"OH MY GOD! FRANCINE, WHAT HAPPENED???"

Mom rushed to me only seconds after I had stepped inside the house. It took a moment for my brain to catch up with what she was talking about. I had gotten through the rest of the school day having only gotten slightly more than stares because of the wound on my face. Just after lunch, a couple of blonde cheerleader types approached me and inquired as to what happened.

I only stuttered at first, but then a lie formed perfectly in my head. I told them that I had been running across the street on my way to school, tripped on the curb, and hit face first into the top of a chain link fence. It seemed to be a satisfactory answer as they continued on chattering about how they hoped it wouldn't leave a scar for me. But oh, how I hoped it did.

"I just tripped over a curb and hit myself on the top of a metal fence," I replied as she nervously studied my face.

"It doesn't look infected...did you wash it?"

"Ye-" I started, but she didn't give me time to finish.

"Go wash it and get all that makeup off of it. Then put some antibiotic cream on it," she ordered, barely letting go of my face in order for me to comply.

I made it to the bathroom upstairs and happily scrubbed away the makeup that was covering up the beautiful mark. I brushed the wet rag against my face so hard that it hurt and ended up scraping away all of the scabs that had formed there.

Looking into the mirror, I smiled to see that parts of the gash were bleeding again. I let my fingertips dance over the cut, remembering the moment it had been made.

"Francine? hurry up and come down here, sweetie," Mom's voice carried up the stairs.

Sighing, I opened the cabinet and grabbed the ointment, barely putting any on the giant gash. I twisted the cap onto the tube, haphazardly throwing it onto the counter whilst turning to leave the room. When I was downstairs again, I found my way to the kitchen, where my mom was on the phone.

"Yes, I know. I can't even imagine that. It doesn't even make any sense. Were either of them sick or...? Yeah, no, I didn't hear anything about the autop-" her head jolted around, her voice becoming shaky upon seeing me. "Ok, do that. Ok, yeah, I have to go. Ok, bye," she hung the phone back on the receiver quickly before smiling at me. "Hey honey. Come over here and let me take a look."

I sauntered over, my curiosity about the phone call helping to conceal my annoyance at her fussing over my wound. Mom took my face in hand and turned it from side to side, squinting at that cut there, every turn making me grow more and more aggravated.

"Hmm..." she finally spoke, "That may need stitches, dear."

I jerked my head away from her at the thought, lifting my hand to touch the wound. "No!" I almost yelled, the woman in front of me looking startled. "No," I cleared my throat, regaining my composure, "I don't want stitches. I'll be fine."

"Honey," Mom protested as I began to leave the room, "That's going to leave one nasty scar," she tilted her head, her expression was somewhere between concerned and demanding. "The stitches will only be uncomfortable for a bit, but it'll make all the difference later on," she insisted.

I was still covering my cheek with my hand. "I just...I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't mind a little scar...I can cover it up if I need to..." I knew my voice sounded distant, but I couldn't help it. "I'll be fine." I reassured her, praying that she didn't force me to go.

She gazed at me for a moment as if she wasn't sure herself whether she was going to push it or not, but in the end she only nodded half-heartedly as I continued retreating to my room. When I got there, I opened the door to see Freddy sitting on my bed, leaning against the headboard, legs extended, hands behind head, and a wicked grin on his face. I took a moment to glance up and down the hallway before pulling my door shut behind me and stepping closer to the bed.

"What?" I asked the man rather bluntly.

"What!?" His smile faded as he sat up, throwing legs off the bed and cocking his head to the side. He started strumming the air with his knives.

"I-" his actions jostled me. "I didn't mean it like that," I corrected, "I just wanted to know what you were smiling about."

His grin slowly returned as he reached his claw out, making the 'come here' motion with his pointer finger. I immediately began moving closer until his hand turned, his finger now pointing at the wound on my face. I smiled nervously, looking downward to try and hide the change in my expression. I waited for Freddy to say something, but he didn't. When I was finally able to will my grin away, I looked back to him and he retrieved his finger.

"I didn't know your friend had a sister," he spoke calmly.

My thoughts shot to Phil. Phil had a sister? No. No, he didn't. "Oh, you mean Amy's sister, Martha?" I finally figured out.

"Yeees..." the man nodded.

I shrugged. "What about her?"

"AHAHHAHAH" his infectious laughter filled my room.

I didn't hide my smirk this time. My eyes slit to where they were almost shut, "Were you at the wake today?"

Freddy nodded, "Yes, I went to visit that boy, but he wasn't the one that fell asleep," he answered as he stood.

Martha was at the wake, no doubt. Even though she had already graduated high school and was in her second semester of college...she and Amy were close. She would have made a trip for this even if that meant...losing sleep. Freddy, who had begun walking in small circles around me, grunted. I looked back up at him.

"Did you kill her?" I asked.

He stopped mid-step and threw his hands into the air. "Would you have expected any less from me??" he cackled, lowering his hands to my shoulders with knives pricking against my cheek.

"No, I wouldn't," I admitted, twisting my neck so that my eyes rested on his as he had leaned down, putting his head next to mine above his claw. My expression became serious again. "But I do have a question."

"Hm?" Freddy's brow furrowed and he growled.

"How come you kill some fast and others you carry it out? Is it because of how scared they are or not?" I mused.

"That," he lifted a knife, pulling himself away from me, "is a very good question and yes, the intensity of their fear does have something to do with it...another thing would be their age. Adults and children dream differently."

I stood silent, listening to him from behind me. Something in my being was making me resist turning around, but logic told me there was no need to remain still. So I spun around to see he had disappeared. My head shot from side to side, wondering why he'd gone. Though, just as I had settled it in my mind that that was all he was going to say on the matter, I felt his grasp upon either side of my shoulders pulling me backward with great force. I fell onto the bed, my body bouncing slightly on the mattress as Freddy appeared in front of me, grabbing hold of my shoulders at the chest this time and pushing his weight hard upon me so that I was pinned.

Teeth barred as he lowered his face close to mine, he continued, "Children...dream more strongly than adults. The subconscious thoughts that create the realm for them is more easily overpowering to them. They also tend to be more easily frightened because usually, as people grow, they become...more numb to things. A child's soul? Also stronger than an adult. Therefore, the younger the child," he leaned his mouth next to my ear and whispered in a hot breath, "the greater the feed..."

His body was resting on mine then. Although he kept his grip on my shoulders tight, the rest of him didn't feel so strong until he jabbed a knee in between my legs, letting out a devious chuckle when my lips curled and my mouth emitted a moan. My insides clenched at the touch, desiring more. My heart was fluttering and pounding, now are of every tiny touch, every brush of his clothing against me.

My eyes had closed to feel any sensation he might offer, but when moments passed and nothing more happened, I opened them again. He was still over me, a snarling grin on his face, but he didn't move. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me, little girl?" his low raspy voice sent a shiver through me.

I pondered if he was expecting an actual inquiry about him or something lewd. I wasn't versed in dirty talk nor was I confident enough with reading others' intentions for me to assume this was sexual. However...I did find myself fighting the urge to beg him for more...

"If they're stronger..." I finally spoke, "Doesn't they mean they're more likely to be able to defeat you?"

"Hm..." the demon purred, "Yes. But more likely...still isn't likely."

He jabbed his knee again before rubbing it against my panties beneath my skirt. The tease was too much for me. I wanted him to hit me harder. Cut me. Bite me. Anything. I needed it. I looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he did nothing, only stared back with that evil grin. I began struggling against his grip, hoping that if I fought, he would fight back...

I did my best to lift myself from the bed, but he was physically much stronger than me. I pushed my knees up against his stomach and, just like I wanted, he split my legs further apart so that they hurt as he kept the restrained in a position where I couldn't get out of. He then threw an open mouth down onto my neck, dirty teeth sinking into the soft flesh. I couldn't tell if it was the pain or the spot of the attack, but I found myself gasping for air, my body involuntarily wriggling beneath him, unable to make any progress as he continued to bite. It was terrifically painful. Not like the sharp, burning feeling of a cut or scrape. It was blunt, yet overwhelming. A new sensation...a brilliant one.

Gradually, my body stopped resisting and I couldn't tell if it was due to its weakening or my getting used to the feel of the bite. Nonetheless, when I stopped moving except to take in a strained breath or blink, he let go of his hold on my neck, still glowering over me. He watched intently as I regained my composure, gazing at him the entire time. When I had, he grinned and removed himself.

"What happens to them when they die?" I jolted up suddenly and asked, afraid he was about to leave.

Freddy hadn't yet left though. He was leaning with back flat against my closet door, claw on his chest. He scowled and lifted an eyebrow, waiting for me to further.

"I mean, you said you feed on fear...and how powerful a soul is," I clarified, "so what happens to people if you feed on their souls?"

"You're wondering if I completely abolish a person's existence by feeding on their soul?" he showed a crooked smile then.

"I...I guess so, yes," I said.

Freddy jumped away from the wall in answer to my my mumbling, "I can't tell you what happens to you after you die," he said bluntly. "But I can say that sometimes, it does. Other times, what is left slithers away before it's completely destroyed."

His words had proved to give me more questions, but at that point I wasn't able to keep him from disappearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:: Chapter originally written 10/31/2015
Chapter rewritten 11/2/2017