I'm Still Seeing Dead People

Chapter Eight: Farewell, Freddy

A/N: Have any of you guys ever seen THE MERKINS on Youtube? They make some parodies of songs, but make them about slashers. I'll link some of my favorites at the end of this chapter. Also, I was wondering: Do you guys think that I should put in a birthday chapter? Like, the reader's (I.E. you) birthday? Mine's coming up, and I think it would be an interesting idea.

You didn't care that Jed looked mad. You were more upset with Freddy. He had just killed Tiffany and shredded her unborn child like cheese. Yeah, you understood he was mad. He and Charles were pretty close, but he wouldn't kill for him! Well, he just did, but still!

"Nope. Nope. I am not dealing with angry children at stupid o'clock in the morning. I am going to bed." Jeff put his hands up, turned around, and stomped upstairs. You heard him murmuring about how it was 'too early for this' the whole way up.

Freddy followed suit, and so did everyone else. Except Michael.

"Michael, she was pregnant." You started, your voice quavering. "She was pregnant and Freddy knew it."

"I know. I don't know why he went out of his way to kill her and the child. I will talk to him tomorrow."

"No. You talk to him now."

"If it's that dire to you, his room is the third floor up from here."

You scoffed and pushed passed Michael, attempting to go to bed. Michael grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled you back. You yelped and fell backwards onto the floor.

"What was that for?"

"Do not push me."

"Man up." You rolled your eyes and stood up. You squeezed past Michael this time, not wanting to repeat the process.

You swore you heard say something, but that wasn't possible. Michael didn't talk. He physically couldn't. It sounded like he said, "Rude." You weren't even sure it was Michael, if it was said. There's nearly a dozen other people in this house.

You went up to bed, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

"You alright?" Billy asked, seeing your glassy eyes.

"Leave me alone."

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Freddy's a heavy sleeper, I know that. I ain't know much, but that's one thing I do. Freddy made me real mad. He took my kill. I wanted to kill Tiffany because she wasn't never nice to me. I wanted to kill her, but Freddy did it first.

I never liked Freddy. Freddy was always picking on me, bullying me about everything wrong with me. My speech, which wasn't all there. When I could talk, I stuttered a whole lot. He made fun of my brain. It ain't my fault things ain't right in there. He mocks me all the time for my fear of power. He can blame my daddy. All he ever did was yell at me. Never not yelling or screaming or telling me how horrible I am.

So, when Freddy killed Tiffany, my useless brain finally did something right.

'Freddy's gotta go," It had said. 'If you make him go real good, daddy 'ill be real proud of you. He ain't gonna yell no more.'

I didn't want daddy to yell at me no more. I hated it. So, I went and listened.

I waited for the next nighttime, when no one would see me or hear me. And 'cause Freddy sleeps like Franklin- Hardesty, I think was the last half of his name- he wouldn't wake up while I moved him. I might even put some melon-tonin in his whiskey at supper.

Thinking about supper just made me real mad. Tiffany always cooked real good food. She made these real good chocolate chip cookies that made me feel happy. Now, I wasn't gonna get no more cookies. I wasn't even planning on telling her I liked 'em, 'cause I hated her guts, but they were real nice.