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Freddy Kruger was dead. More accurately, he was dead again. No longer could he reach the victims of his torment in their dreams. He had disappeared completely, but his hold on those he chased did not let go. Not yet. Trauma has a funny way of sticking with a person even as time passes. Perhaps it can slowly grow to be a lighter burden and perhaps one day they could finally shed themselves of the weight, but it would be a long time until Nancy or Quentin could do that.
Not only was there the trauma from the recent events, but now their suppressed childhood memories had resurfaced to the forefront of their minds. The first week after Freddy disappeared, the duo continued on their path of fear. They were still unsure of what was real and what was a dream. Neither of them could sleep without the other at their side. The first time Nancy had a trauma dream, she had cried in Quentin’s arms, fearful that Freddy had returned.
Even now, a month later, they still had irregular sleeping patterns and often talked on the phone during the late hours of the night just to keep their fears suppressed. Thankfully, their parents had not tried to separate them like before. They could not deny the damage that had been done and the two remaining Badham children could not and would not be separated. They had only tried once and it had resulted in Quentin becoming hostile towards his own father.
It was better now that time had passed, but trauma dreams still kept Quentin awake. It was harder and harder not to sleep anymore. His medication had become regulated by his father after Quentin had slipped into a moment of addiction. Even now, he craved more of the medication than the one pill a day he was given. He still was able to use coffee and energy drinks to try to keep himself awake, but even Nancy was trying to get him to relax.
Even now as they sat in the grass under the large oak tree, Quentin could not relax. Nancy hummed as she drew in her sketchpad. They had decided to hang out in the park near the edge of town to try to relax. How could Quentin relax though? He was exhausted and every time he fell asleep he continued to see that bastard and hear those claws scraping against pipes in a boiler room. How could he relax when he couldn’t even tell what was real and what was a dream?
Quentin absentmindedly patted his knees as his thoughts began to cloud his mind. It started slow at first, then he would pat more rapidly in short bursts as more thoughts came to the forefront of his mind. His right foot also fidgeted some, which is what caught Nancy’s attention. She looked over from her drawing to see Quentin patting and fidgeting.
“Hey,” She said softly. Quentin looked over coming out of his thoughts.
“You’re fidgeting again,” Nancy said. “Bad thoughts?”
Quentin nodded. He didn’t want to talk right now. He wasn’t sure if he could talk right now. Not with everything going on inside his brain at the moment. Nancy put her sketchpad to the side before she patted her lap. Quentin laid down, putting his head in her lap. Nancy removed his beanie, setting it on her sketchpad. Her hands then began to slowly move through his curls playing with them and moving in rhythmic motions.
“It’s alright,” Nancy said. “I know it’s a lot. We survived. He can’t hurt us now.”
“I know,” Quentin said softly. “But he’s still there.”
“He’s a monster and we have to forget him. Remembering is what he wanted. It’s going to be hard, but we can do it. I know we can. We just need time.”
Nancy’s fingers continued to move through his hair gently, pushing his bangs back. The repetitive motion was calming and Quentin found it hard to focus. He wanted to shut his eyes and sleep. His body screamed for rest, but his brain could not let him. Sleep was still a battlefield in Quentin’s life, despite the enemy being gone. He knew Nancy felt the same given the shadows that were still under her eyes. He wasn’t alone in his struggles. He had Nancy at his side and he had Nancy to protect.
Nancy began to hum softly. She ran one of her hands along Quentin’s face, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Quentin shut his eyes giving into her touch. Nancy was safety and stability. She was all that was good in the world and represented a life that Quentin could no longer have. A life where his greatest worries were his homework and whether or not Nancy liked him in return. He knew now of her love and Quentin felt blessed to have it. It was just a shame that he had found her love during the horror that was Freddy Krueger.
“Nancy?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Nancy leaned down and gently kissed Quentin’s forehead.
“I love you too, Quen.”
Quentin sighed, opening his eyes. Nancy was looking down at him and Quentin could have sworn he was peeking into heaven. The sunlight dappled through the leaves of the tree, illuminating Nancy’s head as she looked down at him, her hair falling into her face. He smiled, unable to contain his love of her.
“You’re beautiful,” He whispered.
Nancy blushed her eyes widening a bit in surprise. She smiled and peppered Quentin’s face in kisses causing him to laugh. She pulled back looking down at him.
“So are you.” She gently kissed his lips. Quentin was sure this had to be some kind of dream, a fantasy amongst the horror. He never believed that Nancy would like him or hold him like she did. He hoped that she was able to feel the same. He never wanted her to feel unloved or unwanted. After all, Quentin would throw himself in front of a moving train to protect her. He’d do practically anything to keep that smile on her face.
“Nancy?” Quentin asked. “Are we gonna be okay?”
Nancy nodded, pushing his bangs back. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Quentin reached a hand up to gently caress her face.
“I love you,” He whispered.
“Sleep, Quentin,” Nancy replied. “You need it. You’re safe here.”
“What about you?”
“Who do you think will be watching over you? I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s a lovely day and I have a lovely, sleepy boy in my lap. How could anything be bad?” Her fingers moved through his curls once again sending any protesting thoughts in Quentin’s brain away. His fidgeting had stopped and he could already feel himself beginning to slip away into sleep.
Quentin tried to speak, tried to once again let his affection for her bubble up out of him, but exhaustion took over. It had been at least two days since Quentin had properly slept after all and without the threat of actual death waiting for him in his dreams, it was even harder to deny the urge. He yawned and snuggled closer to Nancy’s lower tummy, nuzzling his face in happily.
“Sleep tight, cutie pie,” Nancy said as she tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.
Quentin drifted off peacefully.