nightmare_nancy

The way society seems to be going these days, I don’t think a lot of people would do anything. Most would just walk right past the person, and a few might even spare a quick glance. Here’s the thing: if I were the one crying in the street, I would appreciate it if someone took a few minutes from their lives to see what was wrong. So, what would I do? I would stop, ask the person if they needed any help, and try to get them somewhere a little safer.

 Most people would likely scoff if they heard me – Yeah, sure, they’d think; she’d really stop. I guess just because you say something doesn’t mean it’s true, but actions speak louder than words. I know what it’s like to need help, to reach out to those around you and be turned away every time. I know what it feels like to be alone and scared, and if I can do something to help that, damn right I’ll do it.

 There’s a major lack of human interaction these days. Everyone is so concerned with themselves; they don’t have time for anyone else. But the next time you see someone who looks like they need help, stop and think. If that person were you, would you want someone to take a moment and care? Or would you want them to walk right by, as if you didn’t exist at all?
 

 “I know that, baby. But you need to get better first.” His jaw tightens. “I need you to get better first.”

 Nancy glances around the visitation room – there’s no one within earshot, so she leans her body forward, lowering her voice. “You know I’m not crazy. Please, Daddy… you know I’m not. Why are you doing this to me?”

 When her father finally raises his eyes, she’s taken aback by the pain within them. If she looks hard, she can even see a thin sheen of tears. “Oh, Nancy. Nancy…” he trails off, his voice breaking. She’s in shock at the sight of her father, who she always thought of as invincible – he was a cop, for chrissake – displaying such raw emotion. “Nancy, why can’t you just admit it was all a dream and come home?” He’s actually pleading with her now, begging her. In that moment, Nancy realizes that her father will never be able to accept the truth. He knows what really happened to Tina, Glen, Rod, and her mother… but for all his strength, it wasn’t enough for this.

 She can continue to stick to her story, and spend the rest of her life – or at least, a good portion of it – in this damn hospital. Or… she could deny the truth, like her father had. She could soothe his pain with a few simple words.

 Nancy hesitates. Three years she had been in this place, and for three years she and her father had been opponents on opposite sides, each refusing to back down. Maybe it was time to cross the line, to get her life – and her Daddy – back.

 She reaches out and grasps his hands in hers, smiling sadly. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll do it. I’ll say it was all a dream, and Krueger was just a figment of my imagination, and I realize that now.” Somewhere within herself, she knows it’s a lie – she’ll never truly deny the truth – but for now, he doesn’t need to know that. He returns her smile, the first she’s seen from him in a while, and gives her hands a squeeze; and she knows that she did the right thing… for now, at least.
 

Is redemption possible? Of course. People make mistakes all the time, some more serious than others, but they can make up for it if they truly want to. There are some, though, who don’t want redemption. Some who enjoy causing pain and suffering, and feel not even a tiny bit of regret or remorse. They don’t deserve redemption, nor do they want it, so it isn’t possible.

I guess some people can say they’ve redeemed themselves without it being true. I mean, how many people say they’re sorry for something when they’re really not? Personally, I don’t count that as redemption. If it isn’t sincere, then it doesn’t mean a thing. Like some people like to say, anything is possible. Does that mean it’ll happen? Maybe. Sometimes it takes a while for people to redeem themselves, either because they don’t want it at first, they don’t think they deserve it, or what they’re trying to make up for is just so great.

 I think my father wants to redeem himself in my eyes, but he doesn’t know how. I wish… I wish I could tell him it doesn’t matter, that I know he did what he thought was right. But he won’t listen… sometimes, people just won’t listen.

Oh, God. This is really one of those questions that’ll be argued forever, and probably never be resolved. I’m not sure what I think, really. Obviously, laws exist for a reason, and doesn’t breaking them undermine that?  Laws are supposed to ensure safety and provide justice, but what about the times when the law actually prevents justice from being served?

My parents were murderers – but they broke the law for justice. Even as kids, we know the good guys always beat the bad guys. But that’s not how life is… sometimes, the bad guys don’t get what they deserve. A child killer went free on a technicality, so my parents and the others broke the law to give him what he deserved – something the law failed to do.

 I’m not saying I agree entirely with what my parents did. I just… now, I can understand why they did it. I believe that sometimes the law needs to be broken, because let’s be honest – laws aren’t perfect, and they only go so far. Others might disagree with me, and I might disagree with them. But the world is far from right and wrong… if only things could be that simple, right?
 

 I’m not proud of it, but I’ve asked my father for money.

 Don’t get me wrong – it’s not as if I just sat around and lived off my dad’s help. My parents had some money saved up for college, which helped, and I took whatever job I could get. Being picky went out the window after I was released from the psychiatric hospital. I couldn’t go home, since my dad had sold the house, and he wasn’t the same man anyways. He turned to drinking instead of facing the truth, so I had to find my own place.

 It wasn’t easy. I managed to put a down payment on a ratty little apartment with some savings, and I got a job as a waitress in a diner. I forced myself to spend as little as possible, and I got quite good at bargain-hunting. I went through a string of different jobs, taking anything I could get – well, almost anything. I still had my dignity.

A few months before I decided to go to college, I called my father and asked for his help. He agreed, but only if I would admit none of it ever happened – ‘it’ is quite a long story, by the way, one I’d rather not go in to.

 So, I swallowed my pride and lied to my father, and he helped me out. We started to get closer, but when I couldn’t keep lying anymore, he refused to talk to me.

What else do you do when you’re broke? You do whatever you have to do. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.