Life With Killers

Nightmares

(art done by me)

After saying goodnight, fell asleep shortly after. You rarely had good dreams. It was just black behind your eyelids. On the occasion, though, you would have a nightmare. It was always the same. When You first started having the dreams, you assumed it was Freddy. After the interrogation, you found you he had nothing to do with it, if anything he now tries to stop it. 

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of a plate being smashed into a wall. The small frame of 14-year-old you crawled out of bed and tip-toed to the door. Your mother's voice screeched at your father. The slur in his voice made it clear he had been drinking. You already knew your mother was high off her rockers because you saw her with the white powder earlier that day. Careful not to make any sound, you slowly make your way to the kitchen. The house was small, so everything can be heard. You peaked around the wall. Your mother held on to the counter, she was bleeding from her head. The plate must have hit her. Your father was standing over her hunched-over body.  He was screaming. He grabbed your mother by the collar and lifted her. Her head loled to the side, Her eyes immediately falling on your now-shaking form. She growls and glares over your father's shoulder at you. "What the hell are you looking at you little brat?!" 

Her barking at you caused your father to turn around and spot you. This enraged him. He had never wanted kids, he made that very clear. He dropped your mother, forgetting what they were fighting about this time, and stomped towards you. You immediately scramble to get away. When you dared to take a glance behind you, you could see the shine of a silver kitchen knife. Rage filled your father's eyes. He swung at you, the knife cutting into your back. You screamed out in pain as you pushed yourself to go fast. The knife came down on you again and you could feel the blood sliding down your back and wetting your nightshirt. 

Your father pounced on you, knocking you face-first into the cold hard floor. You felt the nice pierce your lower back. he brought the knife up and brought it down again and another time before something yanked him off of you. You were silently crying, your vocal cords raw from screaming out in pain. The squelching sound of your father being stabbed was just behind your ears. With all the energy you could muster, you lift your head off the ground. You look up to see a very tall man wearing a blue mechanic suit and white mask stabbing your father, his body hanging on the wall by the knife in his stomach. 

The tall man stepped away from the bitter man on the wall and over to your bleeding form. Somehow, your father clung to life. When he saw the giant killer step towards his daughter he sneered. As Micheal scooped up your bleeping form, your father spits a mouthful of blood. Not at him, at your unconscious form. You had passed out due to fear and blood loss. "Take the brat... kill her for all I care... hated... her."

After the words left, the light slipped out of his eyes. He looked down at the child in his arms and shifted her so she laid cradled in one arm.  With his free hand, he wiped the spit and blood off of your face. His hand lingered on the soft flesh. He felt the warm blood on his arm and grabbed his knife before leaving. He knew that if the bleeding didn't stop, you would die. He was thinking to himself how he was going to get it to stop before remembering a certain doctor. When Micheal carried you to a different house, you began to stir. He looked down and was met with (e/c). Micheal didn't know what overcame him as he smiled under his mask. He reached the door and a moment later, it flung open. 

You jumped up, sitting up straight. You were covered in a cold sweat and tears ran down your face. Looking around, you found yourself safe in your room. You looked at the foot of your bed to see Brahms, Micheal, and Hannibal.