A/N: The story summary was a bit too long, so I changed it (in case you were wondering). I wasn't expecting to finish this chapter so quickly, but here it is. Enjoy!

And I'd like to give a huge thank you to my two reviewers so far: Darkness Takes Over and a mysterious entity known only as "guest." Thanks, you guys. You rock.

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 Two: Hush

A light wind pushed the clouds across the blue afternoon sky. Nancy lay with her waves of hair fanned out on the sun-baked grass and her arms spread at both sides. She watched as a large cloud drifted in front of the sun, which broke through it and threw bright rays down onto the courtyard below.

She sat up and turned toward the radio nestled in the green grass as Tina began flipping through the stations. A chopped-up medley of songs blared from the speakers until she settled on David Bowie singing the chorus of "Young Americans" and twisted up the volume dial.

Tina pulled her red Bud Light baseball cap down over her blonde hair, swaying to the rhythm. It mixed with the cacophony of noise from all around the yard. Clusters of kids were scattered around on blankets or leaning against tree trunks. There were plenty of picnic tables for everyone, but most seemed to prefer the grass. Maybe it made them all feel a bit more normal. It did for Nancy.

"Close your eyes," Tina said.

Nancy quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just do it. I have a surprise for you."

With one hand tucked behind her back, Tina grinned at her friend. Nancy smiled up at her. Seeing Tina sober and happy reminded her of when they were little girls. Nancy missed those days, running through Elm Street like it was their own private playground. Back when white picket fences were fortress walls standing between them and the world. Everything had been safe and comfortable, and their futures held nothing but promises. She never would have thought they'd end up in a place like this.

"Come on," Tina said.

"Alright, but it better not be anything gross," Nancy warned her, squeezing her eyes shut. She held out her open palm and fought the urge to cringe. The last time Tina had a "surprise" for her, it had been a used condom, and Nancy had spent half the day scrubbing her hands until they turned red.

"Relax," Tina said. "You're going to love it."

A second later, Nancy felt a small weight drop into her hand and was staring down at a tiny bracelet. It was a purple string of four square beads with the letters T-I-N-A carved onto them.

"Tina, I can't take this; it's yours," she protested. Tina had made that from a bead set at Nancy's fifth birthday party. Just looking at it brought back memories of pink lemonade and vanilla cake, and of the sleepover that night. They'd stayed up long past bedtime, pretending that they were running a jewelry store.

"Keep it. Your birthday was three days ago, and I can't think of anything else to give you," Tina said.

Nancy held it out. "Tina-"

"I won't take it back," she insisted, putting up her hands. "If you don't keep it, it'll get lost in the grass."

Nancy closed her hand around it and leaned forward to pull Tina into a hug. "Thank you. You're the best."

"Of course I am," Tina added with a proud smirk before yanking Nancy off balance. She shrieked, falling onto her back. Tina climbed on top of her. "Ah, This is much more comfortable than the hard ground."

"Get off me," Nancy yelled through her laughter. She shoved her friend away and sat up Indian style. Tina rolled onto her side, propping her head up on the heel of her hand. She smiled as Nancy knotted the bracelet onto her wrist. Clenching one end of the string between her teeth, Nancy tugged it hard to secure it in place.

"Hey, Tina?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean before, when you said I fell?" Nancy asked. She didn't remember hitting her head on anything. But she didn't remember going to sleep, either.

Tina looked a little embarrassed. "Well, I don't exactly remember what happened last night. I was sort of…out of it. But Glen told me that you fell and hit your head on the corner of a filing cabinet, and then Rod carried you back to your room."

Nancy nodded. That made the most sense, since nothing that happened after that could have possibly been real. She thought back to that old woman and knew she'd only dreamt of her because of Rod's story. What she didn't understand was why that man with the hat had been there. Or why he had seemed so familiar. It was like when you catch a stranger staring at you in a crowded grocery store, or a movie theater, or at the park, and you could swear you've seen that person before. And you could also swear that they have no interest in picking up groceries or watching a movie, but that they'd come out from wherever they'd been hiding just to see you.

The fingers on his hand flashed through her mind, long and pointed like over-grown nails.

"Nancy?" Tina said, tapping the girl on the shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

Nancy shook her head. "No. Nothing."

Tina would have pressed her for a better answer, but she lost interest immediately after she'd glanced up. Nancy followed her gaze. They stared at one of the four inner walls of the red brick building that towered around them. A man was standing by a window on the highest floor of the hospital, surveying the courtyard. Something about him made Nancy feel like a specimen being examined. They couldn't distinguish anything more than the outline of his body behind the glare of the glass windowpane, but they knew who it was. Everyone knew.

He was The Doctor, and that was his office.

Hiding her hands in the sleeves of her grey hoodie, Nancy drew in her knees. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. The man was rigid like a cardboard cutout, but every once in a while his arm moved up to take what might have been a cigar out of his mouth. The movement was mechanical. And Nancy couldn't be sure he was anything more than a machine, since neither she nor anyone she talked to had ever seen him. From what she'd heard, he was the resident surgeon at Westin Hills.

"That guy oversees all the operations here, right?" Nancy asked without looking away from the blurred silhouette.

"As far as I know," Tina replied.

"So whatever happened to Kevin Murdock was-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Nancy," Tina blurted out. "Like Glen said: The guy was already fucked up."

Nancy turned to Tina, searching her eyes. What she saw was uncertainty. "You don't really believe that."

"Yes, I do." Tina folded her arms across her chest.

"But Rod knew him," Nancy said, "and according to him, Murdock wasn't crazy. Not that crazy, anyway."

Tina's will to argue dissipated like vapor. She stared down at her bare feet. "Shut up, Nancy."

"Rod's a jerk but he's not a liar," Nancy insisted.

Bringing her thumbnail to her teeth, Tina tilted her face down and nibbled. "No."

"No what?" Nancy asked.

"No." She shook her head.

"Tina, don't do that. Please," Nancy begged. She watched as her friend's confidence crumbled, denial giving way to doubt and fear. Creases formed between Tina's eyebrows, and a thin sheet of cold sweat chilled her forehead. They sat side by side, their troubled thoughts drowning out the ruckus of laughter from the other kids and the music blaring from the radio. It was a while before Tina spoke again.

"I don't want them to do that to me," she said, on the verge of tears. "I'm not crazy."

Nancy clutched her hand, unsure of what to say. It was clammy and trembling. After a few seconds, Tina leaned forward and put her lips by Nancy's ear. "They wouldn't let me call my mom. I just wanted to talk to her, and they wouldn't let me," she whispered, breaking down into breathless sobs.

"What?" Nancy asked, but the blonde was too choked up to say anything else. Her face hardened into a glare. "Wait here."

She got up and left Tina huddled on the grass. There had been way to much bullshit going on this week, and Nancy was sick of it.

After storming across the yard, she shoved open the doors of the hospital's courtyard entrance. They led into a large room with a neat wrap-around desk centered in the back. An old nurse sat behind it, shuffling papers. She looked surprised as Nancy rushed past her and went to the telephone mounted on the wall beside a line of chairs. Taped over the handle was a small piece of yellow paper with "OUT OF ORDER" written across it in red pen.

"Ma'am," the nurse called to her. Nancy didn't pay the woman any attention and pulled the phone off the hook to cradle it against her ear. She scoffed, hearing a perfectly functional dial tone.

"Ma'am, that phone is out of use. Please put it down," the nurse said in a stern voice.

"I'm making a call," she responded.

The nurse lifted her own personal desk phone and punched a few numbers on the dial pad, then murmured something to whoever was on the other end of the line. She never took her eyes off Nancy, who had begun turning the rotary dial with her fingertip. Her father was the last person she wanted to talk to after what had happened between them, but he needed to know what was going on here. Something wasn't right about this place.

She put in the digits for Sheriff Thompson's direct line and waited through the ringing. Her foot tapped incessantly. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the nurse was off her rolling chair and coming toward her. Pick up, dad. Please.

Nancy turned back just in time to see a huge pair of rough hands grab the phone away. She kept her grip on it, wrestling the orderly with all her strength. "Let go," she shouted. "Leave me alone."

"You need to step back from this phone right now, ma'am," he said. Another large man in the same blue scrubs came up behind her and seized her arms. She kicked against him, hair lashing in front of her face.

"Why can't we make phone calls? We have parents that are going to be very worried if they don't hear from us," she yelled, and then added in a low, threatening tone, "My dad's a cop."

The men exchanged looks. The one standing in front of her with a razor-burned double-chin and armpit stains was unimpressed. "Good for you," he said. He tossed his head to the right, chin fat giggling. "Take her back to her room, Frank."

"No!" Nancy said. Adrenaline surged through her and she continued thrashing in the man's iron grip. She felt her arms being pulled closer together behind her back, and her feet lifted off the floor. The orderly restraining her wrapped a massive arm around her waist.

"Answer my question: Why can't we call our parents?" she insisted. But they ignored her. "You have no right to do this."

She thought she'd heard the man at her back snicker to himself, but couldn't be sure. "Relax," he said into her sweaty hair.

"I'll relax when you put me down," she shot back.

"Not gonna happen. Now be a good girl and close your mouth," he said. "Before you hurt yourself."

"Put me down, God dammit!" she shrieked. Her leg swung back and hit him in the knee, and he doubled over. She was loose, but only for a second. The man in front snatched her wrists and in a flash, the one behind her had recovered. His breathing was heavy and angry.

"Get her ankles, will you?" he said, taking her arms again. She hung sideways between the two of them, still trying to kick her immobilized legs. All her flailing and cursing was useless; they hauled her into the nearest hallway.

Before the doors swung shut after them, she saw Kevin Murdock standing in the open entrance to the courtyard. The bright sun behind him made his hair glow and his face darken. He lifted one of his emaciated fingers to his lips and hushed her.

xxxxxx

They'd taken Tina that night. If there was something Nancy could have done, God knows she would have done it, but it was out of her control. She'd held her ear to the door from inside her bedroom until dawn, waiting for groans and screams. And she waited for nothing. Not a single sound could be heard anywhere in the hospital. It was too quiet-almost like they knew she was listening.

Nancy took a sip from her cup of lemonade, keeping her thoughts to herself and her eyes on Tina. They sat across from each other at their table in the mess hall. Tina had hardly touched her dinner of chicken and corn, which was starting to get cold. The fork lay abandoned on the edge of the plastic plate. She didn't look hungry. She looked like she needed a good night's sleep more than she needed a meal, anyway. Her skin drooped, and faint purple rings had formed under her mirthless eyes.

At the end of the table, Glen was scooping up the rest of his buttered corn and downing his drink. Rod sat beside him, hunched over his untouched meal. He didn't have much of an appetite. Glen lifted the empty platter, glancing over to Tina. "Are you finished? I can take the plate for you," he offered with his hand extended. Tina vaguely registered that someone was talking to her and tilted her face toward him without meeting his gaze. The stiffness of the movement was unsettling. He and Nancy watched as Tina gave a slow nod.

"I'm done, too," Nancy said, rising to her feet. "Let's go take a bath before the shower room is crowded, okay Tina?"

To her surprise, Tina snapped back into consciousness with a smile. "Good idea," she said. Getting out of her seat, she went around the table to hook arms with Nancy. Rod hadn't looked up the entire meal, but now he was staring at his girlfriend. The look of sickening worry plastered on his face faded into confusion and hopefulness. Maybe the operation had exhausted Tina, and she just needed time to recover, Nancy thought.

Maybe she was alright.

xxxxxx

A flow of warm water rushed over Nancy's face and down her body, swirling into the drain below. She cradled herself in her arms as billows of steam filled the small walk-in shower. The cap on a shampoo bottle in the shower next-door popped open, and she heard Tina squeeze some of the contents out before closing it again. Nancy did the same, lathering the tiny puddle of gel into her dark hair. She scrubbed her fingers on the back of her head and tipped her face up to the rushing water.

Through the suds that had filled her ears, she heard Tina open her bottle again and start squeezing out more shampoo. And more. And more. A minute later, there was only the hollow sucking sound of the empty bottle being compressed over and over. Nancy wanted to say something, but instead she stood under the water with her mouth closed and her hair washing flat against her cheeks.

Then the bottle flew out from Tina's shower. Nancy heard it hit the wall on the other side of the room and crack before clattering to the floor. The bar of soap in her hand slipped loose as she tensed up from the shock. "Tina?" she called. "Is everything alright over there?"

There was no answer for a long time. Then she heard a low, guttural laugh that couldn't have belonged to Tina. Or any other girl. It floated up with the steam from Tina's shower. Nancy's brow creased and for a while, she was too scared to pull back her curtain and see who was out there. She moved back behind the flow of hot water, her body pressing flat against the smooth tiles on the wall. Again, she called, "Tina?"

Don't be such a fucking coward, Nancy, she told herself. She tore aside her wet curtain and stepped out. Steam ghosted around her as she approached the neighboring shower. With a trembling hand, she clutched the sheet of worn plastic and dragged it off to the left. The rings securing it to the metal bar overhead clinked together as it bunched.

Tina was standing alone beneath the showerhead with her back toward Nancy. The spray of water splashed down onto her, droplets rolling over her naked body. A few of her lower ribs were visible and the bumps of her spine stuck out from her hunched back. Her skin was purple and blue, and Nancy didn't know why until she reached forward to tap her. Her hand reeled back from the ice cold water.

"Tina, what the hell is wrong with you?" Nancy said, darting forward to twist off the knobs. She cringed and tried to shield her own naked skin from the cold until the flow was cut. A clear trickle dripped from the hollow showerhead.

Taking Tina's shoulders, Nancy turned her around and rubbed her thin arms. "You're freezing," she said. She wrapped the mute girl into a hug in an attempt to warm her, then led her back to the other shower. She helped Tina inside and saw that her blonde hair was caked with thick globs of shampoo. She worked her fingers through it under the water, letting the white suds and bubbles wash out between them.

"You scared the shit out of me, Tina," Nancy said as she wrung the last bit of shampoo from the short blond hair. "Why won't you say anything? Hello?"

Tina looked back over her shoulder with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You know what I mean," Nancy said. "You were giving yourself hypothermia in there. You chucked your shampoo bottle into the wall, for Christ's sake."

Tina shook her head, looking even more confused. "No, I didn't. Why would I do that?"

Nancy pulled their curtain back just enough for them to see out. The empty blue bottle was still lying on the floor, split open down the center of the label.

"I didn't do that. And I didn't run a cold shower, either. I think I'd remember something like that, Nancy." she insisted.

"Never mind," Nancy said. "It doesn't matter."

They rinsed off and got out to find their towels, which were folded and stacked on the edge of the counter beside the sinks. Nancy took the top one and handed it to Tina, and then grabbed one for herself. She shook it open and pressed it into her face, patting it dry. She dried down her chest and back before bending over to dry her legs.

When she straightened up, she saw Tina out of the corner of her eye still holding the folded towel. Beads of cold water clung to her skin as it turned purple again, but she didn't appear to notice. She was staring at Nancy with a blank expression. Watching her. Only it didn't feel like Tina. It was as if her eyes were little glass lenses through which someone else was looking.

xxxxxx

The edge of the mattress creaked as Nancy slumped down onto it and rested her forehead in the palm of her hand. The sun was sinking through the darkened outlines of oak trees in the window behind her, lighting the undersides of the drifting clouds above. She sat still in the dark room long after the sun had vanished into a deep orange horizon.

The ceiling light switched on, and she looked up as Glen was shutting the door behind him. "Hey, Nance," he said. She flashed him a taunt smile, pushing aside the pillows to make room next to her. He settled in, but for a while he only stared down into his hands. "Still worried about Tina?"

She nodded. The movement was almost difficult, as if the strength had been sapped from her body. "I don't know what to do. Or if there's anything I can do."

"I hate to say this," he whispered, wrapping her hand in his, "but we can't fix Tina. I mean, you know why she's here. She needed help, and that's what the doctors are doing."

She pulled her hand away. "You don't understand, Glen. There's something wrong with her."

"I do understand. Tina and Kevin both needed treatment, and-"

"And what about us?" she said, voice tight with frustration. "Why are our names on that list?"

"Well-"

"Are you saying we're crazy, too?"

He seized her shoulders and turned her to face him. "No. God, no." he said. "We're not."

"Then how can you be so calm about this?" she asked. After a stretch of silence, he placed a hand on the back of her head and pulled her into a hug. Her face nestled into his shoulder as he stroked her hair back from her forehead.

"The doctors understand things that we don't, Nancy. We just have to trust that they're doing what's best for us."

"But why couldn't we call our-"

She stopped mid-sentence as Glen heaved a sigh. "I don't know," he said. His fingers brushed along the side of her cheek and under her chin. She tilted her head back to look at him.

"I'm scared, Glen."

He leaned down a few inches and kissed her. "Don't be. I'm right here."

All was still and quiet in the bedroom. They remained seated on the edge of the bed with Nancy leaning on Glen, her arms wrapped around him like he were a bobbing buoy on a vast and turbulent ocean. Even when Max rapped on the door from the hall to remind them to get to their own rooms for lights out, it took them a while to separate. But eventually, Glen stood up and left, and then Nancy was sitting alone again.

The next time the door opened, the ceiling light shut off and Tina was the one who stepped through. She smiled at Nancy before switching on the bedside lamp and went to her dresser to pull open the top drawer. Taking out a plastic green comb, she began brushing through the tangles in her hair. Her blonde locks reflected the dim, yellow light as they passed through the wide teeth. She finished a few minutes later and put the comb away before climbing into her creaking bed. Nancy slid under her covers and lay on her side. She watched as Tina reached for the string on the lamp that sat on the nightstand between them.

"Goodnight, Nancy," she said before shutting the light. "Sweet dreams."

A thick shroud of darkness settled over the room. Nancy snuggled down into her pillow and shut her eyes with a sigh. Today had been exhausting for her, and her mind ached for rest. But every few minutes, as if she couldn't control herself, she snuck a quick peek over to Tina. She felt silly for being scared of her, and yet couldn't shake the feeling that she would look and see the girl standing over her with that empty expression on her face. Those unfamiliar, camera-lens eyes.

But Tina never once got out of bed, and as Nancy's vision adjusted to the darkness, she clearly saw the girl asleep and on the verge of snoring. Nothing to worry about.

Nancy relaxed and rolled onto her other side, curling up her knees. Her body sunk into the comfort of the thin mattress. A pleasant fog spread over her consciousness, and she was almost surrendered to sleep when she heard something strange. Her eyes opened immediately.

From far out in the hallways came a quiet squeaking sound. She'd heard it before: the squeak of turning gurney wheels. They were small and thin, and they rattled over the tiles like timpani drums. The noise grew more distinct as it got louder.

And closer.

There wasn't a chance in hell that Nancy was getting out of bed to investigate anymore suspicious noises. She pulled the covers around her face and waited. A knot of dread clenched her stomach, and soon the wheels were rolling straight down her hallway. Every once in a while a wheel would jam, and she would hear the clatter of rumbling metal. It picked up speed until it was barreling down the hall, and the wheels were squeaking madly like a pit of rats set on fire.

And then it slowed down. Right outside her door.

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, pretending to be asleep. Sweat was beading at her hairline as the wheels turned in through her bedroom doorway and rolled across the floor. The rolling slowed down even more now, and every drawn-out turn of the wheel made a slow screech. It creaked to a stop alongside her bed.

Her neck was stiff with resistance as she turned to see what was behind her. It wasn't a gurney at all. It was a rolling steel utility table, standing alone in the room. Spread out on its surface were gleaming metal surgical instruments of every kind: scissors, scalpels, hooked needles, ice-picks, retractors, rib cutters, and some tools that she'd never seen before. Tools that looked like they'd been stolen from a torture chamber.

She looked to the door; it was closed, but no one else was in the room except her and Tina. It was as if a phantom had pushed the table through the halls and abandoned it at her bedside. She sat up to get a better look and was slammed back down onto the bed. Only it didn't feel like a bed anymore. It was hard and cold, and when she turned her head to the side, she saw her own reflection looking back up at her from the metal operating table. She felt rough hands grab onto her wrists and pin them above her head.

"Help!" she screamed, thrashing against the strong grip. Her bedroom disappeared around her like scenery in a stage play, leaving only grimy cement walls draped in sheets of blood-smeared plastic. Tina was gone.

Leather straps cut into her wrists, and her kicking legs were bound to the bottom corners of the table by an invisible force. The person behind her walked around to stand at her feet. The only thing she could make out through the shadows was a figure clothed in a long operating gown. She strained to see more, and she did.

On his head was the black outline of a fedora. It was him.

Glaring white lights flooded over her from above, blinding her with wide purple splotches as her pupils constricted and struggled to adjust. A man towered above her, his skin burnt deep through the layers of flesh and muscle. Scar tissue split and tore around his stretching grin.

"Who the fuck are you?" she yelled. "What's going on?"

He placed a glove-clad hand over his chest, tapping the long blades. He frowned. "Aww, what's the matter? You don't remember me, little Nancy?"

Her breath hitched at the sight of his claw, and he let out a gravelly chuckle. He traced the tip of his index blade along the contour of her thigh. "I guess Uncle Freddy will have to make you remember."

Without a second's pause, he ripped at her white pajama pants and tore them away. She pressed her bare thighs tightly together, straining to keep them closed as he slipped a hand between them. He pulled one leg off to the side and climbed on top of her. The surgical gown was gone now, and in its place he wore a tattered red and green striped sweater and black trousers. She threw her head off to one side as he lowered his face to hers. He whispered to her with the smell of smoke on his breath. "You were always the softest little piglet."

"Get the hell off me," she cried. But all her struggling only made him laugh.

She felt her legs being pried wider while Freddy stared down at her with a smirk. He ground himself against her cotton panties and released her legs to run a hand over her chest. She glared at him, simmering with rage.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but if you touch me, I'll kill you, you fu-"

His hand slid straight to her throat and clamped down. "Shut up, bitch," he snarled before backhanding her across the cheek. Drops of blood swelled from a cut below her eye. "I'm here on business. We'll have plenty of time to play later."

He reached up to her pinned arm and grabbed onto it. She couldn't see what he was doing, but she didn't have to. She felt the cold steel blade cut into the underside of her arm below the elbow. Her teeth gnashed and her brow contorted from the pain. "Stop," she screamed.

"Don't interrupt me, cunt," he barked, slicing up her arm. Blood trickled over her skin, dripping onto the floor in dime-sized splatters. When he was finished, he sat up and admired his handiwork. "All done," he said, grinning at her with his rotted teeth. "Wanna see?"

Before she could respond, he cut the straps holding her and she pulled her throbbing arm in to cradle it. A long row of parallel cuts shredded its tender underside. They covered all the way up to her wrist, where blood was bubbling out at an alarming speed.

"Nice and neat," he cooed. "Because that's how you whores are doing it these days, and it's important to be authentic."

Her heart pounded harder as her blood pressure dropped, and she scrambled off the table. She ran out the door, not looking back as he called after her. "Hide and seek, huh?"

Freddy's heavy, black work boots dropped to the floor, his finger-knives twitching with anticipation. "Alright. Ready or not," he growled, "here I come."

xxxxxx

Nancy hadn't been prepared for what lay outside that doorway. She was balancing on a narrow catwalk with flimsy iron guardrails on each side, and the metal grating left painful imprints on the soles of her bare feet. Through the slots, she saw the harrowing drop to the cement floor. She gripped the railing to steady herself, and it creaked and shook under her weight.

In the distance, she could make out a set of stairs leading down off the bridge. Her stomach fluttered with every step as sweat and blood mixed in the palm of her hand. A sound like steel nails dragged across a blackboard reverberated around in the darkness. When she turned to check behind her, her hand slipped off the rail over a smear of her own blood. She fell forward into the catwalk, which swung from side to side at the sudden weight-shift. Her hands trembled as she clung on for her life. It slowed to a gentle rocking, but she didn't attempt to get up again until she heard his gravely laughter close by.

Rushing down the stairs, she landed onto a metal platform with a ladder extending down from a hole in the center. She crawled to it and lowered her sore foot to the first rung. It rattled but held up to the strain, and soon she was on solid ground.

She hadn't noticed before how hot this place was. The air was scorching and hard to breathe, and her thin, sweat-soaked nightshirt clung to her body. She wandered through the shadowy boiler room, scanning her surroundings for any sign of that man. Her head was spinning as blood continued to pulse out of her arm. She clutched the wounds to stop the bleeding, but it continued to drip out from between her fingers. Her face had taken on a dangerous pallor.

She stopped in front of a huge cast-iron furnace. A fire roared to life inside it, lashing against the back of the door. Small flames licked out through four vertical slots above the latch. The glow of the writhing flames locked within the boiler sparked one of her vaguest and deepest memories. She'd been here before. As she started backing away, footsteps closed in from behind her. An arm reached around to grab her and hold her still, and the flat side of a steel blade stroked down her cheek.

And then his name flashed through her mind in grainy black letters like newsprint.

Freddy Krueger.

Nancy shot up in bed screaming. Blood had soaked the sheets, turning them black and cold. She touched her arm to be sure that she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. Streams of blood still coursed from her sliced wrist, and it coated over the blood that had already dried. Tina stirred from her sleep, but she didn't move a muscle when she looked over to her friend. She lay still and watched.

Seconds later, the door to their room busted open, and a nurse rushed in with three orderlies in tow. They went to her bedside and the nurse crouched down to examine Nancy's arm. "Another attempt," she said before glancing over her shoulder at the men. "Call the doctor. Now."

"Miss, I didn't-" Nancy tried to protest, but they ignored her.

The nurse pulled open the nightstand drawer and took out a first aid kit. She popped the plastic latches, taking a roll of white gauze from inside. With a grip like a wrench, the nurse began wrapping the cuts. Spots of blood soaked through, but she continued around and around.

Nancy cringed at the pressure, and she looked up at a lanky orderly with freckles on his nose as he titled his head down and to the side. He murmured into a little black radio pinned to his jacket. A fuzzy voice responded to him, too muffled for her to hear. He gave a brief reply and nodded before releasing the side button.

"What did he say?" asked the nurse, still dressing Nancy wounds. "Does he want to see her?"

The orderly nodded again, and what he said next made Nancy's stomach drop.

"He wants her in solitary. Reschedule her procedure for the next available time slot."

.

.

.

To be continued...

A/N: I know you might be wondering what the hell is going on in this story. But you don't get to know (yet). All I can say is that I'm evil and I have crazy plans for where this tale is going. If you hang in there, I guarantee you that the answers to your questions will be worth the wait. *Laughs maniacally*

Thanks for reading this far. Please review! :D

FURTHER DISCLAIMERS: I DON'T OWN THE SONG "YOUNG AMERICANS" BY DAVID BOWIE, OR BUD LIGHT BEER. (R.I.P. David)