"Mark? Mark!"

I suddenly felt Emma's hands shaking my arms along with a searing pain in my head as my eyes shot open. Falling forward from my seated position, I placed my palms on the bed in front of me while panting heavily. Please tell me I'm just crazy. Please tell me I'm just crazy, the plea kept repeating in my head. I looked up to see that the four ghosts were still lounging about my bedroom.

"Ya do it?" Todd asked excitedly while his near-twin showed the same enthusiasm.

My brow furrowed glancing from the youngest of the kids to Damian, still at the door, with his baseball bat resting across his shoulders and an expression of patient aggression. Emma was the only one who displayed any manner of concern, her big eyes and parted lips silently prompting me to explain what had happened. Yet I was having trouble articulating. My breath was coming back to me and the discomfort in my brain had all but faded. Somehow still, the events left me shocked as I tried to find words.

"I-um..." I stammered, but as I shifted to sit back again, I felt a sting on my chest. My focus went to my tshirt where there were tears in the fabric. Beneath them, large gashes...ones made by Freddy Krueger himself.

"So you did find him," Emma breathed, staring at my wound.

Fingers thumbing the torn clothes and the bloody cuts of flesh, I recalled the events prior to my return. The creature that had led my way had casually stepped to the side when the dream demon placed his sights on me. It didn't seem that he was too eager to be part of the battle yet at the same time, gave no appearance that he was frightened to be around either. It was as if he allowed every party to do what they wished regardless of any sense of right and wrong he might have himself...and I had told him my goal. He stood by, observing as Freddy leapt toward me at an unsettling quick pace. Once upon me, he grabbed hold of me and pulled me close to his scarred face and clicked his knives beside my ear.

"Mm..." he took in a large breath through his nose as if taking in the scent, "It's been far too long since my last meal...and you smell tasty," his mouth grew to an evil grin, exposing rotted teeth, "Humans aren't too common here, are they, Spike?"

Krueger had directed his question to the one that had guided me with a tilt of his head in the creature's direction. Spike? Somehow I doubted that was his real name. Probably just a joke to Freddy. Nonetheless, 'Spike' looked just as unamused as he had been the entire time, yet he kept watching even so. Part of me wanted to ask for his help in my indecisiveness and the other part just wanted to wait for Krueger to kill me there so I didn't bring him back to the human world.

"So then, what are you doing here, hm?" the dream demon purred, tightening his hold on me.

If it hadn't been for the terror I was feeling, I'd probably have answered with something, but as it was, I hadn't been collected enough to do anything other than stare back helplessly and it seemed that Freddy wasn't as patient as Spike... He almost instantly grew furious that I hadn't replied and reared his claw behind him before plummeting it into my core. It hurt, but not as much as anticipated. Jovial laughter sounded directly after, and both Freddy and I jarred our attention to the other demon, who actually looked more creepy laughing like that.

"What's so funny, McRib?" Krueger growled viciously.

The chuckling ceased, but a smile stayed on the neutral creature's face, "You know you're not strong enough for that. Maybe you were once, but reading a being's soul takes a lot more than what you are at present."

Freddy didn't appreciate Spike's nonchalant behavior at all and he certainly didn't seem pleased with knowing he wasn't at full power. Even so, the reminder was all he needed to change the subject from the reason for my presence to how he could use it to benefit himself. All in all, I had pictured Freddy to be extremely intelligent and collected as most serial killers tend to be. However, instead, he seemed to lack a certain amount of...focus? It was almost like he was ADD. Not dumb, just easily distracted.

"You're right," he hummed. "Unfortunate..." then his eyes darted back to me, "Yet so fortunate at the same time. Now, you'll help me get what I need, wont you, buddy?" he smirked, deep red eyes somehow darker than Spike's boring into me.

And that was when he reared his weapon backward again and when it fell inside me this time, the pain was incredible...burning... I didn't know what the difference was, but I cried out, finding myself wishing for home. Just as I had been told, my spirit was thrown back into my body and I had come to, sitting on the bed like I had never left in the first place.

I began shaking my head violently, "No. No no no, I can't do this!"

"Well, it's a bit late for that now, isn't it?" Damian let his bat to his side and strolled forward.

"No, I-"

"He's attached to you. As soon as you dream, he'll be here and we can get him," the girl beside me interrupted.

I kept shaking my head, mouth open like an idiot. No, I couldn't take the chance. If they couldn't control him...I'll have set an impossibly powerful killer on the loose again! If I dreamt... That means I couldn't dream. How was I supposed to keep that from happening though? As it was, I already slept most of the time so... I stopped moving and stared blankly in front of me. The only thing I could do was...

With the abrupt conclusion, I threw my legs off the side of the mattress and jumped to my feet. I stormed past Damian, catching his scowl out of the corner of my eye. I quickly made my way to the living room and walked erratically around the sofa and the table in front of it. I heard Emma ask something and realized that the ghosts had followed me, but I didn't pay them any heed as I continued my search. Where the fuck did they... There it was. I grabbed the box-cutter that had been haphazardly discarded after the ghost girl's little show earlier. Immediately, I clicked it out two notches so a section of the blade showed.

"Mark, what the fuck are you doing?" the goth leader put one hand on her hip and the other lifted to her chin and halfway covered her mouth though I couldn't tell if it was in contemplation or out of worry.

"I've already fucked up enough! I have to stop this now, before anything bad happens," I responded determinedly through the moisture welling in my eyes as I placed the blade on the bottom of my wrist.

"Don't worry, Ems," Damian scoffed, "He won't do it."

"SHUTTUP!" I yelled at him, tears starting to roll down my cheeks.

The boy shrugged his shoulders as he patiently waited for me to give up. No...no, this was what I wanted...it was... More importantly, it needed to be done. I couldn't let other people...but I couldn't do this. NO! Shuttup, I can do this...just...I can just. Just do it quickly! Don't think about it! Just...

"See? I told you," Damian's voice came again as I stood there awkwardly staring at the clean blade against my skin.

"You're fucking wrong," I whispered. "You don't know me...you don't..."

And by some grace, I mustered the courage to plunge the blade into my wrist, deeper than any cut I had ever made. At first, I hissed through my teeth, trying not to scream as I forced the razor further down, but when I felt it begin jutting off to the side and hit something tougher than the rest of the flesh, my efforts for quiet stopped and I let out a yell as I yanked the weapon up the length of my arm in a manner similar to how Emma had earlier that evening.

As the blade journeyed, the cut gradually became more shallow until the box-cutter fell out of my arm completely. My cry also grew softer and my knees buckled under the intensity of the attack. On the floor, I stared at the blood pouring from my wound, crawling up out of me and over the tissue that I had destroyed. The pain was extraordinary. It was nearly unbearable to begin, yet now that I had done it...I was pleased. The hurt was comforting. My vision seemed to tunnel then as my eyes darted from the crimson drenching my pants, to the blade that had fallen beside me.

Everything I knew said I should do both arms, not simply the one. Surely if I had made it through the first, I could do it again. My uninjured arm reached out for the box-cutter; the small movement exciting the pain I had inflicted upon myself while also heightening the feeling of light-headedness. However, just as my hand found the orange handle of the utility blade, a foot stepped on it.

"Mark, you fucking idiot!"

My head slowly lifted, laying sights on Emma who stood above me, piece of shit phone in hand, "The hell are you-" I tried to ask, but a sudden wave of nausea cut me off.

Absentmindedly, I fought the ghost foot for grip of the weapon. Why were dead people so strong? Ignoring the burning in my gashed arm, I put it forward as well to help retrieve the blade, somehow managing to lift her boot, causing her to trip and fall as she lost balance of herself. Even so, I didn't have time to actually get the razor before two sets of hands were on either arm, pulling me back. It was Chris and Todd.

"Stop! Leave me alone!" I cried, feeling I would vomit at any moment.

Everything appeared surreal. My hearing was muffled as if my ears were filled with the sound of the blood in my system rushing. My head flopped weakly back and forth, catching sight of the boys at my sides, then of Emma, phone hanging idly at her side, the screen illuminated with the numbers 9-1-1 along with the word 'Dialing.' Then, my gaze found Damian, face straight; no more joking around, no more cockiness. Instead, he lifted the baseball bat from his side, clutching its base with both hands, before throwing it back and swinging it full-force into my forehead.

My vision went completely black for a moment, coming back just long enough to realized I'd been dropped to the floor and all four of the gothic ghost kids were standing in front of me, staring downward. I didn't have the chance to figure out their expressions before I once again fell into blackness...

I remained unconscious until there was a loud beating on my apartment door and my eyelids fought to open themselves. They fluttered long enough for me to see the door cave in, two police officers bursting through and scanning the immediate area before a medic rushed to my side and knelt. I could feel the burning, stinging pains in my wrist and the wetness of my blood, then all was dark once more.

"Can you hear me? Sir? Stay with me. Do you know where you are?"

Even though the voice was speaking loudly, it sounded quiet, warbled by the sound of medical machinery, chattering staff, and the pounding ache in my head. My vision was fading in and out. I kept catching glimpses of white, moving walls all around me. No. I was the one moving...laying on a gurney...strapped to it? or was I just that weak? There were two nurses on either side of me, studying an IV bag and where it was attached to the underside of my elbow. A third man, dressed in blue scrubs, was staring at me. His mouth was moving, but I only heard some of what was said.

"Do you know who you are? What is your name?"

I felt my lips quivering, mumbling, yet nothing coherent came out before blackness overtook. This time when I awoke, everything was motionless and I was alone. Laying on the same tiny hospital bed, I saw that I was situated in the middle of a sterile room. All the lights were off except for one huge beam above me, aimed downward. Fighting to turn my head to the side and look away from the brightness, I choked out a call.

"Hello?"

My voice was hardly even a whisper. Suddenly, in the the growing shadows around me, I saw movement. I tried to peer harder and to shift my body, but I was, in fact, tied down. Nonetheless, I felt too drained underneath them to actually make any progress. Where were the doctors? Why was I left here? I opened my mouth, forcing myself to speak more. However, I was shushed.

"Sh-sh-shh..." a figure stepped out of the darkness surrounding me, a finger- no, a knife, lifted in front of his lips.

"Fr-Freddy?" I gasped, my head spinning at the expended effort.

"Aw, you had me worried there for a minute, Mark," the demon cooed sarcastically. "Though I do suppose I owe you...even if your intention was to have me tortured."

No. I had to...I had to wake up...

"Doctor? Pressure is dropping."

My eyes were fighting open again and I was once more surrounded by hospital staff.

"Sir? Sir, we need you to try and relax. You're safe, but you need to try and calm down," it was the same doctor from before, wearing a mask now. Was I in surgery?

"N-no," I mumbled.

"Nurse, give him another cc of ketamine," his attention turned to one of the women beside him and then back to me as he said, "Calm down, you're going to be ok."

Blackness returned...

What had I done?