Beautiful Nightmare

"Disturbia"--Rihanna

It took almost a year, but damn it, I did it.

Freddy was almost bearable by human standards.

Call Weston Hills, I think I’m going nuts.

It was hard—Freddy put up a fight every step of the way. He refused, he swore, he threatened with bodily harm, he went through with bodily harm, he attempted homicide, he attempted suicide—once—and at the lowest point, we got into an all-out bitch-brawl that made his fight with Jason look like a schoolyard scuffle with minor boo-boos.

But after we had both pulled ourselves together—literally—we took some time out in our own lairs—him in the boiler room and me in my obsidian room—to calm down. It was him that came knocking on my door. I let him in and we sat in silence for the longest time before he finally kissed me and put his fedora on my head—his way of showing real affection.

After that, we made some real progress.

I let him know that I wasn’t there to hinder him in his work—I just kept him from overdoing it. I limited him to six people a week, and to save the multiple massacre for special occasions—like the upcoming Halloween. The one night a year when every child between seven and eighteen would be out alone. With no supervision. I think I saw him drool when I mentioned it.

To tide him over between kills—and to help wean him off from going after every little disturbance in the force—I began performing mock-scenarios about twice a week. So far, the one that gave him the most fun was when I fabricated a sixteen-year-old girl with an irrational fear of the circus. Freddy very much enjoyed dressing up as the ringmaster, making her into a circus freak and then killing her. But the one that really got him off? Two words—Catholic. Confession.

But the best thing of all? Freddy began to trust me. He stopped with all the conspiracy theories and learned the Chinese Finger Trap rule—if you pull away, you wont get anywhere; but if you push forward from both sides, things will run that much more smoothly. He learned the fine art of compromise—if he applied to six days a week, then on the seventh day, he would not only choose the fabricated the scenario, but also cash in one of his sex coupons.

And every once and awhile, Freddy would surprise ME.

I had long ago derived a fake ID, driver’s license, birth certificate, etc; I let him take my car out every once and awhile to pick up things he wanted like groceries, utility tools, new victims, etc, and just recently, he began coming home with not only an extra teenager for me to kill, but also the occasional bottle of wine, ticket to a movie later that night, and even a new dress to go out to dinner with.

I never thought that I would get flustered by a guy giving me gifts, but damn it, Freddy made me do it. When he gave me the red dress and told me to shower and change, we were going out to dinner, I think my heart stopped for a few moments. I recovered about five minutes later, then got ready in record time. He took me out to a lounge-like restaurant that was high-class, but he was able to pay for it with the collective cash from the killed teenagers and the hooker he killed and swore he never touched (he DID have standards, after all).

Oh, later that night, I gave him three coupon’s worth in one night.

All and all, things were going great. I was doing my job, and Freddy was back doing his.

Life was good.
___________________________________________________________________________________

It was Halloween night.

Fabulous.

I went out early in the evening while Freddy was still dozing on the couch, getting a catnap for the fun he was going to be having that night, and picked up my Halloween outfit—a beautiful lacy white dress that came down to about mid-thigh. I knew that Freddy had a fetish for that type of dress, and knew that he was going to love it.

When I came back home, Freddy was in the shower, so I quickly put the dress on and threw on the white Mary Jane’s that went with it, and slipped in the closet. Freddy finally came out of the shower and donned his newly-washed red-and-green-striped sweater and grey-brown pants. I got a nice view of his ass, which made things better, but I waited until he was fully dressed before stepping out of the closet.

“The hell you were doing in the closet for?” Freddy asked, buckling his belt. “You ready to g…g…” He turned around and eyed me. I caught a nice whiff of arousal from him, and smiled sweetly, coyly playing with the hem of my dress.

“You like my outfit?” I asked, batting my eyelashes. “I got it just for you…” Freddy swallowed hard. His brow twitched. I think I saw him start to sweat. I walked up to him and giggled girlishly, stroking my hand down his chest and fingering his belt buckle. I saw his hands twitch from the corners of my eyes. “Does Freddy wanna play with Angelia?”

Freddy swallowed hard again and licked his lips, breaking into an evil grin. “Freddy wants to play,” he replied, reaching around to squeeze my ass with both hands. “Will Angelia play by Freddy’s rules?” I nodded, giving him my most innocent look. “Get on your knees for Freddy.”

I slowly lowered myself to my knees, and Freddy guided my hands to his hips and nonverbally instructed me to leave them there as he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, pulling out his cock. “Open your pretty little mouth for Freddy, little slut.”

Absently thinking that Freddy is the ONLY person who could call me a slut and get away with it, I opened my mouth and sucked lightly on the head of his cock. I heard Freddy groan, and his hands settled on the back of my head to push my head forward a little. I clenched my fingers into his pants and made a soft sound around his cock.

“God…when was the last time you sucked my cock…?” Freddy groaned, rocking his hips to fuck my mouth.

‘…Three days ago,’ I replied. Freddy snorted and reached behind him to lean back on my dresser with his hands. I took the cue and reached up to hold the base of his cock as I sucked the rest of it hard. Freddy rocked his hips a little harder and reached forward with one hand to grab my hair in the back of my head and shove my head forward so I could take in the whole organ.

“Fuck yeah…!” Freddy breathed, leaning his head back. “Take it all, bitch…!” He bucked his hips a few more times before cumming down my throat. I swallowed it and sucked it a few more times before pulling off. Freddy reached down to brush what little was left on my lips off with his thumb, and stroked my face. “Good girl.”

“Did I do good?” I asked sweetly. Freddy grinned again, brushing his thumb over my lips again.

“Very good,” he replied. He reached down and picked me up, practically running down the stairs to the basement, and I was amazed that he didn’t trip on the way down. He pulled open the door to his Workroom and swiped some of his materials off of his worktable to made a clear spot with a sweep of his arm, then roughly deposited me on top. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he nipped my neck and reached under my dress and pulled my white lacy panties off and toss them over his shoulder. ‘Such a good, pretty slut…’ he drawled mentally as he slipped a few fingers inside of me.

“…Fuck…!” I breathed, pulling him closer to me. I leaned back on the table and hooked my heels into the edge of it to push back on his fingers. Freddy grinned and pulled out his fingers and sucked on them, his blue eyes practically glowing. I groaned and sat back on the table, spreading my legs a little wider.

“I’ll get to that soon, slut,” he purred, reaching over on a shelf and
picking up the glove I had made him—newly cleaned and sharpened—and put it on. “But first, I want you to scream.” He pressed me to the table with his gloved hand and leaned down to kiss down the inside of my thigh. I whimpered and squirmed around, feeling the tips of his knives dig into my flesh. Freddy’s laughter echoed in my head as he pressed his mouth over my pussy and licked hard, dragging his rough tongue up.

I arched hard off the table, feeling the knives pierce my abdomen. Freddy pushed me back down and stuck two of his left-hand fingers in me as his tongue flicked over my clit. Less than five minutes later, just as he had wanted, I screamed as I came, spasming around his fingers. He pulled the out and sucked them clean again, then licked what was left as I recovered. He finally pulled me back up and kissed me hard, trailing his knives down my back.

‘Great?’ he thought to me. I groaned into his mouth.

‘Great,’ I replied. He nipped my lip and pulled away, shoving me to my back again.

“Good,” he said. “Because now I want to fuck.” He parted my legs again and thrusted inside hard. I cried out and wrapped my legs around his waist as he pinned my wrists to the table and fucked me hard, letting out strings of curses that blended with my cries for him to go harder or faster.

The table was shaking so hard some spare items on the table fell off.

Freddy and I came at the same time, and he slumped on top of me on the table, which creaked a little under our combined weight. Freddy leaned up and kissed me once before pulling out and tucking himself back into his pants, then picking up my panties and twirling them around his left index finger. “…Give ‘em back, Freddy,” I said, sitting up. Freddy smirked and held them over his head.

“Come and get ‘em, bitch!” he laughed. I pouted and jumped up and down, trying to get to them. Freddy was short, but I was shorter; he had the damn advantage. I finally punched him in the stomach to get him to let them go. “AGH, YOU WHORE!!!”

“Correction,” I said, putting my panties back on, “YOUR whore.” I adjusted them and brushed my dress down, then hugged his middle. “Ready to go trick-or-treating?” THAT lifted Freddy’s spirits.

“Fuck yeah!” he said, flexing his right fingers. I gave him a quick kiss and led the way up the stairs. “…Sucks we have to go SEARCH for kids,” he griped, dragging his knives against the handrail. “No one’s visited this house for Halloween since the seventies.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” I asked rhetorically. Freddy smacked my ass and grabbed his brown trench coat from the stairwell. I put on my pretty white lacy coat and stashed my keys and knives in my little handbag. “So, where to first?” Freddy looked up and down the street.

“You take East Elm, and I’ll take West,” he replied. “More ground to cover.”

“Good idea!” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “See you later, Freddy.” I headed down East Elm, waving goodbye to him.

…Was it just me, or did the air just turn cold?
___________________________________________________________________________________

I mentally made a third slash on my scoreboard as I pulled my knives from the throat of a thirteen-year-old boy. He slumped to the ground with a gurgling death rattle and died. I wiped my knives clean on his cloak—he was dressed up like a warlock—and put them back into my little handbag. This was a GREAT night. Really.

I headed to an alleyway, thinking that it would be a great place for me to hide. I learned long ago that if I got any blood on me, I just worded it off as me being a ‘murdered doll’. Worked for the last four parents I ran into. I hid in the shadows and listened, hearing what sounded like older boys walking my way. Perfect—I could just seduce them into being victims numbers four through six.

They finally came into view, and I slipped out of the shadows to lean against the street lamp-lit wall, looking cute and innocent. Time to earn my fiftieth Academy Award for Best Bullshitter.

I caught their attention, and the leader eyed me up and down. “…Hey, baby,” he said, strutting forward. I smiled coyly.

“Hi,” I replied, swinging my handbag back and forth. “Whatcha doin?”

“On my way to a party, sexy,” he replied. “Wanna come along?” I pretended to think about it.

“I don’t know…” I said faux-pensively. “Will it be fun?”

“Oh, it’ll be fun, alright,” he said suggestively. The two guys behind him made catcalls. “Why don’t you come along? It’ll have the three things every party needs—sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll.”

“Oooh, my favorites!” I gushed, clapping my hands together. “Where is it?”

“The party’s right here, baby.”

I didn’t even have time to chastise myself for being caught off-guard as the boy grabbed me and shoved me against the wall. His two friends kept a lookout as he dragged me into the alleyway. I thrashed about, wishing like fuck I hadn’t put my knives in my bag, and managed to punch him in the dick to get him to let me go, then bolted. One of his friends snatched me and threw me back into the alley. I landed on all fours, feeling the concrete scrape my hands and knees, then cried out when the guy I punched kicked me in the side.

“Bitch!” he spat, whipping out a switchblade. “I’m gonna fucking kill you for that!”

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed back, struggling to get my bag open. The third boy kicked the bag out of my hands and shoved me onto my back. I managed to kick him in the stomach away from me and shot up to run again. I was grabbed from behind and I suddenly screamed when a horrifying pain shot into my stomach. Oh God, no no no…! I looked down and saw that the first guy had slammed his knife into my stomach, and now he was dragging me back into the alley, one of his friends holding onto my legs to keep me from escaping.

“FREDDY!!!”
___________________________________________________________________________________

Freddy had just sliced the eyes out of a sixteen-year-old girl dressed as a Playboy Bunny when Angelia’s screamed his name in his head. He dropped the still-sobbing girl on the ground and whipped around, trying to sense where she was. FUCK, he hated the real world! Still, he ran east, passing up some easy targets without a second thought, until he finally caught her essence.

It was growing very weak.

“FUCK!” He ran faster, ignoring the pain in his side, for at least twenty minutes until he finally heard something in an alleyway. He turned the corner—and froze.

A boy no older than eighteen, perhaps, was getting off of Angelia’s prostrate body, and zipping his pants up. A younger boy next to him was arguing with another eighteen-year-old about who was next.

And Freddy felt something in his mind go SNAP.

With a snarl of rage, he bolted into the alley and slammed his knives into the boy so hard half his actual hand went in with it. The sudden onslaught seemed to shock the three boys, so Freddy had plenty of time to throw the boy off of his knives, whip his arm to slash the second boy’s throat so wide Freddy made him a human PEZ dispenser, and snatch up the younger boy who was trying to escape and slam him into the wall.

“PLEASE!” the boy cried, trying to escape from Freddy’s grip. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, DON’T KILL ME!!!” Freddy took that opportunity to jam his index blade into the boy’s mouth, driving it way to the back of the throat and twisting it just for extra pleasure on his own part. The boy gurgled and screamed, trying to break free, and Freddy pulled the knife out to jam all four into his chest. One of them hit the heart, and in just moments, the boy was dead.

Freddy threw the boy to the side and rushed to Angelia’s side. “Fuck…!” he swore, seeing that she was practically gutted, from the size of the knife wound, and she had most definitely been raped. “Fuck…Angelia, wake up!” He picked her up and jostled her a little. Her head fell back, and Freddy saw that her throat had been slit. A surge of panic raced through him. “Fuck fuck fuck…! Angelia!” He shook her a little more. Still no response. “…Don’t…don’t you do this to me, you fucking bitch! Don’t you DARE!!!” He shook her harder. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes ever-so-slightly open and staring into nothing.

“…Angelia…?” He searched her mind, grasping for something—ANYTHING—to let him know she was at least a little still there.

Nothing.

Freddy sat back on the bloody concrete, his hands shaking. “…Fuck…!” He put his left hand to his face. “…Fuck no…no, no, no….” He held her with his right arm as he kept the vomit inside his mouth with his left hand over his mouth.

…She was dead.

She was dead…and he was still here. He was alone here. Alone, and drenching in her blood. He absently saw her little handbag and reached over to pick it up. It was halfway-open, with the keys and her glove still inside. She had tried to fight back. Tried, and failed.

And now she was dead.

He must have sat in the same spot for hours, well past midnight, before he finally got up and walked out of the alley, carrying Angelia in his arms back to his—their—house. No one noticed him along the way; the whole way home was quiet and solemn. He went around to the back and kicked open the basement door, using that entrance to avoid the need to unlock a door. He carried her up the stairs and set her down on her—their—bed, and took off her ruined dress.

He stared at her stomach wound; it was so deep there was no way that he would have been able to get to her in time to save her, even if her throat wasn’t also slashed. His hands clenched in anger, his blades digging into his right-hand wrist without a care. Those fucking boys…he was just GLAD they were eighteen and under. They belonged to HIM now, and for the rest of eternity, they were his bitches. They DARED to touch that which was HIS. Not only touched, but cut her. Hurt her. VIOLATED her. KILLED her.

Oh, he was going to torture their souls so bad, they would WISH for Hell.

He finished undressing her and numbly fished out a curved needle and some thread she kept around her room for quick repairs, and began stitching up her stomach and throat. He flicked his knife over the spare thread and stared down at his handy work.

…Now she really DID look like a doll. A broken doll that a child could never bear to part with, so he fixed up.

Fuck.

He picked her up and carried her into the bathroom and began to rinse her body of the dried blood. He filled up the bathtub after rinsing her off and washed her with that patchouli-scented gel he liked until her skin was rubbed raw from the pressure he was applying. Suddenly, he let her sink to the bottom of the tub submersed in water and leaned against the side of the tub, burying his left hand in his hair and clenching hard and letting out a scream of rage, willing with all his might for those three boy’s souls to be suffering the pain of being dismembered, disemboweled, beheaded, dissolved in acid, and burned alive all at the same time perpetually for the rest of all MOTHERFUCKING ETERNITY.

“You seem upset, Freddy.”

Freddy’s head shot up, and he saw the three Demons hovering in front of him. He narrowed his eyes at them. “Fuck you!” he shouted, throwing a bar of soap fruitlessly at them. Raspy laughed.

“Such a tragedy,” he drawled. “She dies, and you’re left in the real world…all alone…”

“SHUT UP!!!”

“Do you want to go back?” Leader asked. “All you have to do is die, and
you go right back.”

“Of course, you lose all your souls,” Deep added. “But that’s just how it is.”

Freddy growled to himself, his blades twitching. “Those three…” he hissed, his eyes flashing red, “…are mine. Forever.” The three Demons looked at each other, silently conversing. Finally, Leader turned back to Freddy.

“We’ll strike you a deal, then,” he said. “If you can refrain from killing anyone for a year, if you can wait until next Halloween, you will lose all souls when you die except for the three you wish to keep to make suffer.”

Freddy turned his head to look at Angelia, who was still submerged in the water. “…What about Angelia…?” he asked.

“…You care for her,” Raspy stated. Freddy growled at him.

“I don’t—!”

“You cannot fool those who dwell within your very soul,” Deep interrupted. “You have grown to care for this girl—your warden.” He paused. “As for what has become of her…we cannot say.”

“Cant,” Freddy demanded, “or WONT?”

“Wont,” Raspy replied. “That is for US to attend to, and for YOU to find out. In one year.”

Freddy said nothing. He stared at Angelia again. “Fine,” he said. “…Now go away. I have things to do.”

“We look forward to seeing how you fare for one year,” Leader said.

“See you in the dream world,” Raspy added.

With that, they were gone.

Freddy picked Angelia up out of the tub and dried her off, then put her white nightgown on her and tucked her into bed before sliding in next to her, holding her to him as he willed himself to sleep.

He ‘woke up’ in the dream world, still holding Angelia’s body in his arms. He carried her through the power plant and into his boiler room, then slid into her own dream domain, which he was surprised still existed. He put her in her bed and tucked the covers snugly around her before kissing her cold lips and leaving the room, mentally locking the door to her domain behind him. He sat down on his bed and stared into his boiler room. He took off his fedora and glove and set them on the box-bedside table, then laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Katherine.

Angelia.

…Why did he lose the people he actually gave a damn about?

He closed his eyes and focused deep within himself, preparing for a long, long torture session with three little souls…