A little while later, Lionel saw that his mother Vera had finally finished eating. He spoke carefully.
"Mother, I'm getting tired. I'm going to bed."
"Get out."
Her cold reply actually made Lionel feel relieved.
He slipped away like a fugitive, locked his bedroom door behind him, and didn't notice the pair of cloudy eyes staring at his back until the door clicked shut.
In the living room, Vera staggered to her feet and shuffled toward the basent.
With every step, a piece of dry, shriveled skin peeled off her cheek. She didn't even feel it.
She pushed open the basent door, rummaged in the corner, and dragged out a dusty old wooden crate.
Inside were things that made the skin crawl.
A string of small animal vertebrae, several twisted black plants, and a rough piece of animal hide.
Vera spread the hide on the floor and carefully arranged the bones and plants on top of it.
Then she pulled a small clump of hair from her pocket—Lionel's hair, collected from the bathroom a few days earlier.
She placed the hair in the exact center of the hide.
Next, Vera picked up a small knife and pressed the tip against her index finger, trying to draw blood.
Her hands shook so badly she lost control.
The fingertip was sliced clean off and dropped to the floor.
The wound looked ragged, like it had been torn rather than cut. Not a single drop of blood ca out.
Vera's face twisted with irritation. She tossed the knife aside.
With her other hand she grabbed the base of the severed finger and squeezed hard.
Finally, a few drops of blue-green pus oozed from the wound and dripped onto Lionel's hair.
Vera's mouth stretched into a grin so wide that the skin on both cheeks split open, exposing blackened muscle beneath.
She mixed everything together in a sloppy pile and began chanting in a low, guttural voice.
"Lionel… my good boy…"
"Now no one will ever take you away from again."
At the sa mont, Lionel was curled up in bed, eyes heavy from days of fear and exhaustion.
The next second he snapped awake.
He was standing inside a massive boiler room lit by a hellish red glow.
A tallic scraping sound echoed from sowhere up ahead.
"Hehehe… Uncle Freddy's here to play."
Lionel squinted toward the voice.
A man in a dirty red-and-green striped sweater stood there, his face burned and lted like wax. He dragged the blades of his gloved right hand along a tal pipe as he walked slowly toward him.
Lionel had always been a coward. He'd never seen anything like this. He turned and ran.
He ran until his lungs burned, but the scenery on both sides never changed.
He looked back—Freddy was still coming, unhurried, like he hadn't moved at all.
In pure panic Lionel spun around again and slamd straight into a solid chest.
Freddy was already right in front of him.
"Don't run, kiddo. Co play with Uncle Freddy."
Before Lionel could react, Freddy drove his bladed glove straight into his stomach.
White-hot pain exploded through his body.
But when Freddy pulled his claws out to admire his work, he froze.
Lionel's wound was already sealing itself shut right in front of his eyes.
Lionel collapsed, gasping, hands flying to his stomach. The skin was smooth and unbroken.
"Interesting. Let's play so more."
Freddy grinned like he'd found a new toy. Again and again he plunged the blades into Lionel's body.
Every ti the claws ca out, the wounds closed instantly—no blood, no scars.
Lionel lay on the floor, the initial terror fading into numb exhaustion.
He just stared at the monster with empty eyes while Freddy kept stabbing him.
"Why?! Why don't you bleed?!"
Freddy finally lost patience. He scratched at his ruined scalp and paced in a frustrated circle.
He'd killed hundreds. Tortured more souls than Lionel had ever t in real life.
But he'd never seen anything this boring to kill.
The kid felt like a rubber dummy—zero resistance going in, zero blood coming out, even his screams were weak and pathetic. No satisfaction at all.
"What the hell are you?"
Freddy leaned in close, studying Lionel.
Then he noticed it—a faint blue-green glow pulsing beneath the kid's skin, carrying a rotten, sickly stench.
The sight made Freddy recoil in disgust.
"Figures. First that fat little brat bounces out, now I get this piece of crap."
Freddy spat on the ground and retracted his blades.
"Go play with your mommy, kid."
The blood-red boiler room shattered like glass.
Lionel jolted upright in his own bed, drenched in cold sweat.
His hands imdiately went to his stomach—smooth, untouched.
But the mory of being stabbed over and over still burned across his skin.
...
Back at the KFC.
Luke listened to the exhausted teenagers finish their story and sumd it up.
"So you're saying a guy nad Freddy grabs you in your dreams and tortures you one by one. That about right?"
They nodded weakly.
A girl nad Nancy added, "Yeah. My friend Tina died exactly like that."
"We called the cops. They didn't believe a word."
Luke rubbed his temples, looking at their sunken eyes and hollow faces.
Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street, huh?
He didn't know if his holy water would actually work, but it was worth a shot.
He went out to the truck, grabbed several bottles of mineral water, and lined them up on the table.
"What is that?"
Nancy's boyfriend Glen eyed the bottles suspiciously.
"Holy water. Try it."
Luke kept it short.
The group exchanged uneasy looks.
Glen spoke first, doubtful.
"You're kidding, right? Holy water? Do we look that stupid?"
"Yeah, that's just regular bottled water."
The blond kid backed him up.
Luke leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, clearly done arguing.
"Believe it or not. I don't have ti to babysit."
His blunt attitude actually made the desperate kids hesitate.
Nancy was the worst off. She stared at the bottles like they were her last hope.
"I'll try it."
She picked one up, twisted the cap, hesitated for a second, then took a long drink.
A cool, clean sensation slid down her throat and instantly washed away days of crushing fatigue. Her head cleared.
"I… feel better."
A spark of life returned to Nancy's eyes.
Seeing the change, the others stopped hesitating. They poured the water into their own cups and drank.
"Hey, it actually works!"
"My head's clearer. I'm not falling asleep anymore."
Glen drained an entire bottle before setting it down. He looked at Luke with new respect.
"What the hell is this stuff?"
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