1, 2, Guess Who's Coming For You!

Chapter 1: Freddy’s Revenge


“Dr. Gwenn Jr. to Patient Isolation STAT. Dr. Gwenn Jr. to Patient Isolation STAT.” an automated female voice ordered over an intercom system.


A young man, about 28 years of age dashed through the halls of Weston Hills, an asylum for the mentally insane.


His curly red hair and green eyes stood out against his pale, freckled skin. Dr. Gregory Gwenn Jr. had been working at Westin Hills for the past two and a half years. He graduated early, top of his class and finished his internship just as early. He was a bright young man.


While always wanting to help others get better, Greg was also interested in how ones dreams affect their psyche. Dreams can make people do great and horrible things. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream, it revolutionized this great country.


Then again, Adolph Hitler probably had a dream, look at how that ended. Throughout his college career, Greg had written several reports, exam papers and journals about dreams and even night terrors, better known as nightmares.


He always got the highest grade possible.


His new charge had arrived last night, waiting for his diagnosis. It was a girl, 18 years old. Greg was given a picture of the girl. Her name was Isabella Paxton. The picture was from Isabella’s last yearbook photo.


He only needed a quick glance to tell this girl was lonely. Her long, dark brown hair in a low ponytail. Even though she was smiling, he could tell in her hazel eyes, there was nothing but sadness and despair. Just looking at her picture, he knew she was screaming, crying out for someone to accept her, someone to be her friend.


While sitting outside her door, calming himself, this was what he was waiting for! Her background could help his research. He read her profile. Isabella had been transferred from the mental ward in the Springwood General Hospital. No doctor could get through to her, most drugged her, even stopping short of torturing her!


‘I shall try a different approach. Earn her trust, be her friend. God knows she needs one after what she has been through.’ he thought, running a hand through the red curls.


He froze when he heard a soft singing. Clearing his mind, he focused on the song. “In sleep, he sang to me. In dreams, he came. That voice, which calls to me. And speaks my name.” it was Isabella.


Sure, she wasn’t a professional singer, but there was something beautiful in her voice. But, she sounded soulless. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. His father, Gregory Gwenn Sr. brought him and his younger brother up to be gentleman.


Right as he knocked, the singing stopped. “Come in…” she called out, sounding distant.


Greg opened the door, making sure to put on a friendly smile. But, once he saw the young woman…


He froze. To say she looked under the weather would be the understatement of the century. The bags under her eyes were sagging and somehow a purple hue. She looked like a skeleton with flesh. What this meant was, virtually no meat on her bones.


There seemed to be no life in her eyes, the hazel orbs seemed charcoal black. And her skin was sickly pale. One could compare her to a ghoul.


He read that she hardly ate. It seems that after the events that led to her institutionalization, she lost all hope of living. ‘And the tests they forced on her probably didn’t help any…’ Just looking at her was heartbreaking.


This only made Greg want to help her more. He put on a friendly smile and sat across from Isabella. The room was completely white. ‘Why do places like hospitals and institutions insist on white rooms? Its not calming at all! If anything, it makes someone go even more insane!’ he wondered, setting down his clipboard.


“Hello, Isabella. My name’s Dr. Gregory Gwenn. How have you been?” he asked, noticing the girl staring at him, but it looked as if she was staring straight through him.


“You hungry? I can call something in for you.” he asked, hearing her stomach rumble.


She just shook her head weakly, her long hair covering her face. He noticed that her bangs were the same length as the rest of her hair. “No, you’ll just drug me…make me not dream…need my dreams.” she sounded weak in every sense of the word.


She was starving herself for fear of not dreaming? “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Isabella. But, why would you want to dream? According to your file, there were…complications when you dreamt.”


“It’s the only place where I am free from the world. I can hide. Only one person ever found me. But, now he’s gone…so are the good dreams…” she couldn’t stifle the yawn that came through after her sentence.


He knew who she was talking about. “Well, I won’t drug you. You have my word.” he told her.

It took about a week for Greg to grow a tad close to Isabella, both of them getting to know each other. He made sure she would eat at least something, even if it was only during his daily sessions with her.


“Well, Isabella, I was hoping today that you would tell me about what exactly happened to bring you here.”


“I think my file and what other quacks wrote could answer that for ya, doc.” she groaned, just finishing her one meal of the day, Greg didn’t mind bringing something for her, he constantly bought a meal for her. She had a Kentucky Grilled Chicken meal; one chicken breast, a leg, macaroni and cheese and potato wedges. He also got her a Sprite. “Thanks for the food by the way.”


“You’re welcome. I just wish to see your side of the story. That’s not so bad is it?” he asked, being genuinely honest with her. The other doctors and psychiatrists all labeled her insane and unsafe to be among other humans.


“Fine. Not like it’ll change anything.” she answered, yawning and stretching.


*Flashback*
A fifteen year-old Isabella had just gotten out of the shower and getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth in her bathroom. She had no friends to speak of. And her parents wouldn’t care if she lived or died.


They only paid the bills, mostly for themselves. She spent most of her life being miserable, barely passing school.


The only place she felt she belonged was in her dreams. She could do anything there and no one would judge her. Lately though, she’s been feeling strange in her dreams. Like someone was watching her, waiting for the best moment to show up.


Isabella throws on her usual pajamas, a pair of pink sleeper pants and a black tank top. Settling under the covers, she laid her head on her pillow, the fan in front of her blowing cool air against her face.


Slowly, she feel asleep and felt herself drifting into her dream land. She was in a school house tonight. It seemed extremely rundown, no power and paint was peeling. Any pipes that were visible were rusted over.


Isabella has been here before, she’s dreamed of this school a few times in the last month or two. A couple of other times, she’s found herself in what she assumed was a boiler room.


She just walked the halls, somewhat happy to be in her own reality.


As she moved on, she felt herself being…pulled into a class room at the end of the hall.


The tile floor was cracked and missing several pieces, the chalkboard had some faded words on its green surface. The desks were cracked and splintered. The room felt heavy. It was tough to explain. While the rest of the building she had been in was cold to the bone, this room was warm, humid even.


Water dripped from the broken pipes that ran along the ceiling. The floor was about two inches full of water. It felt nice compared to the strange humidity of the classroom.


Isabella just stood there, enjoying the feel of the cool water on her feet. Unaware of her surroundings. If she had been paying attention, she would’ve felt the ripples of water, of someone moving towards her.


Before she could react, Isabella was thrown and pinned against the chalkboard, her hands clamped behind her, held by someone, their hand felt…odd.


She jerked her head at the sharp sound of something scratching the board beside her. She turned her head slightly and saw a gloved right hand. What caught her attention the most was the six inch razors on his fingers!


She gulped nervously, holding in a whimper. Isabella gasped as her captor pushed their body against her’s. “Please don’t hurt me.” she whimpered, fearing the razor-glove just mere centimeters from her face.


Her captor finally spoke, “Ssshhh.” it came out like a hiss, it was a male’s voice. And he sounded demonic.


“You have nothing to worry about, sweet little Izzy.” the man spoke, his voice sounded dangerous but it almost sounded as if he was trying to calm her down.


“W-who are…you?” she asked, never taking her eyes off of the glove, she did not wish to entertain the thought of that being anywhere closer to her then it already was.


“You don’t remember me either? I’m hurt.” he whispered into her ear, his hot breath gliding across her skin. “We’re old friends, you and me.”


In the background, she heard what sounded like little girls singing:


“One, two, Freddy’s found you.
Three, four, better sleep some more.
Five, six ditch you crucifix.
Seven, eight don’t stay up late.
Nine, ten, he’s back again.”


‘Freddy? Why does that name sound familiar?’ she wondered then groaned mostly in disgust as she felt this man lick from the nape of her neck to her ear.

“You taste different…” he groaned, nipping her ear.


“What do you want from me?” she was shocked at how calm she was, this man could do anything her wanted to her.


“Just a little assistance. Help you help me to help yourself. Get rid of those assholes who treat you like shit.” he told her.


Isabella just stayed silent, afraid of what any answer she would say. “Just…sleep on it, Izzy.” Suddenly, she engulfed in nothing but darkness.


As she floated in the nothingness, she heard the man’s voice again, echoing off in the distance. “I’ll be in touch.” he told her, chuckling darkly.