The weight I'd the air inside Phil's home was so overwhelmingly strong that I felt the glum mood even before the door was open to me. My first knock was so gentle, I didn't really expect anyone to hear, yet somehow they did. I guess part of the somber atmosphere came from the quiet of the the house. When the door was answered, Phil's mom was standing behind it. Her flushed face and glossy eyes made it obvious she'd been crying.

"Hi, Mrs. Johnson," I tried to speak pleasantly, but not too happily. I didn't want to add to the depression. Neither did I want to come off as insensitive. My face squirmed oddly between not frowning and not smiling. "I just came to check on Phil."

"Oh," the woman sniffed, offering a weak half-smile, "I don't think he will be coming to school today."

"May I come in and see him?" I asked softly.

She hesitated, then nodded, letting me past her where I walked to the bottom of the staircase and stood as she closed the home again. I had been there a few times before even though my mom liked to keep a tight leash on me so I didn't really hang out with others too often because I was afraid I'd do something wrong and be punished. The house had a similar structure as mine did. It seemed that most of the homes around here were a lot alike. At least in that regard. I waited in my spot while she turned around, rubbing her nose with another sniff.

"I don't know if he feels like company," she gestured up the stairs, "but he's in his room. Just go on up."

"Thank you," I gave a glimpse of a smile before beginning the ascent. I didn't know how my mom would react if she knew I had been alone with a guy or even that I'd gone somewhere else other than school...but I was getting to the point I didn't care much. Life was hell as it was. What would a few punishments really tack on, to make me more dead than I already was?

The stairs creaked with every step- the only sound in the place and slowing or quickening my pie or deepening my tread didn't seem to make a difference. So I ignored the annoying noise and just finished my trek. I hadn't made a decision on what I was going to tell him about the previous night...my encounter with Freddy... Or if I was going to say anything at all.

Reaching his room, I found that the door wasn't completely closed. I tapped lightly with the back of my knuckles and got no response. I didn't want to leave,but knocking louder felt rude to me so instead I slowly pushed the door open and popped my head inside. Phil was laying in bed on his back, wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. The covers beneath him were messy and he had hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, face emotionless and still.

"Phillip?" I almost whispered, venturing further in.

I stopped just beside the bed, putting my hand his shoulder. He hadn't moved or taken any notice of me. He simply laid there, gazing into nothingness. He was breathing; I could see the small up and down movement of his chest. It was an odd scenario and part of me wondered if he was ignoring me because he was angry with me. I reached up and began rubbing the muscle of his shoulder between my fingers, putting on a portrait of concern on my face.

"Are you OK?" I asked in a whisper that sounded loudly.

His face twitched, but he stayed as he was and continued his silence. Retreating my hand, my mind began convincing me he was upset with me. Didn't want to see me... I carefully pedaled back away from him and to the door. "Is there anything I can do for you?" I tried once more before I left.

He sighed as he blinked and turned his head to see me, "No, Frankie. I...I just don't know what to do. All I can think about is killing the son of a bitch who did this to her..."

Hearing Phil's strong voice crack at the end of those words put a pang in my heart. I didn't know what to say. Nothing I did could make him feel better and to be honest, if I wasn't stuck in that room with him, I wouldn't even be worried about it. Every time a hint of this Freddy touched my mind, I felt excitement even though I hid it. But having to be part of his pain made me uncomfortable and I wanted that discomfort to end.

After several moments without reply from me, the boy shot up in his bed, flinging his legs over the side of the bed. His expression had changed from sad to furious, "The police are saying they haven't ruled out the possibility of suicide," he scoffed, "I know my girl, Frankie. She would never do that. Not after her brother..."

I bit my lip, wanting to speak, but also afraid I'd say the wrong thing. Amy's brother had been fifteen when he shot himself. He had been diagnosed with a chemical imbalance which caused him to experience very severe mood swings. Not exactly like bipolar but similar. He had been having a particularly rough time and hit a depressed spell. He found his father's gun one night and blew through his own head. No notes, no warnings. He was just gone. Amy was five years younger than him.

"Amy was a very strong person," I finally said, "And you made her happy."

"I know!" Phillip cried, "That's what I'm saying! She-she wouldn't have done this...if something was wrong she would have talked to me and..." he stopped suddenly like a though had struck him.

I sat down on the bed beside him, my gaze never faltering, "What is it?"

"It's just..." he sighed, looking down at his hands in lap, "Those nightmares she had been having...She acted like they were nothing, but I knew they were scaring her."

"They were just bad dreams," I gave. The conversation had convinced me not to say anything about my own nightmare.

"Yeah, maybe, but..." he looked up at me again, "But don't you think it's weird how a week after she started having them, she was murdered? Especially after the same thing has been happening to other people?"

"Phil," I scooted closer to him, something was telling me to steer him away from his current line of thought, "Dreams are very influential. I mean...you and I could easily have the same dreams because Amy had told us about them. Besides," I put my hand on his, "A lot of those kids have had the nightmares longer than her and they're still alive."

Turning his attention back to his lap, where my hand was now resting within his, Phil took in a breath before his eyes returned focus to me. Taking in his deep, shadowed eyes didn't sadden me or even make me feel worried. It actually...made me feel happy. It was as if so long as someone was hurting that wasn't me, I could be content. And...the dialogue was also setting in stone the reality of Freddy.

Thinking of the dream demon and staring at the sorrow in my friend's eyes...both were arousing. I wanted to lean closer to Phillip and lock my lips with his, taking in the full extent of his despair.  My insides clenched and I wondered if our close proximity allowed him to feel this...

Before I knew it happened, our lips had touched and we exchanged sweet suffering for a few precious minutes before he finally pushed me away. My eyes quickly re-adjusted to my surroundings and took in the sight of my friend standing, towering above me, hands on his head and tears in his eyes.

"I-I shouldn't have done that..I just..." he didn't look at me as he muttered the words.

I swallowed, quickly licking my lips before he could see, and rising from the bed as well. He instantly made a safe distance between us. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

"No, I, it's my fault," I said, unable to tell if I actually cared or not, but feeling quite awkward nonetheless.

The boy sat down again, at last looking at me and with a grin, "We've both taken in a lot. I think we just need some time to recover."

I smiled weakly, "Yeah."

There was a short pause and then I walked to the door, placing a hand on the knob and glancing back at my friend. "I think I'm gonna stay home today too. So call me if you need anything or just want to talk or...or whatever."

"Ok," he replied, "Same here."

And with that, I left. Downstairs, I heard some light sobs coming from the den. I ignored them and let myself out the front door. Now, I knew I really was messed up. How could I be so selfish? And moreover, how could I long for others to be in pain? And not just anyone, but my friends...good people shouldn't have to suffer...

I exhaled sharply while I kept walking down the side of the street. Friends? I guess... Was this really friendship? Or just familiarity? Didn't being friends with someone mean you wanted to spend time with them...missed their company and really cared for their happiness? People who liked you for you in spite of how ducked up you could be at times? A person you didn't have to pretend with...

I had to admit at that point, I didn't know. If that was what a friend was...I guess I didn't actually have any. I felt no sorrow over Amy's death. In fact, I had felt more content these past couple of days than I had in a long while. It was like...the fewer people there were around me, the less I had to hide myself.

My mind went back to the man I saw in my dreams...the man that had to be real even though it sounded illogical... No, actually with what I knew, what others knew...logic would suggest it was so... Right? If god, if Satan...all these paranormal beings could be real like I had been taught... Then why was the existence of a dream demon impossible?

Maybe we can help each other...

His words repeated over and over inside my head. The image of that evil smirk flashed in my mind. Those dirty teeth and determined eyes all set within his charred flesh... Suddenly I was reminded of the pain when his claws cut into me and tore down my front...

"Francine!"

I shook my head and focused on what was around me. I was just a door down from my home. I didn't realize how much time had passed. Mom was standing outside, her arms crossed, gazing out after me. As I neared, she spoke again.

"Mrs. Johnson called me. She said that you were over there," I couldn't tell if she was worried or angry.

"I wasn't sure if Phil would be at school so I stopped by there on the way," I explained nervously.

The woman placed her hand on my shoulders, "Yes, she told me that he was staying home today. So does that mean you will be too?"

I nodded, "Yes ma'am."

She let go of me, "Come in. Finish breakfast and then you can rest, ok?"

"Ok, Mom," I mumbled, trying to keep my dirty thoughts at bay whilst in her presence.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:: Chapter originally written 10/21/2015
Chapter rewritten 10/28/2017