Below is a fictional story

...
_

Claire entered the doctor's office and immediately felt a shiver come over her. She saw from the nameplate on the desk that she was assigned to Dr. Frost-Jack Frost from her comic book. Was she about to confess her life's story to a serial killer?

She shook her head.

"No. This all has to be some kind of weird coincidence."

It was too eerie to be a coincidence, and Claire realized that when she saw the doctor's face. There were the tell-tale piercing blue eyes and longish scraggly dirty blonde hair, just like she drew him. He was flashing a weird expression, like a half grin half scowl as he scrawled something on a pad. Claire felt her blood run cold as he walked up to her.

"Where do you want to begin?" Dr. Frost asked. His eyes were surprisingly warm.

Claire tried to shake off the shock.

"You're not really Jack Frost-you're not really Jack Frost." Claire whispered, terrified.

The doctor quirked an eyebrow.

Claire swallowed hard.

"What brings you here today? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Not a ghost, a killer, but what are you doing outside of my comic book? Claire thought.

The thought only lingered for a few seconds before Claire smiled at how ridiculous it all was.

Get a hold of yourself, Claire.

"Y-you aren't g-going to b-believe t-this."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" the doctor asked. He wore a concerned look, eyebrows down.

Claire swallowed hard.

"N-no, n-no." Claire said.

She swallowed again.

Claire smiled and laughed again.

This man just looks like Jack Frost, but Jack Frost is fictional. it's only a coincidence. What's wrong with me?

"I-I'm not sure you would believe it at all, doctor," Claire said.

"Try me," the doctor said, flashing an odd-looking grin.

She couldn't shake the eerie feeling. It was ridiculous, though, wasn't it? There was no real reason to not trust him, was there?

"I-I've gotten this weird feeling t-that I-I'm i-in a c-comic b-book."

"You what?" the doctor asked.

"I-I k-know it's ridiculous. I've been trying to convince myself, but it seems like it happened after comic con-"

Claire proceeded to try to tell the doctor everything she remembered.

Claire J Robin sat at the table signing comic books. She had flown out to the latest comic con to promote one of her new books.

My arm hurts, she thought.

Lazily, she took a sip of water from her glass and yawned.

So many people turned up, wearing costumes that looked like her characters this year. There were people in black cowls with scythes and a headband, people dressed in lab coats with slicked back white hair, and people pretending to walk alien pets.

"Don't these people have any real lives?" Claire whispered to herself.

Fans were amusing and strange. It's amazing how people reacted to her stories. She had quite the cult following, people arguing over which powers her characters were going to use in the next issue.

She yawned again. At first, all of it was exciting. She remembered how she made her first debut by posting on an Indy comics website. A few years later, she went to her first comic con as a creator and it all grew from there.

Now, it was getting old. She had run the same comic for over ten years and tread over almost every possible storyline for her characters. She was ready to end the series and suffering from a bit of writer's block. The fans wouldn't let it go, though.

It had been six hours. She needed a break. She took another sip of water and let out another yawn.

"Will you sign my limited edition cover?" a young fan asked.

Claire looked at the little girl and gave a sigh.

"What's wrong?" the little girl asked.

She shook herself and sat up straight.

"Nothing, sorry."

Claire took the comic and hurriedly drew her signature on it.

"Here you go little girl."

The girl timidly took the comic.

"Thanks, Ms. Robin! You're my hero!"

Claire smiled, flashing her pearly white teeth.

The little girl walked off.

Claire sighed and rubbed her head.

I have a headache, she thought.

She drank some more water hoping it would go away. Claire pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Comic con was always so tiring. She was ready to go home.

She looked at her watch. The convention would be over in another hour.

Claire rubbed her head again. This time there was a pinching sensation in the back of her head.

"Ow!" She audibly yelped due to the pain. A wave of pain came that felt like a little part of her brain was on fire. It was a quick burst of pain followed by some light tingling. She tried to ignore it.

Then, she started feeling queasy. She reached for her glass of water and gulped down a few mouthfuls to settle her uneasy stomach.

The sound of teenagers talking excitedly caught her attention. There were more fans wanting their book covers autographed. Claire picked up the pen and tried not to vomit on the table. It felt kind of like the room was spinning. She struggled to focus on the comic book cover while she shakily held the pen and began scrawling her name.

Just then, water began consuming the page. Ink ran onto her fingers. The water glass was tipped over.

"My comic!"

"I-I'm sorry," Claire apologized.

The startled teen yanked the comic off of the table and walked away.

Claire felt herself vomit into her mouth a little, but she swallowed hard to keep it down.

She looked at a clock on the wall. The convention was finally over. She could leave and go back to her hotel room and hopefully sleep off whatever was going on.

Once Claire got to the hotel, the pain in her head was almost unbearable. With some remaining strength, she reached for the hotel phone in her room and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1 what is your emergency?"

"M-my head…" Claire said before dropping the phone and crying out in pain.

She didn't remember much more after they loaded her into the ambulance, only that she woke up in a hospital bed being lectured.

"Do you have a lot of stress in your life? Your blood pressure was through the roof. You're lucky you didn't go into a coma," the nurse said.

Claire sat up and rubbed her head.

"Am I okay?" she asked.

"Yes, but you need to be more careful."

Claire was released from the hospital a day later. She returned to her hotel room. Comic con was over, and it was time for her to get a flight back home. Oddly, the airport was closed. They said it was because of suspected terrorist activity.

She promptly booked another hotel room and decided to explore the town.

Something was a little off, though. It sounded strange, but it didn't feel like the town she was in a day ago. The landmarks were just a little different. This part of the city looked smaller than usual? It also seemed oddly familiar somehow. Even though this was a new place, she felt like she knew it.

Upon stepping out and walking into the first store, she noticed something. It felt new yet somehow familiar-the layout of the clothes and the purses. Maybe she had been to this store before?

"Excuse me, what is the name of this store?"

"Elliot's" the clerk replied.

This was so familiar.

"Elliot's...let's see...oh I have an Elliot's in my comic book!" Claire exclaimed, suddenly remembering why the name sounded so familiar.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"I'm Michelle."

"Oh? What a coincidence. I have a Michelle who runs a store in my comic."

The clerk rolled her eyes.

"Are you buyin anything?" The clerk's tone was sharp and annoyed.

Claire immediately picked out a pink purse with sequins.

"This."

Claire returned from her flashback. The doctor had a hand on his chin and was leaning forward, enrapt in her story.

"...and it's been that way the whole time since my flight got delayed. I've run into places-restaurants, strip malls, malt shops, the mall-they're all from my comics."

"You mean they remind you of your comics?"

"They're just like my comics. At first, I thought this town was doing some weird tribute to me, but this place is right out of a comic book-the people, the places, everything. Even...even you. I know that's crazy."

The doctor sat back in his chair.

"I see." Dr. Frost looked contemplative.

"Tell me, have you considered hypnosis? It sounds like you're under a lot of stress and maybe you seeing these places as places you've written about is a sign that your mind is overworked?"

Claire let out an exasperated sigh. At this point, she was willing to try something to start feeling normal again. Why not let this man who looks like one of her comic book characters hypnotize her? It made about as much sense as anything else.

Carefully, she laid back in the chair while the doctor counted slowly.

"Now, look at me and listen to the sound of my voice."

Jack Frost can hypnotize people just by looking at them, Claire thought. Of course this man isn't really Jack Frost. Haven't I convinced myself?

Claire locked eyes with the doctor and everything went black.

When she woke up, the doctor was standing over her.

"Well, how do you feel?"

"W-was I supposed to pass out?"

"You fell asleep, but I gave you some helpful suggestions. Hopefully, you'll start feeling better."

You're not getting better, Claire. It was a very loud thought. It almost felt like someone was whispering it to her.

Claire left the clinic and returned to her hotel room.

"What's that?" Claire heard.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" She asked.

There was nothing.

Claire looked around her hotel room and didn't see anyone or anything. The TV wasn't on, either.

"Claire, oh Claire, you're going crazy, Claire."

No one was there, but what she heard was getting worse. She put her hands over her ears and tried to shut it all out.

"Boo!" she heard. Then, there was the sound of laughing.

Claire immediately picked up the phone and called 9-1-1 again.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"Hang up!"

"I-I'm hearing voices!"

Claire was quickly admitted into the psych ward.

Days or perhaps weeks had passed.

Claire was shaking. The voices were so loud, and she felt sick and dizzy. She balled herself into a fetal position and started crying.

"Claire, you're so worthless and stupid"

"So stupid"

"Stupid"

"Stop!" Claire shouted to the wall of her padded cell.

The next sound was laughter coming from somewhere outside of her. She furiously batted the air to get it to stop.

Then, there was another voice.

"Claire, are you okay?"

She looked up to see the doctor who treated her for depression and anxiety.

"Don't look at his eyes."

Defiantly, she looked straight into the doctor's deep swirling blue eyes. The voices stopped.

Shakily, she reached out and took his hand. He pulled her into an embrace. She felt his strong arms holding her weak emaciated frame.

"It's okay now, Claire. It's okay," the doctor said in a soft relaxed tone.

The only voice she heard now was the comforting voice of the doctor.

"I'm crazy?" she asked, feeling dazed and sick.

"That's such an unfortunate word, Claire. Try not to think about what you are or aren't."

Claire shakily stood up, the doctor still holding her tightly. It looked like there were tears in his eyes.

Gently, he let her go so that she could stand on her own.

"I am treating you for psychosis, though," the doctor said.

"I'm crazy," Claire whispered to herself.

It did explain a lot. Didn't it? The places, the people, all figments of her imagination.

Claire was released and put on medication, but she continued to feel weird about the world she was living in. She still couldn't get a flight home, and she was running out of money for a hotel. She moved into a run-down apartment on East Street. It was the only apartment she wrote about in her comic. This was becoming much more than just a coincidence.

Even on the medication, she continued to feel anxious and confused. The voices were gone, but she couldn't stop feeling like it was something done to throw her off. She continued to think about Dr. Frost and the weird things that happened in the hospital. All she had to do was look at him. The doctors would say this all part of her psychosis, but she felt differently, especially since everything was still weird.

She was in a comic, and the doctor was Jack Frost, and tonight she was going to prove it to herself.

It was a typical comic book supervillain hideout, an old unassuming cabin in the woods.

"Did you show up to my door to spout more nonsense about comic books, Claire?"

"You know I'm telling the truth!"

"I could call the police and have them take you back to the psych ward, you know."

"Where are you hiding the bodies?"

"The wha?"

"I made you a serial killer. Now just show them to me, and I'll prove to you I'm right. I know everything about this world."

Doctor Frost let out a dry laugh.

"Do you know how illogical all of that sounds? Me? a serial killer? Why would you even be out here alone if you thought such a thing? Claire, I'm afraid you are beside yourself. Did you forget your medication?"

"Are they in the freezer?" Claire asked.

Before Dr. Frost could stop her, she pushed past him into his house and opened up the freezer. There was nothing there. It was all clean, a little too clean.

"Are you happy now? See? No bodies."

Claire stood on the floor with her mouth slightly hanging open.

"Was I wrong?" she asked.

Just then, she heard faint whimpering.

"of course, the basement!"

"Claire, don't go down there."

She raced into the basement as if she were trying to escape a bad dream. There, in the corner was a woman tied up and gagged. Claire ripped off the gag.

"Aha! You're Sarah Simone, Jack Frost's fifteenth victim. I wrote that he kidnapped you from Sal's Hamburgers on a blind date about a week ago."

The woman just screamed, "let me out!"

Frost came down the stairs.

"Oh Claire, now look at what you've done."

Claire just stared with her arms crossed over her chest, as if she were waiting for another explanation.

"Fine, you know what, fine, I'm Jack Frost. You were right. Does that make you feel better?"

"I knew it!"

He slammed the door shut.

"That doesn't change any of what's going to happen. Except now it looks like I have two women to play with. Claire, I gave you a chance to leave, but since you insisted on staying, sit in that chair."

Against her better judgment, Claire sat in the chair he was motioning to, waiting with a mixture of relief, anticipation, and horror.

She watched as he took out a knife and put it to Sarah's throat.

A sudden fear came over her.

Claire moved to get out of her seat.

"I said down, Claire!" It was a sharp loud commanding voice she had never heard him use. It sounded raspy broken and scary.

She obediently sat in the chair while he finished his work.

Claire put her head down and listened as blood filled Sarah's throat and her screams turned into gurgles.

Once Jack was through, he turned to Claire. She just knew it was her turn next.

The next thing she felt was a sharp slap across the face.

"Why did you come here, Claire?"

Claire winced and started crying.

A gentle hand reached out and wiped her eyes.

"Don't cry, Claire."

She felt herself being pulled into an embrace, and, against her better judgment, she leaned into it. She wasn't sure if he was going to kill her or-

There was no struggle. Claire felt absolutely powerless. She thought she knew that she wrote Jack Frost to be a remorseless killer. There was no telling what he was going to do. She felt herself tense up.

Suddenly, he kissed her on her trembling lips.

Claire paused in shock as she felt Jack Frost's lips touch hers. She closed her eyes and gave into it. It was a small kiss, barely a peck.

What's he going to do? She wondered. A mixture of fear and curiosity washed over her. She braced herself for the coldness of the knife blade or the tightness of the ropes, but they never came.

"Beep beep beep"

She heard the beeping again, and she again felt the coldness of the hospital room, but when she opened her eyes, she was still in the basement of Jack Frost's hideout. She smelled the stale air. It smelled like rotting meat.

Then, she remembered Sarah Simone, the once lifeless character she wrote into existence just so Jack would have someone to kidnap and kill, slaughtered right before her eyes. Sarah's was a brutal death, and she was still in the room with her corpse.

Jack turned back around. Claire looked at the door longingly, but there was no escape. In seconds, he pulled her into an embrace, some sick parody of love, but whatever he was planning, he didn't finish. He just let go.

Claire was crying by this time, not sure what to expect. Her mind raced with confusion and fear.

She pinched herself hard, trying to wake up from what must be a sick nightmare, but when she opened her eyes, her surroundings had not changed. She now had a bruise on her arm, though.

If this was a dream, it was a vivid and long one, but she had no other option that made logical sense. The comic Sarah Simone was killed in was merely a set of conceptual drawings only Claire knew existed. Besides, when she closed her eyes, she could feel the weight of the blankets on her frame. She just couldn't wake herself up.

Even though dreaming was the only logical explanation, it didn't feel like a dream. It felt all too real. Claire felt her stomach turning from the rotten smell in the basement. If this was just some comic-book-based slasher dream, she should wake up after the killer takes her life, but that didn't look like what was going to happen. Too much time had passed. He had plenty of chances to do something. If this was just some nightmare, shouldn't it be over by now?

She hated the sick feeling of dread she was experiencing. She eyed the door once again. Maybe she could make a break for another room while he was distracted. She wasn't tied down or anything, and Jack Frost was now out of sight.

Quickly, she made her move. She ran to the door, opened it, and walked through to the stairs leading out of the basement. Carefully, she crept toward the exit that led into the main room of the house. So far, so good. No one was following her. She made it to the main room of the cabin, entered the kitchen, and stopped. She looked around again to make sure she wasn't being followed, and then walked through the unlocked kitchen door to safety in the woods.

Claire paused behind a tree and tried to catch her breath. She made it. Jack Frost wasn't going to get her!

"Hoo hoo hoo!" An owl called from somewhere in the shadows.

The full moon provided dim light overhead, creating ominous looking shadows that played on the rocks and trees. She clutched herself tightly as she walked, trying to avoid any monsters that could be hiding in the shadows. This was her comic book world afterall, and nothing was exactly as it seemed. She decided not to be too curious. After all, having barely escaped Jack Frost, she wasn't sure how she would hold up against the Swamp Toads or Slender Bunnies.

After walking for about an hour, she finally reached her apartment, but a surprise was waiting for her. As she opened the door, who should greet her but the killer Jack Frost himself.

Claire jumped back with a start. "How did you get here?" she asked guardedly.

"You left your door unlocked."

Before Claire could make a move, he pulled her by the arm through the doorway and plopped her onto her own couch. Smoothly, he closed and latched the door, still standing in front of it.

"Can we talk now?" he asked.

She was feeling a little bold after her previous escape, and instead of sitting quietly on the couch, she stood up and attempted a roundhouse kick. To her chagrin, Jack blocked it with ease, sending her leg back with a hard thud.

"Stop it, Claire."

Her second response was less dignified. Startled, she sat on the couch and began crying.

The next thing she felt was Jack's embrace. She hated it at this point, but she still leaned into it for some reason. Was she finding comfort in this, or was she too afraid to resist?

"Why don't you just kill me?" Claire asked, tears running down her cheeks.

"I don't want to. You interest me," Jack said gently as he placed a finger on her cheek to catch the tear.

Claire continued crying. "I c-can't wake u-up. All I want is for this to be over."

Jack put his hand around her shoulders. "It will be over, Claire. It'll all be over soon."

She moved his hands from her shoulders. "You don't even know what I'm talking about. You're just some monster from a dream."

"Oh Claire, I'm much more than that. Give me a chance." Jack wiped his hand across her cheek to clear away the tears.

"A chance for what?" She took her hand and swatted his away with a groan.

"I want you to be my friend, Claire." Jack put his hands back on her.

She removed his hands as soon as she noticed them. "Be your friend? After-after what you did? You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Jack struggled to keep his hands to himself and fidgeted as he tried to talk.

"Why did you kill her?" Her morbid curiosity was quickly overtaking her fear.

"Claire, you shouldn't think about such things," he warned.

"Why'd you do it?" she whispered.

"Sarah was such a kind innocent soul, and I wanted to preserve that innocence. I could tell she was suffering in her current life, so I decided a mercy killing was the best way to put her out of her misery."

She paused once she received the explanation.

"What's stopping you from doing that to me?" she asked.

"I told you already. You're interesting. You think you're stuck in a comic book world and we're all just your creations. Death here has no consequences for you. I wouldn't be releasing you from anything if I killed you. It would be sort of a waste really."

She swayed uncomfortably on the couch.

"...or maybe I can't kill you even though I want to. "

"Why can't you kill me?" Claire nervously held her knee, which was starting to hurt from when she tried to fight him earlier.

"Curiosity, Claire. I want to see how you'll react to this world and what place you'll find yourself in. I may even want to help you a little with your station here."

"Help me, how?" She looked at him with wide eyes.

"I want you to be part of an experiment here."

"It's an unfinished comic, and I just want to wake up."

"Claire, come on. Is whatever life you came from more exciting than this one? In that other world, you're only the comic book writer. Here, you're a participant."

"Don't remind me."

"You know so much about this world, about the criminals and masterminds here, and I could show you more if you agree to be the hero. You know, there are no heroes here, and I miss the heroes."

"I can't be the hero. Stop talking nonsense."

"I'm not talking nonsense, Claire, but I won't force you. It won't work if you don't want it. It would give you something to do, though, in the meantime, while you're still figuring out how to get home."

Claire sighed. "All I have to do to get back home is wake up. I don't know why I can't…"

"...and that must be very frustrating for you."

She considered the offer. Becoming the hero of this dream world sounded good, but she doubted she could trust him.

"I'm going to need time to think about it…" Right now, she was willing to say anything just to get him to leave her alone. She didn't like being around him. Something about his appearance gave her the creeps. She modeled him off of her stepdad. Even without witnessing that violent unreal murder, she would have been wary around him.

"Of course Claire." Jack Frost fished in his pocket and pulled out a business card.

"Whenever you get bored, you know where to find me," he said while handing her the card.

Against her better judgment, Claire took the card.