Staring up at the ceiling as Iay in bed, I wondered if the stories were true.  Lately there had been a lot of...well, weird things going on. Other students had been acting strange. Quite a few of them were complaining about vivid nightmares, all of which seemed to be about the same thing...the same person. A dirtily dressed man with horrible burns and a hand made of razors. All of the dreams started out differently, but all ended in the same place...a boiler room in some sort of factory or power plant.

Until today, there hadn't been a name put to this man or creature- whatever he was. They informed us today that one of my close friends, Amy, had died in her sleep. The cause was unknown...or at least it hadn't been released... But my best friend, Phillip, who had also been her boyfriend, had gone over to her house early that day to pick her up for school as he always did.

Just as he got there, a police officer pulled into the drive. Panicking and not wanting to be pushed out of the way, he burst into the front door. Amy's mom was sitting in a dining room chair with her husband standing over her and rubbing her shoulders. He wasn't crying though it was obvious that he was barely choking the tears back. When he saw the boy, he shook his head and started to speak, but Phillip wasn't focused on that. He was worried as to why her mom was crying...into his girlfriend's favorite blanket. His gut sank and his vision tunneled. He knew something was horribly wrong.

No words were exchanged. The only sound heard in the house was the mother's sobs before Phillip rushed up the stair case, ignoring the father's yells for him to stop as he chased after. Phillip scurried straight to his girlfriend's bedroom and barreled through the door that was all but closed. There, within those walls, he saw her, laying still beneath a tattered and bloody sheet on her bed. Shock didn't overcome him until he tore the stained white sheet from her body to see her naked...motionless...with a message cut and seared deep into the flesh on her back.

FREDDY'S HOME

Phil grabbed hold of her, trying to roll her over. To wake her. To hear her speak or see her move at all. Anything. But she only laid there...a slowly cooling corpse as her boyfriend screamed frantically...desperate for it all to be an elaborate prank... However, as the slain girl's father took hold of the boy's shoulders from behind, attempting to drag him away, his tears fell heavily...and he broke.

Phil had said he apparently blacked out after that. The next thing he remembered was being in the back of an ambulance and handcuffed with blood on his hands and a terrible headache. He was never actually arrested though he was told later that he had shoved Amy's father to the ground and proceeded to attack an officer that had come in and went to get him away from the crime scene. His own parents obviously didn't want him going to school the next day, but being the person he was, he ignored them and attended classes anyway.

"Freddy."

I whispered the name to myself as I turned onto my side. I wondered how much of what was going on was real and what parts were in everyone's heads. I mean, dreams were just unconscious thoughts and everyone had bad dreams now and again, right? So could it not just be that a description of this man been told and then passed around and that's how so many people started dreaming about him? That would make sense though it did sound a bit like one of those sci-fi type weapons the military conjured up to attack enemies or the government used to control people. Ha! Look at me sounding like a conspiracy theorist!

But people were dying... kids... teenagers... Fuck, Amy was dead. There was no denying that. Not to me. There was no way Phil would have lied about something like that- something so graphic. He loved Amy. They had been together for a couple years even and had known each other longer... Mind-control conspiracy theories aside, of course. He was pretty smart, but I don't think that Phil was even creative enough to concoct such a story if he wanted to or subconsciously through suggestion... Was Freddy the man she had been dreaming about? That everyone had been dreaming about? Or was he just some neighborhood sicko who decided to show himself around the same time as these nightmares? Or some sort of sick fairy tale?

Sighing, I shifted my position again, this time facing the wall. I pushed my hand against it and drew invisible pictures on it with my index finger. My thoughts returned to the description of this man... scarred by burns? that claw... my fingers found their way down in my sheets, along my stomach, and then slowly underneath my thin nightgown. 

Closing my eyes, I let my fingers just slightly caress my little, freshly shaven mound, before inching between my moist lips and carefully finding my clit... I pushed a bit harder against it and gave it a few gentle rubs. Cautious to not make a sound, I took in a deep breath, forcing my mouth closed to hide any moans that might escape as my fingertips moved up and down, and also in small circles. Inhaling and exhaling... the patterns became quicker and harder to hide. My breath hitched with nearly each little movement below my dress...

Opening my eyes, my face finding it more and more difficult to keep from pleasured expression, I made two of my fingers push apart my labia further, stretching my longest digit quickly yet carefully inside of me. I didn't have to be too versed in sexual behaviour to know I was quite tight... The tiny bit of pain I felt as I scratched myself with purposely jagged nails while pushing further inside me, pulling out, and repeating, was was enough to make a small spurt of sticky fluid come from within me...

I stopped moving for just a moment, keeping my hand in position while taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes once more... I then let go of the folds of skin around my vagina and extended two more slender fingers to give one hard jab inside. My pointed nails sunk mildly into the wall inside and I could feel them slightly cut the skin. I wasn't able to withhold a satisfied moan which was answered not even a minute later with the door to my room coming open.

"Are you alright, hun?" My mother had appeared at the in the doorway with a concerned look on her face.

Oddly stiffening myself while simultaneously lifting a knee under the covers to attempt hiding my sin, I gradually removed my hand from myself and rested it beside me. I smiled awkwardly, "Yes, I'm just...I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

The woman nodded, her demeanor unchanged as she walked over to the window, lifting the blinds and shaking the pane to be sure the glass was securely locked. She then did a once-over of my room like she used to do when I was little to show me that there were no monsters there to get me. However, I knew it was herself and not me, she was trying to convince this time that my room was free of monsters.

She stopped by my bed, placing her hand on my head and stroking my hair. Her smile was weak and mine stayed nervous... I wasn't worried with boogeyman...only that she might smell me and how uncomfortable her knowing I was masturbating would be... Nonetheless what I had been thinking about while doing it...

"You let me know if you need anything," she offered sweetly, but it was just annoying to me. "I'll probably be up most the night," her hand was still caressing my locks.

"Ok, mom. I'm just going to try and get some sleep," I gave another weird grin before abruptly turning to my other side away from her.

"Ok..." Mother trailed off. 

I cut my eyes at an almost painful angle to watch her as she sauntered out of the room, pulling the door until there was only a slither of light shining through from the den on the other side. I sighed, rubbing my dirtied hand against my nightgown before placing both of them in a praying position underneath my head and resting my sight... Once more, I was thinking on the clawed man and moisture dripped between my thighs again...

What is wrong with me?? My eyes shot open as I clasped my hands together tightly beneath me. This can't be normal...can it? I had never had a real boyfriend, let alone had sex... The furthest I had even gotten was a kiss with one of the 'troubled' boys from my school or else that is how my mom described him. I had touched myself before, but only a handful of times. No pun intended. 

I had watched porn. I had seen naked men. Naked women even. Yet nothing ever really 'turned me on' except...except things like blood...knives...cutting...the simple adrenaline rush when I was wounded was the closest to sexual satisfaction I had ever experienced. I knew it couldn't be usual...you never heard about that kind of thing...so I hid it...from everyone. My mom would likely murder me herself if she knew I was trying to orgasm or even just thinking about sex...

I looked around my room. Shadows fell on the porcelain dolls decorating the shelves and my book bag from school had fallen over on its side in front of the chair right across from my bed. A lot of kids in my class had their own television sets or telephone, but not me. My mom thought there was no need to spoil a kid that much. Not to mention she was pretty strict...

Even with the hint of light coming in the crack of the door...I was alone...I was hidden...In my own company, I could trust myself with these evil thoughts...couldn't I? I was safe within my own devious mind...right?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:: Chapter originally written 10/21/2015
Chapter rewritten 10/27/2017