With a million thoughts running through his head, Dr. Gregory Graham paced with purpose back toward to his office. Walking right past a few of the night nurses and orderlies, Dr. Graham’s vest waved about in the air, flapping from side to side as his shiny black dress shoes clanged repeatedly on the marble floor in tune to his walk. There was so much going on inside his skull that if he didn’t get some aspirin fast, it might explode at any minute.

The pain was all over his head, extending from the top of the cranium down each side to his temples. Throbbing like it had its own heartbeat, Dr. Graham winced in agony as he reached the door to his office. He was immediately discouraged when he grabbed the doorknob and it didn’t budge. Sweating profusely, he started to frantically rummage through his pockets to find his keys.

Staring directly through the frosted glass and past his name “Dr. Gregory Graham” etched in black across the middle of it, he saw a shadow lurking inside his office and immediately got annoyed. Very subtle, whoever it was, he thought as he unlocked the door and flung it open, smacking its oak frame off of the wall inside.

He was not happy to see who was sitting there.

“Just what in the hell are you doing up here, Graham?” yelled the familiar raspy voice of police chief Ben Wilkinson, who sat complacent at his desk. “This kind of shit was supposed to stop!”

“I don’t have time for this right now, chief,” Dr. Graham responded, slamming the door shut behind him. “I got enough to worry about.”

“Well, I’d say murder is definitely something to worry about!” Wilkinson fired back, standing up to face him. “We took great care to prevent this from happening again, and now you’re telling me you’re losing control?”

“I am not losing control!!!” Graham shouted back before his pain flared up again, forcing him to rub his temples.

“No??? Then what else should I call it?”

“I’m just—just having a difficult time with the patients right now, that’s all.”

“Difficult time?! How difficult, doctor? Enough for one of them to commit murder???” Wilkinson continued, badgering him directly to his face.

“That situation is well in hand,” Graham answered. “The perpetrator has been taken to D-wing, and completely isolated from the rest of the group.”

“And what about the Murphy girl?”

“She’s fine.”


“Yeah, we started her medication program this morning. She will come around.”

“She better!” Wilkinson demanded. “Because if she doesn’t, our whole plan is ruined.”

“I’m very well aware of that, and I can assure you everything will be alright,” Graham insinuated, pouring a small glass of whiskey.

“You better make sure none of this happens again,” Wilkinson ordered. “The LAST thing we need is a repeat of the football game, and all this getting out again. You wouldn’t believe what we had to do to get rid of the newspaper guy.”

“It won’t happen again, trust me.”

“It better not! Or else it is YOUR ass!” Wilkinson scowled, storming out the door. As he did, Graham launched his full glass of whiskey at him, narrowly missing him and instead hitting the back of the door and shattering into a million pieces.

Taking a deep breath, Graham just sulked down into his leather chair and finally took the aspirin he needed, washing it down with another fresh glass of Jack Daniel’s.


Meanwhile, back in her room, Lexi sat quietly on her bed, reading through the pages of the Stephen King book “Nightmares and Dreamscapes,” pondering just how she was going to break it to everyone about Krueger. The bastard had cost her so much already, how was she going to put it into the proper perspective and force them to see the real danger they were in—that Freddy did, indeed, kill Manny, and that any or all of them might be next.

Gwen, lying quietly next to her on her bed, was sound asleep. After all the recent chaos, Gwen was dying to take a little afternoon cat nap, so Lexi offered to watch over her just in case. Not really knowing what she was talking about, Gwen agreed, desperate for some much-needed shut-eye. Lexi, who was just as exhausted, stuck her face in the book to keep her mind occupied and keep away that dreaded ‘s’ word.

Yawning, Lexi set the book down spine-first onto her lap and took a long slug of ice water to calm her nerves. Just as she set the glass back on her tray, she noticed Gwen started to convulse next to her. Violently shaking and trembling, Lexi acted fast to wake her up.

“Gwen! Come on! Wake up!” she yelled, trying to get her out of her slumber.

With no effect, and her eyes rolling into the back of her head, Lexi slapped her hard across the face, and that seemed to do the trick, as Gwen instantly came back to her senses.

Feeling the pain, Gwen felt the side of her face and stared at Lexi in disbelief.

“Wha- what happened?” Gwen panted, taking in her surroundings like she had gone on a long vacation and returned home for the first time.

“You were having a nightmare, weren’t you?” Lexi asked. “That son of a bitch is after you, isn’t he?”

But Gwen didn’t reply. She just passed out back onto her bed, and when her head hit the pillow, Lexi saw why.

There, scraped across her chest, were four distinct claw marks, drawing blood from the base of her neck down to the top of her navel.

“Oh my god!”

Proceed To Chapter 13
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