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NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET: INNOCENT DEMONChapter II:  "Déjà Vu" REVISED EDITION
Written by Abri Isgrig and Diane N. Tran

"You, me, alone," grinned Freddy sinfully, laying out his easy charm unmitigatedly thick, like marmalade, while he curled his tongue under her ear.  "Spread eagle between the Babies Alive and the Barbie Dream Houses.  Faces lit.  Bodies entwined.  Our screams echoing across the halls.  Whattaya say?"

"Tempting," Loretta forced back a moan, attempting to pull away before she did something she would really regret.  "But the answer's no."

"Loooorretta," her name was drawn from his lips in a slow, low murmur, as his hand slithered under her dress and teased at her skin, watching her squirm and shiver with a throaty chuckle.  "Do you really mean no?  Cause you know what?  I can hear," his fingers cupped between her legs and curled, causing her to cry out, "and I can tell that you really wanna say yes."

"I said no and I meant no!" and she slapped his hand away, hard, which caused him yelp and rub his injured hand.  She winced at the sound of his pain and looked up at him with a pair of sad, puppyish eyes.  "I—I'm sorry, sweetie, but you didn't leave me much of a choice.  It's just that I don't want to risk anything.  Either of our jobs, or the baby."

Freddy grimaced at her and emitted an irritable growl just behind his throat, as he stood up, pushing his hands in his pockets, in defeat:  "Looks like I'll have to go one-handed for the next seven months, huh?"

She couldn't help but scoff.  As if her condition was her fault!  "You brought it on yourself, Frederick Charles Krueger," she waved an admonishing finger at him, like she would with one of her students.  "When it comes to sex, you tend to get...  Well, uh..."

He offered with a lopsided smile and a shrug.  "Overenthusiastic?"

"I'd go for dominant, but alright."

He couldn't help but raise a thick eyebrow and secret smile at that.

Sex wasn't a normally gentle with them.  Loretta had a small, delicate frame, more girly than womanly, and Freddy had an affinity for rough sex.  His ego demanded it.  She often had to wear high collars to hide the various hickeys and teeth prints, or long sleeves to cover the burn marks on her wrists whenever he tied her up, and her hips and legs were regularly imprinted with bruises.  But there was something she always did find odd about him.

Although he enjoyed the habitual hand and blowjob, he, unlike other men, hated her on top.  He preferred being the controller rather than the controlee.  When she did attempt to ride him, his mood would suddenly deflate and he'd shove her off him in objection, only to have him push her down and pounce himself on top of her.  Loretta could beg and plead, but she had to ask his permission first and foremost; even then, it was rare if he allowed it at all.

As they left the building and locked the door behind them, a streak of white over Freddy's shoulder suddenly caught her eye.

"Oh, afternoon, Sister," greeted Loretta.

He froze and paled when turned and saw Sister Mary Helena, clothed in her all-white habit with large cross dangling on a black cord around her neck, warmth radiating from her smile.  A pair of blue, soothing eyes revealed a certain youthful beauty that hid beneath the cruel, aging lines upon her face.

That was another thing Loretta found odd.  Freddy was not a religious man by any means — he considered himself a sinner of the first degree — and never acted pious around any other member of the clergy he came into contact with, except for Sister Mary Helena.  There was just something about the woman that spooked him and she never fully understood why.

"H—hullo, Sister," Krueger muttered, removing his hat and crossing himself.

"Afternoon, Frederick," greeted the nun, patting Freddy kindly on the shoulder.  "You look well."

"I—I've got some... stuff... errands to run before I—uh, we go home, honey," he said, talking rapidly, running his words together, as he tugged on his faded, black trenchcoat and perched his grimy fedora over his eyes.  "Gotta get to the hardware store before it closes and get some take-out for lunch—I mean, dinner!  I'll be in the car," with that he bolted out of the conversation towards the parked vehicle, as though his life depended on it.

"Has Frederick always been so jumpy?" inquired the holy woman.

"I'd like to apologize, Sister," Loretta replied with a sympathetic smile.  "He's often told me that he feels very uncomfortable around you."

"Oh?" the nun's voice elevated slightly in surprise.  "Why is that?"

"Not exactly sure why.  I think he said that there's just something about you, something in your face, like he knows you from somewhere, but he can't seem to place it."

"I... knew his mother."

"Freddy never talks about his family, particularly his foster family.  He did once mention something about a nickname he was called as a kid.  What was it...?  Son of—," the schoolteacher tapped her chin thoughtfully.  "Son of a hundred or thousand something or another?  Whenever I ask him about it, he goes quiet.  Anyway, what brings you here?"

"Well, I had recently heard that you and your husband are expecting," Mary Helena's soft hands tenderly cupped her face.  "But I can see that already.  Loretta, my child, you're positively glowing."

"Word travels fast in Springwood," she smiled with a blush in her cheeks, resting her hands upon her belly.  "We only found out a few days ago ourselves."

"Almighty and most merciful God in Heaven, in His infinite goodness and wisdom, has blessed with a new child.  There's no greater moment when a parent learns of the gift the Lord has given them.  I know you and Frederick will cherish this child, watch over it, and provide for all its wants of body and soul, just as you have for each other.  I am happy for the both of you."

The nun's tone suddenly became serious and continued: "However, I know that pregnancy may be difficult and frightening at times, but it is a spiritual experience that will test you to your limits, like no other.  It is the ultimate journey of transformation and discovery.  Push aside your inadequacies, fears, and self-doubts.  Take the opportunity to prepare your mind, body, and spirit for this new life."

"Thank you, Sister, for the advice," interjected Loretta.  "I will take them to heart."

"I would like to be there for you and Frederick.  And, if you are interested, I myself am a midwife, and can offer guidance and perspective."

"Thank you for your offer, Sister.  I will consider it when I get farther along."

"That's all I asked," the nun nodded in understanding with a smile.  "And what of your classes?"

"Good.  I graduate this winter, but I'll be the size of a whale by the time I wear my cap and gown."

Sister Mary Helena chuckled.  "You'll look beautiful.  I should take my leave from you now.  And tell Frederick that his mother says hello."

Krueger watched his wife and the nun part ways from afar, safe in the sanctity of his truck, and tapped his nails impatiently along the steering wheel.  He felt like an idiot for allowing some stupid church-broad get under his skin.  He had a strong urge to rip the seats underneath him and chuck them at her.  There was something about her, something about her eyes, like looking into a mirror, that unnerved him.  He needed to calm the fuck down.

He scrabbled at the hatch to the glove compartment of his truck, pulling out a flask.  He unscrewed the cap and took a lengthy swig of whiskey, feeling the alcohol burn his stomach, warm his cheeks, and slowly milk into his bloodstream.

What was it about that nun that bothered him so?  Why did she seem so familiar?  He'd only met her four years ago and yet he avoided her every chance he got.  For some reason, after every encounter with her, he was suddenly struck with the childhood memory of being taunted:
SON OF A HUNDRED MANIACS! SON OF A HUNDRED MANIACS! SON OF A—!
"Freddy?"

The gardener choked in surprise, hastily hid the flask in his coat when he saw Loretta.  He gasped and hacked, as the whiskey went down the wrong tube and snorted into his sinuses.

"Were you drinking?"

"Ack—nuh—hack—no, honey...," Freddy coughed.  "I'm fine."

"Are you sure you're okay?  Because—"

"Goddammit, you stupid fuckin' bitch, didn't you understand a fuckin' word I said?!  Why the hell won't you trust me when I say I'm all right?!" snarled Freddy, his voice bitter, slamming his fist against the horn.  Suddenly, he caught the look his wife's hurt, angry stare fixed upon him and quickly understood he'd lost his temper again.  It was one of the major issues of their marriage.  "I—I'm sorry, Loretta," staring down at his hands in guilt.  "I didn't mean to... to snap at you, like that."

Something told him that he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.

---

<< PREVIOUS - Chapter I: "The Gardener"
>> NEXT - Chapter III: "Of Sinners, Not Saints"

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET: INNOCENT DEMONChapter II:  "Déjà Vu" REVISED EDITION
Written by Abri Isgrig and Diane N. Tran

"You, me, alone," grinned Freddy sinfully, laying out his easy charm unmitigatedly thick, like marmalade, while he curled his tongue under her ear.  "Spread eagle between the Babies Alive and the Barbie Dream Houses.  Faces lit.  Bodies entwined.  Our screams echoing across the halls.  Whattaya say?"

"Tempting," Loretta forced back a moan, attempting to pull away before she did something she would really regret.  "But the answer's no."

"Loooorretta," her name was drawn from his lips in a slow, low murmur, as his hand slithered under her dress and teased at her skin, watching her squirm and shiver with a throaty chuckle.  "Do you really mean no?  Cause you know what?  I can hear," his fingers cupped between her legs and curled, causing her to cry out, "and I can tell that you really wanna say yes."

"I said no and I meant no!" and she slapped his hand away, hard, which caused him yelp and rub his injured hand.  She winced at the sound of his pain and looked up at him with a pair of sad, puppyish eyes.  "I—I'm sorry, sweetie, but you didn't leave me much of a choice.  It's just that I don't want to risk anything.  Either of our jobs, or the baby."

Freddy grimaced at her and emitted an irritable growl just behind his throat, as he stood up, pushing his hands in his pockets, in defeat:  "Looks like I'll have to go one-handed for the next seven months, huh?"

She couldn't help but scoff.  As if her condition was her fault!  "You brought it on yourself, Frederick Charles Krueger," she waved an admonishing finger at him, like she would with one of her students.  "When it comes to sex, you tend to get...  Well, uh..."

He offered with a lopsided smile and a shrug.  "Overenthusiastic?"

"I'd go for dominant, but alright."

He couldn't help but raise a thick eyebrow and secret smile at that.

Sex wasn't a normally gentle with them.  Loretta had a small, delicate frame, more girly than womanly, and Freddy had an affinity for rough sex.  His ego demanded it.  She often had to wear high collars to hide the various hickeys and teeth prints, or long sleeves to cover the burn marks on her wrists whenever he tied her up, and her hips and legs were regularly imprinted with bruises.  But there was something she always did find odd about him.

Although he enjoyed the habitual hand and blowjob, he, unlike other men, hated her on top.  He preferred being the controller rather than the controlee.  When she did attempt to ride him, his mood would suddenly deflate and he'd shove her off him in objection, only to have him push her down and pounce himself on top of her.  Loretta could beg and plead, but she had to ask his permission first and foremost; even then, it was rare if he allowed it at all.

As they left the building and locked the door behind them, a streak of white over Freddy's shoulder suddenly caught her eye.

"Oh, afternoon, Sister," greeted Loretta.

He froze and paled when turned and saw Sister Mary Helena, clothed in her all-white habit with large cross dangling on a black cord around her neck, warmth radiating from her smile.  A pair of blue, soothing eyes revealed a certain youthful beauty that hid beneath the cruel, aging lines upon her face.

That was another thing Loretta found odd.  Freddy was not a religious man by any means — he considered himself a sinner of the first degree — and never acted pious around any other member of the clergy he came into contact with, except for Sister Mary Helena.  There was just something about the woman that spooked him and she never fully understood why.

"H—hullo, Sister," Krueger muttered, removing his hat and crossing himself.

"Afternoon, Frederick," greeted the nun, patting Freddy kindly on the shoulder.  "You look well."

"I—I've got some... stuff... errands to run before I—uh, we go home, honey," he said, talking rapidly, running his words together, as he tugged on his faded, black trenchcoat and perched his grimy fedora over his eyes.  "Gotta get to the hardware store before it closes and get some take-out for lunch—I mean, dinner!  I'll be in the car," with that he bolted out of the conversation towards the parked vehicle, as though his life depended on it.

"Has Frederick always been so jumpy?" inquired the holy woman.

"I'd like to apologize, Sister," Loretta replied with a sympathetic smile.  "He's often told me that he feels very uncomfortable around you."

"Oh?" the nun's voice elevated slightly in surprise.  "Why is that?"

"Not exactly sure why.  I think he said that there's just something about you, something in your face, like he knows you from somewhere, but he can't seem to place it."

"I... knew his mother."

"Freddy never talks about his family, particularly his foster family.  He did once mention something about a nickname he was called as a kid.  What was it...?  Son of—," the schoolteacher tapped her chin thoughtfully.  "Son of a hundred or thousand something or another?  Whenever I ask him about it, he goes quiet.  Anyway, what brings you here?"

"Well, I had recently heard that you and your husband are expecting," Mary Helena's soft hands tenderly cupped her face.  "But I can see that already.  Loretta, my child, you're positively glowing."

"Word travels fast in Springwood," she smiled with a blush in her cheeks, resting her hands upon her belly.  "We only found out a few days ago ourselves."

"Almighty and most merciful God in Heaven, in His infinite goodness and wisdom, has blessed with a new child.  There's no greater moment when a parent learns of the gift the Lord has given them.  I know you and Frederick will cherish this child, watch over it, and provide for all its wants of body and soul, just as you have for each other.  I am happy for the both of you."

The nun's tone suddenly became serious and continued: "However, I know that pregnancy may be difficult and frightening at times, but it is a spiritual experience that will test you to your limits, like no other.  It is the ultimate journey of transformation and discovery.  Push aside your inadequacies, fears, and self-doubts.  Take the opportunity to prepare your mind, body, and spirit for this new life."

"Thank you, Sister, for the advice," interjected Loretta.  "I will take them to heart."

"I would like to be there for you and Frederick.  And, if you are interested, I myself am a midwife, and can offer guidance and perspective."

"Thank you for your offer, Sister.  I will consider it when I get farther along."

"That's all I asked," the nun nodded in understanding with a smile.  "And what of your classes?"

"Good.  I graduate this winter, but I'll be the size of a whale by the time I wear my cap and gown."

Sister Mary Helena chuckled.  "You'll look beautiful.  I should take my leave from you now.  And tell Frederick that his mother says hello."

Krueger watched his wife and the nun part ways from afar, safe in the sanctity of his truck, and tapped his nails impatiently along the steering wheel.  He felt like an idiot for allowing some stupid church-broad get under his skin.  He had a strong urge to rip the seats underneath him and chuck them at her.  There was something about her, something about her eyes, like looking into a mirror, that unnerved him.  He needed to calm the fuck down.

He scrabbled at the hatch to the glove compartment of his truck, pulling out a flask.  He unscrewed the cap and took a lengthy swig of whiskey, feeling the alcohol burn his stomach, warm his cheeks, and slowly milk into his bloodstream.

What was it about that nun that bothered him so?  Why did she seem so familiar?  He'd only met her four years ago and yet he avoided her every chance he got.  For some reason, after every encounter with her, he was suddenly struck with the childhood memory of being taunted:
SON OF A HUNDRED MANIACS! SON OF A HUNDRED MANIACS! SON OF A—!
"Freddy?"

The gardener choked in surprise, hastily hid the flask in his coat when he saw Loretta.  He gasped and hacked, as the whiskey went down the wrong tube and snorted into his sinuses.

"Were you drinking?"

"Ack—nuh—hack—no, honey...," Freddy coughed.  "I'm fine."

"Are you sure you're okay?  Because—"

"Goddammit, you stupid fuckin' bitch, didn't you understand a fuckin' word I said?!  Why the hell won't you trust me when I say I'm all right?!" snarled Freddy, his voice bitter, slamming his fist against the horn.  Suddenly, he caught the look his wife's hurt, angry stare fixed upon him and quickly understood he'd lost his temper again.  It was one of the major issues of their marriage.  "I—I'm sorry, Loretta," staring down at his hands in guilt.  "I didn't mean to... to snap at you, like that."

Something told him that he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.

---

<< PREVIOUS - Chapter I: "The Gardener"
>> NEXT - Chapter III: "Of Sinners, Not Saints"