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

Chapter 15: Tongue-in-Cheek

The rest of the day consisted of little more than me lounging about my room doing homework, reading, watching the TV that mother had allowed to stay in my room and wishing Freddy would show up more. I wondered where he was when he wasn't with me, but after all these years, he must have found a way to entertain himself without me. Or did he sleep at all? I had never really thought about if spirits had some sort of resting period like humans and other animals did... Surely there was something? At least they couldn't go all the time...they weren't seen all the time anyway. Like especially on TV and in stories, they were around at night, but not really during the day. Maybe that had to do with normal schedule of physical creatures though or... I remembered hearing a kid at school talking about how spirits like angels and demons were influenced by energy and there were different energies during day and night or during various parts of the year... Something like that.

More questions for Freddy, I guess though it seemed rude for me to ask. Yet at the same time, I felt entitled. Anyhow, I fell asleep thinking about what he had said. I can't tell you what happens when you die. Why couldn't he, though? He had died so, wouldn't he know? Then at the same time, what had happened to him certainly wasn't usual. Maybe that's all he had meant.

"Miss me?"

I spun around to see Freddy standing there. Glancing down, I saw I was still in my nightgown. Around me were the cold streets of my neighborhood. I had fallen asleep and hadn't even realized it. I looked back up to the burned man and smiled. He returned the gesture by smiling back and pointing to the ground. There I saw his shadow. The darkness of it became more elongated until it stretched longer than my own shadow. Then it swirled around my feet, taking the black outline of me on the pavement inside it like a python, crushing my shadowy form slowly. As it did so, I found it increasingly difficult to breath. My gaze shot from the twisting shadows on the ground up to Freddy, who was cackling wildly. Nothing was touching m6 actual body and still, I felt I was being choked.

My knees buckled beneath me and I fell to the ground, the impact scattering the dueling forms below. I gasped for air simultaneously jolting my head upward only to fall back and choke on my attempt to break as I came face to Freddy's charred face. Our noses had touched as he knelt in front of me. At last as I was on my back, the wet from the cold street soaking through my gown, I thought I'd be able to breathe again...but I was wrong.

Freddy's arms extended unnaturally long and wrapped around my body like ropes, lifting me up so they could properly strangle me. He forced what little air was left in my lungs out which formed in the shape of a foggy skull just outside my mouth. My eyes were wide, focused on this sign of death as my vision started to fade. Then suddenly, I was falling. He had let go of me but the short distance from where my body had been raised to the pavement below seemed incredibly long. Just when my sight was back and I began to question it, my body thudded hard against the ground, knocking my breath from me once again.

"AHAHAHAHHA!" Freddy was laughing again.

I was still laying on the ground. My back was hurting and the rest of me was aching as well. I coughed, trying to regain myself and found that I was spitting up blood. Curling inward, knees to chest, I moaned. It fucking hurt! Even breathing was painful... I slowly was able to pull up into a seated position and realized I must have bruises all over my body...at least on the inside. Pain. Pleasure. Could I take it? I thought back to when I first discovered I liked to be cut...the time I masturbate to Freddy...and my fear that there would be some kind of pain that would be actually discomforting... And I thought to what I was feeling...

It did hurt. It had been quite some time since I had been beat up so badly, and yes I had been complaining, but... I liked the idea that I was in the pain. And not in the 'I'm a horrible person, I deserve to be punished' kind of way. Just something about moving and feeling that I was sore... That I had been attacked... It was a good feeling. Yes, I had bitched...out of instinct. But I'd go through that again in an instant. Especially knowing it was him who had done it to me. I got up, embracing the bruises instead of whining and, seeing nothing in my current line of sight, decided to turn around. There was nothing there either. I sighed and began walking.