His piercing eyes glared at them, "You made me kill my own daughter."

Nancy growled, "You did that a long time ago!"

Freddy took a step forward, Quentin shoving a piece of glass into his leg, making the man to scream in pain.

"Hurts huh?" Nancy gloated, "Welcome to my world, bitch!" she swung the blade across his neck, Freddy falling to the ground beside Katherine; father and daughter dead once more.

Quentin took a box of matches, setting the entire place on fire, "C'mon, Nancy," the two of them ran out of the preschool building, finding Fire Department, First Aid, and Police surrounding the area as the school burst into flames, no one but the two teenagers knowing who's bodies lay inside. As they rode home in the radio car, Quentin took her hand, "It's over."

Nancy nodded, looking out the window, a set of piercing blue eyes staring back at her, "I'll be back, Nancy."

Leaves swirled in the cool, afternoon air, painting the sky with shades of amber and gold. The college campus bustled with soft conversations and hurried footsteps as students made their way from class to class. Fall semester had just begun, and the buzz of excited energy from the freshman class could be felt throughout the crowds. Sophomores were less enthused, but still happy to see friends made in their previous year. Juniors and seniors, while the least thrilled about their journey, were happy to know that it was almost over, sooner for some than others.

Eyes cast downward, she made her way through the groups of students, her brunette hair braided gently behind her. Wrapped comfortably in a dark hoodie for warmth against the crisp breeze, her path took her towards the western campus building. She always was sure to be early for her art history class, so she was certain to get her usual seat, not too close to the front, but not too far back so she could see the work in front of her. Years had made her near-sighted, and the tortoise shell glasses that framed her light blue gaze were proof of that. The classroom was quiet, only a small attendance usually showed to this class, as it was too early for any other member of the student body to deem it necessary until the last possible moment to scramble for those remaining credits in order to pass.

Taking her seat, she removed the well-worn notebook from her tote bag, the box of her charcoal pencils clattering noisily as no other sound was being made at the time. Once she was comfortable, the young woman finally removed her hoodie, draping it over the back of her chair before turning her attention to the front of the classroom, seeing the professor enter slowly, his morning coffee in one hand, a balancing act of books in his other.

"Hello everyone, thank you for choosing to spend this brisk Monday morning with yours truly. For those of you who are new to Springwood Community College, or as we call it SCC, my name is Professor Harker. I will be your guide through the history of art culture and its application in the goings on of the world over the many years. Now, since it is our first day, I am just going to do a quick role of attendance, and then we'll get started. Just raising your hand is fine…Collin Stimpson…Emma Palmisano…Fiona Hayworth…"

One by one hands raised, some names remained vacant of attendance, which was expected, but when her name arose, she was met with a soft smile from Professor Harker.

"Ah, Miss Nancy Holbrook, pleasure to have you back with us this year," his eyes twinkled in her direction, and Nancy gave a gentle nod of silent recognition. Nancy hadn't spoken much to anyone the past few years, save for Quentin, who had opted to go to college out of state. The two had drifted apart since that night, the night that plagued Nancy's dreams endlessly. She thought it had been over, they thought it would stop. But she'd made Nancy a promise, a promise that she'd be back, and lately she had delivered with force.

She closed her eyes as the visual began to replay itself, trying to stop it with all of her might before she had a scene, "Go away," she whispered to herself, forcing the visions to disperse, "go away," again, with urgency as she heard in the distance of whispers Professor Harker beginning his lesson. Finally, there was silence when the classroom door burst open.

"Uh young man, class is starting," Professor Harker quipped irritably at the intrusion. Nancy opened her eyes and gasped at the person standing in the doorway.

"Quentin," her mouth agape in shock as she saw the ragged young man look around the room lazily.

"Sorry Professor, I just transferred here from Montclair…this is art history, right?" his voice hadn't changed, that soft slur of words, the sleepy look of his eyes, Nancy smiled to herself at the unchanging appearance of her old friend. They hadn't spoken in months, since the beginning of the summer, if she remembered correctly. Their last interaction hadn't been a pleasant one, it was when they had finally decided to break up, and they had argued over what they always argued about.

"You just can't let it go, can you Nanc?! It's like you want it to start all over again!"

Tears brimmed her eyes as she watched him pace around her bedroom, they had been arguing about one dream she'd had last week, and he was blowing it out of proportion. "It's the last thing I want, and you know that! But I am serious, Quentin, when Katherine swore to me that she'd be back, I'm scared that she's trying! She's really trying!"

He stopped his path of fury and stared at her, his fists clenching angrily, "And what if she's not, huh? What if this is just some-some fucked up psychosis in your head that you just can't let go!"

Nancy sat in shock, her eyes wide at his statement, "Are you saying I'm crazy?"

"I'm saying that it's time to move on, Nancy. And if you can't do that…then I can't do this anymore. The more you feed into it, the worse it's going to get for you. You know this, and I know this. I've forgotten all about her, about them. Why can't you?"

It was after that conversation that Quentin had walked out of her life and never came back, she hadn't heard a word from him until seeing him standing in her classroom right now. Pulling her hoodie roughly over her head as quickly as possible, she ducked down to hide beneath the oversized hood as she watched beneath the fabric as he took a seat a row in front of her. He hadn't seemed to notice her, and she was grateful, now she just needed the professor to not call on her during class. Something she knew was impossible.

"Nancy? Perhaps you can tell us the different techniques used in the Renaissance period for portrait artwork?"

She sighed, closing her eyes before lifting her head up to look around the room. Sure enough, Quentin was staring right at her. He didn't seem shocked to see her, his green eyes boring into her with little interest, however, it was enough acknowledgement to make her feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Uhm, Mr. Harker, can I be excused for a moment, please?" she spoke quietly, eyes flitting to the door in a silent signal.

He nodded, "Sure, no problem, how about you, uh…Quentin?"

Nancy didn't stay to hear his answer, she ran from the lecture hall as quickly as possible, finding the nearest bench to collapse and cry. Why? Why now did he have to come back and make her remember? Didn't he realize that he brought up memories just as much as she did? Her breathing slowed; eyes red from tears as she wiped her runny nose on her hoodie sleeve. She'd make it up to the professor, obviously, but she chose not to return to the classroom, opting to take a walk around the courtyard. It wasn't until she heard a pair of footsteps matching her own, that she brought her attention to the person walking next to her.

Quentin.

"What are you doing here?" she bit angrily, turning to change their trek's direction towards the campus fountain.

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I uh, I moved back home. Dad's sick, so I'm living with the grandparents for a little bit while he's in the hospital."

Nancy nodded, she'd heard about Quentin's father being diagnosed with cancer, her eyes found him apologetically, "You don't like art history."

"But you do," he stated plainly, "I wanted to see you, to see how you've been," he kicked a stray pile of leaves, obviously nervous, "I…I missed you, Nancy."

She sighed, more tears starting to form, "You just left. You up and left without even saying goodbye. Four months of nothing, Quentin, and you just expect me to say that I missed you? After you stood right in front of me and called me crazy!"

Quentin grabbed her hand quickly, pulling her towards him, "You're not crazy, Nanc, okay? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for saying all those things. You were right all along; she is trying to come back. I've seen her, in my dreams. She tries to talk to me, I don't answer, and when I don't, she gets angry, I can feel it. Please, Nancy you gotta believe me."

A dry chuckle left her lips, looking around her to make sure no one was listening, "So now you believe me? It's pretty convenient, don't you think?"

"You see her too now, don't you? I can tell by your eyes; you're not sleeping well."

"I don't sleep well, period, Quentin. No thanks to you," she pulled her arm from his grip, "I won't deny that I see her, because I do, but she isn't terrorizing me. She's just there. If she's bothering you then she's picked you first," Nancy made to walk away, but stopped, "I'm sorry, Quentin. I really am," and she kept walking.

The last thing she ever wanted was to be called crazy, and he had done just that. What happened to Quentin now was on him, she wanted nothing to do with it.

AN: Hello devoted readers! 'Tis I, your beloved author, with a taste of what's to come! I was going to upload this in a separate story link, however I decided that I would make it easier for you all to find by just expanding from here! Our Katherine Kreuger saga is far from over, dear friends, and while it has been many years since the inspiration bug has hit me for this story, it is high time I began writing it once again. So hang on tight, because it's gonna be a bumpy ride!