Page 14 of The Nightmare King

I jumped as something beat against the door, splintering the wood. It wretched out and slammed back in. Leaning over the side of the top bunk, I witnessed the red heel of the axe shred through the flimsy door. In seconds, the door was a pile of broken wood, and the man kicked it in, stepping inside. Only his purple gaze and perfectly swept back hair isn’t what I beheld, no, his face was covered by a vintage, off-white hockey mask. He walked slowly to the center of the room, assessing the bunks, as I pulled the covers up and tried to sneak back into a dark corner of my bed.

Don’t notice me, please, don’t notice me.

That tall, broad, strong frame wore flannel and clutched the axe, looking impossibly menacing. Tonight he wasn’t a rogue prince, but a slasher from a terrible summer horror film. One I’d close my eyes when my dad bribed me with snacks to watch with him. I could almost taste the strawberry licorice as the axe slammed against the bottom post of the bed.

I could almost hear my dad’s soulful belly laugh while the bunk broke. A scream tore through my throat as I tumbled onto the floor, landing in front of the axe man’s two muddy boots. The mud from his ridged soles pressed roughly to my forehead as he angled my head to look up at him. Tears clouded my vision, I didn’t want to think about my dad, didn’t want the taste of red candy in my mouth. God, I missed my dad.

“If you’re going to kill me— do it,” I said up to the vintage hockey mask.

He angled his head like the predator he was, letting the axe swing over my nose like a pendulum. The blunt edge of the pendulum axe counted down my time like my murderer was the grandfather clock and I was the mouse beneath the boot of time and invisible space.

“You want to die?” he asked roughly, pressing his weight onto my forehead until it hurt, reminding me of his power, reminding me he could inflict very real pain, somehow, in this place.

I gritted my teeth together.

“Answer me,” he growled, resting the axe head on my neck, pushing out the air from my throat until I coughed.

I opened my eyes, wondering why I hadn’t woken up yet. Despite the pain and fear, I was pleasantly surprised to still be locked into this slasher-boy nightmare. “No,” I rasped. “I’m not answering that.”

A brusque chuckle pushed from behind the holes of the hockey mask. “Then I know what I need to do.”

“What—“

A scream tore from my throat as he reached down and grabbed my hair, pulling me across the floor and out over the remnants of the splintered door. Agony wailed through me, feeling the spikes of wood tore over my back as I held onto his wrist, fighting to get free. My pleas were ignored. As he pulled me down the stairs, my calves, my lower back, and my shoulders were all being beaten with each ungentle tug.

Digging my nails into his forearm, I fought to draw blood as he yanked me through the rocks and dirt until I heard the opposing gentle lap of waves. My battered body went from twisting and screaming over shards to sliding through mud. I craned my neck, my head and body on fire from pain. A lake, I realized only a moment before he violently threw me into it by my head. I sat up, coughing, and the axe went down next to me, making a splash in the shallow, murky water.

“I’ll ask you again.” He angrily grabbed my throat, pulling me to sit in the lake’s tide. “Do you want to die?”

My back burned, my head ached, my hair was matted around me, I was sure there was blood from my body marring the clear liquid around me brown. Behind the holes in his hockey mask, I caught a glimpse of his violet eyes. There he was. Always him. My nightmare.

He knelt into the water, pressing his masked forehead to my face, so close I could smell his earthy breath. “Answer me, Lilac.”

“I don’t want to die… but I don’t want to exist anymore. I don’t want to exist in a world without—without…” I braced for a slap, or to be plunged into the water, or worse— to wake up.

But he only stood, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his length. “Put this in your mouth and tell me you want to die.”

My mouth opened in a gasp as he yanked my hair again, pushing me deeper into the tide, forcing my chin up in a painful and desperate plea to keep from swallowing water. But as I fought for air, he shoved his cock down my throat in one harsh motion. With his other hand, he held the axe, the edge crooked under the back of my neck, pinning me between blood and him, between drowning on lake water and dick, within a nightmare that I loved for some sick, sick reason.

His length pulled sloppy gags from my mouth, with murky water and spit pouring from the sides of my lips. “Look at me,” he demanded, and I met his violet eyes. “Want to die on my cock, Lilac? Want to drown in a lake of my cum? Will that get the taste of licorice out of your mouth?”

It was ridding my tastebuds of the flavor of waxy candy. “How did you know that?” I swallowed his salty precum, letting my tongue roam the taut skin of his dick while the axe pushed my head closer and closer.

“How do I know?” he repeated, edged with the first hint of softness I’d received that night. “Suck harder,” he growled, and I obeyed. His head tilted back, displaying his Adam’s apple. I watched it bob as he groaned, and his thick release shot against the back of my throat. The waves lapped around my nose, and I coughed.

Just then tires screeched.

Someone screamed.

“Fuck.” He tightened his grip on a fistful of my hair as bright lights lit up the lake.

“Not again,” I cried, holding his fist on my hair. “Make them stop this time.”

“Only you can do that, Lilac.” People shouted, running into the water after us as alarms rang out across the camp. With one final violet glance— he shoved me into the cold expanse of the lake.

And I let it swallow me whole.

FREDDY

---