting the man. She felt her stomach heave, curling into a knot as Doc walked back to her and with a nod of his head, gesticulated for her to follow him to his office.
She gnawed at her bottom lip and followed him.
He closed the door behind her and cleared his throat. "There's some bad news"
She tightened her grip on the straps of her rucksack. "What Is it?"
His eyes were glazed with desolation as he stated. "One of the kids committed suicide last night"
The moment he uttered this, Maggie felt the grip on the bag falter, and it toppled from her shoulder to the ground with a light thud. The face of Doc blurred in and out of her vision. God, please don't let it be him. She inhaled abruptly. "W-who was it?" she rasped.
Doc lowered his briefcase and took a step towards her, detecting her uneasiness. "It was Brandon"
The image of Brandon's bloodied, cut face and mutilated throat raced through her mind and she took a diffident step back, shaking her head in dismay. What was going on? This couldn't be happening. Was it true? Had she seen him die in her dream? The colour on her face drained, turning an ashen white. Tremors shook her body.
"Maggie" Doc approached her and grasped her arms that violently shook. He led her to the nearby small sofa and sat her down. "Take a deep breath. Are you okay?"
She exhaled shakily and nodded. "Yeah, I'm just in shock"
He sat at her side and nodded slowly. "I understand"
"How did it happen?" Maggie asked. Her eyes stared into the corner of the room near the window. She knew the answer. She had witnessed it. But she needed proof. She had to see his body.
"I'm not sure. Kenneth told me that Lee found Brandon in the toilet area around 2am"
Pulling her gaze towards him Maggie felt a shiver zip through her spine. Did Lee hear him screaming? What did Lee witness, if anything? She needed to speak to him. Find out what he knew. "Can I get some coffee?"
"Help yourself" he motioned towards the black kettle and jar of coffee on top of the cabinet behind them. "Just stay here, take some time to process what's happened. I'm going to leave Brandon's file with Paul. He's in his office and needs to hand the file over to the coroner. They have certain procedures to carry out"
"Are they going to do an autopsy?" she rose to her feet and anxiously began to make her coffee. Her shaking fingers switched on the kettle and waited until the water boiled.
"I'm not sure" Doc reached into the top drawer of his desk where the files of the patients were located. He quickly flicked through them and pulled out Brandon's folder. "I'll be back soon"
She nodded quietly and poured the hot water into her coffee granules, stirring them quickly them with a small spoon. As she settled back in her seat, she pondered on how to approach things. How could she find out the fatal wounds that claimed Brandon's life? Where was the morgue in the hospital? They were never shown it. Or was his body transferred to the local hospital? Her back sagged sluggishly in the sofa; her body was numb. Mind spiralling with random thoughts. She had been a counsellor since she was twenty-two, perhaps twenty-three and never once had she lost a patient. Oh, there were times when one or two of her patients had attempted to take their own life. But they were found on time and were brought back from the brink of death. It had made Maggie even more determined to help the kids under her care, in some cases taking rather unorthodox ways of helping them. Even bending a few rules in the process.
But to lose a patient, a young boy where she didn't have the opportunity to speak to him. To get to know him had rocked her confidence. She lowered her eyes to her coffee, and she took a long gulp. She hissed from the heat that burned her throat. There was no doubt, she had to gain access to his body. If she could briefly examine his body, discern if the dream was somehow linked to his death, then it would answer some of her questions or possibly create more. But if Brandon really did kill himself, then how did he get the blades? Were the staff not meant to search their rooms? Keep an eye on them?
She leaned her head on the top edge of the couch, her brown eyes staring drearily at the white ceiling above her. Yet again, the mirage of Brandon's pained filled face burned into her vision. Those jaded eyes, filled with tears as he reached a trembling hand out to her. Meshed, slashed skin that marred his face from those four lacerations. His voice breaking, shaking as he whispered for her help. Then the sudden flash of silver steel as the four blades from that glove came into view. The way his head was savagely yanked back exposing his throat that was slit open by two blades…
She jolted up to her feet as the door flew opened.
Doc appeared in the doorway and noticed her frantic breathing, a flash of panic crossing her face. "It's okay. It's just me"
"Uh, sorry" she blushed and sat back in her seat. "I'm just a little jittery"
"I've noticed" he shut the door and saw her neck back the rest of her coffee.
"Can I have a refill please?" she presented the cup to him.
"That's your third cup in the last two hours" he took the cup.
"Please" Maggie implored.
He took the mug from her and walked towards the cabinet. "I know it's hard Maggie. Hearing what happened to the boy"
"I've never lost a patient Doc" her legs buckled beneath her as she slumped back into the seat. "I know we hardly knew Brandon. But he was still under our care. I always feel an obligation that I should be protecting my patients. No matter what the situation is"
"We can only try our best Maggie" he held out the fresh mug of coffee to her and sat at his desk. "We can only do so much. I have lost two patients myself. You know that. I was devastated, guilty in a way that I couldn't reach them. That I couldn't save them. But it makes you more determined to help the other kids in our care. There are other kids here that need our help. We must be strong for them"
She grimly stared at him and tucked a stand of her hair behind her ear. "I want to speak to the kids"
"We can't" Doc shook his head quickly. "They've been confined to their rooms for the day"
"What?"
"Kenneth says that any time there is a death on the ward the kids are kept in their rooms in small groups. They are accompanied by a member of staff" he explained.
"Can I not even talk to Lee? He was the one who found Brandon!" Maggie persisted.
Doc glared at her. "Maggie, you can't. You should go back to the motel. Get a few hours' sleep"
She scowled. "No, I want to stay-"
An abrupt sharp knock to the door cut her off and Kenneth pushed the door opened, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, excuse me. I just wanted to let you know that Dr Gordon won't be back at Westin Hills until this evening. Paul has left to meet him. They're going to notify Brandon's parents of his death. Dr Coleman suggested that you can go back to your motel. Dr Gordon and Dr Coleman will be back this evening around 8pm if you wish to come back then"
"Would I be able to talk to the kids?" Maggie shifted forward on her seat.
"Maggie!" Doc snapped, the tone of his voice deep, sharp. "I told you we can't speak to them"
She groaned and muffled a curse, jerking angrily into the seat. Doc diverted his gaze to Kenneth and gave a contrite smile. "Thanks for letting us know"
Once the door was closed, Doc shook his head in disappointment. "God damn it, Maggie! We are new here; you can't go against what they say. Dr Gordon and Dr Coleman are in charge here. Not us. You got that?"
She rapped her fingernails from both her hands sharply on the ceramic cup and nodded. "Yeah, I understand"
He lifted the rest of the files from his drawer and pushed them towards her. "Do you want to take these files back?"
Her eyes flew towards them, and she nodded. "Yeah, I'll leave them in my office"
….
Maggie's hand shook with anticipation as she twisted the tweezers in the cabinet lock. After arriving at her office, she had hidden the sixty-nine files of the other past patients in the bottom drawer of her cabinet, along with the remaining ten files of the current kids. Now, here she was again breaking into the cabinets. Her aim – gaining access to more of the files. It was a risk. But she didn't give a fuck anymore. She knew that Dr Gordon and Dr Coleman were hiding something from them, and she was determined to find out what.
There was a click and she smirked, taking a step back. Her hands gripped the black handle of the second drawer and yanked it open. Dozens of brown files were stashed inside. Her right hand stretched into the back of the drawer and slid in between a file, while her left hand squeezed in between a file about halfway down the row of files. There could be at least forty or fifty files here. But she was unsure what dates they covered. It didn't matter, she would find out when she was back in the motel. Slowly, she pulled the large stack of files out and knelt at her backpack and slid them in the rucksack. Her eyes peered inside. There was still some more room. Her brown eyes glanced at the last two drawers and without another thought, wrenched them open and took a dozen or so files from each drawer. Satisfied with her stash she zipped her bag, then relocked the cabinet.
It didn't take her long, perhaps a few minutes to head to the carpark and leave her rucksack of files in the car. Before going back inside, she grabbed herself a quick smoke. Hoping to allay her nerves. She stubbed out the butt on the ground and quickly walked through the reception area. Just like when they first entered an hour before, the foyer was empty. Not a soul about. She punched the button for the lift and then out of the corner of her left eye she noticed a sign perched over the top of a set of doorways. The words where in bold black letters.
Mortuary.
Restricted Access
Her mouth shuddered, dropping open in shock. Could Brandon's body still be here? Or was the file there? She threw a vigilant glimpse over her left shoulder and slowly walked towards the double doors. Thick glass decorated the top half of the doors and she felt her hands quiver as she grasped the metal bar on one of the doors. This was wrong and unprofessional of her. But she had to know.
She inhaled deeply and pushed the bar down, and the door creaked opened. Her boots lightly tapped on the ground as she dashed down towards the room to her right, about fifteen feet down. Her luck was in. The door was opened. The room was large, with the lingering smell of formaldehyde in the air that made her nose scrunch up in distaste. Her eyes constricted as they roamed to the left where a long thick counter with fake wooden effect was. It stretched along the side of the room. Above the counter were five cabinets, with glass doors. Stacked inside were various sizes of boxes of medicines, tablets, surgical gloves and syringes. She stalked over to the cabinets and peered through each glass pane as she walked along the counter. The names on the boxes indicated various anti-depressants, stimulants. Her right hand skimmed over the counter and brushed against a few sheets of paper. Her face dropped to the sheets, and she quietly read the notes. It consisted of contact details of local pharmaceutical companies in neighbouring towns. A list of requested items was noted down with yesterday's date and a signature scrawled at the bottom. It looked like Dr N Gordon. Her eyes broadened in disbelief. "Fucking hell. They're ordering in mores stimulants"
Modafinil, Armodafinil, Xyrem. Modafinil, Methylphenidate. Ritalin (methylphenidate), Adderall (dextroamphetamine-amphetamine), Dexedrine (dextroamphetamine)
Her eyes darted to the right and she sucked in her breath, her heart skipping a beat. There it was. Brandon's case file.
She flipped open the folder and exhaled long and hard, beginning to read the new notes at the bottom.
Date of Death: February 9th, 1994. Time -2.22am.
Cause of Death: Various lacerations across his face – both sides of his cheeks and down towards the edge of his chin. Two deep gashes cut across his throat.
Maggie's fingers trembled, the page shaking in her hands, and she dropped the file abruptly. Like she was given an electric shock. Her chest raised and fell frantically, her breathing was haggard coming out in short, sharp pants. This couldn't be happening. It was fucking impossible. The wounds were the same. The fucking same! She backed away and the bottom of her spine collided with a metal railing, and she shrieked, whirling around to face a gurney. Laid on top of it was a body, covered by a thick white sheet. She clamped her right hand over her mouth muffling a whimper. Was this Brandon's body? Her eyes roved over the edge of the metal railing and down to the bottom where a brown label was attached around one of the poles by thick white string. The name was clear for her to read.
Brandon Rogers
She gulped and took a few tentative steps to the right towards the top of the body. It would only take a few seconds to check. The tremors that were tearing through her body increased as she reached up to the rim of the sheet with a trembling hand. She had seen dead bodies before, but only through her visions and episodes ever since she was thirteen. But this would be her first time seeing one in the flesh and up close. God, could she do this? Should she? She took to do this. She had to see his face…
Her fingers curled around the sheet, and she dragged it down. His hair was matted, stained with blood. The sheet inched further down his face, over his temple and past his cheeks. His eyes were clamped close. The pigment of his skin an ashen grey. Maggie choked back a sob and jerked the sheet down further. Exposing his whole face. Why was this happening to her? It wasn't true. No, no fucking way! Marred across his pale face were four lines of lacerations. Carved and coiled across his skin the way they were in her dream. From below his eyes on each side of the cheeks was the start of two gashes that looped down over his skin. They stopped at the edge of his chin, a few inches above his throat. Finally, Maggie's startled gaze slumped down to his throat. And there it was. The two four-inch lacerations were now stitched with thin black sutures. Right across his jugular.
"Oh my god" she whispered.
"Maggie! What the hell are you doing in here?"
She shrieked and dropped the sheet, spinning around fast to face Doc. He loomed in the doorway, a look of utter rage etched on his face. His deep brown eyes narrowed in disdain at what he was seeing. He took a discreet glance down the corridor and then marched over to her. "I asked you a question, Maggie. Why are you here?"
Maggie took a step to the side as he pulled the sheet back over Brandon's corpse. "I wanted to see his body"
He gripped her left arm and trailed her out of the morgue. "We're going back to the motel. Now!"
She flinched at the fury that tainted his voice and lowered her head in shame. Doc rarely raised his voice to her. It was only when she did something erratic and irresponsible. Just like this. And now she felt like a child, being chided by him. She couldn't blame him though. She had put her job at risk. What if another member of staff had stumbled upon her in the morgue? Though, now the only questions that needed answered were – how could she dream of Brandon's death? Was it really a premonition she had or was there something else going on with her dreams?
…..
Thud!
Freddy smirked as the young body of a little girl slumped backwards onto the ground. Their breathing was laboured, low as they took their last breath. Their chest was slashed and torn to shreds. Grated and torn muscle was pulled and yanked from her gutted skin. She was just eight years old. A favourite age of his when he was alive and killing his children. As much as he loved killing, mutilating and maiming those screaming, annoying teenagers. Little boys and girls were always his preferred choice. But a kill was a kill. A soul was a soul. And little Amelia's soul was now his. He crouched onto his haunches at her side, his callous eyes roaming over her face. Her bright blond hair was tied in two plaits and her vibrant blue eyes stared blankly up at the wooden ceiling of his old home. Her young features brought back a faint memory of one of his first victims when he was alive. Little Amy Johnson.
Flicking his blades, he placed the sharp points of two of them directly over her blank eyes and with a chuckle, jabbed them down into her black pupils. There was a sickening squelch and a pool of dark red blood oozed around the steel. The little piglet had fallen asleep during school, and he wanted to give her teacher a little surprise when she tried to wake her up. He knew that the panic and fear was escalating in the town. Just like the body count. A sly, cruel smirk tugged at his lips, and he yanked the blades out of her skull, pulling out her eyes that were connected to various thin arteries and veins. The thin strands of the veins disappeared into the two small holes where her eyes once were. He tugged them sharply, severing them from her head and discarded her eyes into the corner of the corridor with a flick of his claw.
Her body began to morph into a white vapour and her soul soared into his chest. It had been an eventful night and morning. Five kills. Brandon Rogers. Eighteen-year-old, Scott Martinez. Thirteen-year-old Maria Hansen. Then that little girl over on Cherryville Close and what a good little fuck she was.
Now, he wanted to speak to those demons.
Rising to his feet Freddy turned sharply to his right, venturing down one of the vast barren, desolated corridors of the Elm Street house. It was always nice to have a change of scenery when he was killing the little fucks. He approached a large thick metal doorway that hung a few inches over the ground and with a flick of his scarred fingers, the hinges creaked loudly as the door opened. A surge of heat greeted him as he stepped over the boundary of the door and into the power plant. To his immediate left was a doorway and he entered the room where he had perished. He sat on a rickety wooden stool and quickly become consumed by his deliberations. Usually, he would have mused over his kills, playing them over in his mind. But his constant thought over the last several hours was that new doctor he had been playing some night-time visits to. That fact that the whore had dared to fight him and challenge him fucked him off. No one dared to stand up against him. Except for that bitch Alice. But she was history. Her and her little brat of a son were dead, their sweet little souls a part of him now. The last thing he wanted was some new bitch who had lucid dreaming skills. He knew nothing about this woman. Not even her fucking name. For all the power he had amassed throughout the years, and he couldn't even discern a fucking name from her subconscious. This never happened to him. Ever.
He knew all about his victims. Scavenging through their mind, raiding their memories. Finding out their strengths, weaknesses, anxieties and their fears. Discovering things that they loved and hated. Using them to his own advantage, gaining the upper hand over them. But it was like this bitch had some mental barrier blocking him out from accessing her mind.
Freddy snarled, teeth baring as he muttered. "What the fuck!"
Maybe he should just keep his distance from her. As she was starting to distract him.
He heaved an aggravated sigh and turned to his left. The sight of a wooden photo frame glared up at him and he reached over towards the photo of his own child and lightly trailed his fingertips over her smiling face. "Hey, baby girl"
He sighed dourly. Not even looking at her could pacify his rage, allay his frustrations. He turned his head towards a rusty furnace across the room from him. He swiftly clicked a single blade a sizzle of flames erupted from within the metal walls.
"Agramon!" Freddy sneered.
The wall of orange, red and yellow flames distorted, spreading apart as the three scaly skinned, snake like bodies of the demons slithered forward on their clawed hands. They leered at him through the bars of the door and with a snarl the lead demon thrust their right bony hand forward. Sending the door bursting open.
"Aludemon! Alastor!" Their human host barked.
The demons flashed their blackened, rotten teeth at him in another scowl then flew towards him and stopped mid-air. The leader, Agramon hissed. "What is it Krueger?"
Freddy hunched forward and pointed a sharp blade at the creature. "I want to know who that new doctor is!"
"Who would that be?" Agramon cocked his head to the side curiously. His two counterparts glanced briefly at the photo of Krueger's daughter on the table then back to Freddy.
"That bitch I nearly gutted last night!" Freddy brusquely snapped, irritated. "Who is she?"
"Have you not accessed her mind?" Aludemon asked.
"If I could do that then I wouldn't be asking you fucking three!" Freddy's voice snapped, harsh and enraged.
"Temper Krueger!" Agramon warned, its beady eyes flashed a bright red for a moment.
Freddy flexed his blades and grumbled. "Can you access her mind?"
The three demons shook their head in unison. Then Alastor spoke, "Her subconscious is difficult to infiltrate. We have no idea where she is from or what their name is"
Disgusted at this Freddy clenched his fist and slammed it onto the wooden table. "Fuck!"
"Does she interest you Krueger?" Agramon smirked.
"She's nothing but a distraction!" Freddy's voice came out in venomous snarl. "The bitch has some lucid dream skills and had the gall to challenge me! The slut!"
Agramon flashed a wily smile at Aludemon and Alastor. Everything was going according to plan. They were the ones who were fully shielding her subconscious from Krueger. However, they were having great difficulties penetrating her mind. It appeared she was suffering from repressed memories; her mind had pushed that traumatic event from her childhood. It was lost in the abyss of her mind. Also, other important events in her childhood were lost, subjugated. Such as the night the police and social services came to take her away from her father. They knew that Freddy would have to share his own memories from their life together to help her regain her identity. But it would take time.
"You should visit her again Krueger. Perhaps this time you could penetrate her mind. You should be able too, considering the number of souls you have gathered over the last few days" Agramon suggested coyly.
Freddy raised his claw to his rough, burnt skin and lightly tapped a red stained blade against his chin. Pondering what way, he could toy with the woman. "Fine. I'll pay her another little visit"
The demons shared a fleeting smirk with each other and floated back into the fiery flames of the furnace. They conferred quietly, lowering their voices as Krueger stood and left the room. He was back on the hunt. "When shall we disclose to Krueger that she is his daughter?" Alastor questioned.
"Soon" Agramon flashed a crooked smile. "But we should play one last trick on Krueger"
….
11.45am…
Maggie felt her hands clench and unclench at her sides. Her head was lowered, a few strands of her hair had fallen loose from her ponytail. They hung at her side of her blushing red face as she glared at the carpet of her motel room. Doc had barely said a word to her on the way back from Westin Hills. But now his voice was raised, tone harsh and seething with fury. He was admonishing her as if she was a child. Annoyed at her foolish actions. He crossed his arms across his broad chest as he paced back and forth. "You need to give me a good damn reason why you went to that mortuary!"
She glanced up and shrugged her shoulders. "I wanted to see his body"
He sighed and halted in front of her. "Do you want to lose your job? We've only been here two fucking days and you go and pull a stunt like that!"
She sucked her bottom lip under her top one, gnawing at it lightly. "I'm sorry. But I needed to know"
"Know what Maggie?" his right hand ducked under her chin and tipped her face up to his. Her eyes were cloudy, glazed. Like she was envisioning something in her mind. It wasn't her normal trance like state whenever she had an episode. It was like she was remembering something. He watched as her bottom lip quivered as she replied. "I wanted to know if what I saw was real"
"What?"
She blinked briskly and jerked her face away from his.
"Maggie, are you taking your clozapine?"
Her fingers flexed at her sides, and she took a step forward towards him. Eyes blazing with rage. "Yes, I am. You can go and check!" she pointed brusquely into the kitchen. "Do you really think I want to have a fucking psychotic episode while I am working here, Alan?"
Doc held her gaze, not baulking under her intense stare. "No, I know you don't. I know that Brandon's death has come as a shock to you. But you shouldn't be sneaking into the morgue to look at his body. We don't have permission to go in there. Don't ever do anything like that again. Okay?"
She nodded.
"Maggie" Doc glared at her; frustration still evident in his voice as he demanded. "Answer me"
Her head snapped up and she hissed through her teeth. "I won't do it again!"
He sighed. Her words from minutes before crossed his mind. "Maggie, you said something about wanting to know if something was real. What do you mean?"
Maggie's eyes avoided his as she whispered. "I had a strange dream. I think I saw Brandon's body in my dream"
His strong jaw popped open in surprise. "What?"
"Look, just forget about it!" she threw her hands up, waving them briskly and crossed the room towards the kitchen. Her hands clutched one of the clean mugs on the dish rack. "It's just a side effect from the clozapine. It says in the leaflet that one of the side effects are nightmares. That's all it is. A stupid nightmare"
Doc approached her, eager to know more about the dream. "What else happened Maggie?"
She sneered and savagely slammed the bottom of the mug on the draining board angrily. "Nothing. Just leave it! I want to forget about it. Please!"
He lingered behind her. Watching as her shoulders heaved up and down. She was trembling. Gently he placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it firmly. "Get some sleep Maggie" he knew that she needed some time alone. "I'll bring in some mediation tapes for you to listen to. We can order food in later for dinner"
Maggie sucked in a deep breath and whispered. "Thanks Doc" she kept her gaze on her task at hand. She made up a fresh mug of coffee, then heard the door close as Doc left her room. It was then that she left out a terrified sob, brushing her stray tears away from her quivering face. She reached over to her table organizer and took out her Valium 2mg tablet and her Celexa tablet and dry swallowed them.
Minutes passed as she waited until the Valium kicked in, calming her anxiety to her relief. She could now focus on her work. The rucksack with the files were tucked under the desk. But first she had to write down what discovered from Brandon's file. She discarded her black knee length jacket in the wardrobe, then her lilac shirt and untucked her white top from the rim of her black jeans.
Snatching her black pen from the desk she flicked through the pages in her book and began to note down her findings on the next blank page.
Brandon Rogers died – from the file his death was due to suicide.
Date of Death: February 9th, 1994 – time, 2.22am.
Cause of Death: Various slashes across his face – both sides of this cheeks, down towards edge of his chin. Two lacerations cut across his throat.
The same wounds that I had seen on his body when I had that dream…
Either it was a premonition, a sign or…
Maggie dropped the pen and scoffed. "I'm losing my mind"
She exhaled and twisted towards the TV, lifting the remote control and switched it on. It was too quiet in the room. She wanted some background noise. Anything would do. The TV clicked on, and the ending credits of a soap opera displayed across the screen. She strolled across to her backpack and began to unload the cases from the bag, placing them in neat piles on the desk. The faint sound of adverts played in the background as she counted the number of files, looking into the first page briefly to divide them into groups of girls and boys.
The sound of a news report began to filter through the speakers of the TV and on the screen appeared a middle-aged man, sat in front of a blue backdrop that had the words Springwood News Network in white letters. His moustache twitched nervously as he cleared his throat, staring severely into the camera. "Good afternoon, I'm Derek Richards and this is the news at mid-day. Reports have come in this morning of another mysterious death in the Cherryville Close area of the town. Twelve-year-old Brookyln O'Neill was discovered in her bedroom by her parents. They were awoken by the sounds of screaming from her room. Initial examination has confirmed that her neck was broken and there is evidence of sexual assault"
Maggie began to stroll past the TV, but her feet skidded to a halt as the picture of the dead young girl was shown on screen. She twisted around and staggered to her knees in front of the screen. A pair of green eyes stared at her, while her hair was cropped and black in colour. Raising her right-hand Maggie lightly touched the display and trailed her fingers over the smiling face of the girl. "No, no…" she breathed huskily. The girl had the same facial features as the dead girl from her dream. But it wasn't just that, was it? This was the same girl from her nightmare. What in god's name was going on First Brandon. And now this little girl. Why was she seeing their bodies in her dreams?
A deep gurgle erupted from her stomach, and she lurched to her feet, rushing into the bath where she vomited up a mouthful of bile into the toilet bowl. Her hands weakly pressed against the tiled floor as she lethargically pushed herself to her feet and tottered towards the mirror. Her forlorn, jaded eyes stared at her reflection. Thick strands of hair loosely hung around her face, her face pale and perspiring.
Two disturbing thoughts ran through her mind, over and over.
Was she going insane?
Or were her dreams real?
….
An hour later…
The faint, melodic twinkling of wind chimes resonated in the room as Maggie played another one of Doc's mediation tapes. After her perturbing discovery from the news broadcast, she had quicky noted down the name of the girl who had died and the cause of her death. Since then, she had bought a few bottles of energy drinks from a vending machine outside the manager's office of motel and had concentrated her attention on the case files. Ten of them were laid out on the desk – four boys and six girls. Just like she predicted, each teenager was dead. Their deaths occurring within a week of each other from the 2nd to 9th September 1993. But Paul had stated to her and Doc that the influx of patients to the ward began the weekend beginning 13th September. Was this another fucking lie or had he mixed up the dates? She sadly shook her head. These kids were also administered a high dosage of stimulants.
She noted down the reasons of their deaths.
Stab wounds. Asphyxiation. Broken bones – snapped spines. Heart attacks. Massive internal bleeding.
Like last night she had used the beaming light from the lightbulb above the bed to attempt to distinguish the letters or words that were blackened out. Each paper was titled and bent to various angles. From what she could perceive there were a few lines that mentioned dreams. And nightmares. She huffed out a sigh of uncertainty. Could these kids be dreaming of the same spectre she was seeing in her dream? But why was she dreaming of it? Her eyes narrowed in bewilderment. She reached over for her notebook and flicked through to the entry of her second dream.
I was in that power plant again. This time I came across some strange apparition of a little girl dressed in a white summer dress, with blond curls in a single ponytail. She was aged about six or seven years old. Their face was vacant, lifeless and they sang a strange nursery rhyme. One, Two, Freddy's coming for you…
Maggie's bottom lip jolted open, and she turned over the pages, and scoured the notes until she came to two lines.
Jack Robertson first heard of…?
There was a letter – F. But what would that stand for?
"F…" she murmured softly. Her eyes widening in realisation. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly starting to come together. "For Freddy!"
Her body crashed into the chair and a shiver fizzed through her body. Was her dream truly real, just like that fucking apparition had insisted? Were they keeping the kids awake because of this spectre in their dreams? But why did they not tell her and Doc that? It all sounded preposterous. Fucking insane. How could possibly explain this to Doc?
A bone cracked in her back as she straightened up and started to study ten more files. The same process was done for each. Dividing them onto the pile for either girl or boy. Then she recorded down their names, ages, dates they were admitted and the date of their deaths. It was within a week perhaps a few days when they arrived and then died. But what concerned her was the dates. It was journeying backwards, into August and July 1993. She grumbled softly and continued onto the next dozen files, again repeating the same action. Her voice was barely perceptible as she whispered out the dates.
Admitted 28th June.
Admitted 25th June.
Admitted 18th June.
Admitted 15th June.
Admitted 31st May.
"What is going on?" she leaned the side of her face against left hand and despairingly stared at the dates. They were going further back than she had expected. But there were dozens more of those files. Perhaps hundreds. She felt her eyes droop forward and she yawned. Her brown orbs fluttered shut for a moment and her head sunk forward onto the desk…
The hiss of steam caused Maggie's head to lurch up from her arms. Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the vapour and darkness around her. "Fuck"
Her body lay strewn against the metal grating of the catwalk and with a growl she pushed herself to her knees. A swarm of blazing heat engulfed her, and she untied her hair, then retied it into a tight ponytail. Why was it always so fucking hot in this place? And why was this asshole coming into her dream? Was he stalking her? She scoffed. Slowly, she turned around inspecting the catwalk. Thin rusty railings stretched out to either side of her, disappearing into thick mist. Taking a prudent step to her right she lightly touched the rusty metal and peered over into the depths below. A faint red hazy glow from below. Was it from a fire from one of those furnaces or boilers? But where was the floor? How high was she up? She inhaled and cautiously moved forward, her eyes darting to the left and right as she ventured through the steam. The catwalk shuddered, the metal groaning under her boots as she turned right onto a new catwalk. Thankfully the steam was starting to clear, her vision becoming a little clearer. To her right and left she discerned other various structured catwalks. Some on the level below. While others were several feet higher than the one, she currently occupied. There were the outlines of numerous staircases, some leading upwards to the levels above and a few spiralling staircases to the dark abyss below.
Maggie groaned inwardly. Where the hell could she go? And where was that apparition? She couldn't sense him. The other times she could, but it was like her energy and focus was being side-tracked. Were the various discoveries she was unearthing making her lose control of her dreams? Making her apprehensive?
She marched forward a little more eagerly as she saw a set of stairs to the right leading to another catwalk below and quickly descended. As she reached the level below, she noticed several red radiances flickering about fifteen feet below the catwalk. It perked her interest, and she bent over the railing noticing that there were five of them. Two one the right and three on the left. They were lit furnaces and she could finally see the ground.
Smirking she took a step back, but then paused. There was movement to her right in the darkness. It looked like a figure running. Her hands gripped the rail, and she peered over. The figure panted, whimpering and ran into view. Rushing past the fiery haze from the furnaces. It was a girl. Her age indistinguishable. But she seemed small, perhaps five feet in height. Their head whipped over their shoulder, and she screamed.
Maggie flinched at the panic in her voice. Then she heard it. A dark, gritty voice. As it mockingly sing-song the girls' name.
"Madison…"
Maggie bent over the rail and leered in disgust as the apparition appeared from the darkness. He raised his right arm and flicked his blades on his gloved hand. Dragging them along the metal wall.
Scrreecchhh…
Maggie jerked at the sound and diverted her gaze to the left to where the girl he was pursing whimpered and ran into the distance. Pulling her gaze back to the man, she saw him continue to scrape the tips of his blades against the searing metal that created short, yellow sparks that flew into the air. Deciding she had enough Maggie spun to her left and ran down the steps. The steel steps juddered and shook. She grasped the rail and screamed as the next step bent downwards, the hinges coming loose, and she toppled forward down the last remaining steps. Her body thudded hard onto the ground, and she groaned, grimacing from the impact.
She groggily shook her head and lifted it, seeing the faint outline of the apparition turning left into the next passageway. Another scream pierced the air and was followed by the sound of bones crunching and breaking. His nefarious laughter began to erupt and then there was an eerie silence. Maggie gulped and stumbled forward onto her feet and ran. She ducked under the steam and vapor that exuded from the pipes aligning the walls to either side of her. As she veered into the next passageway her boot skidded on a slick liquid that coated the metal floor. She screamed and crashed hard into the right, smashing her right arm against a defective generator. Her knees buckled as she toppled to the floor and wheezed sharply. "Shit!"
It took her a few moments to gather her composure before she finally lifted her gaze to the new room she had entered. The room was large. Approximately twenty feet in length and fifteen feet in width. The ground consisted of concrete, smeared in grime and what seemed to be dark red stains. To her right was the inoperative generator that was riddled with rust and cracked metal. Pieces of mangled broken metal doors, metal plating and cracked pipes were scattered along the sides of the walls. And at the far end of the room a thick metal work desk that had several various tools – hammers, chisel and old cutting tools such as - Hacksaws, metal air shears, angle grinders. Pieces of cracked and bent knives, screws and various old work gloves. Amongst them to her surprise were a variety of tattered and dirty dolls and teddy bears.
She took a hesitant step forward and glanced to the right of the table she saw three tall blue lockers and a thick grubby sheet that fluttered back and forth covering another passageway. As she took another step forward her right boot slipped and she jerked back, finally noticing a thick pool of liquid around her feet. Her eyes followed the blood that trailed in a diagonal direction to her left into the corner of the room.
Huddled in the corner of the room was the body of the girl who she had seen minutes before. Her body lay slumped against the wall. The cotton fabric of her light blue jumper was slashed and torn away from her chest. Her flesh was carved away in thick slices and several sharp bones were protruding from her chest. Each rib was splattered with blood, mauled skin. Maggie took a few tentative steps towards the corpse and shuddered. She could see inside her chest and seen that her lungs were hacked to pieces. Around her stomach were various cuts and stab wounds. She was literally mutilated to death. She bent down onto her haunches at her side and shakily reached down to close her vacant lifeless eyes. The moment her fingers touched her skin a white glow consumed the dead girl's body and Maggie shrieked, jumping back onto her feet.
Maggie gasped, staring wide-eyed as the body morphed into a white vapor. It soared upwards and flew around the corner out of view. She tentatively backed away as a pleased masculine moan of pleasure echoed from every corner of the room.
Her back collided with the edge of the metal work bench, and she swirled around, grabbing a hammer in her right hand.
"The little doctor is back for some more fun!"
Maggie tightened her fingers around the rubber grip of the hammer and took a few cautious steps forward. Her penetrating gaze glared at the passageway where she had arrived from and waited. The rumblings and metallic clanging and bangs of the boilers and generators thudded around her. She scowled softly then a sharp pain tore through her temple. Her left hand clamped around the side of her head, and she took short, hard breaths.
Freddy kept hidden out of sight. Attempting to breach her subconscious. But like before, her mind was like sealed off from him. Either she was doing it willingly or something else was blocking him out. He watched as her back straightened and she raised the hammer.
"Come on out" Maggie whispered. Her eyes scooted to her right then left. Searching for any sign of him. "Show yourself!"
He chuckled darkly menacingly. "I'm already here"
His voice echoed from all around, in every direction. Maggie swung around guardedly and frowned. There was no sign of the fucker. Where the fuck was he?
"I can see you…."
Maggie's head jerked to the right at the sound of his voice. It was right beside her. But he wasn't. Her grip went taut on the handle of the hammer.
"But can you see me?" his gritty voice leered.
She took a step back and her legs went rigid. Set in stone on the ground. All the muscles on her arm tensed and she then felt a flutter of hot rancid breath over her the left side of her face, causing a few strands of her hair to flutter. Her body twisted around, and she swung the head of the hammer hard, expecting it to crash into his chest or his fucking face. However, it flew forward and she stumbled forward, holding back a shriek. "Shit"
Maniacal laughter erupted all around her and she flinched backwards. The fucker was invisible. Her eyes flew to the right, then left. Then she rotated around slowly, lifting the hammer again into an attacking stance.
Freddy's lips curled into a fiendish grin as he slowly circled her, studying her body posture. Despite her strong and gallant pose, he could sense a wave of restlessness that emanated from her. He watched as her bottom lip was drawn in under her top lip and she fretfully gnawed at it. His eyes twitched sharply in suspicion, what did that mannerism remind him of?
Maggie's gaze flickered wildly to her right, then left, then right again. Suddenly the feel of cool steel skimmed over her bare left arm, and she reeled the hammer to her left again. Like before it collided into nothing, and she staggered forward.
Freddy's mocking laughter resounded in her ears again. "Did you miss?"
"Show yourself, you coward!" Maggie snarled.
"Ohhh, no! This is too much fun!" his gruff voice leered in her right ear.
She screamed and jerked to her left. A thick boot tapped at her right calf, and she toppled backwards onto her back with a loud thud. Before Freddy could react, she sprung back to her feet and backed away towards the metal table. He approached her as she gasped for breath, the unmistakable sensation of fear was radiating from her. This was it. This was what he wanted.
Maggie pressed her back against the rim of the metal table and slowly inched her way to the left, towards the tattered sheet that led to another passageway. She was getting the fuck out of here.
Riiiiipppppp!
The sheet fluttered and jerked as four thick slits were torn through the fabric and she screamed, jolting away from it. Her lips coiled into a sneer. She was disgusted at herself for losing her composure. She had to remain calm. That asshole was playing on her rising apprehension, he was getting a kick out of it.
She shakily took a few deep breaths and slowed to stop. Her fingers readjusted their position on the handle of the hammer. She heard another low chuckle, then something pointed and sharp tap the middle of her spine. Snarling she swung around and screamed in vexation as she swiped the hammer again into thin air.
The grating sound of his laughter boomed out again.
"Missed again, bitch!"
Maggie hissed out a low curse. "Fuck this"
Slowly, she straightened up and began to regulate her breathing. Inhaling slowly through her nose, then out her mouth. Nice and slow. Decelerating her rapid heartbeat to a steady, rhythm. Her arms rested at her sides, and she stared straight ahead. Her apprehension melted, a sense of serenity coming over her as she cleared her mind. Focusing on his presence.
Her eyes constricted as she reminded herself. Clear your mind. Gain control. Remember, this is your mind.
Maggie glimpsed smartly to her left, sensing something. Breathing. Short, raspy breathing. Then a click. Something metal was clicking. It was his blades. Her fingers curled tightly around the hammer and with a roar, her right hip rotated to the left and the head of the hammer crashed hard into a chest.
Freddy cried out as he was knocked to the ground, crashing hard onto his back and materialised in a shimmering red light.
Maggie leered down at him with a triumphant smirk and waved the hammer. "I didn't miss that time, motherfucker!"
He flashed his rotten teeth in a snarl and with sudden speed he thrust his hands backwards backflipping onto his feet. Maggie defensively lurched back and set her body in a defensive boxing stance but raised the hammer protectively at the side of her face.
Freddy quickly advanced and swung his blades at her, directly at her chest.
In a blink of an eye her body vanished and reappeared behind him. He scowled and swung around to her. She looked mystified, a little disorientated and jerked back as he approached again. She tried to duck as his blades dove forward again. But the blades tore through nothing as again her body disappeared. Freddy snarled and franticly looked about then they landed on her as she reappeared at the entrance to the room.
"You're starting to piss me off, bitch!"
Maggie looked around in puzzlement. What was going on? She wasn't doing this.
From the darkness of the corridor, three sets of eager eyes watched as their little 'game' played out. They would continue their little charade for a few more minutes. It was quite amusing to see the look of concern and exasperation on their faces. Especially Freddy's. As Freddy approached her again and dove forward, they clicked their bony fingers and she vanished. Before reappearing on the far side of the room. The thud of Krueger's head colliding with the metal wall reverberated in the room and they smirked.
Freddy shook his head lightly, recoiling from the pain and stood. "Stop fucking doing that!"
"I'm not doing anything!" Maggie snapped and lifted the hammer in her right hand.
He flexed his blades as his face contorted into a vision of rage. Eyes burning red as he stalked towards her. She drove the hammer forward, but his left hand whipped out and snatched her arm at the wrist. There was a startled cry of pain from her as he violently jerked her arm to the right, at a forty-five-degree angle. Her fingers twitched and jerked as her grip weakened. He gave her arm a vicious tug and she shrieked, and the hammer fell from her hand to the floor.
Freddy smirked at her and kicked the hammer across the floor where it slid under the rusty generator. His blades clicked and contracted outwards as she wearily looked at him. His smirk twisted into a leering grin, and he chortled as she attempted to jerk her wrist from his hand. But his grip grew tighter and without warning his glove swathed around her face and yanked her face towards his. "How about a little tongue action?"
Maggie scowled and tried to twist her head away. But his mouth crashed down onto hers and she grimaced, squealing in repulsion at the horrendous sensation of his blistered, scarred lips against hers. Freddy chuckled sadistically against her mouth as his scalded tongue plunged into her mouth. She tasted so good, like cinnamon.
She grunted and with a surge of energy and rage, Maggie drove her left knee hard into his crotch and wrenched her head away from his. "Fucker!"
Her left hand dug into his charred cheek, ripping down and pulling a few rutted layers of blackened muscle away. She then drove her right fist into his face crashing hard into his cheek and nose. He lurched back then lifted his claw curling it into a fist and aimed the back of the metal plate at the side of her temple. Her head whipped violently to the right and her legs wobbled, before she collapsed to the ground.
"Little slut!"
Her vision blurred in and out. Then a startled cry of pain erupted from her as a hard boot rammed into her chest and then swung back as Freddy drove his right foot into her stomach. Again. Then again. Maggie gasped and rolled to her stomach and pitifully began to crawl away. She felt his hand clamp around her right ankle and with a snarl he flipped her onto her back and mounted her.
She panted and rasped as sharp pain tore through her ribcage. Fuck, had she broken or cracked a bone? Her body jumped as the metallic clink of blades expanding apart caught her attention. Her eyes fluttered as she took a deep breath and saw his right arm raised above his head. His left hand curled around the side of her throat tightly. She saw the barbarous grin grow across his cauterized face. "Are you ready?"
Her brown orbs glanced at the blades as they wiggled threateningly. Discreetly her right hand began to slither down the side of her waist. Feigning a whimper Maggie gazed to her right then swiftly diverted them to his. She suddenly grinned madly. "Yeah, but are you?"
Freddy frowned, then felt a sharp pain tear through his stomach. His head jerked down seeing her hand wrapped around the black handle of a switch blade. The steel blade was embedded through one of green stripes of his sweater. His eyes widened in disbelief, then Maggie wrenched her teeth down onto his hand in between his thumb and index finger. Freddy snarled in anguish and was again caught off guard as her forehead came hurtling forward and smacked hard against his skull. His body flew backwards and there was stomach-churning squelch as Maggie's blade was yanked from his stomach.
She quickly flung her legs backwards over her head, rolling into a back tumble and she settled on her knees with her right hand raised, clasped around the knife that was stained with his blood. She glimpsed at the steel then at him. Her lips curled into a victorious grin; her teeth smeared with his putrid blood.
For a moment they glared at each other, until she cocked her head to the right with a pout. "I guess, you weren't ready!"
Freddy scraped the tips of his claw against the concrete ground in ire. "You bitch!"
Maggie smirked again and sprung to her feet, twisting on her heel and ran down the corridor. He was in hot pursuit as she rushed through the billowing steam. She propelled her arms back and forth, knowing that the apparition was majorly pissed off. But fuck it. If it thought it could easily manipulate her dream, then it was wrong. She took a sharp right and ran forward several feet until she came to a dead end. "Shit!"
Her eyes darted to the right above her head. Searing hissed and sizzled from a several pipes aligning the wall. Lifting her left arm, she took a quick glimpse to the right and saw him veering around the corner. His blades rising into the air as he dove towards her. She snapped her eyes closed and rammed her wrist against the pipe…
Maggie shrieked as her head rocked up from the desk. Her breath caught in her throat as she wearily looked about. Fuck that was close. An intense pain exploded from her left wrist, and she shakily raised her arm. Her eyes dilated in horror at the two-inch red, inflamed scar. It was a burn mark. Right from where she had slammed her wrist against that scalding hot pipe. She swallowed hard and then felt her right hand clenching the handle of her knife. Looking down at her right hand she gasped. Smeared across the metal blade was a thick, reddish-green liquid. Her grip wavered and she dropped it on the ground. What was going on?
"Maggie, are you okay?"
She jolted to her feet and frantically rushed to the wardrobe and grabbed a grey zipped hoodie, pulling it on herself to cover her burn mark. As she hurried towards the door, she swiftly kicked her knife under the desk out of view. Then with a fake grin she opened the door. "Uh, I'm sorry"
"I heard you screaming" Doc's voice was distinct with worry. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, I just tripped in the kitchen" she thought quickly. "The floor was wet. I must have spilt some coffee"
He took a quick glimpse over shoulder towards the kitchen floor, trying to determine any spillages. Maggie shifted uneasily on her feet and cleared her throat and changed the subject. "What are having for dinner tonight? Takeaway?"
"Yes. I'm going to go to a few restaurants in town. I'll check to see if they do takeaway. Is there anything that you fancy?"
"You pick. I'm easy" Maggie forced a smile again. "And uh, Doc. About earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you"
He smiled tenderly. "It's okay Maggie. It's been a hard day. Just get some rest. Okay?"
She nodded curtly and gave a quick wave as he closed the door. Once the door clicked shut, she pulled across the latch, locking it. A whoosh of air erupted from her as she jadedly leaned against the wooden door and slowly bent forward. She winched and groaned as a dull ache perforated from her chest and stomach. "Urgh…"
Lifting the bottom of her zipped hoodie and tank top up she scanned the area around her stomach and chest around her padded white bra. There were faint bruises and what appeared to be boot marks scattered on her skin. Her lips trembled and she bent down to retrieve her knife from under the desk, then scowled in puzzlement. The blade was clean. Not a speck of blood. Did she just imagine it? Was she really developing psychotic visions in her nightmares? Making her believe that her dreams were real? Her head shook in discord. No. Judging by the nasty burn mark on her wrist and the boots marks on her stomach and chest, it was apparent that her dreams were becoming real.
….
6pm…
Maggie had discarded her half-eaten plate of food on the kitchen counter. Despite being hungry, she couldn't bring herself to eat her dinner. She felt nauseated and frazzled. Her nightmare from earlier was still playing on her mind. Though, that didn't stop her from examining the files she had brought with her. In total, including the other files she had begun to read earlier, there was eighty-seven of case files. Forty-four girls and forty-three boys. But what chilled her was that they were all dead. The most recent admittance date was the 7th of January 1994, but the earliest date was way back last year – 25th May 1993.
However, she knew that there were more files in those cabinets. Dozens. Perhaps hundreds. Were they all dead too? God, she sincerely hoped not. There had to be some kids who had been discharged from the hospital and were back with their families. Like from earlier and the night before she had tilted various pages from the files against the glow from the lightbulb on the ceiling trying to fathom some letter or a word. It didn't take her long to discover something in relation to numerous nightmares they were experiencing, something linked to a power plant and a house. But the descriptions of their dreams and the house was difficult to distinguish.
Were the kids in Westin Hills having the same dream? Did Brandon and that little girl Brooklyn share the same nightmare? They were both in the same dream. And not just that, they were in her dream. But how could that be possible? She would have to share her discoveries with Doc. However, would he believe her? He would think she was paranoid and was letting her imagination run amok.
Her right hand fell to her side, and she bound the paper back into the file it belonged to. Then left it on top of the files that owned to the boys. Every name was listed in her notebook in chronological order of their deaths and vague descriptions of their deaths were noted at each name. Her gaze darted to the wall that separated her room from Doc's and she gave a little smile. Beyond the wooden walls she could hear faint chimes of bells and wind chimes playing. He was listening to his meditation tape. Maybe that was why Doc was asked to come to Westin Hills. He could control his dream. He was the one who taught her what she knew. Though, she was not as skilled as him. There was only so much she could do in her dream. Dr Gordon was probably hoping that Doc could help the kids control their own dreams. But it wouldn't be as easy as they believed, it would take weeks, perhaps months for them to have some level of manipulation and power over their dreams. Were they hoping that the kids could try and control their dreams to protect themselves from that apparition, or whatever the fuck it was? Could it be a poltergeist, an evil spirit? Maggie scoffed; she wasn't much of a believer in the supernatural. But judging by what had happened to her over the last day or so, she was seriously reconsidering her beliefs.
She lightly patted the top file with her fingers and then marched into the kitchen, taking a bottle of Lucozade from the bottom shelf. Taking a long refreshing drink, she ventured back to the desk and slumped onto the seat. It didn't take long for her mind to drift again. Back to her dream. As much as she knew that she was somewhat capable of making herself invisible in the dream. She also knew that she did NOT make herself disappear and reappear in that dream. And even if she did, it would not be as fast as that. It wasn't her. Despite what that fucker believed. Was there someone or something else in the dream that was manipulating her presence? Forcing her to vanish them rematerialize somewhere else? But for what purpose?
But what really enraged Maggie was the fucking gall of that bastard to kiss her. Forcing his vile, rancid tongue into her mouth. She shuddered at the memory. Her fingers tightened around the bottom of her bottle, and she took another long slug. She left it on the desk and unenthusiastically leaned her head back against the thick padding of the chair. Maybe it was a bad decision to come to Springwood. Her eyes fluttered slowly, closing for a mere second. Then with a violent shake of her head she jolted to her feet and scolded herself. "Nope, on your feet. Keep alert"
She made a sharp turn and ambled into the kitchen, beginning to clear away the remains of her food and start washing the cutlery in the sink. Minutes passed as she tided the room, folding some more items of clothing that were in her suitcase into the wardrobe. Placing the t-shirts, shirts into neat piles on the top shelf. After finishing, she discarded her zipped hoodie onto the bed and applied more anti-septic cream on her burn mark. It wasn't as bad as she had first thought. But fuck, it stung like hell.
There was a faint rustle of paper and Maggie frowned, her jaw dropping open as she turned towards the desk. The top brown file began to open to the first page by an invisible force. She dropped the small white tube onto the bed and staggered forward. Then her legs went rigid. Her eyes dropped down towards the photo of the boy, named Peter Nichols. His image began to morph, his once unblemished face crunched and cracked as though his face was caved in. His right cheekbone was splintered. Numerous black and blue bruises were scattered around his face. His eyes were swollen and bruised. Both of his eyes were gauged out. While his lips were cut at each corner. The lacerations curving upwards into a disfigured smile.
Maggie panted with fear and glanced down at her notebook as she eyed his name and the notes she made of his death. They were the exact same injuries that the photo was manifesting into. She quickly read her notes - Crushed skull around the cheek, gutted mouth. Lips cut up by thick sharp knife and the lacerations were cut up along his cheeks in a twisted form of a smile. Eyes gutted out. Then four stab wounds in the chest.
There was a fizzle and then a loud electrical bang as the lightbulb above the bed exploded and a rain of sparks spurted onto the mattress. It sparked a vibrant wave of red and yellow flames. Maggie shrieked at the sound and swung around as the flames spread across the bed.
"No, no…." she whispered. Finally sensing the air around her changing. She was dreaming. "No. Wake up Maggie!"
Thick, dangerous smoke began to fill the room. Surrounding her as she stumbled back to the door. Her left hand reached towards the round handle and as her fingers brushed it, she yelped, bolting forward. The metal was hot. Burning hot. She frantically looked about. That was the only way out of the room.
Click.
Her head whipped towards the TV set as the screen flickered on. The same news reader from earlier that day greeted her. Though, the backdrop behind him was smeared in blood that trickled down in thick lines. The anchor-man's appearance had also changed. There was a thick meshed slit across his throat. Blood still oozed and spurted from the wound, down his suit that was being stained red. His face was pale and gaunt. The fingers on his hands were thin and rotten. Lice and maggots wriggling over his frail skin. His teeth were crooked, blood marring his gums as he spoke. His voice, eerily and husky as he spoke. "Springwood Health Officials are alarmed by the number of deaths occurring in the town. Peter Nichols, Hayley Laverty, Omar Harris, Casey Allan…."
Maggie cast a quick glance at the files on the desk. The reporter was listing all the names of the case files. Every single one. Her eyes flew back towards the screen as it fizzled, turning into grey static. Then she heard them. Screams. Cries of help from dozens, no it was hundreds of young children and teenagers. She took a hesitant step forward. Then stopped as another explosion erupted from the wires at the back of the TV set. Another spray of sparks flew and caught fire on the wallpaper of the wall. A surge of flames flashed along the wall, enveloping every inch of the wall in front of her and then it spread to the other sides of the room. Until the four walls of the motel room were engulfed in hot flame. She coughed and wheezed as the thick smoke billowed around her. Her eyes squinted through the smoke, and she saw the wallpaper starting to bubble and melt. Giving way to what looked like a metal wall. The room was altering into the power plant to her derision. Her breathing waned as she panted and spluttered, stumbling to her knees.
The flames that had sounded her, tainting the walls began to dissipate. But the profuse plumes of smoke remained, filling her lungs as she fought for her breath. Her fingers twitched as she crawled forward through the smoke, feeing the carpet giving way to the familiar metal floor of that fucking power plant. But for some reason she could not sense that creep's presence. If it wasn't him who was luring her into this part of the dream, then who?
There was a chuckle. Low and menacing. It emanated from behind her. But it wasn't just one voice that was laughing. It sounded liked there there three individuals sniggering at her expense. Maggie tried to crane her head over her right shoulder, peering through the smoke. Then she coughed, gasping sharply. Fuck she needed air, or she was going to suffocate.
She weakly crawled forward and soon the faint rumbling and mechanical clicking of machines slowly grew in crescendo until it was all she could hear.
Until…
Sccrreeech….
Maggie gasped through her haggard breathing and weakly stumbled to her feet. "Please…" she whispered hoarsely. "Not again"
At the far end of the smoky corridor before her Freddy lingered. HIs silhouette shrouded by the smoke and hot steam. He contracted then flicked his blades out wide. "Not you again!"
She shakily stumbled away, coughing violently.
"You are nothing but a distraction!" Freddy leered and slowly began to approach her.
Maggie abruptly inhaled and stammered, "D-do you really think I want to be dreaming of his? Of you? I d-didn't…" she wheezed. "Want any of this!"
"But you are dreaming of me, aren't ya?"
She tried to straighten her back but was unprepared as a fist crashed into her right cheek making her stumble hard onto the ground. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she spluttered, wheezing gasping sharply. A body crushed over hers and whipped her onto her back, before she was finally mounted. Her head weakly tried to turn to the right and then she felt his scarred left hand roughly run through her tussled hair as he yanked it away from her chest and throat.
Freddy's hand slowed to a stop as he eyed his fingers as they entangled in her brown locks. A vague, distorted memory ran in the back of his mind. Had he done this before? Touched her hair like this? But in a slower and more tender manner? His lips twisted into a scowl of disdain. Fuck this bullshit. He shook his head and focused his gaze on her eyes as they frenetically darted down towards her right pocket of her jeans. A vile grin spread over his face as he withdrew his hand from her hair and then clicked his fingers. Her black switch blade appeared into his hand. "Looking for this?"
Maggie's eyes widened in panic as he flicked the blade opened and with a snarl, he drove the blade hard down into the side of her right waist. An inch above her hip. Her mouth jerked opened, and she screamed at the piercing, sharp pain that coursed through her body. Her hand shakily reached forward to his arm and meekly tried to wrench his arm away. But flashed her a vicious smile and twisted the blade in her flesh.
Another scream ripped from her throat.
"That's it bitch…" he leaned forward and closed his eyes. He moaned softly, relishing in the pleasure of her sounds of pain. "Scream for Freddy"
She gasped and her eyelids flapped weakly. Her weakened gaze raised towards his right hand that was adorned with that bladed glove. The blades flexed, spreading wide and she saw them swinging down towards her chest…
xxx
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. Looking forward to writing the scenes when Freddy finally realises who Maggie is. Let me know what you think please, thanks!