On the Edge of Insanity

Nightmare

Holly's P.O.V

I woke up at four AM to the phone ringing. I got up, rubbing my eyes, and answered it.

"Hello? Holly Munro here. Who is this?"

"Oh, Holly! Good, you're here. We need your help," Lockwood's voice said through the phone.

"OK. What should I do?"

"Well, first, you're going to need a LOT of iron filings."

Two hours later...

"397 Garden Houses, please," I say to the taxi driver. The car peels out of the driveway.

As we navigate through the streets, I stare out the window and contemplate the clouds.

That one looks like George's face after eating, that one looks like Lockwood's failed attempt at drawing a specter, that one looks like the skull, that one looks like Lucy's desk...

A few clouds later, there's suddenly a violent THUD-THUD, and I'm thrown into the seat in front of me with the impact.

I push off the seat and settle back into mine, seething. "What was that for!?"

The driver turns partially around. "Sorry. Bump in the road."

I am so not going to calm down THAT easily. "A bump in the road. Right. The bump that wasn't there yesterday?"

He sighs. "Yes. This morning, a truck spilled eleven tons of iron chains right there. It cracked the tarmac."

"Oh."

I spend the rest of the drive in silence.

When we arrive at the house, I pay the driver, hop out, and gaze in disgust at the crumbling walls of the haunted manor.

Someone at least should have painted it.

... Although, I suppose it'll make my job easier.

I sigh.

Never mind. Just start working, Holly.

Lockwood's P.O.V

I set down the phone, satisfied that Holly was going to follow through with the plan. The only challenge now would be getting Lucy to accept going back to that... evil house.

I was having trouble with it myself. All the memories that I had forgotten were slowly returning. Myself, accidentally sitting beyond the iron chains. The ghost, sneaking up behind me me and sticking it's hand through my back. Me, when George asked a question about Jessica, completely snapping and yelling at him, kicking the wall. Most likely providing the ghost with an incredible amount of psychic energy. Only talking to him again after the blackout.

I really hadn't been acting like myself.

I glanced over at Lucy, still asleep, and suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit me. My body did not want to be up at four AM. I walked back over to my bed, slid under the blanket, and went to sleep.

George's P.O.V

I knew Lockwood would not take kindly to being woken up at any earlier than about seven o'clock in the morning, so I just stood by the bed and watched him, knowing that eventually he would sleep talk. He always did when he was having a nightmare. 

Sure enough, around six he started thrashing about like a drowning animal, wailing softly.

"No... no!" he flipped over, stuck his head into his pillowcase, and put his arms around it like he was protecting himself against something.

"Please... don't hurt me... I need to find her!" he whispered through the fabric. He sounded terrified out of his mind.

Find her? 'Her' who? Lucy? Holly? His mum or sister?

Suddenly, I heard a soft yawning-groaning noise come from the bed across the walkway.

A very familiar-sounding yawn-groan.

Lucy.

I quickly slipped behind Lockwood's bed. It, thankfully, was one of those ones that's elevated a few extra inches from the ground, so that I could crawl under. If it had been just a millimeter closer to the ground, I wouldn't have fit.

I peeked out from under the edge of the comforter and saw Lucy coming towards us. She sat next to Lockwood and pulled the pillowcase off his head. He immediately did something that caused the bed to shake violently(I couldn't see what it was) and she reached out and put a hand on his forehead, stroking hair out of his face. "It's OK, Lockwood. It's just a dream."

He audibly relaxed. I made a mental note to send Lucy in whenever he got a nightmare back home at 35 Portland row.

"But... Lucy... George is dead."

I froze.

What? Was he dreaming about ME having died?

"No, Lockwood, George is fine. You're only dreaming."

Slowly, I felt the mattress shift above me as Lockwood(I'm guessing) let go of the pillow.

"Lucy?" he said, very quietly.

"Yes?"

A pause.

I waited.

"... Was that all just a dream?"

Lucy nodded. "Yes. George is perfectly alive and well. But, however..." He said something to Lockwood in an undertone, so I couldn't hear. All I did hear was, "archives."

Hmm? Was she... Asking for time to do research? That was not like Lucy. Usually, when fighting a ghost, she was right up front being reckless with Lockwood. But... For some reason, this time was different.

Maybe the visions had told her to?

Unexpectedly, Lockwood took in a sharp breath, like he had just realized something. "Lucy-"

The rest of the sentence was muffled as I shifted to itch my side.

Lucy started laughing. "Lockwood," she choked out between laughs, "That's what you're worried about? Nobody's even going to notice."

I didn't even know what she was laughing about, but it was contagious. I laughed, just a little bit.

Immediately their laughter stopped. The comforter was slowly, slowly, lifted away, to reveal the astonished faces of Lucy J Carlyle and Anthony J Lockwood.

"George?!"