Nothing.
A big, fat piece of nothing was sitting in my living room floor.
I smelled the air, Chucky had lied about the shitty smell.
There was none to be detected.
I sighed, angerily, tossing down my paper towels in frustration.
Did they have to toy around with me like this?
They couldn't just leave me alone for five, goddamn minutes, to just, I DON'T KNOW, think?
My tense feeling slid off of me, and my heartbeat instantly returned to normal.
"Why do I have to be so fucking easy to scare?"
I asked, turning away from the imaginery 'dead guy' laying between the TV and the couch.
I cried out in shock, as I bumped into someone.
"Did you clean it up?"
Freddy asked, smirking, arms crossed in a matter-of-fact way.
"Oh yes. Got every little dust ball, from his corpse."
I spat, and instantly retreated, wondering why I had been brave, or maybe stupid, enough to say that in that way.
"Watch it."
He growled, narrowing his eyes at me, addressing my sarcasm and attitude.
A bit of color vanished from my face.
"Uh, sorry."
I whispered, looking at the floor.
He smiled, twistedly, and tilted his head.
"That's better, princess."
I cringed, but kept my cool.
"I don't know why you love to tortue me in the sick way you do, but I'm not the one amused here. So, please, if you will, leave me to do my job and clean up after you."
Again, my sarcasm had stumbled over our conversation, making me regret it instantly.
I went to walk away, but he grabbed my shoulder, really hard, in a deathly grip.
He jerked me around to face him, still gripping my shoulder.
He put a razor to my throat, on end, directly facing into my skin.
"You think you've got it bad, princess? Cleaning up our little spills in the kitchen? I've got news for you, if you really had to clean up after my messes, you'd wish that I'd gouge out your eyes, so you would never see what I'm capable of."
His voice was a rasp of a deathly promise, and his eyes were locked unbelievebly tight on mine.
He made it obviously clear that death was, indeed, involved, or would be.
Sooner or later.
I had stopped breathing, unable to move, once again frightened of him, the very glance in his direction, spooked me.
Faint anger flared inside of me, anger at myself, for being scared so damn easily.
Freddy looked me over, a little more aware than a few seconds ago.
Did he feel my burst of anger, just now?
I asked myself in thought, easing backwards out of his grip.
He let me slide through his fingers, smirking, almost knowing I was scared, it seemed.
I turned away, speechless inside of my mind, not knowing one thing to say to even comfort me.
"Oh, and Jennifer,"
I stopped in the doorway to the living room, unwillingly looking back at him.
"You missed a spot."
He gestured to the tossed down paper towels, and I gritted my teeth.
Going past him, snatching up the towels, and going towards the rest of the house again, I tried to relax. More frustrated, than frantic.
It's not worth it, Jennifer. Just keep your cool, stay calm, and don't let his creepiness get to you.
I coaxed myself, in the back of my head, throwing away the paper towels, and turned the dishwasher on.
I pointedly ingored the killers, as I got lost in the the sound of the dishwasher's loud engine.