A/N: Thank you to Reimusha and Darkness Takes Over for reviewing chapter two! You guys keep me going! Enjoy the story.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own A Nightmare on Elm Street or any of its characters.
WARNING: CERTAIN CHAPTERS OF THE FOLLOWING STORY WILL CONTAIN GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, AND ADULT LANGUAGE. TO AVOID SPOILERS, THERE WILL NOT BE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS FOR EACH CHAPTER.
Chapter three: Another One for Fairview
Nancy hadn't known how lonely it could be in a full house until her parents first mentioned the word divorce. She was only six at the time, but even at that age she had sensed the tension in the air. Her father had started sleeping on the couch, and no one spoke at dinner. Neither one of her parents had been willing to move out and give up their daughter. Out of pure stubbornness, they had lived together until the custody hearings started.
That was when things got ugly.
Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had always tried to keep their fights secret from Nancy, but anger can only simmer for so long before it starts to boil. And it boiled loud. For the last few weeks, it was every night: Nancy would lay with her blankets cocooned around her, watching the crack in her bedroom door. Listening to the shouts and curses from downstairs. People weren't meant to live like that. Something had to change, and she remembered the day it had.
The start of Summer vacation was only a few weeks away, and dandelions were popping up all over Elm Street into the warm, humid air. She'd stepped off the school bus at three o'clock, cutting across the lawn to her front door. The suitcases by the kitchen table had excited her at first; she thought maybe they were going on a surprise trip. Donald had promised to take her to Disney World someday. But those bags were only packed for one person, and it wasn't her. And no matter how much she sobbed and screamed and clung to his knees, she couldn't make him stay.
Not long after the divorce was finalized, her mother had gotten her a pet rabbit to keep her company. Marge had been beaming as she handed her six-year-old daughter the cardboard box with air-holes poked into the sides, but Nancy remembered feeling oddly cheated: She lost her daddy and all she got in his place was a nasty little thing that bit her the first time she tried to touch it. She would have liked to say that that was the reason she hated it, but that would be a lie. She hated it the very second she saw it. She hated its pink eyes; she hated its twitching nose; she hated the way it sat there and pretended that it could ever be enough to make up for the life she was missing out on.
And as soon as that hatred had festered enough, the nightmares came. It was so much bigger in her nightmares. It walked like a man with its long limbs and jagged buck-teeth. And it was always waiting for her to touch it so it could bite her.
Even after she'd begged her mother to take it back to the pet store, it still came for her every time she fell asleep. Those nights were filled with a different kind of screaming than what the walls of fourteen twenty-eight Elm Street were accustomed to. Marge had to cradle her at two, three, four o'clock in the morning until she dozed off again. Sometimes she would give up and let Nancy sleep on what used to be Don's side of the bed.
One of those nights in particular stuck out to Nancy even after all these years, because it was the night she learned that she wasn't as helpless as she'd thought. Marge had held out a felt-tipped black marker to the sniffling girl, and taught her a trick: Write numbers on your fingers, sweetheart. When you fall asleep, you'll see that the numbers are gone and realize that its just a dream. Then you'll wake up.
It had worked when she was a child. And it would have to work now. That's what she told herself as she lay curled up on the padded floor of the solitary confinement cell at Westin Hills, marking her knuckles with those same numbers. The soft, felted point was easy on her skin, and each digit she wrote was bold enough to be seen in the meager light.
She blinked a few times, struggling against the sedatives they'd injected into her arm. The cap for the marker snapped shut under her thumb, and she shoved it back into the pocket of her hoodie. She spread her fingers and examined the numbers. They were all in order - one through ten.
She heard a click and looked up.
"How you doing, kiddo?" Max said as he opened the cushioned cell door. He leaned against the doorframe, his large chest nearly filling it.
Nancy tried to smile while stifling a yawn. "Never better."
He walked into the cell, locking it behind him. Nancy propped herself up against the wall as he crouched down on his haunches in front of her. His kind brown eyes said two things: I know you're hiding a magic marker, and you can keep it, because I'm here for something more important.
"You already know what I'm gonna ask," he said. Max was the only hospital employee who didn't treat her like an animal, but all the respect she had for him couldn't wipe the look of disdain from her face.
"Yeah. So don't bother."
"It's my job to bother," he said. "Why'd you do it, Nancy? You're too smart to be doing that shit."
She pulled her bandaged arm close to her chest and cupped a hand over it. "Who says I did it?"
"Nancy-"
"Stop. Don't you dare start acting like them," she said, throat tight with anger and desperation.
He sighed and dragged a hand over his scruffy beard. "Okay. So you didn't do that to yourself. "
"That's what I said."
"Then who did?" he asked. "Tina? There wasn't even a speck of blood on her."
"Tina didn't do anything," she said, remembering how the blonde had watched her bleed and scream with an expression of complete apathy. She hadn't done anything, and that was a problem.
"Tell me who hurt you," Max said. His brow sunk into a no-nonsense glower. He looked like a brown bear waiting to maul whoever messed with one of his cubs.
"If I told you, you'd think I was insane," Nancy insisted.
He motioned to the room around them, raising an eyebrow. "I've dragged you into this room a dozen times, I've buckled you into a strait-jacket, and I've seen you getting sedatives shot up your ass, and I still don't think you're crazy. So try me."
"Fine," she said before firing him a warning glare, "but don't forget what you just said."
Silence hung over the cell for a while as he waited for her to continue.
She swallowed a lump. "It happened while I was asleep. When I woke up, the cuts were on my arm."
"Somebody snuck into your room and did all that while you were snoozing, Nancy?" he asked, eyes narrow with confusion. "You must be one hell of a heavy sleeper."
"No, you don't understand-the man in the dream did it," she said. Her fingertips trembled, and she curled them into her palm so he wouldn't notice. Distressed lines wrinkled her forehead.
"Maybe you just dreamt about someone hurting you because you were feeling the cuts. Like when my dog sneaks into my bed at night and licks my face, and I start dreaming it's Pamela Anderson," he explained, then snapped his mouth shut like he wished he had used a different example.
"It wasn't like that," she said, becoming frantic. "Please, Max. If I fall asleep in here, he'll come back. You need to get me out-"
He put up a hand. "Don't ask me that. You know I can't do something like that."
She slumped lower against the wall, realizing how useless it was to try to make him understand the danger she was in.
"Just forget it," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."
"I believe that you didn't hurt yourself, if you say you didn't. But you're telling me Mr. Sandman took a knife to you? You got to know how that sounds, Nancy."
She looked off to the side. "I said forget it."
"Hey, cheer up," he said as he play-punched her in the shoulder. She teetered off balance and braced her palms on the floor. "You won't be so grumpy when you see what I'm gonna do to the sorry bastard after I catch him. I might even get a laugh out of you."
The corners of her lips started to curl, and she fought to suppress it.
"See? You're smiling already just thinking about it," he said. He ruffled her hair before standing back up, and her quirk of a smile faded. She couldn't expect him to take her word for what happened. If things were reversed, she wouldn't have offered him any help against some imaginary dream pervert with an industrial-strength manicure, either. This was a war she had to fight on her own.
"Before I go, do you need anything?" Max asked. "You hungry?"
She shook her head. "No. But I did drink a lot of water before bed, and they threw me straight in here after I woke up, so…"
"I'll get you a bedpan," he said as he reached for the door handle.
"But Max," she whined, "that's gross."
He glanced back over his meaty shoulder, pulling the door open. "No, that's hospital policy. You don't leave this room."
"Can't I use the toilet like a human being? Just this one time?" she pleaded. Max seemed to be considering it for a few seconds, thinking about the rough night she'd had and the rougher day that lay ahead for her. All she wanted was for him to give her a break. Let her keep some shred of dignity.
He let out a defeated sigh. "Alright. But let's make it quick, okay? They could fire my ass for this."
He held the door open wider and tossed his chin toward it, signaling her through. She stood up on shaky legs and grabbed the side of her head as her vision split into double. Everything in her line of sight blurred and skipped like a scratchy film. She waited for both Maxes to line up again before stepping out in front of him.
"Careful," he said as he placed a hand on her arm to steady her.
"It's the damn drugs," she grumbled. They walked along an empty white hall with only a few closed doors on either side of them. The panels of ceiling lights reflected off the linoleum floor in glaring streaks, making Nancy squint until her fatigued eyes adjusted.
He chuckled. "At least you ain't in Fairview. They triple-up the dose for those poor suckers - and they have to. If they weren't high, they'd all be killing each other."
"How do you know?"
"I used to work there," he said, and his voice became somber. "Trust me, Nancy: this old snake pit we're in ain't so bad. You don't wanna know some of the things that go on across town."
She gave a cynical laugh, pushing open the bathroom door as they reached it. "You're a true optimist."
"I try," he said with a grin.
Nancy entered the bathroom and locked herself in the first stall she reached, collapsing onto the toilet lid. She raked her fingers through her hair. If only it could have been one of the other orderlies waiting outside. If it were someone other than Max, the next few minutes wouldn't have to be so hard.
But no one else would have let her out of the quiet room. It had to be him.
He was facing away from the restroom door as Nancy pushed it open. His gaze bounced back and forth from one end of the hallway to the other, watching out for any staff members that might come their way. He heard her walking up from behind him but didn't expect her to do what she did. He never even turned around.
The toilet tank lid swung hard into the back of his head. He hit the floor as limp as a rubber suit, blood tricking down his neck. A hairline crack had splintered through the bloodstained ceramic cover which hung at her side. She stood over him with her feet spaced apart and her shoulders slumped from dizzying exhaustion.
Nancy dropped the lid and fell to her knees. She reached into her pocket for the magic marker, thumbing off the cap. After scribbling the word "sorry" onto the back of his hand, she leaned down and left a kiss on his cheek.
He would hate her when he came to, but that was something she'd have to live with.
xxxxxx
Running quietly was impossible with her sneakers on, and Nancy had to stop and bend down to slip them from her feet. Her socks rolled inside-out as she peeled them off and stuffed them into the toes of her shoes. She knotted the worn-out laces together and hurled them into an adjacent corridor, watching them spin through the air before they tumbled to the floor. Then she darted off in the other direction. That ought to confuse the staff when they start searching for her.
She wanted to go straight to Glen, but Rod's room was closer. Her bare feet slapped the tiles as she rushed around a corner and almost hit a steel gurney that had been left against the wall. She weaved around it and continued through the hallways, ducking and hiding whenever any nurses crossed her path.
In less than a minute, she had reached the dormitory wing. The door to Rod's bedroom stood ajar with a grey sock draped over the knob, and she crouched down to peek inside.
Rod sat at the foot of the bed with Tina in his lap, their bodies wrapped as tightly as two bodies could be. His jacket and tee shirt had been tossed into a heap by the oak dresser, and he yanked open the fly on his jeans before pushing them off. The tattered denim bunched like an accordion around his hairy ankles. Breathless panting filled the room as Tina's legs curled around his waist, locking them together. He groaned softly with one hand on her thigh and the other tangled into her blonde hair.
"You've been so quiet lately, babe," he whispered into her ear. "Are you mad at me? Hmm? Giving me the silent treatment?"
Tina responded by grabbing his chin and closing her mouth over his.
This was the last thing Nancy wanted to see, but she hesitated to interrupt them because of Tina. She wasn't sure if she could trust the girl anymore. As Nancy was about to turn away to go find Glen, Rod undid the last button on his girlfriend's shirt and pulled it down her arms. And Nancy froze in place.
The smooth skin on Tina's back had been carved up like a scratching post. Thick lacerations ran from one side to the other, with shorter cuts and stab wounds littered throughout. Some had grown bulging scabs, but the deeper gashes were far from healed. They split open when she hunched over to kiss down the length of Rod's chest. Nancy drew a shaky breath, trying not to make any noise as she stared at the disfigured body.
And then she had to blink, because she thought she saw a fresh cut slice its way across Tina's skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and slapped herself with the back of her hand. Those fucking drugs were messing with her mind. That wasn't possible.
With Rod's face buried into the side of her neck, Tina turned to stare over her shoulder at Nancy. Her lips were spread wide, and Nancy couldn't stop the shudder that wracked her. It was as if someone else were pulling the muscles of her face this way and that way to shape a grotesque smile.
Jolting to her feet, Nancy stumbled backward. Her vision swam and her sense of balance waned. The floor seemed to be slanting beneath her. It threw her onto her back with a loud thud as her skull hit the tiles. Splotches of purple and black swelled and mutated in front of her eyes. She lay sprawled out like a groaning drunk, clutching the sides of her head.
"Hey - what's going on out here?" Rod shouted, slamming the door open against the wall. He looked down at her in nothing but pinstriped boxers. "Nancy?"
He took her arms to hoist her up. Her knees wobbled, but he clutched her shoulders to keep her stable. As his concerned face came into focus, she saw Tina coming up from the blur behind him. The buttons on her blouse had been done up again, but one was in the wrong hole and made a disheveled bump in the fabric.
"Did they let you out of solitary already?" Rod asked.
Nancy said nothing, her gaze darting back and forth between him and the blurry smudge of a girl standing behind him. The sound of people running and shouting echoed up from a nearby hall, and as they got closer, she heard what they were saying. "All hospital staff, be on the lookout for a female escapee. Fifteen years old, brown hair, five-foot-four."
Nancy ripped herself out of Rod's grasp, and he grinned, thrusting a right-on fist into the air. She bolted down to the end of the hall and slipped around the corner just as the orderlies ran up to Rod and Tina.
"Either of you seen Thompson?" one of the orderlies barked, scanning the area with an agitated look in his eyes. Nancy pulled her head back behind the wall. That was the razor-burned man with pit stains who hadn't let her make a phone call yesterday. She held her breath and pressed her back tight against the wall as she listened.
"Nope, haven't seen her," said Rod. Nancy could imagine the arrogant "fuck you" expression that must have been on his face. She smiled.
"She's extremely dangerous," continued the orderly. "If you see anything-"
"She went that way," Tina interrupted in a dry voice.
"Tina, what the fuck?" yelled Rod.
Nancy had no time to wonder why Tina would do something like that. She rushed through the halls as quickly as her foggy mind would allow, hearing the boots of half a dozen orderlies close behind her. She ran down into the abandoned wing of the hospital, and they followed through the decrepit hallways littered with broken glass and dead cockroaches. The men were always just out of sight but close enough to follow the sound of her feet hitting the floor. When she felt like her lungs would explode if she ran for one more second, she slipped behind a creaking door and prayed that they would pass her. The inside of the closet was pitch-black and musky, and she didn't want to know what had been left to rot on the shelves behind her. The men came up the hall seconds later, slowing to catch their breaths.
"Where'd that little bitch go?" one of them growled.
"Did you see what she did to Max?" said another. "Left him in a puddle of blood."
She cringed at the words.
"I saw. Looks like we got another one for Fairview."
A few of them gave humorless laughs before they continued around the corner. Nancy stayed put until she was sure they were gone. She stepped out of the closet and doubled-back the way she'd come, turning down a different hall. The one with the broken light bulbs that hung like daggers from the ceiling.
She looked out each window as she passed it, stirring up dust motes. They swirled through the sunshine pouring in from outside. When she reached the smashed window, she brushed off a few shards of glass that were on the sill and hauled herself up. She crawled through on her elbows and fell out the other side, curling in to cushion the landing.
The grass was still trampled from when the four of them had snuck out last time. Nancy kicked off from the dirt and sprinted toward the tower which stood as high as a mountain in the distance. The thought of climbing the fence into the faculty parking lot and escaping back to the police station crossed her mind, but she resisted the idea. She couldn't leave her friends here with that doctor getting ready to do God knows what to them unless she could bring back help. But no one would believe her about what she'd seen and heard if she left empty-handed.
She was going to need proof.
.
.
.
To be continued…
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review, and I'll sacrifice three goats in your honor. No, wait - that can't be right. *checks note card* Oh. Oooooh. What I meant to say was, "and I'll send a thank you reply and be very happy."
No goat-sacrificing. I promise. Please review! :D
