How's this for a Wet Dream? [Nightmare On Elm Street]

Chapter 3: A Gift

BURRRRRRIIIIIINGGGG!!!!

I awoke to the all-too familiar ring of the rooster alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. I had had it since I was very young. It had belonged to my grandmother, but I admired it so much growing up that she ended up giving it to me one year for my birthday. I remember being so thrilled and so proud to have it. It hadn't even been the 'nicest' or most expensive gift I had received that year, yet still, over ten years later, it meant more to me than the other presents I had mostly even forgotten what they were.

She had passed away since then. After grandpa had died from cancer that had gone untreated for too long because he was stubborn and hated doctors, she had found it really difficult to do much of anything. She tried to stay cheerful when I was around, but even being so little, I knew she had changed. Back in those days, it seemed back in those days, I didn't really worry about being the weirdo and I think it was because of her. She had been a bit of a black sheep herself, or so I gathered. She was the one person I ever felt truly loved me no matter how strange I turned out to be. I guess it was after she died that I begun caring... I didn't have that safe space anymore. Even my mother's unkind behaviour toward me about being different than the person she thought I should be seemed to increase. Maybe she had changed too when her parents slowly died...

The brief moment of happiness concerning my clock's past was quickly stripped away by these new thoughts, taking my smile and leaving me with my usual somber demeanor. I pushed myself into a seated position, not remembering the dream I had had until the bending of my stomach caused a burning sensation on its skin...the feeling of fresh cuts.

"Ow," the whine was under my breath as I took the blankets off my legs. "Shit," I muttered at seeing what I'd uncovered.

My nightgown was shredded and four bloodied gashes stretched from my chest to the bottom of my abdomen. The skin around the wounds had crusty, drying blood around them. I put my fingertips onto the cuts and could feel there was still some moisture there. I was still bleeding, though just barely. I started piecing back the events that had taken place during my slumber.

"Shit!" I said more loudly as I jumped up and ran to shut and lock my bedroom door.

I stood there, staring at my body in the mirror that hung on the back of the door, one hand cupping my mouth as my eyes widened in full realization that this was reality. I dropped that hand only long enough for both palms to reach my head, stretching back my forehead and pulling on my hair. What the fuck? This...was happening...actually happening. What...

"Jesus Christ..." I breathed...

"Francine?" the voice along with the sound of the doorknob in front of me rattling startled me, causing me to gasp. "Are you alright?" my mom asked.

"Yes! Yes, mom, I'm fine," my voice was oddly high and no doubt suspicious, "I'm fine; I'm just getting dressed." I said, my attention leaving her again to return to my injured flesh. 

As I ran my fingers across the wounds, pressing their tips into the crimson indentations, the woman began to speak again, "Well, honey, please don't lock your door. At least not for a while. You know I'm very nervous the two of us being here alone... Especially with all that's going on."

The doorknob was rattling again.

Rolling my eyes, I skipped over to the closet behind the door and grabbed a sundress and throwing it over me. It barely concealed my destroyed clothes and the gashes, but it was the best I could do at the moment. I returned to the door and unlocked it or else she would get angry at me. I smiled at my mom as she casually entered and pulled me into a hug. Fortunately, I was somewhat used to this type of pain so I didn't flinch as she pressed against me.