Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s Halloween night, and instead of being in your dorm and complaining to your roommate about a boy you met at a party who didn’t text you back while binge-eating candy like a little bitch, you decided to have a social life and get out more with your friends. Well…“friends” as in two girls you met in your Italian class this semester that surprisingly shared a similar interest with you in rock music. Like you, they admired and froth out their mouths for bands like Nirvana, Metallica, Alice in Chains, and hell even KISS.

Though, for weeks now, they’ve been fangirling over a band you never heard of before called Torchhead. From finding out about the band, you have only listened to one song from them and honestly, it sounded too shitty to even continue listening, making you not want to delve into the band’s music entirely. However, you had to give the band another chance since one of your friends, Aaliyah, told you that she got wind of one of their secret shows happening in an abandoned factory in the woods from a friend who was part of an internet fan club of the band, and she surprisingly invited you. But like really? The middle of the woods? That sounded like a good place to get killed you thought to yourself.

So now here you are standing next to your two other friends Molina and Aaliyah, Molina was dressed as a slutty nurse and Aaliyah was dressed as a sluttier version of the lead singer who usually had white skull-like face paint, except her face paint was red. You decided to go for a slutty bunny, something sweet, something that had a completely opposite vibe of a rock concert.

Your costume started with a strapless, form-fitting corset-style bodice made of shiny, hot pink satin fabric that accentuated your figure. The corset was adorned with playful white fluffy trims along the top and bottom, adding a touch of flirtatiousness. Attached to the corset, there's a fluffy pink faux fur tail that sits just above the derriere. The corset ends in a short, ruffled pink satin skirt that barely covers the hips, leaving plenty of your legs on display. Completing the ensemble are a pair of thigh-high fishnet stockings in a matching shade of pink, with lace-up details running up the back. As a cherry on top of your Halloween outfit, you had a pair of cute pink bunny ears made of satin or velvet, trimmed with fluff, and attached to a headband.

As you and your friends approach the old abandoned factory, Aaliyah complains about the long line of fans waiting to get in. "Ugh, this is taking forever," she groans. Unlike Aaliyah, Molina tries to stay optimistic. "Don't worry, the wait might not be long."
You nod in agreement as you take a closer look at the people around you. Some are dressed provocatively like you while others have gone all out with their costumes - zombies, ghouls, devils, and even a few with blood-dripping monster masks.

Finally reaching the entrance after what feels like an eternity of standing in line behind some questionable characters wearing very little clothing for October weather conditions; Molina pulls out her flip phone excitedly showing off pictures from Torchhead's previous concerts that they've played across other towns before tonight’s show which has been hyped up on social media by indie music enthusiasts everywhere.

As you stood in line for the concert nestled deep within the heart of the woods, an inexplicable sensation sent shivers down your spine. It was as though an invisible presence wrapped itself around you, an unseen gaze on you coming from the trees to your right. The forest, normally a sanctuary of tranquility, now held an eerie aura, a stage for the unknown.
When you turned your head, all you saw was the moonlight that trickled through the branches, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the ground, amplifying your unease. Each rustle of leaves beneath your feet seemed to echo with an unfamiliar weight as if the very forest floor concealed secrets longing to be unveiled. The soft whisper of wind through the trees took on an uncanny rhythm, whispering secrets in a language only nature could understand.

Your heart started to race like a wild stallion, its thunderous gallops reverberating through your chest. Every nerve in your body tingled with anticipation, heightened senses pricking at the edges of your consciousness. The air, heavy with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, wrapped itself around you like a suffocating embrace.
Breaking your stare from the darkness beyond the trees, Aaliyah shakes you.

“Yo, c’mon the line is moving.”

“Oh, shit sorry.” You scurried along behind them managing to steal another glance to your side again, this time catching a flash of a  towering figure wearing a white mask marred with yellowish scars ducking behind a tree. Probably some asshole that didn’t want to wait in line with everyone else.

Once inside, your eyes widen at how massive everything seems compared to outside where there was hardly any light coming through windows covered with boards or graffiti tags leftover time. Since its abandonment years ago, it now turned into a makeshift concert venue complete with stage lights shining down upon performers playing loud guitars drums basses keyboards microphones surrounded by speakers amplifiers smoke machines fog effects strobe lighting making it feel more alive than ever before.

The three of you push your way through the crowd, making your way towards the center stage when suddenly something catches Molina's eye causing her to stop dead in her tracks pulling both yours & Aaliyah's attention back towards whatever had caught hers so abruptly: It was one member who stood apart from rest- lead singer whose voice echoed, filling every inch space available within walls reverberating deep within chest cavities leaving listeners feeling entranced under his spellbinding performance captivating audiences, drawing them deeper into a world he created onstage.

"Wow...he really knows how to work a crowd doesn’t he?" You say aloud without realizing just how much admiration laced your words, turning to see the ecstatic expressions on the faces beside you.

"Yeah...he's something else." Molina nods in agreement.

"I told you guys he was worth stalking for all these months!" Aaliyah smiles giddily.

As the night goes on and Torchhead continues to play their hearts out, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement building within your chest as you were amongst a sea of diverse souls, each uniquely absorbed in the music, merged together, dissolving boundaries as you all surrendered to the infectious melodies. The dance floor transformed into an arena of liberation. In the midst of the chaos, there were those who embraced the rhythm with grace and finesse.

The air crackled with contagious energy, amplifying the impact of every jump, stomp, and twirl. Sweat-soaked bodies, fueled by adrenaline and the pulsating sound waves, reveled in the freedom of movement. The collective shouts and cheers merged with the music, becoming a chorus of celebration.

“I gotta shit!” Aaliyah yelled as you and Molina danced.

“Ok? Then go shit” Molina shouted back.

“Ok, imma be back!”

Aaliyah practically got swallowed by the swirling mass of bodies when making her way away from them.

“She’s probably gonna sneak backstage after to spend some time with the lead, wanna get drinks!?” Molina yells as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sure!”

At the makeshift bar, the both of you are drinking shots of this oddly flavored electric blue drink that you don’t even know the name of while looking out to the collective euphoria of the concert. With every crashing guitar chord and thunderous drumbeat, the crowd became a living, breathing entity, moving in synchrony with the pulsating heartbeat of the music.

“Do you guys usually go to concerts like this?” You shouted at Molina.

“What?” Molina responded loudly

“I said, do you guys usually go to rock concerts like this!??”

“Only on special occasions, like spring and summer break or Halloween. You should join us sometime, you’d really like it! It’s more lively now since it’s Halloween and shit.”

“Oh ok. Well, do people usually sneak into these types of concerts?” you asked. It was so loud you could barely hear your own voice over the music.

“Well, kinda. I mean I did a few times. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I saw some tall ass guy walking behind some trees toward the back of the concert. It didn’t look like he was gonna wait in line.”

“Then he was probably sneaking in then, I mean for these types of concerts you need to know the password from someone apart of the fan club of the band I guess. Aaliyah knows more about this shit than me, I really don’t know.” Molina throws back her head, taking in the entire shot of alcohol. “Well, imma continue dancing, you stayin?”

“Yeah,” you replied seeing Molina swerve her way into the wave of people. It was just someone crashing the show, right? You never understood why you get extra jumpy and anxious on Halloween. It’s not like the person was a fuckin masked murderer or something. Not wanting to get any more in your feelings you joined Molina and danced with her.

*****
Hours passed as the band passed through song after song. It felt like you were spent, while Molina seemed energetic as ever.
Molina continued screaming her lungs out to the song while you grew worried for Aaliyah who has yet to show up.
“Where the fuck is she?” You yelled at her.

“Where’s who?”

“Aaliyah.”

“She’s probably backstage, who knows.” Molina replied as she glided across the dance floor, her movements fluid and captivating, as if each step was an expression of her intimate connection to the music.

“It’s been fuckin forever. Imma go find her.”

“Yeah go do that! We can leave and go get donuts after this”

You turn to her, giving her a questioning look. What the fuck is she talking about right now? Her friend hasn’t come back for hours and she’s thinking about getting…donuts? You shook your head and turned around, pushing your way through the sweating bodies of people that were all too into the music.

In the dimly lit depths of the old abandoned factory, a grimy bathroom awaited a hidden realm of decay and neglect amidst the pulsating energy of the music. Stepping through the worn door, the assault on your senses was immediate and overwhelming. The air was thick with a pungent amalgamation of odors—stale sweat, a potent cocktail of disinfectant and urine, mingled with the faint hint of cigarettes. Layers of grime and graffiti adorned the wall’s surfaces, obscuring any remnants of cleanliness that may have once existed.

Dim flickering lights cast eerie shadows across the chipped tiles and stained fixtures. A flicker of recognition revealed the remnants of a sign that had long lost its battle with time, its once-bold letters now faded and barely legible. The discolored tiles, once vibrant, now showcased a patchwork of dirt and mystery, a testament to the untold stories whispered within the confines of this dismal space. Graffiti sprawled across the walls like a chaotic mural, each scrawl and crude drawing a testament to the anonymous frustrations and fleeting moments of rebellion.

“Hey Aaliyah, you here?” you shouted. There was only silence.

You approached the sink that was marred with rust and encrusted with soap scum, when you turned it on it emitted a sluggish trickle of brown lukewarm water. You turned it back off not wanting to risk a possible disease or something. Looking at yourself in the cracked mirror above the sink that reflected the tarnished state of the bathroom itself, you checked your makeup, which had become smudged a bit by sweat after all the dance and frantic movement. Damn, you worked so many hours to perfect it. I mean you shouldn’t be surprised, it was a rock concert after all.

The sensation of needing to pee consumed your thoughts, commanding your attention with relentless persistence. You look out at all of the stalls with disgust, each one was somehow dirtier than the next. Fuck it.

You went into a stall but didn’t sit on the disgusting fucking uncleaned toilet seats. Instead, your butt hovered over the seat trying to not let that shit touch you. While relieving yourself, the stench of the unclean toilets mingled with the musty dampness that clung to the stained floors, evoking a sense of abandonment and decay. You could still hear the roar of the audience in the bathroom after you were done and fixed yourself up in the stall. As you were about to leave the stall you heard the door hinges of one of the stalls squealing in protest as it was opened and closed again.

“Shit Aaliyah, is that you? Stop fuckin around we're about to leave.” You halted before you could touch the door handle when you noticed a pool of blood spreading underneath your stall. You freeze for a moment, trying to process what's happening before finally calling out to your friend.

“Aaliyah Is everything okay?”

There's no answer. Just more silence.

Your heart races and panic sets in, but you force yourself to take a deep breath and try to remain calm. You decided to leave your stall. Silence and faint rock music greet you when you come out, making your skin crawl with unease. Slowly moving your shaky legs forward, you peek under each stall door along the way until finally reaching the last one where the trail of blood ends.

You take another deep breath before pushing open the door slowly revealing a gruesome sight - your friend's lifeless body slumped over on the toilet seat with multiple stab wounds visible all across her chest area. Your piercing scream makes its way throughout the stall. You back up onto something hard and slowly turn around.

Looking up you saw it, a white mask, a macabre fusion of horror and human visage, a grotesque representation of a distorted soul, looking down at you. The sickly complexion of the mask appears as if the very life force has been drained from its wearer, leaving behind a deathly pallor. Dark, matted hair cascades over the mask, framing the face with an unkempt and disheveled appearance.

The man’s dark blue eyes, cold and devoid of humanity, pierce through the mask with an unrelenting intensity. They bear witness to the depths of darkness that dwell within, revealing a glimpse into a sinister abyss. The lifelessness in those eyes sends a chill down the spine, a silent reminder that the presence behind the mask is driven solely by a malevolent purpose. His worn and tattered light brown coveralls hung loosely on his towering frame. The man cast a long shadow over you that seemed to devour the light that came from the mirrors above the sink.

"No...no! This can't be happening!" You screamed out loud while tears start streaming down uncontrollably from both eyes simultaneously without warning from the sheer terror mixed with sadness that comes flooding through every fiber of your body after seeing a girl you used to sit next to in class sit lifelessly on a shitty concert toilet right before your very own eyes. You tried to bolt for the door, but his huge hands grasped a chunk of your hair and threw you back towards the wall. Your pink bunny ears fell on the grimy floor in the process.

“Please don’t kill me!” you cried.

He tilted his head quizzically at you.

You feel the cold sweat on your forehead as you watch in horror. The tall and muscular man towers over you, his eyes filled with a sinister glint.

"Please, let me go," you plead, your voice trembling with fear.

The man doesn’t respond.

In one swift motion, he grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head against the wall, and your whole world fades to black.

Chapter Text

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your weary mind, a wave of disorientation crashes over you. The air, heavy with dampness, clung to your skin, while the scent of must and decay filled your nostrils. Opening your eyes, You found yourself immersed in darkness, the absence of light enveloping you like a suffocating cloak. The cold, hard floor pressed against your body, sending a shiver through your spine. The chill seemed to seep into your bones, magnifying the sensation of discomfort and unease. It was as if the very foundation beneath you conspired to remind you of your vulnerable state, trapped within the confines of this foreboding space.

Straining your ears, you listened intently, hoping to discern any sound that might offer a clue to your predicament. The silence, broken only by the distant dripping of water, felt oppressive, heightening the sense of isolation and seclusion. Shadows danced in the corners of your vision, teasing your imagination with their ghostly forms. As your eyes adjusted to the dimness, faint streaks of light seeped through narrow, barred windows, casting feeble beams across your dank surroundings. The stone walls, covered in layers of grime and forgotten memories, stood as witnesses to the passage of time. The echoes of rustling rodents added to the eerie symphony that played out in the darkness.

With aching limbs, you attempted to stand up, the effort causing your muscles to protest against the strain. Your body fell backward as if working against you, feeling heavy and unresponsive, hell you couldn’t even sit up. You reach for your forehead only to feel sticky blood caked around the bruise that has formed there, how the fuck did that happen?

Suddenly the world around you spun in a dizzying whirlpool as if reality had become an elusive mirage. A fog of confusion descended upon your mind, shrouding your thoughts in a haze.
While pain pulsed relentlessly within your skull, a throbbing reminder of the trauma you had endured, a man was watching you through the cracks of the basement wall. As he always did.

You were completely unaware of him watching you like you usually were. And he loved it. It reminded it about the amount of power he had over you. It turned him on really.

You see, for weeks now, the sinister and macabre spectacle of Haddonfield, Michael Myers, has been carefully observing you and waiting for the right moment to take you.
After he had escaped that shitty sanitarium after fifteen years, all Michael wanted to do was find Boo, his baby sister, and reconnect with her again. She was the only living family member that he cared for and loved aside from his mother who was now gone. He was more than ready to be with Boo again, regardless of whose blood he had to spill. Hell, he was already standing across the street from her family home, looking through the living room window and seeing her talk to people who weren’t even her parents. He felt more than ready to eliminate them and reconnect with Boo again.

However, he got distracted when he saw you.

Michael hid from view behind the head of tall bushes as you walked down the street with two other girls' bags in hand. You seemed to have aged perfectly, and you dress differently now too, more into rock attire. He tracked your movement all the way down to the intersection seeing you say your goodbyes to your friends and go your separate way. You stood there at the Bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive. As he peered out from behind a tree, all he could think about was taking you right then and there. I don’t mean he wanted to whisk you away. Like he was pondering the ways he could use you.

He imagined coming up behind you, wrapping his hand around your throat, and yanking you backwards. He imagined dragging your body into the backyard of one of the neighborhood houses behind you. Nobody would help you as he dragged you away. Your cries and screams for help would be music to his ears. With you on the ground covered in dirt and grass and looking up at him helplessly, he would tower over you looking you over from head to toe, and bend down to begin tearing off every piece of clothing you had on as if they were barriers to the thing he wanted most. Putting one hand on your chest, he would begin unzipping his brown overalls.

He wouldn't care if you fought back, kicked, or screamed. He was more fixated on feeling his cock filling you up slowly, knowing there was nothing for you to do but take him entirely while gasping at the sudden fullness. Your lips would probably stretch painfully around his shaft, with your gummy walls tightened around his cock. Without giving you any time for you to adjust to him, he would slam violently into your pussy over and over again, until your cries are muffled by the sound of your skin slapping against his in the open air intertwined with the chirping sounds of morning birds. He imagined you'd moan in time with his thrusts once you gave in as he felt his cock twitch with excitement in the palm of his own hand before he released himself on the tree he was hiding behind. Just the sight of you still standing there at the bus stop and the thought of feeling you…having you, made something burn in the back of his brain, and he rarely felt anything after killing his older sister Judith.

It's been a long time since he admired you from afar like he did as a child.

Michael called it fate.

The thought of seeing Boo and you once again had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since he was locked away to Smith Groves, like an itch that wouldn't go away no matter what he did.

When you got on the bus, he panicked. He couldn’t lose you again.

So he did what any self-respecting serial killer would do and killed a random old woman for her car, and tailed the bus. Boo can wait for now, it’s not like she’s going anywhere. It was hard to drive, of course, it’s not like the sanitarium offered driver's ed classes. He crashed into a few road signs before getting the hang of it.

Michael followed the bus all the way to Redcreek University, a university that was nestled amidst the embrace of a tranquil suburban landscape. It lay just beyond the bustling city limits, a haven of knowledge and intellectual growth that hummed with a quiet vibrancy. The campus unfolded before him like a well-kept secret, its sprawling grounds adorned with verdant lawns, leafy trees, and meandering pathways. He saw you leave the bus stop that was right in front of the campus and walk somewhere else. Michael figured he couldn’t be seen leaving the car caked in blood in broad daylight, so slowly he drove behind you seeing you walk up to the front doors of your dormitory. You said a quick hello to two men who were just exiting as you were going in.

From then on he was watching you 24/7. It was like a game of cat and mouse, with Michael stalking you through the winding pathways of the campus as you tried to make it to your next class. When you were walking to the campus library, Michael followed you from a distance, ducking behind trees and buildings to remain unseen. As you sat at a coffee shop with one of the two people you kept hanging out with outside of class, he would just stand there staring, marveling at the way your lips moved when you spoke, your cute facial expressions when you were disgusted at the coffee you ordered, and how your eyes focused in on the person talking during a conversation.

He followed you like a hunter tracking its prey, never letting you out of his sight.

Through your dorm window, Michael would even watch you leave the dorm, and listen in on your roommate talking shit about you on the phone. It made his blood boil. He imagined breaking through tbe window and getting a euphoric high from slitting their throats, snapping their necks, or just stabbing them to death to the point where they were unrecognizable. To him, you were his and his alone, and he needed to possess you. Take you away from the low lives you allowed in your life and keep you safe, loved, and protected like he always did when you were children, even if you don’t remember him.

So here you were now, blood oozing from your head, panicked on the basement floor of his childhood home as he studied how you flinched at every noise the rats made through the cracks of the wall. He didn’t mean to hit you so hard, he promised himself that was the only time he would lay his hands on you. He just didn't want to waste his perfect chance to take you away for your new life with him. It was a good plan too. He came up with it when he was watching you through the trees. He thought it was finally time for you to be together. His plan was simple, like a spider spinning its web to catch its prey: Kill your friend in the bathroom to lure you to him, and if the other one came instead of you he would’ve ended her too and just waited for you to come to him.

“Hello!?” you screamed in the open air. Michael rarely felt fear but he did feel a delicate swarm of nervous flutters take flight in the pit of his stomach. You were so close this time, your features were clear and visible.

Michael’s closest encounter with you so far was last Friday at a costume party. He had on a different mask than he had now, one that he made at the Sanitarium out of paper mache. It was a bright orange, the eyes, hollow and piercing, appeared as dark voids, and the mouth, etched into a jagged, wicked grin, conveyed an unsettling malice. As usual, he was watching you, ignoring some stares he got here and there, but you were busy being too friendly with some other guy. Michael watched, with a twinge of envy twisting in his stomach, as the guy made idle chatter, made you laugh, and gave you his number. Then later on he felt a twinge of giddy satisfaction as he saw the guy gurgle on his own blood after he stabbed his big-ass kitchen knife in his chest.

Win-win for both of you I guess?

“Can someone please help me!?” he heard your voice ring out.

With some strength, while fatigue settled upon your shoulders like a leaden weight, a weariness that permeated every fiber of your being, you pushed yourself off of the dusty ground. The faded mahogany door to leave the basement was right there. Each movement felt sluggish, it was as if you were navigating through a thick fog that clung to your very being. As you stumbled forward, the claustrophobic nature of the confined space intensified, closing in on you like a vise.

Attempting to focus your thoughts proved futile, as fragments of memory slipped through your grasp like wisps of smoke. Thoughts wavered at the edges of your consciousness, elusive and transient. It was as if your mind, normally a reliable ally, had become a traitor, leaving you adrift in a sea of fragmented recollections. What the fuck even happened?
In this desolate and forsaken basement, you became acutely aware of the weight of solitude. The absence of human presence, the absence of life, casts a somber pall over your surroundings. It was a place untouched by the warmth of human connection, a cold void that left you feeling small and insignificant.

Then suddenly as the door swung open, a figure emerged, casting a foreboding presence that loomed over the room. His form was bulky and solid, built with the strength of a mountain, and his hands were almost the size of your fucking face Jesus Christ. He was wearing that same shitty-looking mask from the…
Wait… bathroom…Aaliyah.

Aaliyah’s dead…He killed Aaliyah…This is so fucked.

“Please…please don’t hurt me.” you pleaded as he stepped in crouching under the door way to get to you. As he moved, his steps were deliberate and filled with quiet, predatory grace. You were still so innocent in his eyes after all this, no matter how many men you let inside of you. The man's arm left his side and his hand began to reach toward you, to touch your soft skin. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

Putting his arms down slowly, he stared at you through the dark hallowed eyes of the mask. Michael just wanted to love and protect you, that’s all he’s done before he revealed himself to you so why are you so scared of him? Abruptly he turned walking out of the room. You heard a subtle locking sound after the door closed.

Fucking asshole.

You made your way to the corner of the room and sat back down on the ground with your back against the cold jagged wall. Your head still throbbed in pain but at least the blood stopped coming. You sat there in a moment of silence, your eyes scanning the room for something you could use as a weapon but there was nothing but dirt floors and the now annoying sounds of rats. Looking up there were two small barred windows. Maybe the bars outside were loose, but how the hell would you get up there? There was nothing in here to stand on. You huff, feeling your limbs shake from the direness of this situation.

How the fuck are you gonna get out of this mess? Where the fuck even are you? Is Molina worried? She better fuckin be. Maybe she called the-
The sound of the door unlocking caught your attention as you balled up your body, the man came in again but this time with a brown towel, a bucket, and…a bottle of ibuprofen? He set them down on the floor and looked at you. You swore this bitch was undressing you with his eyes, and your skimpy bunny costume didn’t help your situation.

When Micheal saw your huddled form, his eyes traveled from your strapless corset to your thigh-high fishnet stockings, he made a mental note to steal some clothes from your dorm to make you more comfortable for your new life with him. It's not like he hadn't been in there to steal jewelry, clothing, or even cutlery you’ve eaten from. First, he had to get rid of your roommate, he didn’t need complications.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced over at the stuff he came in with. What the fuck is this? Why do this? He just killed your friend… is he not gonna kill you?
Wait, shit maybe you could use this to your advantage, you had to choose your next words carefully.

“I'm sorry for cursing at you before. I'm just a little…overwhelmed,” you say, forcing a smile on your face. Subtly, Michael raised his head, his eyes scrutinizing you as you continued. “Um, thank you for this, it really means a lot.”

You tried not to gag saying those words. Michael didn’t respond, he just stared down into your eyes. Immediately, he straightened up and left, locking the door behind him.
Michael didn't show it because he honestly barely showed any emotion but he was ecstatic, all he wanted was to care for you and protect you. Shit that's what he's been doing since you were kids
When you were twelve, even though you barely noticed the round-faced boy with long light blonde hair and icy blue eyes wearing a dead-panned face, he noticed you. That same dead-panned face would spend an entire hour staring at you during class. He always sat a few desks in the back of you and kept his distance, but he never stopped staring at you. At least until a teacher would almost catch him staring instead of listening to their lesson. Michael would even go as far as to follow you in the school hallways and watch you go to your next class as he did now that you were in University.

As a kid, he didn’t expect to be so attached to someone outside of his family, seeing how he was only ever emotionally attached to his mom and Boo. But you became someone he felt protective over ever since you were nice to him from time to time during school. You smiled at him even though he only gave back his dead-panned expressions and even told him a joke to cheer him up one time when you saw him down. Although Michael couldn’t physically protect you at the time because of his puny size, he made it his mission to torment those that felt the need to get closer to you or mess with you by putting the carcasses of neighborhood pets into their bags, and even animal teeth. This creeped out so many kids and teachers. The school faculty couldn’t even figure out where these dead animals were coming from until that fateful Halloween afternoon when the principal found gruesome shots of dead animals in his bag along with a dead cat.

He loved to hurt smaller things, he loved to watch the stream of blood from the cuts and stabs he would give to them, but he could never imagine hurting you. You were so small, innocent, and sweet, like Boo.
Seeing you after all these years appreciating his care for you caught him a little off guard, he had to admit he hated the disgusting mushy feelings you made him feel but liked it at the same time. He wanted to do something special for you, so he left you there.

You sat there in silence for a moment making sure he was gone before crawling towards the bottle of ibuprofen. A few moments after taking two pills, you sighed and looked at your reflection in the water of the gray bucket. As you peered into the still waters, your reflection revealed a disheartening sight—a portrait of ruined makeup that marred your once pristine visage for the rock concert. The carefully crafted artistry had succumbed to the trials of blood and sweat leaving behind smudges and smears that transformed your appearance into a disheveled mess.

You wet the towel the man brought and wiped away the dried blood from your forehead and the splotches of unnatural hue marrying your complexion along with the lipstick smeared beyond the boundaries of your lips, leaving behind a haphazard trail of misshapen lines. There was nothing else you could do but lay down and wait. So you did.

As you succumbed to the effects of the pain pills, a veil of drowsiness descended upon you, wrapping your senses in a hazy embrace. The world around you began to blur as if viewed through a foggy lens, and the sounds that once resonated with clarity faded into distant echoes. Your eyelids, heavy like lead, drooped with each passing moment, battling against the weight of exhaustion. The once vivid dark colors and sharp edges of your surroundings melted into a softened palette as if the world had been painted with gentle strokes of a dreamer's brush. As your body relaxed, the grip of pain gradually loosened, replaced by a comforting numbness that spread through your limbs. A serene tranquility washed over you, soothing your aching body and mind, like a gentle lullaby coaxing you into slumber.
Your breathing slowed, becoming shallow and rhythmic, as if in sync with the ebb and flow of a peaceful tide. The steady rise and fall of your chest became a lullaby of its own, a soft reminder of your existence, even as consciousness began to slip away.

Thoughts and memories danced in your mind's eye, drifting like ethereal wisps, becoming increasingly elusive as you sank deeper into the cocoon of unconsciousness. The edges of your thoughts blurred, fragments of reality intermingling with fragments of dreams, forming a tapestry of disjointed sensations and fleeting glimpses.
The world beyond your reach faded into an ethereal realm as if they were traversing the borderlands between wakefulness and dreams. Time lost its grip, stretching and distorting, blurring the line between past, present, and future.

In this liminal state, your senses become dulled, distant echoes of the external world barely registering. With each passing moment, your connection to the waking world grew fainter, as the seductive embrace of slumber pulled you further into its depths. The steady descent into unconsciousness was both a surrender and a respite—a temporary escape from the burdens of your dreadful reality, a respite for your weary body and mind. And as you drifted into the embrace of sleep, your consciousness slipped away, carried on the delicate wings of dreams, leaving behind the realm of wakefulness, at least for a time.

Michael came back to check up on you, he couldn't stand being away from you for too long. However instead of your scared face looking up at him, he was blessed with the sight of you fast asleep. You looked so peaceful.

He walked over to you and reached into his chest pockets taking out a blood-colored necklace that he took from the bodies of one of his helpless victims. He placed the necklace in your hand for when you wake up. He could just never understand why your face lived rent-free in his head like he couldn’t understand the voices that told him to kill.

Chapter Text

As the first rays of sunlight gently filtered through the narrow basement window, casting a warm glow upon the aged surroundings, you stirred from your slumber. Slowly, your groggy consciousness emerged from the depths of sleep, as your drowsy eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dimly lit space.  A throbbing ache pulsed within your skull. Each heartbeat seemed to reverberate through your head, a symphony of pain that echoed the events of the previous night.

Your capture.

That unhinged bitch.

With a tentative hand, you gingerly touched your temple, feeling the tender skin beneath your fingertips. The touch seemed to amplify the pain, eliciting a wince as you became acutely aware of the floor below that felt more springy than usual. When you look down, you see that you are lying on a spring mattress with faded floral patterns and worn edges covered in splashes of dried blood.
As your senses awakened, you became aware of another presence in the room. HIS presence.

“What the fuckin shit!” You yelled.

Across from you, seated on the cold, hard floor, he gazed intently, his eyes fixed upon your awakening form. The weight of that gaze, both curious and unsettling, stirred a mix of emotions within your groggy mind. As you shift, your gaze meets the unwavering stare of the man, a spark of affection flickered within his cold dark blue eyes.

“Bro how long have you been watching me?”

He gave you no answer.  It’s not the first time he silently stared at your still and peaceful frame, admiring how you squirmed under a blanket, but it’s the first time he watched you from up close.
Hearing soft whimpers leave your lips at night left him wondering what you were dreaming about. Was it a nightmare, haunting and foreboding? Or a tantalizing dream?  It was hard for him to tell from your relaxed face, but in either case, he wondered if it was about him. The thought of him being in your dreams secretly excited him to no end.

Suddenly you felt something in your hand as you pushed yourself off the mattress. Wrought with a mix of uneasiness and curiosity, you felt up a blood-red necklace. Its smooth surface seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, sending a shiver down your spine. As you gaze at the pendant resting in your palm, a realization dawns upon you—a jarring recognition that sends your heart into a frantic race.
You’ve seen it before.

The necklace, with its distinct design and vivid hue, bore an eerie resemblance to the one showcased on the missing person poster of a young woman that had haunted the town for the past two weeks. Your breath caught in your throat, and time seemed to freeze as the weight of the situation settled upon you, its gravity unfathomable.

This fuckin freak.

He gave you a necklace of someone who was missing. Why did he even have it? Did he kill fuckin her? HE GAVE YOU A NECKLACE OF SOMEONE HE KILLED!

“What the f-” you started but you remembered your situation. Is it really wise to not like or accept his gift? Like sis, be grateful he got you a gift and didn’t decide to kill you.

“Thank you.” You wisely spoke instead with a smile spread across your face. Michael just stared at you through his mask and said nothing. You should get used to it. Looking back at the necklace, goosebumps crept on your skin remembering the picture of a photogenic teenager named…Lynda right? You couldn’t remember her clearly.

With a deep breath, you rose and stood up from your prone position, and Michael rose too. You were unnerved by how reactive he was to your movements after being silent and not moving an inch for so long. You could tell that he was watching you closely and waiting for your next move. Which he doing since the door was unlocked, he just didn’t want you trying to leave or anything.

In a moment of bewildered surprise, your gaze traveled downward, and your eyes widened as you took in the unexpected sight before you. Instead of the risqué pink bunny costume you had worn last night for the concert on Halloween, you found yourself adorned in a rather contrasting ensemble.

A mix of confusion danced across your features as you looked down upon your attire. A Black Sabbath band T-shirt adorned your upper body, proudly displaying the iconic logo and the image of your favorite rock legends. Its faded fabric held memories of concerts and music that had shaped your identity. Complementing the rock-inspired top, your lower half was draped in dark green pajama pants, the epitome of comfort and relaxation. The loose fabric cascaded down your legs.

He fucking undressed you. How the fuck did he even get your clothes? Holy shit he was in your fucking dorm.

Your roommate…did she see him, is she okay?

The man made his way towards you.

Michael loomed like a formidable giant, his presence commanding attention and stirring an unsettling mix of awe and unease in you.

As you stood in such close proximity to him, the scent of something grim and metallic wafted through the air, assaulting your senses. The unmistakable tang of blood clung to the towering figure, an aroma that conjured images of raw violence and untold stories. It mingled with the surrounding atmosphere, creating an uneasy tension that hung heavy in the air.
In that pivotal moment, he delicately lifted his hand, bridging the gap between you. His fingers, soft but dry, gingerly grazed against your palm, gently reclaiming the necklace that had once rested in your possession. For him It was like a tangible connection between you.

A gift from him to you.

Michael loved seeing the fear in your eyes when you recognized his gift from missing posters. How your face contorted to confusion first was honestly adorable. Though he didn’t want you afraid of him.

You were one of the few good things in his life.

In one fluid motion, his dry touch became an anchor, pulling you away from the confines of the mattress beneath your feet. With a strength that belied his gentle demeanor, he guided your form, pivoting you around to face the vast expanse of the cracked basement walls. The world around you shifted, spinning in sync with your body. As your attention focused on the scars upon the walls, you felt a subtle presence wrap around your neck. The cool touch of the necklace, like a delicate embrace, encircled your skin. Before the pendant suspended at the center of your chest, you yelled.

“No!” You forcefully yanked the necklace from your neck, fighting against the inertia of his pull of the bracelet around your neck that threatened to hold you captive. With the bracelet swinging in his hand, his gaze bore into yours. “I don’t freakin want that. I just want to go h- I- I want food. I’m hungry!”
He continued to stare back at you, unmoving. You didn’t even think he was breathing for a moment.

“Can you just get me somethin to eat?”

A faint sigh escaped Michael, carrying with it a mix of exasperation and annoyance. Michael was stumped; he didn't know why you were acting like this now. With his last good deed for you last night, he thought he was making progress. Clearly not. Maybe he just has to make you remember him. Get you something you'll remember him for. With determination etched into his every movement, he turned and walk towards the door.

“Yo, you're getting me food right?” You called after him. He didn’t give you any response as he slams the door shut behind him and locks it. The air seemed to part in his wake.

“How the fuck am I gonna get outta here?” you whisper to yourself. A few hours later you start to get more fidgety. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for a glimmer of hope amidst the oppressive confinement. With each frantic sweep of your gaze, your heart pounded in your chest at the thought of being in this single room forever, a primal instinct urging you to find an avenue of escape. Your eyes trailed along the walls, tracing the worn patterns and peeling paint and then sharpened on the barred windows across from you above.

Shit.

Climbing the basement wall to get the window, now that was the difficult part, you were left with nothing but your bare feet after the man had taken the heels you wore.
As you approached the cracked wall, its jagged edges beckoned like stepping stones in a treacherous journey. You brought up a leg and inhaled bracing yourself for the pain your feet would endure and stepped down on a jagged piece of rock sticking out of the cracked basement wall. Each careful step brought your feet in contact with the rough protrusions of rocks, bringing you to face to face with the pain of your escape. The sensation of cold stone against your soles served as a reminder of the risks you were willing to take to regain your freedom. After reaching the window, you looked out to the dead grass, the day was still relatively sunny. There were three metal chipped metal bars that kept you from your freedom. You grasped two bars of the window, your hands instinctively seeking weakness. The metals quivered under your relentless shaking, their resistance momentarily defied by your sheer will. The two bars succumbed to your persistent force, shattering like the shackles of captivity, leaving only one remaining obstacle between you and your liberation. With renewed vigor, you focused your energy on the final bar, and with much effort a resounding snap was heard. Taking the metal bar in your hands, you swung it powerfully, shards of glass scattered all over the dead grass.

Fucking Yes!

Crawling through the narrow opening, you willed your body forward, scraped skin and racing adrenaline. Emerging on the other side, a burst of freedom washed over you, breathing life into your exhausted lungs. You swung your head in all different directions not knowing where the fuck to go. Your eyes then set on the neighboring light blue house. You sprinted towards the lined bushes that divided the broken-down house you were just in and the house next door, each step carrying you further away from the shadowed confines that had once bound you.
In the midst of the moment, you thought about the comfort of your own dorm, or someplace far better than here.
Panic surged through your veins when you finally made it to the other side, and you began running through the backyard huffing and puffing. As fear etched across your face, you pounded on the backdoor with fervor.

“Somebody please fuckin help me! PLEASE” You screamed as you pound harder. “Please someone help!”
No response emerged from within, only the faint static of a T.V. You frantically peered through the window of the door trying to see if someone was even home but there was nothing but darkness. The weight of despair settled upon your shoulders on what to do next. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a peculiar sight caught your attention. A vibrant pink flamingo yard ornament stood proudly by your side. In a moment of desperation, you reached out and grasped the decoration. Your grip tightened, and with a forceful swing, the ornament shattered the backdoor's window. The shards of glass danced in the air, briefly reflecting the sun's light before cascading to the floor.

Through the newly created opening, your trembling hands stretched towards the other side of the locked door, fingers fumbling in the darkness. The mechanisms yielded to your persistent touch, the metallic click of unlocking released a sigh of relief from deep within your chest. The door swung open, revealing a corridor shrouded in eerie darkness that seemed to devour any hint of light.

“Hello?” You called out. But nobody answered. “I-I need help. A man kidnapped me-” You begin to sob hearing those words leave your lips. Shattered glass cracked beneath your feet as you stepped inside. You winced and stumbled back from a sharp sting beneath your feet feeling blood ooze down onto the floor. You picked out the glass from your foot while sharply inhaling from the pain.  Venturing further, the floorboards creaked beneath your weight.

“Is anybody here?” You asked. The air hung heavy with a musty scent. Actually not even a musty scent, a putrid scent. A scent that just smelled more fucking worse when you got close to the sound of static. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you saw light piercing through an arch doorway, and at the bottom of the doorway was a hand splayed upon the ground. Your stomach starts to churn as you get closer and closer. Time seems to have stopped for you when you were in front of the doorway the hand spilled out of. There in the country-styled living room were the mangled bodies of three people: a frail elderly woman, a middle-aged woman, and a man who looked to be around the same age as her. The elderly woman was the only one among them with her eyes gouged out, while the man and woman looked to have been stabbed numerous times in the chest and face.

You stepped further into the room, the weight of dread pressed upon your trembling frame as you ventured deeper into the living room that was dimly lit by the TV which offered nothing but a static image. Your fixed shock on the corpses was shattered by a sound of splintering glass that echoed through the dark hallway you came from.
The heavy thud of boots resonated through the cracked fragments of glass, a commanding presence that sent tremors coursing through your veins. Panic swelled within you when you froze thinking about where to fucking hide. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, it’s not like you could fit under the couch. You tiptoed to the wall next to the doorway to keep out of sight, putting your hands over your mouth to muffle the sound of your hard breathing.

The heavy thud of boots stopped in front of the doorway, and you held your breath feeling a tear stream down your face.
There was nothing but silence for a few seconds. Following that, you heard the heavy but fading footsteps fade away further into the house and ascend the stairs of the house. Thank fucking god.
You waited for a little while just to be sure the footsteps made it up the steps. Then you made a break for it. Running out towards the back door until you felt an arm wrap around your neck pulling you back. You backed up and stumbled against hard muscles under a layer of blood-drenched fabric while simultaneously kicking your feet against the glass.

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” The silence of the neighborhood was the only response you got. To get you to shut the fuck up. Micheal started to press his arm around your neck a bit tighter. Not to choke you! He promised himself he wouldn’t hurt you again after finally getting you.  You didn't begin kicking and screaming for help until he brought you back to his house.

“FUCKING LET GO OF ME!”

For the first time he felt something else instead of numbness, it was painful. Maybe his version of sadness mixed with anger. He didn't understand why you left after telling him to get you food. Which he did: A bowl of Candy Corns. The bowl sat on the floor in front of the mattress and next to it were Lantana flowers given to you as a memento of him. He didn't know what else he could do to ease you into being with him. He did know he was extremely pissed off.

Entering the basement, you try to strike him in the face with your fist balled up, but he dodged your attempt. Michael plops down on your mattress cross-legged with you in his lap. You go to crawl out to safety when he tightly sows his arms around your middle. Punching, scratching, and trying to pry his arms off of you prove to be useless. You huff in defeat when you realized you were stuck in the arms of a homicidal maniac. And that’s how you spent the rest of the day in his arms.
Unlike you, Michael was kinda liking it.

This helped ease the loneliness and frustration he was feeling from trying to connect with Boo which was harder than it seemed. It’s like she was never alone. In broad daylight, she was always with her short-haired friend, while at night she spent time with her family.
When he went to get you those candy corns he went by her house and saw her with her same friend. He remembered this one a week ago yelling at him about having a sheriff for a dad when he was watching them from afar walk home together. He made a note to kill her later probably after punishing you for escaping. He had already killed one of Angel’s friends, Lynda, a while back in an alleyway near her high school. In other words, it wouldn't be too difficult.

In the silence while in his lap, your gaze down at the bowl of candy corn. Does this dude really think candy corn can help with your hunger?  Wait a minute…candy corns and lantana flowers…. You’ve seen them before.

Chapter Text

The sun cast its golden rays through the windows, bathing the gymnasium in a warm glow as a soccer game commenced. Laughter mingled in the air with the squeaking of shoes against the polished floor, punctuated by the resounding thuds of the ball connecting with eager kicks.

Cheers and shouts of encouragement resonated from a few children on the sidelines that watched the game unfold. A flurry of movement and spirited competition engulfed the space.
You, caught in the current of exhilaration, stood at the center of the action, ready to make your mark. You needed to make your mark. There weren't many people in your grade interested in you or wanting to befriend you, so you thought helping your classmates on your team win a kickball game would ease your way into some friend circles. You grew sick and tired of talking to the same girl, Olivia, in your grade that was merely an acquaintance.

With determination coursing through your veins as you awaited the fateful moment to unleash your potential. Your eyes intently followed the rubber ball rhythmically thumping against the shoes of other kids as it was being passed around. With fate the ball coursed its way to you, rolling rapidly. After you braced yourself, the ball, propelled by the unintentional touch of your foot, soared through the air toward your own team's goal.

“This dumbass bitch” Someone whispered. Almost everyone on your team groaned at your dumbass while the other team cheered, not for you though, for themselves.
Welp looks like you’re not making it into any friendship circles anytime soon. The coach’s piercing whistle coarse through the air, marking the end of the game. Around your kids side-eyed you and made snarky remarks about your intelligence, which to them, was lacking. You felt tears prickling behind your eyes that sought release and a tangible knot formed in your throat, hindering you from finding the words to speak out against them. You always fucking hated gym class. Hugging yourself you were the last to follow behind a group of gossiping girls to the girl’s locker room.

The scuffing of your feet against the tiled floor echoed through the bustling locker room that was filled with sounds of hushed whispers and animated chatter of your fellow classmates. Other girls were already changing out of their gym clothes while you were making your way to your own locker. As you passed by a group of girls planning their finishing touches on their Halloween costumes for tomorrow, you felt a hard touch graze the back of your head that sent a ripple of unease through your senses. Moving your hand to feel the back of your head, you then felt the unmistakable sensation of sticky chewing gum clinging to your hair, entangling itself within it. You look back to see your red-head classmate, Angela, behind you with a grin plastered on her face.

“Oh, I think you have something in your hair.” She says innocently.

“Why the f-” you started.

“With hair like yours, you should probably wash it off.” Angela’s lips curl upward, revealing a malevolent gleam in her eyes.

Your teary eyes scanned a sea of smirking girls, their eyes alight with amusement. Laughter erupted like a chorus of mischievous spirits when you ran off to the sink. As you tried to scrub out the gum from your hair with your nails you heard the jeers of your classmates echoing in the confines of the space, exacerbating the sting of humiliation.
The laughter died down as most of the girls began to leave, soon enough you were alone in the locker room with tear-filled eyes still trying to scrap the gum out.

A boy with light blonde hair sat alone at the bottom of the bleachers looking out to the door of the girl's locker room. The other boys around him made their way past him towards the exit trying to ignore his presence. They usually did. Nobody really talked to the Myers kid, but only whispered about his freakish nature. The blonde boy had already changed out of his gym clothes. He had on a black KISS T-shirt that was too large on his body with its print worn out from time, and it hung over jeans ripped at the knee. Now he was just waiting for something as his gaze was still fixed on the girl's locker room door. His head slightly perked up at the sight of a group of girls leaving the locker room. From afar he overheard one of the girls joking about you struggling to get gum out of your hair, boasting about how funny Angela’s prank was.

“I mean the idiot kicks the ball in our own goal. Is she slow?” Angela laughs.

His unwavering stare followed the girls as they walked out of the gym continuing to talk amongst themselves. Then it was as quiet as it could be. No coach, no classmates.
Just him in the faint sound of crying making its way through the locker room door. Michael got up from the bleachers, his converse sneakers squeaking against the floor, and made his way behind him to stay out of sight once the crying stopped. He heard the door open and close and your footsteps making their way to the exit. From behind the bleachers, your eyes looked puffy and red and tears still lingered on your cheek and your hair looked shorter than usual.

His eyes never stopped following you until your body disappeared through the gym doors.

You walked along the school's empty halls making it to your next period, hearing the echoes of laughter from classrooms and teachers telling kids to settle down. You felt a gnawing unease at some sort of piercing feeling at the back of your head. Like someone was staring right at you from behind. You felt too anxious to look back but you tried to muster the courage.

"Just do it," you said to yourself. Without another thought you whipped your head around though there was nothing but metal lockers and scuffed floors littered with gum wrappers. "I'm going crazy"
So you tried to brush off the paranoia as you did the harsh teasing from your classmates and made your way to class.

Thank god it was your last day in this shitty town and in this even shittier school. Your family was finally packed and ready to move to Florida, at least you wouldn't have to experience autumn's cold weather in Fort Lauderdale. You didn't even mind starting school in the middle of the school year. At least you wouldn't be in Haddonfield anymore.
Too bad though you wouldn’t get to celebrate Halloween.

Catty chatter and whispers filled the classroom bathed in gentle golden light as the teacher wrote on the whiteboard the name of the activity for today’s class. You tried to make yourself comfortable on the battered chair you sat on.

"Ok kids, today we will be making Halloween flower baskets" The teacher made her way to her desk to pull out a flower basket decorated with all types of orange flowers. "We'll be putting these baskets all around the school to get more into the festive spirit of Halloween."

Some kids were eagerly listening along with her next directions on how to make the basket while others were already forming groups with their friends.
"Alright! You guys can begin going into groups and making your baskets." the teacher announced cheerfully.

Around you other kids gathered in clusters, their voices mingling with excitement as they organized and discussed the meticulous details of their baskets. Caught in the infectious energy of the room, you gravitated towards a group comprising two boys and a girl, their heads bent together in animated conversation.
With a hopeful smile, you posed the question.

"Hey, can I join your group?" The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of your yearning for acceptance. All three pairs of eyes turned towards you, their gazes locked in a moment of suspended anticipation. The response came, uttered with a tinge of dismissal.

"Sorry, no," one of the boys replied, their words landing with a gentle yet definitive blow. The rejection stung, harder when they quickly turned their heads back continuing on with their conversations. Alone at your desk, you scanned out the area landing on the same girl you usually ended up talking to, Olivia. She sat far from you and was planning out her basket for herself. She wasn't much of a loner like you though she had friends, they just weren't in this class. Walking up to her desk, she raised her head at you.

"Wanna form a group?" you asked shyly.

"Sure why not," she said in a monotone voice, and so the two of you began planning out your design. Well, planning as in you agreed with her on the design she already made up. You plan one thing, advise her lantanas were better-suited flowers to match the orange and black look she was going for. Other than that you didn't want to disagree with her, argue with her or get her mad. She was the only person who talked to you in school.

At least this was until you turned your head back to see a boy all alone at his desk with no one to work with. He was quiet as a dormouse as he stared off into space, icy blue eyes void of any emotion. Strands of his greasy hair covered his face.

"Hey Olivia, would you mind if I asked that kid to join us?" you pointed your thumb at him. Your heart went out to him, seeing how you were usually the one who sat alone as others mingled amongst each other. In a weird way, you saw yourself in him, a misfit.

"You mean Michael? Why? He's so creepy"

"Okay, but he doesn't have a partner."

"Probably because he's so creepy. And I wouldn't waste your energy, that mute won't even talk back to you."

You side-eyed this rude bitch and decided to walk up to Michael's desk. His eyes locked on you as you made your way toward him.

"Hey, I noticed you don't have a partner, wanna join our group?"

Silence descended on the boy as he stared at you.

"You don't have to do much, we already did most of the decorations with Lantanas. They're really pretty. Look!" You placed the lantana flower on the boy's desk but his gaze was heavily fixed on you. Feeling goosebumps run along your skin, you spoke up again.

"Uhh…well if you change your mind feel free to want to join us okay?" you smile at him, but he just kept staring at you through strands of his hair. "You can keep the flowers too."

As you walked off back to Olivia, you turned back to see the boy staring off into space again.

The school bell rang, signaling the end of another day.

The vibrant colors of nature paint a picturesque backdrop for the school's front steps as students pour out of the building to get picked up by parents or loaded onto the bus. Leaves, adorned in hues of fiery red, golden yellow, and rustic orange, blanket the pathways, creating a whimsical mosaic beneath the feet of students. The air carries a crispness that hints at the approaching winter, as the sun casts its gentle rays, illuminating the campus with a warm, golden glow.

A cool breeze coursed through the blonde hair of a boy who hid behind the trees, among the wooded area across from the school. He saw you leave. However, the blonde boy wasn’t watching you as usual, he was watching Angela. Angela walked down the front steps of the school along with another brown-haired girl. Michael walked through them, looking through the trees, and tracking the girls as they walked along the edge of the Woods. The girls reached an intersection and said their good goodbyes. Going their separate ways, Angela’s friend continues down the street, while Angela crosses the street to the Woods thanks to a crossing guard. Angela continues walking side by side with the woods, completely unaware of a strange boy who was tracking alongside her a few paces. Angela pivots on her heels, her gaze fixed upon a winding path that snakes through the dense woods. As Angela steps onto the uneven ground following the path that would take her home from behind her, Michael stepped into view.

“Hey, Angela.”

Angela's startled scream reverberates through the air.

“Jesus Christ!” She turns to Michael with her hand on her chest, trying to calm herself down. “You scared the crap out of me, freak.”

She looked Michael up and down with a scowl on her face. His dead-panned stare caused her to cringe.

“What are you doing in the woods?” the redhead asked.

“Walking home.”

“I’ve never seen you take this way.”

“I’ve never seen you take this way, either.” His words emerged from his lips, each syllable carried a dullness that mirrored the lackluster expression in his eyes.

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this.” Angela continues to walk ahead of Michael, trying hard to ignore his eerily silent presence. The only thing she heard from the back of her was the distant call of birds and the symphony of insects buzzing in harmony. While each of her footfalls upon the earthen path resounded with a muted thud, she started to hear the gentle rustle of leaves. Turning back, Michael was nowhere

“Hey, where the hell did-” She turned back around only to be met with a blade being plunged deep into her neck. As blood gushed from the wound, she slid off the blade. Her hands immediately went to settle over the now gushing wound. Collapsing on the floor, her eyes looked up at his dead-panned stare and then at the navy blue pocket knife firmly gripped in his hand that was now coated in her blood. The redhead tried to let out a guttural scream but only managed to cough up dark-red blood. Michael watched as she fell back onto the ground that was soaked in the pool of her blood.

For a few seconds, Michael stood over her lifeless body, his eyes empty and devoid of any emotion. His head felt silent now. There were no more whispers of seeing Angel’s blood under his nails or seeing her lifeless corpse all sliced up. Just silence.

Then you, he had to find you.

As autumn's vibrant palette painted the suburban neighborhood, you embarked on a solitary journey home along the sidewalk. The crisp air caressed your cheeks, carrying with it the faint scent of fallen leaves.

The neighborhood stood adorned with playful decorations, transforming it into a whimsical tapestry of spooky delights. Pumpkins, their flickering candlelight casting a warm glow, lined the neatly trimmed lawns like sentinels of the season. Smiling scarecrows stood guard on porches, their tattered clothing and mischievous grins welcoming passersby into the realm of autumnal festivities. Cobwebs delicately spun across the bushes and leaves, adding an eerie touch to the suburban landscape. You walked briskly trying to make it home before it got dark. Your parents wouldn't like you to be late, and you still had packing to do before you leave tomorrow. While taking a turn to your neighborhood, a flicker of movement caught your attention at the edge of your vision causing you to stop. Looking back, however, there was no one there. A hum escaped your lips as you walked on.

Entering the house, you emitted a loud tired sigh while dropping your school bag on the floor. You were just ready to let this day-

Ding dong

What the hell?

The door beckoned you back.

“Honey is that you?” your mother called out from upstairs.

“Uh, no.” You replied. You made your way back to the door thinking it was probably your dad. Your hands twisted the cold metal doorknob as you open it only to find no one there but a bowl of candy corn and a note that read “Thank you." crudely written in a font similar to those used by heavy metal bands.

You shook your head as you picked up the bowl. Maybe it was nothing.

Chapter Text

Candycorns and Lantanas…

“I know you” You spoke. Michael's arm remained tightly around your midsection confining you to his lap. The blood that had trickled from the cut on your foot dried off after a few hours. The sound of crickets escaped the broken window of the basement. It was now nighttime.

"You're the Myers kid, Right? Michael?" you tried to raise your head to look up at him but the chin of his mask pressed against the top of your head. "I gave you those Lantana flowers during class. And you…you were the one that gave me those candy corns. Weren't you?”

The sounds of crickets engulfed the room again. He still didn't forgive you for your little escaping incident a few hours ago. He remained focused on pressing your back firmly against his chest.
"Please just let me go." you plead. He squeezed harder. You began to wish you never talked to him that day. Just let him sit there all alone in class, having no one to talk to. Maybe it would’ve prevented this. But that was far from the truth. He was already infatuated with you before you came up to him. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled against Michael's iron grip. You could feel his muscles bulging against your back, and it only made you more terrified. You couldn’t stay here forever, you won’t stay here forever.

"Please," you begged, "let me go! I haven't done anything to you!"

But he remained silent, holding on to you tightly with both arms wrapped around your stomach. It was like trying to break free from a vice.

"I'm sorry if I offended you that day," you continued desperately. "Just please let me go! I'll leave, and I won't tell anyone anything!"

Still, no response came from the mysterious man who held on to you so firmly that it felt like he would never let go. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to keep the scent of your coily hair coursing through his nostrils.

"Bro why won't you fuckin speak!?" You shouted as you began shifting. Michael stood up with you still in his arms, struggling harder and harder.

“FUCKING LET ME GO!” Fear began creeping into every inch of your body, causing goosebumps on top of goosebumps all over yourself. You thrashed around in his arms trying to find a way out of his clutches. Your arms flailed above you, like a wild animal trapped in a cage, trying desperately to find a way out. You tried hitting him in the face, trying to get yourself free from him. A low growl emanated deep within his throat startling you momentarily before you grabbed the matted hair of his mask tossing it across the room. Suddenly, strands of long blonde cascaded down your shoulders.
It seemed as though time stood still as you were in his arms until in an instant, you were aggressively thrown onto the worn-out mattress. From below, you finally saw obscured face of the man who kidnapped you from the concert. His dense dirty blond hair covered most of his face but between the tressels of hair, you could make out two deep sapphire eyes studying you with a searing stare. Michael pulled out a long sharp blade from the pocket of his brown boiler suit.

“I’m sorry” your voice was faint now. You knew this was your end. “Ididn't mean to. Please just don’t. I’m sorry.”

His grip on the knife became tighter as he looked down at you. He promised himself he wouldn't hurt you but with the sight of your heaving chest, you just looked so…tempting. And something about the innocence in your voice, the pleading...His bloodlust grew strong and hungry as he stood above you.

You stopped pleading for your life when you noticed a huge bulge in his coveralls.

"What the f-"

Michael dropped down to his knees, his shadow swallowing your entire frame. Tilting his head curiously, he brought the sharp end of the blade to your neck and began to slowly trace it down. You crane your neck up half expecting a dull roar of slicing flesh. Instead, you got a delicate light brush against your skin. The blade continued until it was caught on the elastic waist of your green pants.

"Please. Like I'm being so deadass right now."

In one movement he sliced down the center of your pants, the blade barely missing your sensitive sex. With fear, you fell back against the mattress as he pulled apart the material and set it aside, leaving your bare pussy exposed to his hungry gaze. He wasn't hurting you, right? If anything he wanted to help you. Help make you feel good.

"Don't," You started, "Please don't"

You tried grabbing his broad shoulders and pushing him off, but he held on to your hips. Your hips were lifted off of the mattress due to his size, they wouldn't reach his mouth otherwise. You felt his hot breath against your core and stubble scratching against your thighs. His large hands cupping your ass, he began to squeeze hard, massaging you from behind.

“No! Fuckin stop!”

You squirmed underneath him as his tongue darted out and lapped at your clit. The warm liquid that coated his tongue sent shivers throughout your body. His lips parted as he took your throbbing nub into his mouth sucking on it gently. Your legs began to twitch uncontrollably under his assault as his large hand groped your bare ass cheek.

He moved his other hand to your other breast and began pinching and kneading your nipple. As his mouth continued to lap at your pussy, his fingers pushed inside of you, stretching your folds open. A loud moan escaped from deep within your throat as a small orgasm began to swell up from deep within. His tongue slid out of your slit until just the tip of it was in your slit, he began licking your labia and the outer part of your vagina, tasting the sweet juices that dripped from you. The warmth of his tongue mixed with his saliva as he explored your inner sanctum.

The feeling of his tongue against your clit was enough to push you over the edge.

“Ah! God!” you screamed. Your legs shook under his ministrations as another climax overtook you. You tried to push him away from you but he gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you steady.
Your breathy moans and his groans continued to fill the room, the vibrations reverberating through your pussy and making you arch your back in delight. Your toes curled as he sucked on your clitoris, bringing about yet another orgasm. Your pussy convulsed around his fingers making them squirm inside of you in pleasure.

"OH! MY GOD! I'M-" you cried out loudly. You could feel your body shaking as he sucked on your swollen clit, swirling his tongue around the tip of it. Another wave of pleasure hit you and you screamed louder than ever before. Surely someone in the neighborhood heard. As he pulled away from your pussy, he grabbed both your breasts roughly, squeezing your nipples again until they were hard as a rock, making you whimper from the pain that shot through you.

"Please..." You didn't even know what you were pleading for at this point. For him to stop? To keep going? As you reach your final climax, he pulled his face away from your pussy, bringing your hips back down his crotch. "Why are you doing this?"

The weight of humiliation settled upon you at your position, a heavy burden that seemed to engulf your being. Only your head was laid on the mattress, the rest of your body was slanted up, with your ass on top of his lap, and your legs spread open. With your release covering both of his cheeks, he stared down at your puffy lips.
You felt the bulge in his coveralls pressed snugly between the lips of your pussy. He began pressing himself against you, yearning to finally connect with you. You let out a breathy moan in response. You've never done this before, and you were scared shitless. I mean yeah, you've given a blow job here and there to a few guys at college but this? This was fuckin crazy.

With a swift motion, he pulled down the zipper of his weathered brown coveralls, revealing muscle rippled beneath sun-kissed skin. You looked at him with dread seeping into your stomach, his thumb traced the delicate curvature of your jawline, leaving a trail of tenderness and adoration in its wake.
Michael had never done anything like this before, except for jacking off in his hand in his room at Smith Grove while thinking about you, but he wasn't scared. Just ready. Ready to take all of you until there was nothing left.

He continued to bring down his zipper and then pushed his trousers down, exposing the thick member that bounced out before resting heavily on your pelvis, pulsating with need. His cock was already rock-hard, begging for your touch. You let out a breathy whimper at the sight of it. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his forearm as he brought his shaft up to the lips of your pussy, eliciting a shudder of pleasure. You felt his long blonde hair tickle against the skin of your neck as your spread legs quivered on either side of him. You pleaded to him once more.

"Please just stop." You spoke out breathily. All you wanted to do now was go back to your dorm. Go back to your roommate you hated your guts. Go back to the concert to dance freely with Aaliyah and Molina again. But that was nothing but wishful thinking.

His hands wrapped around your hips, and he held on tight. His large hand pressed against your stomach as he guided himself in, inch by slow agonizing inch. Each movement made you gasp from the sensation that coursed through you, causing his shaft to sink deeper inside of you until it felt as if it would split you open from within. Your eyes shut tightly, and you tried to hold on to your sanity as he continued to push deeper inside of you, burying himself balls deep in one quick motion. The pain...the excruciating pain. He might've split you apart.

"Oh, my god." Was all you could manage to say, as he began to thrust his hips, driving his dick deep inside of you. It was too much, too fast, but you couldn't help but enjoy it. You weren't sure if you could handle any more pleasure that night but you were definitely going to give it your best effort. With each thrust of his hips, the head of his penis pushed against your cervix. Your insides stretched wide enough to accommodate his girth but it only caused your body to spasm around him with pleasure. Your legs began to tremble as his thick cock pumped in and out of your dripping wet slit.

"Please....t-take it out." you hiccupped at the site of a bulge right above your belly button, "You’re too big for --."

He continued to piston his hips back and forth inside of you. Every time he buried himself deep inside, your clit rubbed against his pelvis sending jolts of pleasure up and down your spine. The pressure built inside of you and a powerful orgasm began to build from within. Your head began to spin, making the world feel like it was moving in slow motion, your legs felt weak but he held on tightly to your hips while he began to pick up speed, thrusting his cock inside of you with such force that it nearly knocked the wind out of you.

"MICHAEL!"

You came undone as an earth-shattering orgasm overtook you, buckling under the intensity of it. You cried out into the dark room as a loud scream echoed through the Myers house. The mattress springs creaked loudly as Michael pounded harder into you, your body jerking and spasming against the sheets and mattress beneath you as another climax rolled over you like a tsunami. Your pussy convulsed around his thick cock, milking it for every drop of cum that was left inside of him. You felt as if your whole world had come crumbling down around you, and all you could do was surrender to the waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body.

He wasn't done yet.

**********

It was a few hours into the night, you came time after time again. You pleaded him to stop but he resisted, and kept up his ruthless pace. Wanting to devoring your body, marking you in bite marks, scratches and briuses to claim you.

All you could do is lay there and take it over and over again, wailing into the night hoping someone, anyone would hear.

As he continued to drive his member into you, he grunted loudly as another orgasm hit him, causing a stream of his cum to spill out of you and onto the bed beneath you. He let out a loud groan as his cock continued to pulse inside of you. He was in heaven. Finally getting what he's always wanted, what he needed to feel somewhat whole.
He kept pumping into you, trying his hardest not to lose himself in bliss before he collapsed on top of you with a loud gasp. His heavy breaths were replaced with gentle ones. On top of you, he shifted his gaze down, staring into your eyes, looking into yours with such longing, so much love in his gaze.

You lay under him for the rest of the night, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You didn't know what else to do but give him what he wanted while feeling the warmth emitting from his body.

Chapter Text

The gentle caress of sunlight tiptoes through the broken window from above, painting the basement in soft hues of golden warmth. You emerge, caught between the hazy embrace of slumber and the dawning reality. The first thing you felt was strands of hair scattered across your face. His hair. Time seemed suspended as the sensations of Michael's body, radiating with comforting heat, permeated through your Black Sabbath shirt and his brown overalls that was miraculously on him again, forging an intimate connection. You felt his chest rise and fall as he lay on top of you but heard no snores or small sounds.

You were in a state of numbness after being used like a fleshlight last night. Laying there with him on you, you looked up at the cracked ceiling.

You just have to give him whatever he wants. That's the key to leaving this shit right?

Subtly you tried to push up his shoulders to get him off of you but he didn’t budge. So you lay there for a few minutes, your vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling, and having the ceiling stare back at you.

That day before Halloween…has he always been following you? Watching you?

Just thinking about it made your skin crawl. A heavy sigh came from your side as the arm that was around the small of your back tightened, bringing you closer to his chest. Michael lifted his head up, his face still being covered by his hair only the bridge of his nose poked out. His breathing was heavy and the tip of his ears grew red from the sight of you gripped under his body. Your breath hitch when you were brought closer to his face.

This was probably the first time Michael felt some sort of…content… in 21 years. For most of it, he just felt nothing but rage intertwined with an urge to kill. Rage over being confined for so long away from his sole family member, and away from you. Rage over the death of his mother. As his face move closer to you, you began to feel his hot breath brush against your upper lip. Your eyes widened as his face inched closer.

“I have to pee!” You shouted, turning your face to the side and squeezing your eyes shut.

You couldn't do it, you couldn't give in to his wants. You couldn't sell yourself out like this without fighting back at least.

Michael cocked his head in reply. You felt a huff against your cheek as he lifted off of you. He walked to the corner of the room to pick up his mask and pull it over his face. Finally feeling unseen again. Before you could sit up you were pulled off of the mattress.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

He lifted you up and carried you bridal style out of the basement. You should be thankful he did that for you. You had all sorts of bruises from your hip down, and there was still pain lingering from last night. Your stomach churned at this weird moment, being held against him, you could hear the beating of his heart.

You stood outside the bathroom looking in at its decaying quality regretting saying you needed to go. Michael bumped you into the bathroom with his chest impatiently waiting for you to go. Stumbling into the desolate bathroom, a sense of neglect permeates the air, the walls bearing the faded remnants of a once vibrant color, now reduced to a dreary shade of gray. Peeling paint reveals the decaying surfaces beneath while the scratched-up mirror reflected the poor state of the bathroom.

You walked first to the window, looking out to the house where the bodies of the dead neighbors lie. The streets were desolate, there was even movement in other houses. Your eyes glanced down to the grassy ground below, it was a steep drop. A drop that would end in both of your legs breaking, well not if you fall correctly.

With measured movements, your fingers trace along the cool surface. The hinges creaked softly as you applied gentle pressure, coaxing the window open inch by inch. The chirping of birds spilled into the room, casting a delicate ambiance on the scene. Your heart raced, the last time you tried leaving it ended in you being caught. You had to make this attempt worth it. It HAD to be worth it. How many times can your dumbass fail before he decides to off you? Not a lot!

You wedged a slender object between the window frame and the sill, ensuring it remained ajar. Each action was deliberate and silent as if conspiring against time. The gap widened, offering a tantalizing passage to freedom you were robbed of. Eager to slip through the narrow opening, you contorted your body, struggling against the unforgiving dimensions of the window frame. A stifled grunt escaped your lips as you pressed on. Your muscles strained, and determination etched across your face as you continued to muffle your grunting. With each push towards the outside world, you fixed your gaze down at the grassy ground.

The breath of freedom that brushed against your skin was whisked away as a large hand yanked you backward by the back of your shirt. You fell onto the floor, with your butt hitting the ground hard in the process.

Looking up at an icy stare through the mask, devoid of warmth or empathy, bores into your soul with chilling precision. An unsettling shiver courses down your spine, as if touched by an invisible frost. Years of pent-up fury surged within Michael, its intensity building like molten lava seeking release, as he stared down at your helpless form. You tried scooting away from him only to be pulled up by the arm and slammed against the wall. Agonizing discomfort knifed through your weary body, settling squarely in your back.

Before you could rub off the pain Michael lunged towards you and strung you up in the air by the throat. You squirmed in his tight grip and started seeing blackness cross your vision, being unable to breathe. All you could do was look down at his eyes which were now devoid of any affection or warmth they once held for you.

He truly didn't know what else to do to make you want him how he wanted you. To make you not leave him like everyone else. It made him enraged just thinking about it. When he got this angry at a person, he would take their souls and that would be the end of them. That was always the result: them dead. But this was you, should he choke you to death and be done with it? Tear out your jugular? Slam your face into the wall until you're a bloody mess?

No.

He didn't feel the urge to see your blood on his hand or you limp on the floor. Especially seeing you struggling to breathe like this, as tears pricked your eyes.
He felt a bloodlust and anger sweeping through him all the way to his crotch. His hardening length created a tent under his coveralls. With his hands still around your neck, he steadily lowers you to the ground. You felt it ease a bit before he pushed you aggressively to the wall and pulled up your shirt. Lucky for him he didn't have to tear off your panties, you were already fully naked underneath.

I guess it was a fucking stupid idea to try to escape through a bathroom window of a two-story house.

His mask was inches from your face now, making sure you weren't running anywhere. It was stupid of you to think you could leave this place, leave him. He would never let you. He had to show you there was no escape.

"Please don't kill me!" You faintly begged, looking at him with tears streaming down your cheeks. The feeling inside him only grew.

He let go of your neck and slowly moved his hips between your legs. he hastily unzipped his overalls, letting his member slap against your stomach. His cock throbbed with need and anticipation as he slid into you. Your body tense with a slight shake in your legs. You whimpered quietly as his thick dick stretched you out, your pussy becoming wet from your arousal as well as fear and anxiety. You didn't think you'd get used to his size anytime soon.

He kept pushing deeper until his balls slapped against your bare ass. He grabbed onto your waist tightly, keeping you still as he started to savagely pump in and out of you. Your high squeal echoed in his ears. His cock glided up and down your slick folds easily, coating them with your lubrication. He gripped the small of your back and held you close to his chest, grinding his pelvis into yours. Though through the roughness, it felt a bit better this time, there was actually more pleasure to it. At least that’s what you told yourself.

He looked down at your face as he fucked you, your eyes were blown out with sweat beading on your forehead. Above you through the eye holes of his mask, you could see his eyes, dark with a burning anger as they bore into yours. You were his now, he wasn't letting go of you anymore. He would have to tie you down if you wanted to escape. No matter what happened here, he was determined to own you as his property forever. You moaned in pleasure, as it felt too good, and started bucking your hips at him to help him go as fast as he could.

He noted this.

His breathing quickened as he picked up speed, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the cramped bathroom. His thrusts became more forceful and faster as he felt himself nearing release. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was close too, and the fact he was getting harder only fueled his lust further. His grip on your waist tightened as he buried himself inside you over and over again until he was finally overcome by ecstasy.

He grunts as he spills hot seed into your womb, pumping his cum deep inside of you in spurts so fast that it almost seemed like a flood. Panting harshly, he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you with an intense look, his breathing labored as he watched your mouth quiver from the aftershocks of bliss.

This wasn’t supposed to be pleasurable for you. He could give a rat's ass about your pleasure.

“Ok. I’m sorry, you made your point. Let's just go back to the basement.”

He kept you locked in place on the wall, watching you intensely as you worked your way down from the high. He didn’t pull out.

“Ok let's just go.”

Despite your drowsy state, a lingering fury remained unabated within him, an unrelenting flame that refused to be extinguished. Especially when he saw you enjoying this. Despite having dicking you, anger coursed through his veins.

“Michael?” Your stomach flutters as the soft cock that had snugly remained, hardened from a new heat. “NO!”
There was no way you could go another round.

His cock throbbed inside of you with a new need and anticipation. You whimpered quietly as his thick dick stretched you out again, your beaten pussy clenching around him once more as you feel a new sense of arousal as well as fear and anxiety. As you were about to pound onto his firm chest, Michael thrust into you abruptly faster and harder, pounding into you as fast as he could. You could tell he was getting close because of the way his cock swelled inside your tight hole. He leaned forward, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him, forcing himself deeper.

“W-WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

His face was inches from yours; he was breathing heavily, his eyes wild with lust. You closed your eyes as he pressed the mouth of his mask on your lips, moaning softly into your mouth.
He didn’t listen. If anything, he seemed annoyed at your desperate attempts to struggle against him. Sick of you’re lack of compliance he then pulled out and flipped you around, lifting up your shirt and exposing your ass to the cold air. Your hands were flat against the wall on each of your sides.

“I said I was so-” Your words ended in a gasp.

His hands gripped it tightly as he slammed back into you, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Pleasure seeped into you again and you couldn’t help but let out a pathetic moan. You arched your back off of the wall as best you could, trying to help him find his own release. You kept moaning and crying out loudly as he pounded into you with such force that it made the walls shake. His hands went back to your hips and he fucked you hard, making your breasts bounce against your chest.

A guttural groan left him as you bucked your hips into him. Wanting to take him in fully.
"Juh-just cum in me already…please..just do it."

An animalistic growl was let out in response. Lifting up his mask to bite down on your neck viciously as his thrusts quickened, his cock stretched you wide open each time. The heat of his body seeped into your skin as sweat dripped down your back, the sensation making you even more aroused. His hand reached between your thighs, cupping your wet pussy as he kept pumping into you with deep, strong strokes.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as pleasure ripped through your body, causing you to clench down tightly on his shaft, sending tremors rippling through every part of your body.
As you felt his dick moving inside you, you almost forgot about all the things he’s done, stalking you, kidnapping you, and killing Aaliyah. All you wanted to think about right now was him, and his ethereal warmth.

"Mmphnnn…ahhhhhhhh!" You cried out loudly, bucking your hips wildly into his thrusts as you felt your inner walls tighten around his dick, gripping him in a vice-like grip. You could feel your orgasm beginning to build inside you as it coursed through your bloodstream, reaching its peak in seconds until you convulsed uncontrollably as a huge gush of fluid flooded down your leg.

"M-Micha-"

But before you could finish saying his name, a hot jet of cum filled you up completely and he let out a loud roar. His thrusts became erratic as he emptied his balls into you and your pussy milked him dry. His cock throbbed inside your clenching hole as he continued to pump his seed into you, causing you to moan and scream out in pleasure. he wasn't going to let you off that easily.
After he came, he let out a low growl as he pulled out and turned you around, to face you once more toward him while pinning you there with one of his large on your chest.

His mask was still on but you could see his eyes through it, dark with a burning anger as they bore into yours. Your face burned under his stare.

"I'm sorry…" You gasped as he held you firmly to the wall so that you wouldn't move anymore. "I won't do it again…"
At least you learned your lesson.

Michael's gaze remained ice cold and menacing as he stared down at you. He quickly snatched you up and took you downstairs to the basement to be in his lap. On the way down though you noted there were a few curtains in the living rooms.

You spent the majority of the day sitting in his lap with his arms tightly around you, you didn’t even try to squirm your way out. You just accepted the circumstance. Even though you didn’t put up much of a fight, he didn’t want to risk you escaping again.

At night when you half expect him to release you, he’d fall asleep with his face buried into your hair. You swore you felt him deeply inhale the scent of your hair.

Chapter Text

You had to seriously get the fuck out of here.

This is what you told yourself every day when you were in his lap. You didn’t know how long you were there for but it felt like months as you were living off of candy corn and strawberries he found from the dead neighbor’s garden. You felt yourself going crazy.

You hated being pressed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his breathing.

You hated the smell of the metallic scent of blood from his overalls.

You hated the fact that he was enjoying this, owning you.

You hated him.

You kept telling yourself to just give him whatever he wants, letting him fuck you whenever he wanted. But you couldn’t take it anymore. It was like a never-ending nightmare. But your hatred couldn’t mask the new sense of fondness you began to have for the warmth that seeped through his clothes. It was eerily calming. It was actually kind of a pleasant escape from the coldness of the basement.

Either way, through the hatred and the fondness, you weirdly got comfortable with this new lifestyle. You got comfortable with him taking a sly whiff of your hair from time to time.
You didn’t want to get comfortable but you did.
None of that mattered though what mattered was that you seriously needed to get the fuck out of there. This was what you told yourself again and again as you stared at the cracked basement wall as you sat in his lap, with his arms squeezed on your midsection.
You noticed that he never let up, he always had a firm grip on you. Probably because he never forgave you after your little escaping incident. It must’ve really pissed him off. How he felt didn’t matter though. It was what he did to you that did.

You started squirming a bit trying to stretch yourself, even wiggling your toes so your feet don't fall asleep. Tilting your head up you tried to get a glimpse at Michael’s eyes through the mask but his chin was nestled on the top of your head with his stare fixed forward at the wall. He paid no mind to your squirm, he already knew he could easily grab you back so you could never leave him again.

The sunlight outside that filtered through the window and scattered on the ground was extremely bright for a November afternoon. You found yourself fixed on the rays of light that hit the floor.

“Um...I need some water.” You spoke. Immediately Michael grabbed the cup of water in front of the mattress and held it up to your mouth. You took only a few gulps of water until the cup was whisked away and set back to the ground. You let out a sign cursing yourself for going to that stupid fucking concert. You should just stay at your dorm with your roommate and bitch about that guy from the Halloween party that never texted you back. At least you wouldn’t have been in this mess. You squirmed a bit in his lap a few moments later.

“Look, can I just stretch or something? You can watch me stretch. We both know how much you love watching me.” As you expected he didn’t respond, but he didn’t lighten his grasp on you either. “My fuckin god.”

Both of you remained locked in a stillness, unmoving and unyielding for the rest of the afternoon. It wasn’t until darkness blanketed the world where a change happened. In the dark basement, you sat there silently instead of trying to squirm out of his grasp. You gave in and leaned into his warmth, a warmth that you loved, shuffling in his crossed legs, trying to get comfortable. After noticing this, Michael tries his luck and slowly lays down on the mattress with you on his chest, and you just lay there on top of him, moaning your way to sleep.
He felt a tightness in his muscle from this. Forcing himself to lay still so he can enjoy the moment, he didn’t even feel like sleeping. He just wanted to hear the noises that escaped your lips as you slept. This was the first time he had properly felt you since he's been stalking you, so he indulges in it as much as he can.

You woke up finding yourself laid haphazardly on the mattress in the dark basement. Looking up at the wall adjacent to you, you found that the window was now all boarded up.

“Um, hello? Weird ass bitch where are you?” You didn’t hear the sound of heavy footsteps at the door, just deafening silence.

“I should've been awake” you scolded yourself. Maybe you could’ve run somehow when he was boarding up the window. Now you were left in the dark basement alone with your thoughts.

Right escaping.

Of course, you didn’t want to risk going out the second-floor bathroom window and breaking your legs so you devised a plan to somehow leave through the front door. From outside you never really saw a backdoor to this place. Getting up you made your way to the basement door, the handle rattled as you tried to pull the door open. But it wouldn't budge. The fear of being in this single room forever began to loom over your shoulder. You didn’t want to spend every day here alone with nothing but silence and your thoughts.

As you stood there at the door thinking to yourself, it dawned on you that your face was probably already printed on missing persons' posters across town and around your college campus by now. The campus was probably aware that Aaliyah died if her body was even found in that bathroom, hopefully, it was.

At least he’s gone so you can plan your escape again. You really needed to get out of here.

You spent hours in the dark working on the basement door. Well working as in taking your pent-up frustration out on the door.
Like usually you would draw your leg back, coiling the strength within your body like a tightly wound spring. Then, in a burst of energy, propel your foot forward, aiming squarely at the obstacle that stood defiantly in your path only for it to stay locked.

The impact reverberated through the air though, resonating with a resounding thud as your foot collided with the unyielding surface. The force of your kick sent shockwaves coursing through your body, the physical exertion accompanied by a surge of adrenaline and raw emotion.

“FUCK!” you screamed. The door was like a literal brick wall or something. You sat there for another hour until faded police sirens from above drew closer.

“HELP SOMEONE HELP!” You started yelling. The sirens got closer and closer and stopped near the house you were in. “I NEED HELP!”

You heard chatter outside that sounded like it was coming from…the front of the neighboring house. The smell of the married couple and the elderly woman probably got so bad that people surrounding the neighborhood probably started noticing! Which is stupid as hell. I mean they must’ve definitely heard you screaming right?

‘SOMEONE HELP ME!”

“Do you hear something?” a muffled voice said. Police chatter could be heard from afar from a radio.

“HELP!” You screamed again. Finally, this nightmare was going to be over. You heard footsteps begin to draw near the boarded-up window.

“HELP ME PLEASE I’M LOCKED IN HERE!” You made your way to the basement door and began to bang on it to create more attention to yourself. “HELP IM IN HERE!”

Soft and gentle, the footsteps on the grass whisper their presence rearing closer to the basement window. Each step creates a delicate rustle.

“Hello? Is someone in there?”

“YES! PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME!”

“Ok ok!” It sounded like a woman’s voice. “Are you alright ma’am? Are you hurt?”

“YES I AM BUT PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE!” you shouted back. The woman didn’t reply, in fact, there was silence for a moment. You began to feel a sense of dread from the prolonged silence.

Was Michael already here?

Did he kill her?

With a resounding crash, the silence is shattered as the person's foot connects with the boarded-up window. The initial impact emits a sharp thud, a brief but powerful eruption. As the person's foot continues her relentless assault, the wood splinters and cracks under the relentless force. The sound transforms into a cacophony of splintering. The wooden boards protest, their resistance giving way to the relentless assault. Each strike emits a series of sharp cracks, akin to thunderclaps, as the window's fortification succumbs to a hard boot.
You feel a sense of relief mixed with a sense of hope deep within you. You were finally getting the fuck outta here.

The debris dances in the air for a fleeting moment before settling, the fragments of a once-solid barrier now reduced to mere fragments of vulnerability. And peaking through the now open window was the face of a woman with her hair tightly in a bun. The woman was clad in her crisp dark blue uniform looking down at you with a furrowed brow.

“Oh my god, you're the missing college student.”

“Please get me the fuck out here before he comes back!”

“Ok ok, Are you able to climb out of here or should I come and get you.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman for a moment and then back at the door.

“No, I can climb out.” and so you did with the help of a police officer of course. The woman grunted as she pulled you out of the tight space. You felt the soft grass caress your knees and the warm air on your face.

Finally…you were free.

*******
Michael lurked in the shadows of his sister's home, concealed within the confines of a broom closet. Darkness enveloped him, shrouding his presence in an unsettling aura of anticipation. With each passing moment, his figure remained eerily still, his eyes fixated on the world outside the claustrophobic space. A sense of foreboding emanated from his very being, as if the air itself trembled with his sinister intentions. From within the depths of the broom closet, Michael plotted and waited, his malevolent presence ready to unleash a nightmarish symphony of terror upon the unsuspecting man and woman who were imposters in Angel’s life. Light chatter and hearty laughs escape the kitchen.

Angel wasn’t here.

A man made his way past the broom closet complaining about Nickel’s hardware store going out of business. He still heard the woman in the kitchen chuckling to herself.
As the creaking hinges release their haunting moans, a figure emerges, draped in an ominous shroud of foreboding. Michael stepped forth with a calculated and deliberate gait.
His towering frame commands attention, a silent predator cloaked in a worn-out, ghostly white mask with yellowish cracks. Expressionless and devoid of humanity, the mask conceals his true intentions, leaving only a void of emptiness where his eyes should be.

With silent determination, Michael Myers slithered through the corridors, his steps muffled by the suffocating stillness. Like a predator closing in on his prey, he moved towards the living room, drawn by the resonance of the man's voice.

His grip tightened around the knife handle, a tremor of electricity coursing through his veins as Michael approached his prey. With a fellow swing, Michael severed the man's neck, leaving a deep crimson pool to flow across the floor. Michael then raised his blade again and began stabbing at the man's face with warm blood splashing all over the brown rug and furniture. The glint of metal on flesh and bone sparked a flicker of rage in Michael's cold, dead eyes.

"Mason is everything alright." The woman's voice rang out from the kitchen. "Mason? Are you having trouble fixing up the TV again?"
The woman made her way to the living room. She stopped abruptly as dread pooled into her. Before her was the lifeless body of her husband on the floor, soaked in blood with his mangled face showing no sign of his former self.

The piercing scream escapes the woman's mouth was cut off abruptly in one swift motion. Michael sliced through the woman's throat, spattering her face with the jagged edges of the razor-sharp blade. Her limp hand reached out to Michael, pleading for mercy but it would be too late. Michael lifted his arm high above his head, leveling the blade down like a lightning bolt, against her chest. He stabbed her over and over again until blood densely pooled beneath the woman’s body, making her look like an abstract painting of gore.

Michael gasped for air, his chest heaving with each desperate breath. Then a chilling stillness came over him again. He had already killed Annie, now it was time.
It was time to bring his family back to him.

*****
The town shifted its gaze upon the spectacle that unfolded, as the news of your discovery by the diligent police rippled through the media. When you came from the house expected to be surrounded by dumbass neighbors that heard you scream but didn’t help, but you were met with much worse. There were dozens of bodies that lined the neighborhood, they were placed carefully on a large white plastic to preserve them. Your eyes widen at the scene of men, women, and teens who laid lifelessly before the five police cars.
He had murdered the entire neighborhood…to keep you here.
You got chills just thinking about it as you sat in your dorm, the echoes of the police interview still resonated within you, leaving a trail of lingering unease. The dorm room seemed both familiar and foreign, its walls bearing witness to my absence and subsequent return. It was probably even creepier being here since your dormmate's body was found mutilated on her bed a few days ago. So…yeah. The air felt heavy, burdened by the weight of unanswered questions and the remnants of death
The scent of uncertainty hung in the air as you sank onto your bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle upon my shoulders. The room, once a sanctuary of comfort, now felt tinged with a newfound vulnerability. The memories of the interview replayed in your mind, stirring a mix of emotions within you. You had to recall every moment from that night and the following nights. Everything, including the rape.

You felt even more uncomfortable with a strange man named Dr. Loomis who kept trying to talk to you, warning you that you’re not safe. It’s not like you felt safe. You were just glad they called your parents who lived in Maine.

Support and Referrals, the police had mentioned. Their acknowledgment of the potential emotional distress and trauma you might have experienced resonated deeply. Their concern was palpable, extending beyond the confines of the interview room. It was a small comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone in grappling with the aftermath of the kidnapping.

A knock at the door brought you back to the present, and a support officer entered, offering a compassionate smile behind them was Molina who politely waved. Their presence was a lifeline, a bridge connecting you to the resources that could help navigate the storm within. They carried a gentle understanding, ready to provide guidance and assistance through the emotional turmoil that lingered in the aftermath.

As the support officer sat with you, a sense of relief washed over you. Molina made her way to get some drinks for you and her. The support officer's words became a soothing balm, a reminder that healing was possible and that you didn't have to face the aftermath alone. They provided referrals to counseling services, victim support organizations, and resources specifically tailored to your needs, offering a lifeline to the road of recovery.

They then left leaving you with Molina who walked up to you slowly.

“Hey, do you know how far your parents are? They’re coming to get you, right?” she asked.

“Yeah they are, but they don’t like taking planes, so they’re taking a car. I won’t see them till tomorrow.”

“Shit. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“Honestly yeah I don’t know if I can be here alone.” You were only slightly eased at the fact that more and more police presence was on campus, especially around your dorm. But her presence could help a bit making you feel less alone as you waited for your parents to come to so you can get the fuck out of Haddonfield.

“Can I ask you something?” Molina says sitting beside you on your bed, handing you a Coke.

“Uh yeah sure.” You grabbed the drink and popped it open.

“If this like trigger’s you, you don’t have to answer.”

“Molina just ask the damn question.”

“Did you…did you see him, kill Aaliyah? I'm sorry if reliving that night upsets you, it’s just I’d like to know she didn’t die slowly.”

“No, I didn’t see him kill her. I just saw her body, and she was stabbed a lot from what I’ve seen. I mean, you saw her body right when you came to check?”

Molina stared at you blankly.

“Um, did you not come to the bathroom when we didn’t show up? For like hours probably”

“No I was kinda getting into the music, then I left with a group of people for a really sick after-party. I kinda assumed you both ditched me or something.” Your eyes twitch in annoyance.

“You’re telling me you didn’t even go to check the bathroom?”

“Yeah…and I am so sorry. I’m really bummed about it. Knowing Aaliyah died so horrifically and you were taken. It’s just-” she signs “It really bums me out knowing I could’ve done something to change that for you, and Aaliyah was my bitch and I just let her down.”

This bitch …

“It's…whatever” you replied in a monotone voice before drinking your Coke. You didn’t have the energy to snap at her, and you honestly just didn't want to. all you wanted to do was go home.

In a quiet, almost surreal tableau, the two of you sit in silence, sipping on your cokes. The calmness that envelops the moment feels strangely unsettling, a stark contrast to the chaotic events that unfolded earlier in the day. The familiarity of the scene juxtaposed with the weight of recent experiences creates an odd sensation, leaving you feeling disoriented as if caught between two contrasting worlds.
Though through the odd feeling, you knew you never wanted to see that man again, that boy that used to stalk you. Michael Myers.

Chapter Text

At the dead of night, the air inside your dimly lit dorm room felt heavy with anticipation as you and Molina huddled together on your worn-out bed. The only source of illumination came from the small, portable blocky TV perched atop a rickety table in front of you. The room was enveloped in an eerie silence, broken only by the muffled sounds emanating from the speakers of the outdated television.

The movie playing on the screen was a random CD that Molina had stumbled upon among her eclectic collection. You had no idea what to expect, but the flickering images and the promise of laughter provided a temporary escape from the horrors you face today. Your dorm room was adorned with posters of various metal bands, their shadows flickering in the pale glow of the television screen.

As the movie progressed, the tension between the protagonists gave way to comedic mishaps, eliciting sporadic bursts of laughter from both of you. Molina's infectious giggles echoed through the room, filling the otherwise silent night with a sense of camaraderie. It was a rare moment of respite amidst the moments you had been held captive with the looming figure.

It felt nice. To be normal again. To be a simple college student again. You honestly missed worrying about deadlines, sleepless nights trying to finish up homework, and going to parties getting blackout drunk.

Just living a mundane college life around people you barely knew. You let out a small sign as a funny skit plays on the TV.

“You good sis?”

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that, I kinda want to forget about Michael right now though.” Your mind was back to when you were in the police station.

You couldn’t believe it when the policewoman told you. Three weeks... three whole weeks have slipped through your fingers, lost in some hazy void of time that was the basement of the Myers home. You wondered how you let the days, the hours, and the minutes slip away without notice. It felt as though you'd been living in a dream, detached from reality, and now you're jolted awake, shaken to the core. 

Forced to go back into your normal life.

Molina’s eyes linger on you before looking back down to the blue plastic bowl that was filled with nothing but small amounts of kernels. 

“Well, more popcorn would probably make you feel better,” Molina says with a playful grin, volunteering to venture into the dorm's kitchen to replenish the salty snack supply. She picked up the huge blue bowl, and headed towards the door, her footsteps fading into the distance.

As she left, a twinge of regret washed over you, cursing yourself for not equipping the dorm with a mini fridge and microwave. If only you had foreseen this moment, she wouldn't have to venture so far into the unknown corridors of the dormitory at this ungodly hour. But it was too late now, and you were left sitting alone in the room, enveloped in a strange mix of anticipation and unease.

You didn’t want to be alone right now, but at the same time, you didn’t want to leave your dorm. In fact, you hadn’t left it since you came back and fully packed. Yeah, it was sorta creepy being here since your roommate was basically brutally massacred but it had a sort of peace to it. A peace you didn’t find at the police station where you were being swarmed with questions by detectives or stared at by other students on university grounds. The peace in your dorm was the sort of peace that was similar to the warmth of Michael’s hugs. It was fucked up to find some solace in him but the thought of his hugs was the only thing that kept you grounded so far for the past few hours. This room was close to it. At least somewhat in your screwed-up mind. 

The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as you glanced towards the door, waiting for Molina to come through. The creaking floorboards outside your room seemed to amplify, each noise punctuating the silence and filling your mind with unsettling thoughts. 

What if he found you? What if he killed her? What if he was already here? 

Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the flickering light of the television, morphing into grotesque shapes that seemed to taunt your imagination. A sudden gust of wind outside caused the window blinds to rattle, sending shivers down your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as you fought the rising unease that threatened to overwhelm you. The ambiance in the room had shifted, taking on a sinister aura that sent chills down your spine.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck…You REALLY didn’t want to be alone right now.

Your eyes darted to the door, searching for any sign of Molina's return. Every small sound, every subtle movement, playing tricks on your senses, intensifying your growing sense of dread. The atmosphere felt thick with an unspoken presence, as if the room itself held its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Time seemed to stretch further, stretching the boundaries of your patience and sanity. An oppressive silence settled over the room, pressing against your eardrums, drowning out even the faintest whispers of the night. Your heartbeat quickened, syncing with the erratic flickering of the television screen.

Just as the tension reached its peak, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing louder with each passing moment. The door creaked open, and Molina stepped into the room, the blue bowl filled to the brim with freshly popped popcorn.

“Hey, sorry I took so long I had to use the bathroom and some douchebag was in my way as I was comin back,” Molina says. She stops before the entrance looking over at your shaking body. “You okay girl?”

Relief washed over you, breaking the suffocating grip of fear that had held you captive. 

“Uh yeah..Sorry it’s kinda cold in here.” You try to calm yourself down, calm your thoughts down. 

He’s not here. He's not here. He’s not here.

She flashed you a smile, unaware of the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you in her absence, and closed the door behind her.

“Ok well I drizzled some caramel on this shit, I don’t know about you but I kinda like caramel on my popcorn.”

“Oh yeah, it’s alright I guess.” your voice sounded a bit small now.

As she settled back onto the bed, the shadows on the walls returned to their benign dance, and the air in the room lightened. The horror that had gripped your heart was momentarily forgotten. Halfway through the movie, Molina's gaze shifted towards you, her body leaning against the wall while comfortably seated on your bed.

“Hey, so I couldn't help but notice when you said that guy’s name, Michael,  earlier. Do you know him or something?” Molina asked while taking a handful of popcorn.

“Oh, Michael... Yeah, we actually used to go to school together when we were kids. It was such a long time ago though.”

Seriously? You were in school with that psycho?! How did you know each other?” Molina: 

”Well, I didn’t know him too well, and we never hung out or anything.  I remember him being seen as a weird kid around school. I think I talked to him a few times though.” Your gaze was focused on the screen as you continued to speak. “I only went to the school here for a while and ended up moving away before…”

“Before???”

“Halloween.”

“Is that important?” Molina asks, searching your gaze, but you didn’t look back at her confused face. “Did something happen with Michael around that time?”

“Yeah..that's the strange part. I left the town before Halloween, but I heard from my aunt, who used to live here, about what happened. It's pretty shocking, to be honest. Apparently, Michael did something terrible to his family. She didn’t tell me all the details over the phone, but it was enough to make the news and leave everyone in the community shocked.”

“Shit that sounds incredibly fucking unsettling.  Did he like…kill them?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Damn…It's kinda strange to think that someone you knew as a child could end up involved in something so fucked up.”

“I guess It's a chilling reminder of how people can change” You replied, your voice faint. “ I mean he was just ordinary, you know? Just a little lonely and reserved.”

“Let's not think about that type of depressing shit right now. Sorry I asked.” Molina says “Let's just lose ourselves in this movie and forget about all the fucked up shit for a while, you need that after the shit you’ve been through.”

“Yeah okay, I guess.” Your gaze became blurred as you kept thinking about the chubby-faced kid you pitied when you were just as small as him. You had no idea like anyone else what he was capable of, but you still couldn’t help but sympathize for him. You heard that his home life wasn’t exactly the best, and that probably caused him to snap.  

You didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know why he killed or why he was so into you. You were just grateful that you moved away before any of that happened, but it's still unsettling to think about.

You and Molina continued your late-night movie marathon, devouring one comedy film after another. Laughter filled the room as each movie unfolded, creating a lively atmosphere that helped to banish any lingering fear and fatigue. The hours ticked away, but you were both thoroughly immersed in the stories playing out on the screen.

As the credits rolled on the third movie, Molina turned to you with a twinkle in her eyes. "Hey, what do you say we head out to the mess hall together tomorrow morning for breakfast? We can grab a good meal before you embark on your long trip with your parents back to Maine."

You stretched your tired limbs and gave a faint smile. 

"Yeah sure. That sounds like a great idea.” 

As the night grew darker, the movie marathon continued. You settled back into the comfort of the couch, cocooned in blankets and pillows. The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, casting shadows on the walls as the comedic tales unfolded before you.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, the minutes blurring into hours as you lost yourself in the hilarity on screen. The exhaustion from a long day began to catch up with you, gradually seeping into your bones. Eyelids grew heavy, and a subtle warmth enveloped your body, urging you to surrender to sleep's gentle embrace.

You stole a glance at Molina, who seemed equally entranced by the movie. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, mirroring your own mirth. The flickering light of the television cast a soft glow on her face, emphasizing the contours of her features and brown skin. The shared laughter and late-night adventures between you felt like a comforting balm to the stresses you went through.

As the final movie played out, your weariness won the battle against your desire to stay awake. The bed became a cozy haven, lulling you into a tranquil slumber. The sound of the movie grew distant, replaced by the gentle rhythm of your breaths, synchronized with the steady hum of the dorm room.

In this moment of serenity, you found solace in the knowledge that tomorrow would only bring a warm breakfast at the mess hall, packing and meeting your parents. 

And so, amidst the laughter and the soothing embrace of sleep, you drifted off. 

*******

The sounds of the comedy movie were no longer playing anymore.

As You slowly opened your eyes, you were greeted by the harsh glare of your dorm room's overhead light and the feeling of wetness all over you. Blinking away the sleep-induced fog in your mind, you sat up and rubbed at your bleary eyes. But as soon as they focused on their surroundings, terror seized hold of every fiber of your being.

The walls were coated with splashes and streaks of blood that looked like it had been spattered haphazardly all over them. In a sheer moment of terror, you bolted upright from the bed, startled by the amount of red that coated your room and the floor. The carpet beneath your feet squelched wetly underfoot when you stood up from the bed.

"Molina?!" You called out weakly into the silence around you but there was no answer back except for a faint dripping sound coming from the furniture covered in blood. Goosebumps rise along your arms. Panic set in then.

“MOLINA!” you screamed.

You rushed towards the door only to find it wide open already - not just yours but everyone else’s too! Out in the hallway was an even more grisly scene than what awaited inside your room.

Blood pooled outside each doorway and there were large boot-like footprints connecting each puddle. In the dorm across from your eyes widened at the lifeless mangled body of a man on the floor. His right arm looked like it was reaching for the door while his other was completely torn off of his body. He didn’t even have a jaw anymore....To you, nobody seemed alive enough left standing anywhere within sight…

A tight knot constricted your throat, making it difficult to swallow as a surge of intense emotions overwhelmed you.

He was here.

Before a scream could escape past your lips now dry with dread, someone grabbed tightly onto your throat. Their grip forced your airway shut tight instantly rendering your speech impossible altogether leaving nothing audible other than gasping sounds of you trying desperately to breathe. Your life force quickly slipped away as the suffocating grip tightened ever further on your neck…

“M-mich-” you struggled. Your ear was filled with heavy breathing. You looked up to see the two eye holes of the mask staring down at you, completely blacked out. As if there was no human inside, only an entity.

He suddenly threw you backward, knocking you down hard on the floor. You pushed yourself up to look at Michael standing above you at your door covered from head to toe in a dark red substance. Your gaze instinctively drifted towards his right hand, where the severed head of your former acquaintance hung, his grip tightly wound to her hair. A look of terror was fixed on her face, wide eyes and mouth open in anticipation of a scream.

“P-please…don’t” you pleaded.

The air in the dorm was thick with tension as Michael stood there, his dark blue eyes blazing with an intensity that made you uneasy. It was the same intensity, radiating anger and frustration, you saw in the bathroom of the Myers house before he forced himself on you.

Michael dropped the head abruptly. The buzzing in his mind stopped as he continued staring back at you. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people he had to get rid of to find you again. He couldn’t have any witnesses this time.

“Plea-”

He lunged at you. His hands gripped tightly at your throat and you flail wildly in response, arms, and legs in vain attempting to break free from his tightening grasp. This was it. This was your end, you said to yourself. Your eyes screwed shut from the pressure on your neck.

Michael’s focus remained steadily on your increasing pulse. You were like a dam about to burst, the pressure mounting with every passing second, the intensity of the situation threatening to overflow. He suddenly loosened his grip on you. He didn't want to kill you...He couldn't. He backed his hands away from your now blood-covered throat that had specks of hair over it.

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged. Michael just stared down at you in response but you could barely see his eyes past the still-faced mask. ”I just want to-”

Unexpectedly, he started to tear off your shirt and bra and made his way to rip off your shorts altogether. His movements were quick and strong as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

"M-Michael! NO!" you cried out. You were not going through that again. You begin to thrash around when he goes to work on your white panties. Stretching the elastic until a tear was heard.

"Stop!" you yelled as he ripped it off completely, the cold air biting into your warm flesh. Your heart thudded painfully against your chest with such force you thought it might pop out of your ribs. "Oh please..."

Tears ran down your face getting caught in the corners of your mouth. You thought it was over. Thought you reached freedom. Thought you were just going to go to Maine and try to forget about everything. You were wrong.

Balling your hands into a fist you lashed out at him desperately trying to strike the forehead of his mask or at its black hollow eye socket. An attempt to get that ounce of freedom again that was being robbed from you.

He didn’t have time for this.

Without warning, Michael reached into his pocket for his trusted knife. It was the same large chef's knife - sharp enough to cut through bone without any effort at all. You would know seeing the aftermath of all the bodies caught under it. He brought the blade up close against the skin of your neck, you felt its coldness right on top of your jugular. You swallowed heavily.

Struggle and you die. Got it.

Your arms shivered as you brought them back to your sides, feeling the wet blood coating them underneath. Anxiety clenched your stomach. You were in hell again. Despite the knife securely pressed against your neck, Michael hovered over you with an eerie stillness. His eyes scanned over your defeated state, wanting to make sure you wouldn't fight him again.

When he was sure, he gripped the knife tightly and then plunged it into the floorboards next to your head. There was a sickening thud as metal met wood, followed by an eerie silence that hung over you both like a shroud. Finally, after what felt like hours but must have only been seconds, you spoke up faintly,

"Can you please just be gentle?" You no longer held an ounce of fight you had before. “Don’t go as hard as you did back in the basement. Please.”

Through his unbridled rage at you escaping, a wave of relief washed over him from finally seeing your compliance. His eyes still held fury in them as they made their way down to the rest of your body, fully sure you wouldn’t struggle.

Michael’s blood-stained fingers began slowly brushing up against your stomach, his eyes locking onto your soft bountiful chest. Your stomach fluttered in response when you felt both his large hands squeeze your heaving mounds, fingers sinking into the tender flesh dragging out a groan from your lips.

He fondled them roughly loving the ease with which your flesh surrendered to his touch. His head was churning from how easily he could rip you apart if he wanted to, which he didn't. It's just that....when he had his way with you, you were always so easy to handle. He loved that. He felt blood rushing south to his hardened cock.

"Be c-careful." You moaned as he fondled you. He halted and traced his eyes back to your face. Sweat beaded along your forehead as you looked at him fearfully. He gently kneaded your breast in response, for your own comfort. You shuddered, your eyes scanned down at the smudges of blood on your chest.

His attention was fixed on the warmth of your skin while you were focused on the roughness of his hands. To Michael, Your skin was always so smooth and warm to the touch. He could bathe in this feeling forever if you only stopped leaving him.

A small gasp escaped you, his fingers were like claws, tugging and pinching at your nipples with an intensity that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. He squeezed your nipples roughly causing them to harden even further in response, and pulled on them. Your short breaths, your hot skin, and your wanton expressions caused his heart to race in his chest. Taking off his mask, he lowered his face down, feeling his mouth completely dry. When he drew near, his nostrils were tickled by the smell of candy corn that he fed you in the basement.

As you gripped your bloody carpet, you were too scared to move them an inch away, fearing he'd take the knife and slice your throat without hesitation. You squeezed your eyes shut with a huff trying to pretend to be anywhere else than here. This image of you, trying to mentally escape this, was engraved in his mind, much like a vivid picture.

Michael’s hot breath tickled one of your naked breasts before he consumed it in his ravenous mouth. His mouth was like a furnace, burning hot with desire as it moved over your skin licking away some of the blood he had rubbed on it. His tongue swirled around your nipple as his other hand tugged on the other. You tried to hold back soft moans and groans but they kept escaping. Sweat fell down from your forehead as you looked at him abusing the nub in his mouth. He began to relish the kittenish responses he elicited from you. It sounded so wanting.

You didn't want this. No, you shouldn’t want this, but...it just felt so good. It didn’t help that you felt his clothed member continuously brush up against your sloppy pussy. Your mewls only excited him further, sending a shiver of lust down his spine.

A wet trail was left behind as he glided his mouth across your skin to abuse your other breast. Biting it hard underneath, then circling your nub with the tip of his tongue. In response, your back curved in an arched shape to offer up more of yourself to him. More and more mewls escaped from you. And the sounds…the sounds you made were divine, they made his cock throb harder in his overalls as if it was trapped inside begging to be let out.

Your face felt like it was getting hotter and hotter as you lay there now shaking. Sweat coated your body, your heart beat faster as he continued on. You let out more small mewls from his assault feeling your clit throb hard against his now damp crotch.

Unable to resist, He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop. With blank eyes, he studied your heaving chest now riddled with hickeys and bite marks and smudged in blood.

“Michael.” Your plea was heard as his cold eyes made it back to your sweaty face.

Watching, he quickly unzipped his coveralls, letting his member spring out to you. You deeply exhaled from seeing how hard it was from you, feeling the precum that dripped down his large shaft fall onto your slit. With his erection freed, he could finally feel your naked skin against his, loving the heat emitting from between your thighs. His cock throbbed at you angrily, a feeling he never understood but valued because you always caused it. The feeling usually subsided when he rubbed himself on you. Without another thought, Michael began sliding the underside of his cock against your slit. Your breath hitch at the sudden contact. You soon soaked his underside with your slick, coating him with your arousal to make him slide more easily against your slit.

You couldn’t believe you were fucking enjoying this.

His eyes looked down to his dick rubbing against your slick entrance and huffed your needy expression. You moaned softly, trying to keep any sound of pleasure from escaping your lips. He gripped your wrists tightly in his large hands, pulling you close to him so that his body covered yours. His mask mere inches away from your face, casting a haunting silhouette in the dim light. You were able to see his dark blue eyes stare into your soul.

Nope.

Weirded out, you twisted your head wanting to rather look at the blood-drenched wall of your dorm. His heavy breathing became louder as you felt him, hard and thick, slide across your sensitive vulva.

“Fuck.” you signed, shutting your eyes. “Michael just get it over with.”

Ignoring you, he continued to relish in the feeling of his cock rocking against you, and you had to continue going through the slow pleasure of his length stimulating your clit with every graze.

“Please…” As soon as Michael felt your hips grind hesitantly on his, Michael took it as a cue. You were ready.

With that, he lined his cock to your entrance and thrust upwards, forcing you into his girth until it was lodged inside you completely. You never really got used to his massive size. It always felt like he split you in two. You bit down on his shoulder in pain as you tried to catch your breath from being filled completely. The tightness was almost suffocating as he pulled out again only to shove it back in again as if it were a foreign object to him.

Tears began to well up in your eyes.

He started to buck against you, taking control and not caring who you were anymore. He began pounding hard, ramming into you with such force that the springs beneath the mattress rattled as his balls smacked against your clit.

“Fuck!” You cried out from the roughness of it all, gripping him tightly as he continued to pound into you. The room was filled with the sound of your crying and moaning. Your cries grew higher pitched as he increased the pace, driving you towards climax as fast as possible.

"Fuuuuuck!" You wailed, feeling his cock swell within you. A guttural growl left him as he fucked you through your orgasm. His dick twitched and jerked, inside of you, and the veins of his cock rubbed erratically against your gummy walls.

Did he get bigger? He was so big. Too big.

He continued to ravish your insides with his cock. His eyes were glued to you as you screamed and whimpered for more, wanting to cum again even though he hadn't finished yet. Your eyes closed tightly as he slammed into you, making you feel like your pelvis would burst open.

You were so loud that campus police would've probably heard you by now. Well, if he didn't murder them.

You didn't care about anything, silencing your opposing thoughts, all that mattered was that you weren't going to be able to walk straight for the next week after this one night alone with Michael Myers. He kept pounding you relentlessly, not letting up. Well, he did actually, but that wasn’t until jets of your slick spurted out of you, smearing an outrageous mess between his abs and your stomach. His movements were halted as he lifted himself off of you and tilted his head at the liquid coating his abs and drenched his suit.

You've never done that before.

You felt the heat rising to your face from embarrassment, clenching your thighs on his hips more to try and hide your shame.

"Did I just fucking squirt!" is what you yelled at yourself before he continued the same relentless pace without hesitation.

You felt your legs weaken, as if they were trying to stop him but it was useless against his strength.

"Don't..." you mewled out, your voice becoming more and more feeble with each passing moment as he pushed you further and further past your edge. "Please be careful."

His cock pounded into you harder and faster than ever before, as his thrusts became erratic and uncontrolled. He grabbed a hold of both your wrists tightly and pinned them down on either side of your body.You cried out in pain as he pinned them to the bloody carpet, his grip so strong that it was beginning to cut off circulation to your arms. You didn't care about any of this now; all that mattered was the burning need to come. The burning need for him to take you over the edge.

He began to grunt louder than you could've imagined. The vibrations of his chest and grunts vibrated right through you as he shoved himself into you with such ferocity. He slammed into you over and over again like a maniac, unable to calm down and stop fucking you.

"FUCKKK! Mic-ch-augh." You screamed out from the intense pleasure that was coursing through your entire body. Your pussy was on fire, every time he hit your cervix with his cock your whole body would quake uncontrollably with pleasure. Every single nerve ending was screaming at you, begging you to cum and you did it without hesitation. Michael grunted again, a long string of white spurt leaving him as he came inside you. You didn't even care about how much cum he shot. 

He was still buried inside of you, and your body was wracked with another orgasm as your pussy exploded, sending your juices all over his dick as he continued to pump in and out of you, filling you with his sticky seed.

"OHHHH... MICHAEL! FUCK!!" You moaned loudly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting blood on the collar of his overalls. He held you tightly in his arms while he continued to pump into you, savoring the feeling of his cock pulsating inside of your pussy until he thrust two or three more times before exploding inside of you again.

Michael laid down on top of you for a while then and rolled over so he was now on his back, keeping you firmly planted inside of your own cum-filled pussy.

He wrapped one arm around your waist and brought the other one up to cup your face. You were his. 

You felt so weightless and sated as you wested on his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. As you drifted off to sleep you felt your body begin to be lifted up.

***

It smelled damp. 

Gradually, your eyes began to open, revealing the dimly lit surroundings as you emerged from the embrace of slumber. Slowly adjusting from the blurred vision, you realized you were in a much grittier and oppressive environment. It was nothing like the basement of the Myers home. 

The ground beneath you is nothing more than packed dirt, sending shivers up your spine as you feel tiny insects crawling along your naked skin. The walls surrounding you are made of aged, weathered wood, with many sections broken down, revealing the eerie darkness beyond.

“Michael?” You called out. All you heard was the sound of crickets. "Where the fuck were you!?"

A single flickering light bulb hangs from the ceiling, casting erratic shadows that dance across the uneven floor. Its feeble glow barely provides enough illumination to discern your surroundings, leaving much of the space cloaked in darkness. You strain your eyes, trying to make out the shapes around you, as small amounts of moonlight manage to seep through the cracks in the wooden planks, adding to the eerie ambiance.

The air is thick with a musty smell, mingled with the earthy scent of dirt and decay. Every creaking sound and distant echo sends chills down your spine, making your heart race with trepidation. The oppressive atmosphere and the sense of isolation leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“MICHAEL!” You screamed. You tried to push yourself off the ground but you felt a sharp pain in your hip, you know, from fucking him. There were bruises all around your thighs as well. So you just sit there hearing the rustling of unseen creatures and the distant sounds of unknown origins, leaving you on edge and hyper-aware of your surroundings

Where the fuck is that freak?

You curled yourself into a ball with your arms hugging your legs, while seated. Rocking yourself softly, you couldn’t help but wonder what you were going to do. Aaliyah was dead, Molina, and then your entire dorm.

It seemed like everywhere you ran to death only followed closely behind waiting to take you. Wanting you for himself to possess forever. It was a grim reality you finally came to terms with. It was a reality you didn’t want to fall upon anyone else, especially not your parents if they ever come looking for you. 

So you sat there in the grimy, dilapidated place holding yourself tight trying to protect yourself against the cold. Maybe you just need to do what you always did, give him whatever he wants.

******

In the eerie silence of the dense woods, a man with a gray beard named Dr. Loomis hurriedly approached Michael, his footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves beneath his feet. As Michael strode with purpose, seemingly heading towards a destination known only to him, Loomis desperately tried to catch up, his voice strained with urgency.

"Michael, wait! Where is she?" Loomis called out, his breaths coming in short bursts as he tried to keep pace with the enigmatic figure before him. His flashlight beam illuminated only a few feet in front of him, aiming at Michael’s figure.

Michael remained silent, his face concealed behind a haunting mask that obscured any hint of emotion. He seemed unaffected by Loomis' presence, continuing to walk away with an unsettling determination.

"Please, Michael, you don't have to do this," Loomis implored, his voice tinged with both fear and concern. "Let the girl go. There's still time to stop this madness."

But Michael was unyielding, his footsteps steady and resolute. It was as though he existed in a realm untouched by reason or empathy, driven solely by an inscrutable purpose.

Loomis felt the weight of the situation pressing upon him, knowing the danger that lurked behind those cold, unfeeling eyes. Yet, he persisted, driven by a sense of responsibility and the hope that perhaps, somewhere within that masked visage, there was still a trace of the young blonde boy he once knew.

As they moved deeper into the shadows of the woods, Loomis' pleas became more fervent, desperate to break through the impenetrable barrier Michael had erected around himself.

"Michael, listen to me! You don't have to be consumed by this darkness. There's still a glimmer of humanity in you," Loomis implored, his voice cracking with emotion. "Release the girl, and let us help you find a way back to the light."

Yet, Michael remained steadfast, his silence a haunting response to Loomis' impassioned words. The woods seemed to absorb his voice, wrapping it in an unsettling shroud of isolation and uncertainty.

A wave of fear washed over Loomis, he couldn’t let this go on, let more and more people die. He had already killed his sister’s parents and taken her to god knows where, and now he was going to do harm to this woman that did nothing to him. 

Dr. Loomis raised his gun, a .44 Magnum, instinctively. This needed to end tonight.

“MICHAEL STOP THIS!” growled Dr. Loomis fiercely,  aiming the weapon straight down the barrel into the center of the mass, ready to fire if need be to eliminate the threat once and for all.

Michael continues walking.

“STOP!” He yelled as he pulled back on the trigger, firing four shots into Michael's back.  The masked figure stumbled forward and fall onto the ground with a heavy thud, leaves flying away from his body.

Dr. Loomis rushed over to him and stood over him for a moment, breathing heavily as he watched blood seeping from wounds inflicted by bullets fired at close range. There were two wounds on his shoulder and two near the middle of his back. Finally, it’s over.

How many people had died because of the man who gave himself to madness? Why show mercy to someone who was merciless?

With that, Loomis trudged his way into the direction Michael was going hoping it led somewhere he needed to be. 

*********

Heart pounding, you call out to Michael, your voice echoing through the desolate space. Yet, instead of Michael's response, you hear another voice, deeper and more weathered, calling back to you. Startled, you turn to face the source of the voice, your eyes widening in surprise and relief as you spot an older man approaching through the jagged holes on the wooden walls. You tried to move again but that just brought you more pain.

“Hello, is anybody there?” the breathless man called. 

Oh god. The last thing you wanted was for this poor man to die because of you.

“No! Get the fuck out of here! He’s gonna kill you!” You heard the rustle of leaves coming closer and closer. “No seriously go!”

“It’s fine! I killed him!” the man shouted back, he sounded like he was right at the door. “The evil, it’s gone now!”

 Your body went rigid, muscles contracting in a vice-like grip, freezing you in place.

“You killed him?”

“Yes! Look, I'm going to get you out of there.” 

There was a moment of silence before you heard a grunt and a sharp crack that echoed through the space, followed by the splintering of wood as the man aggressively breached the door. With a few determined attempts, the man manages to break open the door of the tiny space where you were trapped. As the door swings open, you find yourself face to face with this stranger, his eyes full of concern as he takes in your scared expression. He averted his eyes to only look at your face. The sight of your naked body made your face hot with embarrassment. 

"It's okay, you're safe now," the man reassures you, his voice gentle and calming. "Let's get you out of here and warmed up."

He takes off his long, brown jacket and wraps it around you, providing a much-needed shield against the chilling cold of the woods. His arms enveloped you, lifting you with ease from the confining space where you've felt trapped. You were shaking as you were cradled against his comforting chest. You wanted a sense of relief to wash over you, but it didn’t. What was the point of being relieved? Your friends are dead. So many people died.  You told yourself it felt wrong to be relieved.

As you both emerged into the moonlight, a burst of fresh air greeted your senses, filling your lungs with an unexpected sense of liberation. You blinked away your blurred vision, your eyes adjusting to a vast expanse of trees stretching as far as the eye can see. 

This bitch had you out in the wilderness. Damn. 

“My name is Dr. Samuel Loomis, and don’t worry we’ll get you to a hospital or police station that’s near here.” the man said as he walked you away.

Feeling disorientated, you glance back at the tiny shack you just left. The memories of your encounters with Michael lingers in your mind, still shrouded in uncertainty and fear.

As you walk off, the woods seem to swallow you both in an endless embrace, and you realize that you're surrounded by nothing but nature.

You both managed to find your way out of the woods, and his car was right up ahead on a dirt road. Dr. Loomis gently places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, guiding you toward his car. "We will find a way back to civilization," he says with a sense of determination. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

“How did you know I was here?” you asked shakily. Loomis signed before speaking. 

“I was with the chief of police at the scene of the massacre at your college where Michael butchered sixty college students and three security guards. Seeing  as to how your body wasn't there, I knew he took you.” Dr. Loomis had deep regret in his eyes as he spoke. “I told the chief not to let you go, to keep you at the station because something like this would happen.”

As you walk beside him up the road, a myriad of emotions swirl within you. All of those students.

“I guess I'm lucky to have found you.” he says with fatigue, “You see, I was walking out of  T&T Pistols and ran into this frantic woman and two policemen. They weren’t listening to her as she went on about seeing a large man in a white mask carrying a naked girl into the woods. But I knew, I knew it had to be Michael.”

You both finally make it to his small, tan-colored vehicle parked under a canopy of trees, its familiar appearance sparking memories of your grandmother's vehicle from years ago. you noticed the faint scent of aged leather. The person who had guided you opened the car door, inviting you to take a seat.

"Get in, we'll be safe now," they reassured you, his voice carrying a sense of warmth and understanding. You gratefully accepted his offer, sinking into the soft seats that cradled you like a gentle embrace. Dr. Loomis made his way to the driver’s seat and got in with a heavy sigh, closing the door loudly.

“Why…why the hell did any of this even happen?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion as you sat still in the car, all of the events that you’ve been through swirling in your mind. “Why did you even help me? Why did you want to?” 

Dr. Loomis’s face was etched with weariness and a haunted look in his eyes. His response came in a low, somber tone, laden with a weight that you couldn't comprehend.

"I was Michael's psychiatrist for years now, ever since he was a child," he began, his voice carrying a tinge of sadness. "I tried to reach him, to tap into his humanity, but... there wasn't any. Only a void. A darkness that sought to snuff out any light in this world. It was a darkness I had to stop."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the truth he had uncovered. The revelation sent a chill down your spine, leaving you speechless and uncertain of how to process the information.

You didn’t know what to think. This dude sounded fucking nuts. No disrespect to his psychological battle with Michael, but his assertion about his darkness sounded almost unbelievable.

"I mean, what kind of child doctor says that about his patients?" you thought, your mind grappling with the strangeness of the situation.

The car's interior felt suffocating, the silence amplifying the intensity of the revelation. You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to his words, his confession leaving you with more questions than answers. 

At that moment, the truth of Michael's darkness seemed too incredible to fathom, and the reality of this person's role in his life felt like a distorted twist in a twisted tale. 

"You don't have to worry about any of that. I mean it, you're safe now," he said reassuringly, his words offering a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos that had unfolded. He turned the key in the ignition, expecting the car's engine to purr to life and whisk you both away from the danger that lurked in the darkness.

However, the engine remained silent, refusing to cooperate with his attempts. He tried again, turning the key with a hint of desperation, but still, the car wouldn't start.

“What’s wrong?” Panic started to rise in the pit of your stomach as the seconds ticked by, amplifying the tension in the air.

A sudden, loud crash shattered through his silent response, causing you both to startle. The driver's window exploded into shards of glass, and a large, gnarled hand reached in, gripping Dr. Loomis by the collar with brutal force. He screamed in terror as he was yanked out of the car, his hands grasping at anything to resist the powerful pull. Tiny pieces of shattered glass rained down on your lap. 

You were left frozen in fear, watching helplessly as the struggle unfolded outside of the car with the chaotic sound of scuffling, gasps, and desperate pleas for help.

“MICHAEL NO!” Dr. Loomis screamed. Through the driver seat window, you watched as his body dangled in the air, his legs kicking at the upper legs of his assailant. “PLEASE STOP!"

Dr. Loomis' body dangled limply in mid-air while you watched in horror. Then finally all of his movement ceased completely leaving behind nothing but silence and his still body. All that was heard were faint sounds coming from deep within the woods. 

"Oh my god” you whispered, seeing the shape of Michael’s body move around the car.

With one last burst of adrenaline fueling your actions now driven purely by instinctual survival mode kicking in full gear at the moment you realized this was never going to end...you bolted out the door running straight towards trees disappearing quickly deeper inside the forest canopy above your head blocking the moonlight. Everything seems darker, scarier than usual since what just happened moments ago mere feet away was still fresh in your mind.  Replaying the gruesome scene again & again, unable to shake the feeling of terror coursing throughout your entire body. You felt yourself shaking uncontrollably as you ran, almost falling several times, tripping over roots, rocks, and branches strewn about the ground. Your legs were barely able to keep balance let alone maintain any sense of direction lost somewhere amidst the wilderness nowhere near civilization safety anymore.

"What have I done?" you whispered, voice trembling with fear and guilt. "I should have never left the shack…Left him alone."

But it was too late now; Michael had already claimed another victim in your name, leaving behind only a trail of destruction in his wake. 

****

As you crouched behind the cold, unforgiving rock, the night enveloped you in its suffocating embrace. You didn’t know how long you were running. Probably for hours, your toes had blisters and splinters all over them, and you suffered from tiny cuts from running frantically like a wild woman in the woods. You sat huddled behind a large rock hoping every snap of a branch wasn’t Michael drawing closer to you. That it was just some woodland animal. You hoped the sunrise would appear already so you could find a way out of the woods but it was foolish to wish at this point. It was foolish to wish to go back to your boring college life again. It was foolish to think all of this was over. 

 Fear clawed at your heart as you contemplated the nightmarish reality that had consumed your life since that fateful Halloween.

Michael, a relentless specter of terror, had haunted you since you were children. He was always there, lurking in the shadows, watching your every move with a malevolence that sent shivers down your spine. No matter where you ran or how far you tried to escape, he would always find you, like an unyielding force drawing you back into his nightmarish realm or…warm embrace?

"What's the point?" you whispered into the desolate night, your voice barely audible even to yourself. "What's the point of running if he's always one step ahead? If he knows my every move and kills anyone who stands in his way?"

He was always going to find and get you, but never to hurt you, as far as you’ve seen. Maybe you were right the first time, giving him what he wanted so no one got hurt.

You rose with agony coursing through your body, every movement a testament to the pain you endured, and slowly turned to face the source of your suffering. His hands were caked in blood as it always was. You told yourself that this is what your life has come to. 

So you accepted it.

Chapter Text

A young girl stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to a world awash in darkness. A single, feeble light dangled above, casting an eerie glow that barely pushed back the obscurity surrounding her. Dirt smeared across her fair skin like a morose paint, and her golden hair seemed to have absorbed the very essence of the darkness, shimmering with an ethereal radiance.

As consciousness fought against the shroud of disorientation, her thoughts began to coalesce into a grim reality. The air was thick with the scent of age and dampness, and the]wooden floorboards creaked beneath her as she struggled to sit up.

“Hello?” She called out loud but she received no answer. It was just her alone in the darkness of the attic.

Fear gripped her heart, its icy fingers clutching at the remnants of her shattered memories. She knew, deep within, that her parents and friends were gone, their existence snuffed out like candles in the wind by the crazed man she had seen stalking her around school and her home. Their laughter, their love, now merely echoes in her mind, haunting her in this gloomy void.

“This isn’t happening,” she whispered to herself.

Her breath hitched, caught in the tumultuous swell of feelings that surged from deep within her chest. She fought to hold back but couldn’t, and like a crack in a dam, a single tear emerged from the corner of her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek.

She was all alone in this harsh world, stuck in an abyss. 

Her chest heaved with grief, her heart aching under the weight of loss. She couldn't ignore the haunting notion that her fate might mirror that of those she loved. She might be killed by the tall white masked man. 

She looked around for something, anything to get herself out of there, her eyes adjusting to the sparse illumination that revealed little beyond the confines of her surroundings. However, there was nothing but dust and empty brown boxes. The young girl slowly realized she was in an attic from the triangular structure around her.  She doesn't actually remember how she got here. The last thing she remembered was calling the police when she found Annie naked and half-dead on the floor with her boyfriend hanging above her with a carved pumpkin on his head. Then finding her parents' dead bodies after being chased to her home by a tall man in a white mask.

A sense of unease crawled up her spine as she realized the gravity of her predicament. He might’ve kidnapped her. No, he did kidnap her.  

“They’re all dead…I’m gonna die.” she shuttered. More tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheek. As she cried a heavy silence pressed down, broken only by her soft hiccups.

Chapter Text

For a man with a great deal of patience, Michael felt annoyance start to nibble at the edges of his composure like an incessant buzzing fly. The annoyance was eating away at him to the point where he couldn't call it annoyance…no…something more akin to rage. He felt it when he came across the pieces of wood scattered across the floor of the basement from the window, a symbol of your absence. 

You kept leaving him. 

He resented the emotions your absence brought him, as a man who was unfeeling for human life in general. It made him want to tear the skin off his face and gouge out his eyes from the turmoil they caused him. It used to be enough for him to just watch you, but now he needed to be near you, he had to be near you, so close he could smell you. Soak into your presence and everything you did and said, but you kept depriving from him. Fueling his need to shed blood in the process.  

Your absence, after finally being with you for so long, made him feel…empty. You weren’t necessarily a patch to the void in him but you were something that fulfilled him. Maybe an obsession. 

He wanted to punish you for leaving again. Wanted to bring fear in your eyes this time, see tears fall down your face. He felt a need to slice your skin, hurt you how you hurt him, but he couldn't bring himself to. He vowed to himself he wouldn't hurt you, especially after you made a promise to him yesterday night. A promise to stay with him forever.

He didn't know what to think about it. 

He didn't even believe a word of it honestly, but he decided to stay close to you at all times until he was sure. Which was why he was standing over you, fixing a penetrating stare on your serene facial expression. Analyzing every twitch and microexpression you made while unconscious. He was silent. The only noises coming from him are heavy breathing behind the mask. 

But breathing must’ve woken you. Slowly emerging from the embrace of slumber, consciousness gradually enveloped your senses. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, struggled to open for a moment before finally meeting Michael's legs and gazing upwards at his ghostly white mask.

“What the-!” you screamed. Your heart stuttered, its rhythm faltering as adrenaline surged through your veins.  You never got used to him watching you sleep, it was always so fucking unsettling. A shiver of unease continued to snake its way through your senses, an unsettling feeling that refused to relinquish its grip. Without blinking, his unwavering gaze tracks your every movement as you cautiously retreat to the other side of the bed. His stare looked sharper and more crazed behind the mask as it bore into you. From the intensity of his gaze alone you were reduced to a mere whisper of existence, your sense of self-diminishing, leaving you leaving you vulnerable and exposed. It didn’t help that you were still naked, back drenched in dried blood.

He hasn't been watching you the entire time, has he? No, this asshole had to have slept at some point.

Your observant gaze caught the familiar form of his silhouette, seemingly unchanged. His presence held an eerie stillness to it, as if the very act of breathing had been suspended, rendering him almost otherworldly in his own version of tranquility. You looked down at his hands that were still dried in crimson blood and in one hand he gripped tightly onto a long sharp blade. It was newer and different from the large rusted kitchen knife he used.

A chill spread through the air as it crackled with unsettling energy, a palpable intensity that hinted at a wave of simmering anger lurking just beneath his surface, even though his physical demeanor remained devoid of any overt signs of rage. 

Just be good and passive around him, that’s what you learned to do, and he responded accordingly. 

A delicate smile graced your lips, trying to ease him. You convinced yourself he’s still agitated about you escaping so you decided not to say anything not wanting to piss him off further. It's not like you usually said anything to him anyway. When he had you down in the basement and held against him there was only ever silence between you. You only spoke up to use the bathroom or get food.

You uncovered the dark red blanket from your legs, slightly ignoring Michael peering at them, and got up slowly. The coldness of the hardwood floor slips through every scraps and scratches on your feet . Echoes of last night's ordeal still reverberated through your body, leaving lingering aches as a testament to the trials you had endured. Your attention descended, drawn by an instinctual curiosity, to find a mosaic of hand-shaped purplish hues adorning the landscape of your waist, a map of bruises that whispered about the feeling that lingered. You rubbed the exhaustion from your eyes, every little movement bringing a bit of pain. But you tried not to think about the pain. You were used to it after all.

Balancing with a subtle sway, your presence held a delicate fragility amidst the vast expanse of the room. The unyielding hardwood floor beneath your feet sent an icy jolt through your body, its touch akin to the chill embrace of frozen waters. Your gaze wandered, traversing the space around you, and a realization settled upon your senses – the room had transformed. No longer did it exude the unsettling undercurrents that had haunted the night, its corners filled with a darkness that now seemed dispelled. Instead, the bedroom exuded a rustic charm and coziness, with wooden walls adorned in a warm, earthy hue that emanated a sense of comfort. 

On the opposite side of the room stands a typical brown closet. Its doors, adorned with simple brass handles, provided storage for casual clothing owned by the people who used to live here.

A small brown rug with intricate patterns graces the wooden floor, adding a touch of warmth and cushioning underfoot. It tied the room together and complemented the overall rustic charm of the space.

The walls were adorned with paintings that harken back to a simpler time, reflecting the taste of those with an appreciation for classic beauty. Images of serene pastures, charming country cottages, and idyllic landscapes were lovingly displayed, capturing the essence of nature's grace that surrounds the cabin.

You idly stood next to the sturdy wooden bed frame, intricately carved with delicate patterns that evoke a sense of nostalgia. The bed was adorned with a patchwork quilt, its colors reflecting the natural beauty of a red forest – hues of deep red, warm pinks, and soft maroon tones – and a dark red blanket.

As your gaze meandered past Michael, it found its way to the nightstand, which had a worn yet well-loved appearance. Your eyes settled upon a tall picture frame, proudly displaying a photograph of a young married couple, capturing a moment of love and happiness frozen in time. They both radiated an unmistakable aura of joy and love, as the man had his arms wrapped around his wife. 

You attempted to push aside the faint pang of sadness that enveloped you as memories resurfaced of his haunting screams from being dragged by his legs last night. And the blood…there was so much of his lover’s blood that had pooled around your feet on the kitchen floor.

 Taking hold of the picture frame, you carefully tuck it away inside the nightstand, a deliberate act to shield yourself from being plagued by its memory each time you laid eyes on it.  You promised yourself they were both his last victims….Hopefully….that's why you're here. You had to stay compliant and be with him. Lessens the chances of leading him to newer victims. 

 Don’t try to run away.

If you escape, he’ll find you. It’s in his nature. You won’t be gone for long.

 You had to stay his. You would always be his. 

Your eyes shifted, drawn towards Michael like a compass needle finding its true north. His steadfast attention remained fixed upon you, a silent sentinel tracking your every gesture and expression.

“You're wounded right?” Your voice sounded scratchy as you spoke, probably because of all of the screaming from yesterday. Michael’s eyes widened at you ever so slightly. “I noticed the gunshot wounds on your back.”

He tilted his head, an enigmatic gesture only stirred by curiosity. You didn’t know how to take the response so you just took it as a ‘yes’ of some sort.

“Just take a seat on the bed, I'm gonna help patch you up.”

Stepping carefully over the puddle of blood you didn't clean last night due to fatigue, you made your way to the bathroom. You made a mental note to clean it later. Within the bathroom's confines, your fingers deftly traversed the contents of the cabinet. 

Pulling out some supplies from the cabinet, you were thankful for the fact that the couple was smart enough to have a first aid kit with gloves and some painkillers amongst their other now useless medicine as well as birth control pills. You couldn't count the number of times you had pregnancy scares when you were down in that basement. You took some painkillers first yourself and the birth control pill just in case he was feeling hornier than usual.

As you shifted your gaze, your eyes collided with Michael's presence, an unexpected closeness that left your heart racing. He stood mere inches away,  knife in hand and a silent specter by your side, his proximity both startling but oddly comforting. He was so close you could smell the metallic blood coming off of him but still sense the warmth his body gave off. 

“Ok, we can clean your wounds here then.” You huffed. “Just um…sit on the toilet and unzip your suit for me okay?”

From being with him in that basement you got used to his stubbornness and tried your best to work around it as much as you could. You knew he would never give in until things were done on his own terms. What you wanted didn’t matter.

you kept your eyes focused on searching for medicine as Michael shifted around you, his steps not making a single noise. Unfortunately, you couldn't find any stronger painkillers. 

“Now don’t worry, I actually did some first aid training at my physical health class last semester.” You pivoted, a mixture of curiosity and surprise lighting your gaze as it fell upon him. His overalls, once tightly secured, now draped more casually around his hips, revealing his toned form covered by an off-white T-shirt that was ripped and stained with blood in some areas. There weren’t any wounds on his chest though. A feeling of relief washed over you seeing this. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was because you didn’t have to do more work, at least that’s what you told yourself.

 Seated at the toilet his attention was fixed on a point in the distance, lost in a reverie that seemed to detach him from the present moment. His gaze was now stuck somewhere other than you. Despite finding it odd, you did not see yourself asking a question to get his attention.

"You think you could turn towards the tub? I have to see your back," your voice carried on a hushed breath as you ventured closer, your steps a careful cadence. The room seemed to hold its breath as you approached him, your words weaving a delicate request.

In response, his form moved with an almost mechanical precision, as if driven solely by your command. The wounds where his back told a different story. On his back, his shirt was stained with blood, which clung to the wound edges.

"I'm gonna lift up your shirt, Michael," your voice carried a soft tremor. The words hung in the air, a fragile thread connecting you both in the silent expanse of the bathroom. The absence of his response felt like a stark contrast to the emotions swirling within you. You couldn’t piece together where the sudden anxiety came from. Maybe it was the thought of him killing you if you screwed up. Then again if he wanted to kill you from anger he would’ve done it by now.  

Your gaze traced the path of his unruly, dirt-streaked blond hair as it cascaded out from under his mask, its tendrils meandering like wild vines. With an almost tender gesture, you reached out, delicately shifting his hair to his chest, allowing for an unobstructed view of his back. You could make out four wounds left by the shots. 

After struggling to force the first aid kit open you placed it on the counter next to the bathroom sink, ready to attend to whatever needed attention.
“Ok, I’ll try to be quick with this, I can’t promise you it won’t hurt though,” you murmured. Both of your hands cupped the ends of his shirt and began to pull it up, your fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt. You didn’t pull it up all the way though, you stopped beneath his underarms.  The sight of his back was now unveiled, an expanse of skin and harsh scars. Moving back you winced as a reaction from the purple and bluish bloodied skin around the wounds. 

“Okay, Okay,” you whispered, a gentle hush settling over your racing thoughts as you slipped on the plastic gloves. That Health Class seminar didn’t teach you about cleaning up bullet wounds but you tried interpreting them as stabbing wounds. You took out the antiseptic from your supplies and drenched a rag from the bathroom with it. You started with the two bullets on his shoulders, dabbing them with the small towel to clean them. Michael’s shoulder blades tensed in response.

“Sorry,” you muttered.  You pushed aside all the conflicting voices in your head telling you to stop comforting him. He was a soulless bitch that killed your friends and so many others but you didn’t listen to them. 

You instinctively reached out and gently rubbed his shoulder to offer comfort and support, however, that eased him only a little. He looked down to his hands slightly trembling with barely-contained fury, fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The image of falling head first onto the dead grass after Loomis fired those shots was still fresh in his mind, he would do anything to slice his head right off again. 

“Ok, I’m done cleaning the first two, and gonna do the lower shots okay?” Michael noted how delicate your voice was now. Almost faint. Were you trying to make this a less painful experience for him? “Then I’m gonna have to pull out those bullets and stop the bleeding. Don’t die on me?”

As the pain from his wounds gnawed at him, Michael fought to divert his focus from the discomfort, seeking solace in a small oasis of tenderness. He fixated on the gentle touch of your hands, marveling at how they seemed to possess an ethereal softness that brought a measure of relief to his battered body.

With delicate precision, your fingers danced over the wounded areas, as if performing a graceful symphony of healing. The tenderness with which you treated him was akin to an artist delicately restoring a precious masterpiece, each stroke imbued with care and love.

As you tended to his injuries, Michael couldn't help but be captivated by your touch. The soft patting of his skin became a soothing rhythm that echoed within him, like a gentle lullaby calming his racing heart.

You on the other hand couldn’t ignore how tense his muscle was getting, almost fearing he might just kill you because of how painful it was. Well, that wasn’t an urge he needed to fight with you. As said before, he didn’t want to kill you even if he was feeling like a spiteful bitch, but if you were someone else, you best believe you’d be dead by now. After you finished the wound, making sure as much dirt was removed,  you grabbed the purple tweezers from the kit and began to remove the bullets from the shoulder wound. As he clenched his fist harder, Michael could feel the blood slipping through his fingers. 

“Don’t worry, it’s almost over Mikey,” you murmured under your breath. Mikey? Why the fuck did you just call him that? Why comfort your rapist? You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and focused on pulling out each bullet wound. You didn't know why you should've just let him bleed to death and be done with it. 

It had taken you a couple of tense minutes, but you finally succeeded in removing all four bullets lodged in Michael's body. Relief washed over you, and you couldn't help but smile at the achievement. However, your celebration was short-lived as you noticed the blood seeping from each wound. Your focus shifted immediately, and you hurriedly attempted to cover up the bleeding, trying to keep a sense of calm while attending to the injuries.

With a few deft motions, you wiped away the excess blood from each wound, trying to minimize the mess and provide some comfort to Michael. The sight of his injuries made your heart ache, you didn’t know why, but you knew you had to act quickly to prevent any further harm.

After carefully sanitizing each wound, you wrapped them with gauze, making sure to secure them gently yet firmly. "Good as new," you announced, trying to inject a touch of levity into the situation, Michael flinched as you lightly patted him on the shoulder, and your heart sank. "Sorry, I'll try not to do that," you quickly apologized, realizing that he was likely in considerable pain even if he didn’t show it.

You pulled down his shirt and watched him put his gross-smelling mechanic suit back on, zipping it up quietly.

With a gentle tug, you lowered the fabric of his shirt. As the fabric fell back into place, Michael's movements took on a quiet movement. He tugged up the familiar mechanic suit, its smell a pungent reminder of the things he did. The soft rasp of the zipper echoed in the room, as he sealed himself within the familiar armor.

Leaning in, you gracefully extended over Michael's broad shoulder, your eyes tracing the side profile of his mask. Its expression was an enigmatic canvas, devoid of emotion like he was, behind the mask his eyes lost in the unfathomable distance. The familiar haze of his gaze remained a window to a realm only he could comprehend.

"Here, take these," your voice carried a soft warmth as stepped into his view in front of the bathtub, with measured grace. His eyes fazed through your chest remaining affixed, 

Your hands, delicate and purposeful, unfurled like the petals of a fragile flower, revealing two painkillers resting in your palm. Their presence seemed small against the vast canvas of his silent world, yet you offered them, a gesture of care transcending words.

"They’re not much, but they might help." Your words carried a quiet reassurance,

His hands extended toward yours with a quiet purpose. Fingers brushed against fingers, the moment a hushed connection, as he delicately accepted the proffered painkillers into his grasp. The act, seemingly simple, felt like an unspoken appreciation for you.

You look at him for a moment waiting for him to take off the mask and take the pills but he doesn’t for some reason. 

Maybe he doesn’t want to take it while you’re still here, he doesn’t want you to see him. You begin to slip out of his view only to feel his large hand wrap around your own, your movement halted by the unexpected pull.

Slowly Micahel pulled his mask up just above his mouth and took the pain pills. You shivered realizing he literally gulped down two tablets of pills with no water. 

“Uh…well, I’m about to cook some breakfast do you-” 

A sudden shift in his stance drew your attention. With a fluid motion, he rose to his feet, his grip on your hand tightening as he assumed a silent lead. The unspoken command in his touch was undeniable, a wordless invitation to follow him out of the bathroom. 

You began to feel like a fucking child being led out of the bathroom by your stern parent. It was a bit degrading for you really. 

You looked back with a sign at all of the used wipe wrappers and bloody gauze you have to clean later on.

The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through the cabin's windows, casting a warm glow over the rustic interior. In the large kitchen, you stood by the stove, now clad in a comfortable sweater and jeans you took from another closet in the cabin. You still felt uncomfortable from the dried blood on your back but you didn’t want to shower knowing Michael would probably be spying on you, like he did back at the house after you tried to escape through the bathroom window. From there he just stood at the door watching you shit.

Anyways so here you are cooking at the stove. The crackling sound of the wood-burning stove provided a soothing ambiance as you prepared a delicious breakfast for you and the man who kidnapped you for the second time now. As you cooked you wondered to yourself why he didn't kill you right after he forced himself on you. He got what he needed right?

 He had no use for you anymore, yet he kept coming back to you over and over again. 

Maybe it was the same reason he gave you the candy corn and lantanas. He cared for you.

“That’s fuckin stupid,” you whispered to yourself.  Your mind went back to what Michael’s psychiatrist told you yesterday night before his demise… A darkness that sought to snuff out any light in this world. 

Maybe he was right. No, he had to be. He literally died at the hands of the same patient he’s been treating for years, and from what you could tell there was nothing in Michael, only a drive to seek and destroy those around you.

 Aaliyah, Molina, a whole neighborhood, and your entire fucking dormitory.

 Maybe there was no shred of humanity left. 

A person with so much disregard for human life could never care…right?  

Maybe Michael just had some malformed sexual attachment to you in his own demented mind and used you as an excuse to kill. At least you were with him now, you told yourself that this attachment should no longer claim any more bodies.

But it already had, the couple from last night. 

You hummed a gentle tune trying to forget about them again, the melody harmonizing with the sizzling of bacon in the pan. The aroma of crispy bacon filled the air, mingling with the enticing scent of scrambled eggs that you had expertly whipped in a bowl. You let out a little sign at the thought trying hard not to focus on the pang of anxiety in your stomach at the sound of heavy breathing close behind you. 

“Michael you should really rest, sit on the couch or something,” You chose not to look up at him when you spoke. Maybe he’ll take your social cue and go somewhere else, but he didn’t. He remained behind you, your skin prickled as his breaths tickled your skin. You tried to ignore it like you usually did when he held you against him in the basement, but his deep breathing only became more clear. 

“Um…breakfast is almost done, but you should really rest..” You say breathlessly. He didn’t listen. He stood there breathing down your neck. Suddenly you felt fingertips lightly moving up your back. Your breath hitched in response. His fingers then made their way to the back of your neck. You felt him graze against your baby hairs. 

A subtle cough caught in your throat as you attempted to center your attention on cooking for the two of you, the rhythmic clatter of utensils against pans punctuating the air. However, the sensation of his fingers retracing their path down your back sent a cascade of flutters cascading through your stomach, an unexpected storm of butterflies that danced in unison with the simmering emotions within you.

 It was like he was trying to make you uncomfortable. You cursed him in your head, trying in vain to ignore his presence.

Michael's gaze descended upon you, his eyes meeting your form from a vantage point just beyond the crown of your head to the pan with eggs in front of you. He liked how quickly your hands moved when cooking, and the feeling of your soft flesh beneath his skin. The supple feeling of you filled him with an intoxicating blend of warmth and smoldering intensity he couldn’t describe or even understand but wanted more of. It was a sensation similar to how he felt after he had shed the blood of his victims, putting them into eternal rest. Almost like killing, he had an insatiable craving for being near you, feeling you, and being inside you. He had to keep a closer eye on you if you even changed your mind and decided to leave him like you always did.

After finally cooking the eggs, you gracefully moved toward the cabinet, the anticipation of sharing breakfast urging your steps. You never actually saw him eat before so this was going to be a first. He has eaten, right? He wouldn't be standing here if he didn't. 

You tried to look away from his eyes drilling into you as you made your way through the kitchen.

The clinking of forks, knives, and plates echoed softly in the kitchen as you retrieved the essentials, a simple symphony of preparation that promised the warmth of a shared meal between the two of you. Setting the utensils and plates on the table, you couldn't deny the subtle urgency that underlined your actions because you were hungry as hell. You never ate last night because of Michael’s little rampage. Each plate found its place on the table, your gestures swift yet meticulous, eager to satisfy the dual cravings of your belly.

Michael stood there by the table and observed your bustling activity with a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. The way you moved, a blend of purpose and haste, brought a flicker of nostalgia to his mind. Memories of his childhood, where his pet rats used to scurry about in a similar fashion, mingled with the present. The familiarity echoed with an odd comfort. As you brushed past him, the plates in hand, he caught a fleeting whiff of your scent, a delicate note that spoke of your presence in his space. Yes, HIS space. 

Your attention turned back to the stove, where the eggs and bacon awaited their final presentation. 

Michael remained rooted in place, the air thick with the quiet connection between you two. He admired your dedication to the details, your consideration in giving him a larger portion, a silent acknowledgment of his stature. You thought he needed it because he might have a hearty appetite.

When you were done you stood by the table nodding to yourself while analyzing to make sure everything was in place. Your attention then shifted to Michael, who stood there, a masked silent figure etched against the backdrop of your efforts. Breaking the quiet, your voice rang out, an enthusiastic declaration that was like a sunbeam piercing through the room. “ Well, sorry that took a long, ready to eat?" 

A subtle veil of weariness crept into the cadence of your voice. After you gracefully pulled out a chair to sit, you were hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't just stand there and watch you eat like the stalkerish shit he is. And he did stand there for a while, just watching you chow down but with a decision made, Michael slowly yielded to the call of your comfort and drew the chair opposite of you. You then hoped to god he wasn't just gonna sit there and watch you eat. Michael's eyes scanned the plate of food in front of him. Similar to a wild animal cautiously approaching a food source.

Eggs and bacon were a more drastic change from dogs and stray cats. 

You smiled at him before you dug in again. He stared at you vacuuming the entire plate of food. The plate seemed to empty at a surprising pace, and you hear a soft and low chuckle escaping his lips, almost inaudible.

Your ears peeked up, and you looked up at him again with food at the corner of your mouth. His eyes were still on you and still very much distant with a hint of adoration. Anxiety and a strange sense of contentment bloomed in you. You didn’t know how to react so you tried to ignore it and continue eating.

Observing you for a while, he eventually reached for the fork. Slowly, he lifted his mask just above his mouth, proceeding to take big chunks of the eggs.

“I guess he does eat” you internally say to yourself.

Between bites, you ventured into a conversation. "You know, it's funny," you began, a wistful tone in your voice. "I'm going to miss listening to my old heavy metal and rock CDs. There's something special about the crackling sound they made, you know? It's like they have their own charm."

Michael's head steadily perked up at the mention of CDs, an unspoken movement that you didn’t anticipate. He’s seen you listen to metal music all the time in your dorm late at night when you were doing homework. Your face always looked so peaceful. Maybe he could bring them to ease you into your life with him

"What? " you asked, surprised. “Do you like metal music too?”

You couldn’t hold back a smile that tugged at the corners of your lips, mirroring the faint amusement that glimmered in your eyes. You don’t know why you asked that, you would sometimes see him wear KISS shirts to school.

 But just as the conversation was gaining momentum, Michael's abrupt departure caught you off guard. He rose from his seat, his movements purposeful yet enigmatic. You watched him for a moment, a curious mixture of surprise and puzzlement marring your features.

"Where are you going?" you inquired, a note of genuine curiosity in your voice. But Michael didn't respond. Instead, he flung the cabin door open with a brusque motion, the resounding echo of its closure reverberated through the cabin.

He was gone. 

Left alone at the table, your thoughts raced to catch up with the sudden turn of events as you wiped a small smudge of egg from the corner of your mouth. You couldn't help but wonder what had prompted his departure, your mind racing through various possibilities. Did you piss him off? Was he gonna kill again? You told yourself not to think about it for too long because you had work to do.

Since you were going to be with him now you might as well start taking care of your “home” together. You felt disgusting thinking saying that to yourself and knowing it was true. You were sharing a home with Micahel Myers but it couldn’t be helped this was the way it had to be…

First things first was mopping up the blood off of the floor and then washing the laundry. 

****

As you went about your personal list of tasks, a sense of solitude settled around you, a comforting companionship with the silence of the cabin. The same silence you usually spent with Michael when you were screaming your head off.

With a determined spirit, you set to work, the day's agenda clear in your mind mop the blood, do the laundry, and wash the dishes. But as the hours rolled on, a persistent distraction wormed its way into your focus. Soft thumping, like a muffled heartbeat, seemed to echo from above, a delicate disturbance in the otherwise serene environment.

At first, you brushed it off as the cabin settled, the creaks and groans of wood finding their equilibrium. Yet, as the sun climbed higher, the thumping persisted a constant undertone that defied your attempts to ignore it.

Balancing a basket of laundry, you headed to the laundry room, intent on tackling the growing pile. But each rhythmic thump echoed in tandem with your footsteps, creating an unsettling melody that grated on your nerves. Frustration simmered beneath the surface as you tried to focus on folding laundry and think about the fact that you never got to say goodbye to your parents. The fabric seemed to match the rhythm of the thumps, mocking your thought process and attempts at productivity.

The thumping continued when you entered the kitchen. The clinking of dishes, the whoosh of water, and even the hum of the television seemed to dance to the same irregular beat. 

Is it broken pipes or something?

With a tired sigh, you cast a glance upward, as if expecting to find the source of the disturbance lurking in the ceiling. Jesus, the dead couple really didn’t manage this place well. 

Hours passed, and your patience wore thin. The thumping had transformed from an oddity into a relentless annoyance , like a pebble in your shoe that refused to be shaken free. The more you tried to dismiss it, the louder and more insistent it became.

The final straw came as you sat down to watch TV, hoping for a moment of respite. The thumping, now ingrained in your senses, seemed to synchronize with the dialogue on screen, creating a surreal and frustrating soundtrack to your day. The funny thing is you were literally trying to watch the news about your disappearance and the massacre at your college. 

The townspeople were calling it the “Redcreek Massacre '' where sixty college students and two campus security guards were killed in a single dorm by the infamous Michael Myers. 

It seems like the entire world stopped for the town of Haddonfield, as a tremendous loss engulfed them as well as an ongoing manhunt for the serial killer. Their boogeyman committed a worse atrocity than just murdering his family in one night. There was also something about a missing sixteen-year-old. But you could bearly listen to the evening newscaster because of that fucking annoying thumping. 

Pushing aside the remote, you rose from the couch, your determination renewed. The cabin's serenity had been usurped by this incessant sound, and you were no longer content to let that shit continue. With a determined stride, you made your way to the hallway, following the sound as it got louder and louder. You stopped in front of a brown sturdy staircase that led all the way up to the attic door, there was a resolute glint in your eyes.

But just as you were about to ascend the stairs, a sudden loud racket erupted. The front door burst open with a force that seemed to shake the very foundation of the cabin, its reverberations crashing through the air. The abrupt intrusion of noise sliced through the persistent thumping, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Startled, you pivoted and hastened back to the living room, words forming on your lips, eager to share your frustration with Michael. 

“Michael I’m glad you’re back I kept hearing this annoying-” However, your sentence was abruptly severed, your voice hanging in the air, as the scene unfolded before you.

Michael stood before you in the doorway, his imposing presence softened by the heavy metal CDs and grey boom box CD player he held in his hefty hands. Stoically, he placed them on the counter, a silent gesture that resonated with a deeper understanding. The thumping's enigma found its resolution, and your gaze locked onto the items before you.

“You got my CDs.” Your widened eyes lingered on the CD as if they were a lost treasure. You looked at him feeling your blood run cold. “Did you kill people to get this?”

Your voice was hushed.

He gave you a slight nod and as a response you felt a shiver crawl up your spine. You didn’t know if you could get used to the trail of death he always leaves behind but you told yourself you had to try. With a faint smile gracing your face you made your way to the kitchen counter.

“Ok well..thanks.” You replied. “For the CDs I mean.”

A hint of gratitude danced in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of his thoughtful gesture. Your voice, momentarily stilled, eventually found its way to your lips, forming a question you were kind of eager to voice. "Wanna listen to some KISS songs ?" 

It’s been a long since you listened to your CDs, ever since everything that happened. Michael didn’t give you a reply but you could feel like he said yes in silence. He was more than ready to spend time with you that wasn’t just pure silence and he was already in a good mood from the fact that you were still here. You really didn’t leave him like you promised.

How to shape this scene…what do I want to show?: The weird normalcy between them and the reader cozying to a killer. 

Within the veil of the pinkish sunset, a tranquil hush settled like a soft veil over your surroundings as wood crackled at the fireplace. Within this cocoon of stillness, the living room became a sanctuary of sound, the iconic chords of a KISS song emanating from the gray boombox CD player. As "God of Thunder" unfurled, the melody wove through the air, a symphony of nostalgia that painted the room with its resonance. 

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sitting here with Michael, in fact, you haven’t been focusing on him for a while now.  You found yourself focusing on the music that enveloped the room, nodding your head to the rhythm of the beat while trying to let go of all the negative thoughts that plagued your mind throughout the day. You don’t being able to see your family, your friends are all dead, and your life was set to be stuck here with a kid that has stalked you since you came to Haddonfield. 

 Your gaze suddenly shifted to the body-enigmatic figure seated beside you with his long legs extended out, the silent man. His silence was beginning to make his presence oddly comforting now, and the music seemed to connect the two of you, making you almost forget all the crazy shit he’s done.

In a departure from his typical demeanor, which often radiates tension and heightened vigilance, he now appeared strangely serene in his silence. You couldn’t explain it, it’s not like he showed it physically.

Amidst the music's embrace, Your eyes then maneuvered along the side of his mask, following its contours, its edges worn and tinged with the marks of time, a testament to the experiences and death it had witnessed. You wonder where he even got it. It looked like it could be from a Halloween store. 

 The simplicity of the moment lent a clarity to your observations, and you found yourself slightly admiring the strength that emanated from him. It looked like he was almost 7 feet tall. You found yourself complimenting the fact that he towered over you when you were near him. 

However , your admiration ceased when a tinge of discomfort crept in as you realized he was still clad in his dirt-stained mechanic suit.

Leaning closer, you caught his attention, your voice gentle as you voiced your concern. "Michael," you began, your words weaving a fragile bridge of connection. "Are you even comfortable in that suit? You've been in it since yesterday and it smells really bad, and I don’t think it would be safe to wear, it might infect your wounds."

“It smells like roadkill itself.” You couldn't help but joke, "Maybe you should just bathe in a vat of motor oil?"

His gaze remained distant in front of him, focused solely on the music that enveloped you both.  Barely moving his head in your direction.

“Sorry…I’m usually funny to some people.”

His lack of verbal response was a reminder of his unique way of communicating. You used to be unnerved by his silence and the stare that ripped through you and into your soul but now you found solace in it. It was a language that you had grown to understand oddly enough.

Yet you started to wonder what his voice must've sounded like. You never heard him talk as a kid when he did interact with you a little. He had to have talked at some point right? You heard from other kids during that time that he would speak. 

Why wouldn’t he ever speak to you?

You shifted slightly, your desire to ease his comfort overriding your initial hesitance. "Y’know I actually washed some of those oversized sweatpants and shirts from the couple," you shared softly, a gesture meant to bridge the gap between his world and yours. You hoped he would pick up on your words and realize that you were trying to make him feel at home, to let him know he was part of this space since he’ll be here with you from now on.

Still, his gaze remained fixed on a distant point, his attention absorbed by the music that surrounded you. You released a quiet sigh, your heart warmed by the serene moment despite the slight unease you feel for him. There was no need to push him. At least not now. 

Finally, you leaned back, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before you spoke again. "Maybe after this," you suggested gently, hoping he would grasp your meaning.

With that, you settled back, your focus returning to the music that enveloped you. The two of you shared this space, the silent language of music and shared presence forging a connection that words could never quite capture. As the chorus of "God of Thunder" soared, you found yourself lost in the music again, a moment of tranquility and understanding that transcended between you two like a spoken language.

After a few more KISS songs, you check the time on a clock above a lamp. It was almost 11 PM. Holy shit time flies by fast as hell. 

The cabin was deeply cloaked in the embrace of night, the dim glow from a few lamps cast soft shadows across the rustic interior. In the midst of this tranquil scene, you stood up with Michael following, a towering figure wrapped in the tattered remnants of a mechanic's suit caked in red and dirt.

“Okay…you’re gonna have to take a bath, Michael. You smell like shit. No offense.”  His gaze, although obscured by the darkness of the mask, met yours. You heard a hard sign coming from him as if he was tired of your shit right now. 

“Yeah yeah…you’re still showering.” ‘you retort with a playful hint of sarcasm.

You stride away with purpose, swift steps carrying you through the bedroom and leading directly to the bathroom. When you finally reached its open door you turned around to see Michael’s imposing stature right behind you, a commanding presence that belied the vulnerability you were about to address. 

“Um…Ok well, do your thing and give me your mechanical suit for me to wash okay?”

You didn’t expect a response as you went to move past him to go back to the living room, but as you did you felt his large fingers curl around your arm and pull you back. You felt yourself move backward into the bathroom where the bathtub awaited, its porcelain curves stark against the subdued cabin lighting.

Your voice broke the silence, gentle but firm, "Michael, I’m not bathing with you." 

Michael huffed in response but began forcefully tugging up your shirt. you fought him until you were tackled to the ground with him exposing more of yourself to him. The last thing that was on your list of things to do today was fucking Shower with him. In fact, it wasn't even on the damn list, not because you were self-conscious, he's already seen more of you than anyone else had, but because he took more from you than anyone else had. He took your body when he wanted, took the time you could've spent at college, and took your life from you, Substituting it for a life with him. Bathing with him felt wrong.

It felt like you were agreeing to live in his twisted version of domesticity. Not knowing how much more you're actually giving up. Sometimes you find yourself not knowing how much more you could give. if you could ever fully give all of yourself to him.

What other choice do you have?

If you don't agree more and more people will die.

"OK wait!" you yelled as he freed you from your Sweater. He rose back to his original height looking at you curled up to a small ball on the floor. "I'll take a shower with you. Just let me take off my clothes by myself." He stared down at you as you unbuckled your Jean pants feeling butterflies creep along the walls of your stomach. If this was a normal relationship, bathing together would've been so romantic but it wasn't. After you pulled down your Pants along with your panties you stood back up wearing only a red bra. This prompted Michael to reach behind your back to undo it. revealing the part of you he loved to bite into the most tender part of you.

you saw his gaze run along your naked body and see his crotch area tent up.

"We're just showering Michael," you spoke sternly. you saw his pupils narrow in on you as a deafening silence fell in the room again. “Nothing more.”

There was nothing but silence between you. The only thing heard among the tension was the sound of nighttime crickets.

Then he brought the knife up. You tensed up, closing your eyes quickly to get ready for the strike to come. You didn't think he’d actually kill you for not giving up the coochie, he usually just took what he wanted by force, disregarding your objections.

You heard a clatter in the bathroom sink. You peeked your eyes open to see The knife lying there abandoned. Michael continued to look at you before he brought both of his hands up again this time to wrap his fingers over the zippers. He was being a little slow as he brought it down, and then it hit you, he's still hurt.

"Here let me help you." With a tenderness you hadn't anticipated, you began to help him out of his soiled clothes. Each piece of fabric fell away, revealing the wear and tear etched into his skin.

He took your hand into his, reveling in how small it looked compared to his own he began to squeeze your hand too tightly from feeling cute aggression towards you.

“Ow! Jesus fuckin Christ Michael!” you shouted. His grip on your hand eased as he caught the fleeting glimpse of pain in your expression. With a silent understanding, he guided your hand towards the zipper of his overalls, a wordless invitation that spoke volumes of his vulnerability. As soon as his coveralls hit the floor he stepped into the tub, you couldn't help but rub away the throbbing in your hand trying to ease your discomfort.

Jesus the dude almost dislocated your whole hand. Your breath hitched when he pulled you towards him into the tub, the closeness sending a strange, tingling heat spiraling through your stomach. In this proximity, your skin brushed his, setting off a curious collision of sensations that you struggled to decipher. Similar to when you crush on someone, it was a burning feeling. You hated it so much, but it was a hard feeling to hate. When you looked up at him you noticed the only thing he had on was his mask, as if it was his actual face. Maybe it was to him.

You couldn’t even see his dark blue eyes under the light.

“Um, what about the-” Before you could finish, his hand extended behind you with a swift movement, and the faucet came to life under his touch. A cascade of frigid water unexpectedly met your back, a sharp shock that swiftly transitioned into a soothing warmth, enveloping you in a sensual dance of temperatures. “You could’ve warned me! or made some dumb hand gesture telling me you were gonna turn it on!!”

You shivered a bit as you tried to relax in the warm water.

Michael’s gaze remains fixed, an avid observer, as rivulets of water trace down from your neck to your breast, making their way to your stomach and inner thighs, each droplet a delicate explorer navigating the landscape of your skin. Averting your eyes from his lower half, you tried hard to ignore his half-hard cock, which only got harder when you noticed.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, your search for something to cleanse yourself with is met with the discovery of a gentle yellow bath sponge, suspended like a delicate ornament from the curve of the shower head. You grabbed it still feeling Michael's eyes on your naked body. Just as you were about to wash yourself a realization hit you, he still had on bandages.

“Wait Michael, I need to remove the bandages. I’ll put new ones on after the shower, OK?” His gaze was stuck on you as it usually was. “Can you please turn around?”

Michael huffed but silently obliged, taking his time to turn around. You took your time to take off each large white bandage, even asking if you hurt him when you ripped it off too fast. You told yourself that you might have to clean it again, just in case. The suit was so grimy it may as well be a walking bacteria.

Awkwardness mingled with a surprising ease as you began to cleanse him. Your hands, guided by a quiet empathy, moved across his back, tracing the lines of his muscles, your touch as gentle as it was purposeful. Your focus was on the bullet wounds that marred his skin, the effort to cleanse away the remnants of violence and pain.

Words remained absent from the exchange, unnecessary in this silent ballet of trust. You felt the tension in his body slowly wane as you worked, your touch soothing both the visible and invisible scars he carried. He acted the same way he did this morning, just relaxed under your touch. However, a subtle shift had occurred; his eyes were now gently shut as if he had surrendered to a tranquil state, embracing the moment in its entirety.

“Michael, you should really take off your mask, at least let your hair breathe for once.” Michael’s eyes opened slightly when your voice emerged from the silence. He made no physical changes so you pushed his arm back to turn him back towards you. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

His eyes looked like they were phasing through you. You didn’t know why you even offered to take it off. Maybe because you found it weird to even take a shower with a mask on.

Your fingers ascended, their delicate touch tracing along the length of his hair that spilled beyond the confines of his mask. Gently, you took hold of the mask's edges, your intent clear as you began to lift it. A subtle transformation flickered within his eyes at this movement, but you noted he didn’t stop you. Encouraged, you continued until the mask was finally liberated from his head, unveiling his countenance.

With the mask now resting in your grasp, his face found refuge behind a cascade of hair, concealing his features from view once again.

"Come on," you encouraged taking his hand, your voice guiding him beneath the cascading water. His long, dirty blond hair catches the glistening droplets, transforming into shimmering strands as they mingle with the water's touch. It was now that you could see his face clearly beneath the wet hair.

You first got a glimpse of the lower part of his face– a light stubble gracing a jawline chiseled with strength. It was this rugged allure that drew your attention first. Yet, as your gaze ascended, it was met by a pair of striking blue eyes, slightly hooded, yet blankly observing you from their elevated vantage. He honestly looked like he could be a part of a metal band or something.

How can something so lethal be so beautiful?

He was the same man who showed his care for you by killing all those you cared about. The same man who killed his psychiatrist whom he had known for years.

Dirt and grim made their way down his body from his hair which suddenly became lighter, and you stood there marveling at his face for the first time. You were at a loss for words. Michael reached his hands up to touch your cheek, delicately tracing the side of your face with his large index finger. Your breath hitched at the sudden touch. In response you brought your hand up to touch the ends of his hair, playing with them between your fingers. Then he brought his other hand to your stomach, tracing his fingers up your skin. His eyes stared into yours then slightly shifted to your lips.

Michael's hands ascended, reaching for your cheek with a tenderness that sent a shiver through you. His touch, surprisingly gentle, carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. As his large index finger traced the curve of your face, a soft gasp escaped your lips, betraying the surge of emotions his simple gesture ignited.

You didn’t know what's gotten into you. Why have you gotten soft on him? You hated this bitch, at least that's what you told yourself.

Instinctively, your fingers entwined themselves in the ends of his hair, their strands soft against your skin. A spark of connection ignited between you, a silent understanding that spoke volumes. His other hand found its place on your stomach, the warmth of his touch seeping through your skin and settling deep within you.

His gaze, intense and unwavering, locked onto yours, a silent conversation unfolding between your eyes. As the weight of his stare shifted, your heart raced, anticipation mingling with desire. His eyes moved to your lips, a subtle movement that sent your pulse into overdrive. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing down to the space between you, charged with the electric tension. A stirring sensation fluttered within you when he suddenly lowered his head with longing in his eyes. His lips met yours in a gentle press, as though he was scared to break something fragile and precious, afraid that any forceful touch could shatter it. This was odd for a man who aggressively took what he wanted from you sexually. You didn’t know what to think.

You immediately closed your eyes from the kiss. It’s not like you haven’t been kissed before. You’ve kissed many guys and girls, but this felt different. You couldn’t explain it. You suddenly felt his arms wrap around your body, pressing you closer to his, to the point where you felt his nipples grazing your skin.

Amidst the moment you kept repeating to yourself: 

He kills people.

 He kills people.

He kills people. 

He kills people. 

Reminding yourself of what he is, but that didn’t stop you from leaning in, pushing your lips against his. You didn’t even notice his length grazing your pubic mound, you were too focused on his gentleness that caused a pooling in your stomach. 

Within the intimate space where only the two of you existed, you raised your legs on either side of him. His hands found their way under your breasts as he pressed you further against him.  You felt a thrill go up your spine as he pressed himself between your thighs, rubbing the hard flesh of his cock against your clit. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny. 

This all felt too different from the many times he fucked you. Before he just took what he wanted with anger lingering in his eyes. Trying to coax you into enjoying it too. Making you cum with him when you didn't want to. Now he was...soft. As if you two were simply lovers staying here in this cabin for the weekend. 

You gasped when he slipped it out of your mouth only to press his hand to the wall above you, his erection pressing against you. 

"Please Michael." you pathetically pleaded. "Do it. I want it." You weren't ashamed to admit it anymore, he wasn't angry like before. Instead, he was sweet and gentle like a lover. You just wanted to feel loved like this and be truly taken care of like you should've been for the past few days.

You were shocked to hear yourself say that, you never said those words before. But right now it was different somehow. You didn't even mind that he was a killer; all these feelings and urges had come flooding over you like an unstoppable force. It overwhelmed you.

He pressed his hips against you, grinding against your pussy as you moaned in response. A moan escaped your throat as his fingers found their way back to your breasts, teasingly circling them as he pressed forward. 

"Please just take me." You mewl as he grinds against you. The pressure inside of you grows larger and larger as he continues his assault against you.

You felt his cock push inside of you with a sudden burst of heat as he entered you completely, causing you to let out a soft cry at the sudden intrusion.

The sudden penetration caused a sharp pang of discomfort but he quickly adjusted, wrapping his arms around your body and moving to press himself against yours while his thick shaft moved rhythmically in and out of your pussy.

Your breath hitches with pleasure, his cock feeling so much better than any dildo ever has. His hands are held down by yours as he moves his cock faster and harder into your dripping hole.

"Ohhhh!" You yelp as he slams into you, making you shudder with pleasure from every inch that penetrates you.

His hands find their way underneath your chest as he presses himself even closer to you, one of his hands slipping to rub your clit as he fucks you harder and harder with each thrust.

You whimper and moan as he pumps in and out of you, your hips arching off the wall with each stroke as his cock fills every part of you, your tight pussy stretched to capacity by his girthy member. Incoherent mumbles only escaped you now.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and you moan loudly as he pushes in deeper and deeper into you, making you feel like you can't possibly take more of him. But as if sensing this, his thumb slides down onto your clit, rubbing circles around the little bud until you are practically writhing in orgasmic bliss. A cry escapes your lips as he continues to fuck you, his hips slamming into you over and over again as you writhe beneath him, your entire body burning with unbridled pleasure.

"Please fuck me harder!" You shout at him, a needy plea escaping your lips. "Make me cum...Please just make me cum."

Michael felt something in him snap, his grip tightening slightly as he started to move even faster, his thrusts quickening from their sluggish pace to a rough, fast-paced rhythm that made him grunt each time he slammed into you from below. The sound echoed eerily in the enclosed shower room as he continued to pump into you like a piston, the sound reverberating off the tile walls until it seemed to be filling the whole room with it.

"FUUUUUUCK!!!" You groaned in raw ecstasy. Michael pulled almost all of his length out of you before driving deep back inside with a rough thrust. His fingers dug into your flesh as he pounded into you relentlessly, grunting with each powerful thrust as he fucked your slick pussy.

You felt something building up inside of you, a bubbling sensation that grew larger and larger with every moment. You could feel it growing with each new hard thrust and every time he touched your clit or pinched one of your nipples. The sensations were becoming too much, the pressure was increasing, and your breathing became erratic as your body shook with every thrust and every touch of your lover's hands on you.

"Oh god oh my god! Oh God! I'm gonna cum!" You screamed out loudly as you arched your back and cried out in pleasure, Michael's name escaping your lips as you came with an earth-shattering squeal that sent vibrations down his long shaft and throughout your body.

He kept fucking into you, his hands digging into your flesh, gripping tightly as he held your body still as you orgasmed. Each wave of pleasure coursed through you until your entire body was on fire with lust and need for his touch.

Then with a grunt, he shoved all of his length deep inside you before letting out a strangled groan as he unleashed his own load in you, his muscles tensing up for a moment as he emptied himself inside of you.

A gasp escaped your lips as he did, feeling his warm seed coat your insides and drip down your inner thighs. Your body went limp against him as the last wave of pleasure passed through you, leaving a warmth deep within you that had nothing to do with the water cascading down on both of you.

His arms wrapped around you as he held you close, resting his head against yours as he caught his breath, his cock slowly softening inside of you.

After several moments of silence, his breathing slowed down until eventually, he sighed before pulling away from you, looking down at you with soft eyes. 

"Thank you...thank you" you say breathlessly. You looked into his eyes and reached up to cup his cheeks in your palms before kissing him gently on the lips.

After the shower you patch his wounds back up, with your legs feeling like jelly and completely dazed. You didn’t even know how you were still standing. Still naked you took his overalls to the laundry room to wash them, reminding yourself to wake up early to dry them in the morning. 

You came back to him leading him to the bedroom so you both could change. 

You sat on the opposite side of the bed wearing sweatpants and a black crop top hearing him behind you changing into clothes you picked out for him. You weren't turned away to give him privacy but to not look at him while you were thinking. You didn’t know what came over you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to think about the feelings you were having in the bathroom. It was probably just a weird moment anyway.

You feel fingers on your back giving you goosebumps. Turning around, you see he's still in his mask but he's wearing sweatpants and a weird-looking graphic shirt of tree. 

“Well, at least you look more comfortable. “ You speak out. You uncovered the bed for him to get in, and he does. He is lying flat on his back while looking at the ceiling. “You’re seriously wearing a mask to sleep?”

You knew you wouldn’t get an answer.

“Whatever makes you feel at home Michael.”

With that you switched off the lamp on the nightstand and covered the both of you, falling asleep with a soft thumping sound from above as white noise.

Chapter Text

A car was approaching. 

Navigating the woods with calculated precision, Michael sidestepped the trees, his gaze unyielding as it tracked a crimson sports car progressing along the dirt path that ended with his home with you.

 He was more ready to take out whoever dared to trespass.

When he finally reached the periphery of the clearing that cradled the cabin's form, the car came to a halt, maintaining a measured distance before the structure.

From afar, now hidden in the trees Michael could make out a driver through the back window. It was a woman, she was looking out to the cabin. 

She must've known the people that were here before. Now he had to take care of her as well. As the woman emerged from the vehicle, Michael's motion commenced, his gaze unwaveringly fixated on the cascade of brown locks cascading down her back. Allowing his instincts to navigate, he seamlessly followed the path to his fresh new prey.

“Hello? Harper, are you there? I tried calling for a few days now!” the woman called out after she knocked on the door.  

He was only a few feet away. 

The door opens revealing you, with bite marks he decorated on your neck to claim you as his, wearing a man's T-shirt and Jeans. 

"Um, who the hell are you?" The brunette's words dripped with an accusatory edge.

Michael saw you stammer a little, not being able to give an answer when he got closer and closer to the woman.

"Please go." your tone was weary. "You have to go now."

He liked the fear in your eye when you made eye contact with him and back at the woman. 

"I'm not fucking going anywhere! Who the hell are you and where is my sister and her husband!"

He was already behind her, positioned soundlessly with his blade elevated directly above her head. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper to her, your eyes beginning to water. "I'm so sorry"

In a single, fluid movement, Michael descended his blade on top of the woman's head. Small specks of blood splattered into your mouth. Michael loved the look on your face, wide eyes stretched to their limits and an unblinking stare with pupils dilated. An expression he’s seen on most of his victims before snatching the life out of them. He liked seeing it on you more. There was a twisted satisfaction from seeing you succumb to your most basic instinct, primal vulnerability. 

The woman's body slumped knee-first to the ground, lifeless. Michael's face was expressionless, his eyes cold and empty as he stared down at her, blood pooling from the entrance into the cabin.

Stifling gagging fits got his attention, he looked up at you with your hands covering your mouth and watched you retreat further back to the cabin. 

 He felt nothing, not even a slight hint of guilt or remorse. He was a predator, and this was his prey, an obstacle in his way of living a life with you. He had done what he was meant to do, and now it was time to move on.

Michael stepped away from the body, his face now covered in a thin layer of sweat underneath the mask but he didn't feel hot or exhausted. He grabbed one of the woman's legs and began dragging her to the tall trees that surrounded your cabin, hearing you retching, heaving, and throwing up in the background.

Under the harsh midday sun, the forest's shadows seemed almost out of place, like ink blots on a canvas of light. Amidst the dappled patterns of leaves and sunlight, Michael moved with a stoic purpose, his every step measured as he dragged the dead woman behind him. Her body left a faint trail in the soft earth.

The chorus of birdsong and rustling leaves provided a haunting counterpoint to his solitary journey. His head was silent for a bit until he heard faint whispers again. whispers of violence, whispers of destruction, and whispers of blood.

His mask obscured any trace of his emotions,  as he ventured deeper into the heart of the woods.

The woman's limp form was an unsettling weight in his wake, a stark reminder of the vulnerability that existed within even the strongest of individuals. Her existence was reduced to nothing more than an object, a pawn in the unfathomable game he played.

As he continued, the shadows cast by the trees seemed to welcome him, embracing his malevolent purpose with an eerie embrace. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor, as if nature itself conspired to conceal his sinister deeds.

The murmurs escalated into chants, a chorus of voices that echoed in his detached mind.

In this tableau of contrasts—the tranquility of the day juxtaposed against the darkness of his actions—Michael found himself more alone with his thoughts or at least those that chanted at him. 

There was no remorse, no contemplation; only an unyielding commitment to the path he had chosen, the place he chose to hide the bodies like you had asked.

He reached a secluded glade, the air still and heavy with the weight of the moment. Aggressively, he threw the woman’s pallid body amongst the other two that were festering, a  breeding ground for maggots and other animals that fed on their rotting flesh. A curious silence enveloped the scene, the rustling leaves and distant calls of wildlife fading into the background.

As he stared down at the body, a chilling detachment veiled his features. The mask rendered his emotions unreadable, but in his stillness, a sense of purpose hung heavy.

He tried to quiet the voices with thoughts of you. 

You were probably cooking lunch now for the both of you.

Probably wearing that new favorite shirt of yours that used to belong to the decaying woman in front of him, a black crop top. 

With the sun casting elongated shadows across the clearing, Michael stood alone, his thoughts hidden behind the façade of his mask. 

Until he heard a sharp snap piercing the air from a specific direction. Like a machine responding to a programmed command, Michael's head rotated with an eerie precision. His ears remained fixed on the source of the sound, even as his senses strained to discern what lay beyond the verdant curtain of bushes and trees.

In that suspended moment, the glade held its breath, and the enigma of his presence deepened. There was no one visible, no tangible evidence of another soul in the vicinity. Yet, a disquieting awareness lingered, a sense that he wasn't alone, even if his senses failed to confirm it. After a few minutes of waiting, for a tell, another sound there was nothing. With that he made his way back to you.

As he crossed the threshold of the door, the sight before him stirred a flicker of familiarity within Michael. The scene played out as a distant echo of his past, a haunting glimpse of his own mother laboring away in the kitchen. With an almost mechanical precision, he closed the door behind him, a soft click that sealed him into the moment.

As he expected you were in a black tank top with striped short shorts

"Hope you're not tired; I made some lunch," your voice broke through the stillness, pulling him from his reverie. He observed as you turned away from the simmering pot on the stove, the aroma of food wafting through the air. Plate in hand, you approached the kitchen island, sliding a dish of Mac and cheese across it.

There was something in your eyes, a shadow that danced beneath the surface. He recognized it, an inkling of turmoil that mirrored his own inner turmoil. Instinct drove him forward, his gaze locked on you as he closed the distance. He towered over you, a silent specter in your presence, his unreadable mask positioned just a few inches above your concerned countenance.

You sighed, a hint of resignation tainting the air, before your voice followed suit, punctuating the tension. 

"I think we should move."

But this place is perfect.

"People are gonna start coming up here more especially after you... after the couple died. people will come looking for them."

Then I'll kill them. I'll kill them all.

"And the bodies Michael... someone will find them fine either from smell or stumbling on them."

Let them.

He looked down at you, noting a subtle shift in your demeanor, how you looked into his eyes, and passed the emotionless façade of the mask he wore searching for something, yearning for something. 

He didn't know what.

Michael didn't understand your fuss and he didn't want to. There was a clear and easy answer to all of your complaints. If only you saw that. 

His eyes wandered over to the pot you cooked in. 

He needs to feed boo. 

Your words were mere background noise now, brushed aside by his purposeful indifference. With a detached resolve, he assembled another plate of mac n’ cheese, his actions methodical as he prepared to ascend to the attic. His feet carried him toward the stairs, a path of determination that remained unswayed by your presence.

The sound of your footsteps, however, broke through the haze of his intent. He halted, pivoting on his heel to confront the interruption. Your worried expression met his gaze, a collision of emotions that seemed almost alien in his detached world.

In response to your silent concern, he didn't offer words or gestures of reassurance. Instead, an aggressive force emanated from him, a sudden and sharp movement that saw his hand extend, pushing you back with a firmness that defied any notion of gentleness.

Don't Follow.

There was already a plan for the day you two met, but not now. Not while he could not entirely trust you to not abandon him. He at was still uncertain of your level of commitment to him, even after a few weeks.

Michael pivoted away from your presence, his actions unhurried and deliberate. As he shifted his gaze, the sound of your retreating footsteps registered in his consciousness, like distant echoes fading into the abyss.

Without missing a beat, he resumed his path, continuing his relentless advance in the same direction as before—toward the attic.

With a deliberate motion, Michael closed the heavy attic door behind him, reveling in the reassuring thickness of the walls. Hard for any sound to come out. The silence that enveloped the attic felt like a shroud, concealing the world beyond. In the corner, his sister huddled, a frail figure marked by the soft, despairing cadence of her tears.

He walked up to her before stopping before her shortly.

Within the silence of nothing but her shuddered breathing, he got down on his knees and gently placed the bowl of macaroni before her trembling form. His sister's wide, terrified eyes met his, and something stirred within him. It was a sensation he sought to suppress, an unwelcome flicker of empathy. The fear that swirled within her gaze mirrored the fear he had instilled in countless others in Haddonfield, you especially.

He didn't want to see that fear in her eyes. 

He took off his mask to ease her, wanting her to see him the way he saw her. 

"Please just leave me alone." Her voice shook.  

with his hand, he nudged the bowl slowly to her while watching her carefully through his long hair. 

"Just leave me alone" 

He figured she had forgotten him with time when she rejected the old photo of him holding her when they were just kids but he never forgot about her. Unlike with you, he didn’t know what else to do to make her remember she was his last and only family like he was hers. It was better to keep her here so she could try and understand. Taking the baby picture out of his pocket he he placed it next to the bowl of food. He then began to rise from his knees. 

"Please don't hurt me," she spoke from her trembling lips, a palpable unease hung in her stomach from what was to come. 

Michael turned away, his silent presence retreating, a fragile sense of relief washed over the girl. Her guard, though never truly down, eased slightly, and she drew a shaky breath. It was a momentary respite, a glimpse of fleeting safety in the relentless shadow of the masked figure that haunted her every step.

While he waited for you, standing in front of the cracked bathroom door, he sharpened his focus on the sound of your voice, the fruity fragrance of soap you were using, and the nightly crickets.

He could hear you mutter under your breath about needing a shower cap, and then hear you murmur about needing a satin pillowcase to protect your hair since it was beginning to look duller.

He never noticed a change; it looked just as dense and full of more life than him, but he still made a mental note to get some

Your frustrated little rant obscured by the sound of running water became background noises when the voices dormant in his mind returned. Hissing at him for not finding another lamb to slaughter. He moved their wants to something else. You.

Somehow this odd alternative ceases their whispers. Inhaling the sweet fragrance through his nostrils through the nostrils of the latex mask, he nudged the door open with the back of his bloody hand. He stepped into the bathroom, with his mind coming back to you with the sound of your soft humming.

The bathroom existed in a realm of hot mist, an enveloping shroud that clung to every surface. Steam, thick and sultry, had coalesced into dewy beads on the walls and formed a hazy veil over the bathroom mirror. Within this sweltering cocoon, the air itself seemed to pulse with warmth. He felt steam start to form under the cheek parts of his mask when his sight was set on parts of your naked body hidden behind the shower curtain. You hadn’t noticed him yet, you usually didn’t, so you hummed away. Unaware by his heavy breathing and tall shadow that began to creep its way up the shower curtain.

He heard a small gasp escape you.

“Michael get out!” you yelled as you drew the shower curtain to shield yourself further from him. He felt a burn of irritation, a simmering frustration that set his nerves on edge. When he said you were his he meant your body as well.

When he finally reached the shower he could sense you were standing right in front of him underneath the water which was confirmed by your commanding voice.

“Seriously get out.”

With a sudden, aggressive motion, Michael Myers ripped open the shower curtains. The flimsy fabric parted with a reluctant swish, revealing your body covered in a blanket of silky, white suds. The lather clung to your skin, creating a glistening, ethereal sheen as if a cloud of cleanliness. He felt himself get turned as his eyes made their way down your frame.

“Michael, don’t…I thought we were passed this.”

He stared back at you’re startled expression, feeling an itch he couldn’t scratch, a persistent and grating sensation that gnawed at his patience. He didn't know why you thought you had control of this. He clenches his fist. and goes into the shower watching you back up, hitting the shower wall. Water drenched the back of his coveralls as he stood there in the shower.

"Why can’t we just do it later when I'm done? I need to clean myself."

Through the eye slits of his latex mask, his eyes wandered down your body once more, skimming past your stomach to your private part, now adorned with a small amount of pubic hair. Since you were adamant about staying clean he figured there was another way you help him release himself from his bloodlust. With that thought he began to unzip himself out of his suit and fell with a wet slopping sound onto the shower floor. While only wearing a black t-shirt, he helps himself out of his drawers freeing his painfully hard length.

"Why don't you ever listen to me..." Your tone was lowered this time just above a whisper as he eyes you looking down at how hard he was for you.

his desire for you was carnal.

With one of his large hands, his fingers gripped into hair grazing the slick flesh of your skull, forcing your head all the way down till you were on your knees. You were now face to face with his erection that throbbed at you angrily.

"Okay fine. After this can you leave?"

He gave you nothing, wanting to only feel your mouth envelope around his cock like it usually did with him and the few other men around your college campus. Men he had killed after. He felt his skin heat up when your soft hands wrapped around his cock hesitantly. He thrust forward, you had to start.

As he watched you begin to stroke his member he felt himself swell with desire while hearing low breathing escape your lip. You continued your slow pace.

His teeth clenched from the feeling, growing more impatient.

With muscles coiled like a spring, Michael's grip on your hair tightened further, fingers digging into your scalp. His relentless force propelled you closer, pressing your mouth against his manhood. In response, your tongue then slid along the base of his shaft before darting upwards. As it touched the underside of his girth it made his member twitch as you teased him.

While his hand still gripped your hair tightly, he shook your head aggressively.

Hurry up.

You took his dick between your hands, stroking it up and down while licking the tip of the head. The heat from your touch radiated through his entire body. Michael's hand released a fist full of your hair and he leaned forward pressing himself harder on your lip, as if to finally pry it open, and he did. Looking down at you with lustful eyes, he watched as his entire length made its way into your mouth, making you squint as you opened your mouth to accommodate him. Michael was impressed. You didn't gag or make any sounds of disgust. You were perfect for this sort of thing. He kept going further until he was completely buried inside your throat; your nose now pressed against his pelvis. A

A low moan escaped him as his member filled every inch of your mouth, forcing air through his throat. He shudders with pleasure, his fingers gripping your skull tight. The feel of you was tantalizing. He swore he could feel your heartbeat through your neck as he held onto you, squeezing tighter and tighter, making your eyes flutter.

Michael's breathing got heavier and faster, his eyes shut as he enjoyed the feeling of you starting to suck him off. You were doing a good job so far, taking as much of him into your mouth as possible; swallowing the majority of the shaft as it went down your throat. It tickled slightly. He could feel the veins beneath his skin pulse as he pumped himself into your eager mouth, his hips bucking up with each thrust.

 He could feel himself choke on his own breath.

After several minutes of this slow but steady rhythm, Michael felt the telltale signs of his climax approaching rapidly, and he wasn't sure whether to stop or let go. He felt his balls tightening as they slapped against your chin with the anticipation of cumming soon and he could feel a burning sensation begin to spread throughout his groin. His grip tightened on your head; he was determined not to stop you even though he knew that would result in ejaculation. His breathing turned erratic, he started to shake slightly as he felt the heat rise up through his spine, causing his member to jerk violently within your hot mouth.

The first spurt of semen flew from his dick straight into your eager mouth. He pushed his length further inside to force you to swallow it, and you did like you always did when you in the basement with him, gulping down his seed while his next stream shot into your waiting mouth, splattering across your tongue before sliding down into your throat. He groaned loudly, his hands tightening further on your head, forcing more of his meat down your throat. He felt himself tense again as he continued pumping himself into your mouth with his hands, his breathing becoming shallow and uneven; his cock twitching and spasming wildly in your mouth. A third rope of cum spewed from his dick and flew straight into your waiting mouth. It struck your tongue and ran down the side of your throat as you swallowed everything down without missing a beat.

There were no more voices, only you, him, and the sound of running water from the shower head.

His cock left your mouth with a pop, and his black stare and stoic demeanor enveloped him. He waited to make sure you swallowed all he gave you.

“Ok…you’ve had your fun. Can I shower now?” You pleaded, with saliva cascading down your chin. In response, he bent down and picked up his soaking-wet mechanical suit to leave you alone to clean yourself. 

The following days were serene to say the least. After the woman died, Michael didn’t see anyone come up to the cabin. Her sports car was still at the front of the house though. He knew it wasn't a great concern since the keys to her sports car were in a bag strapped over her body. The same stiff body that lay in a glade far from the cabin.

Still, he felt another presence, a presence different from yours or Angels.

 The presence heightened his senses, particularly at night. In the obsidian embrace of the forest, his senses remained sharply attuned to any disturbance, any hint of another prey walking in his midst. The faintest rustle of leaves or the softest crack of a twig alerted him. When he left to check it out he would see nothing but the expanse of trees surrounding the cabin. 

Your voice would call out to him from the cabin.

“What are you doing out there?” 

He would come back to you and search in your eyes, seeing if you were aware of what was happening. If this was one of your plans to abandon him again. There was a faint flicker then nothing. He scrutinized you further until you got uncomfortable and ushered him to bed. 

The nights were always like this. As the unwanted presence persisted so did he. Each night, he would prowl the perimeter of the cabin, his shadowy figure a silent sentinel. It was like a game of cat and mouse unfolding silently, as Michael and the unknown visitor danced a macabre waltz, their fates entwined in the shadowy depths of the night. The visitor knew he was onto him. It was only a matter of when he would end him once and for all. 

The chase did somewhat fuel him.  

When he was out there at night again looking for this unwanted visitor his heartbeat was steady, driven purely on his need to seek and destroy. His ears picked up the crunch of leaves, the slow, deliberate footsteps retreating away from the cabin. He knew this visitor was scared of him, trying to stay out of his line of sight. There was only one reason why they were, all of those led to you. He was after you.

Through the open back window, he would hear you calling out to him,

“Michael, are you good? There’s nothing out there.” 

Michael took that into consideration. Maybe the bloodlust was making him see things. Maybe you weren’t enough. Maybe this was a sign he should go back to his hunting sprees for more victims. Then he heard it, a faint sound of a twig snapping on the other side of the cabin.

He turned back to you from your face he could tell you heard it too but you were insistent

“Michael, come on let's eat.” 

You know, don’t you?

Without hesitation, Michael moved with predatory grace in the direction of the sound. His steps were unhurried, a silent glide that conveyed both purpose and inevitability. The relentless pulse of his pursuit coursed through his very being.

As he rounded the cabin, his mask veiled in shadows, he locked his gaze onto a figure retreating into the woods. Panic radiated from the figure's erratic movements, a beacon in the darkness that drew him closer.

He followed.

“Michael, wait! Stop!” you called out. He ignored you.

With each step Michael took, the forest seemed to go still around him, the canopy of trees conspiring to conceal his quarry. The pursuit unfolded in eerie silence, a macabre dance of predator and prey. The figure ahead remained an enigma, their identity shrouded in the depths of the night.

Michael followed, an embodiment of relentless determination. The woods swallowed them both, leaving only the echoes of their presence to haunt the dense undergrowth, a chilling symphony of pursuit and flight.

The figure then began to run.

They knew he was coming.

Amidst the towering sentinels of the forest, Michael moved with relentless purpose. His footsteps, a muffled echo in the undergrowth, seemed to meld with the very heartbeat of the woods. Shadows and dappled moonlight painted his path as he pursued the fleeing figure, a solitary figure in an endless expanse of darkness.

There was now chanting in his head seeking out to feel warm blood on his hands, to hear the tearing of flesh and the breaking of bones. 

Michael sought it too.

The world around him became a blur of swaying branches and rustling leaves. His breath, shallow and deliberate, was the only sound that escaped his lips, a stark contrast to the frantic gasps of his prey. With every step, the gap between them closed a grim inevitability that hung in the air like a sinister shroud. 

The moon, a pale sentinel in the ink-black sky, intermittently cast its ethereal glow, revealing fleeting glimpses of the figure ahead. Michael could finally make out who the figure was. A man wearing rugged short pants, black hiking boots, and an earthy-toned vest.

His relentless pursuit continued, the forest offering no refuge for the one who fled. In this dark ballet of predator and prey, Michael Myers moved with unwavering determination, an embodiment of relentless malevolence that would not yield until his hunt reached its chilling conclusion.

The man weaved through huge rocks and tree stumps trying to get away from him, his breathing getting more frantic than Michael’s. 

As the chase wore on, Michael's implacable determination bore fruit. The gap between them slowly diminished, like the closing jaws of a steel trap. The woods, which had been a sanctuary for the man fleeing from him, began to betray him with tangled roots and treacherous terrain. 

With each step, the man's breath grew ragged, the harsh rhythm of his desperation echoing through the night. He stumbled, his foot catching on an exposed root, and in that split-second vulnerability, Michael closed the distance.

The capture unfolded in eerie silence. Michael's hand, cold and unforgiving, clamped onto the back of the man's neck, halting his frantic flight. The man's heart pounded a futile drumbeat against the inevitable.

“No no! Please!” The man yelled into the night. “Please don’t kill me! I’ll leave and never come back please!”

In the dim moonlight, Michael's masked face remained impassive, a sentinel of doom. The man, his breath hitching, slowly turned to face his relentless pursuer, his eyes a tumultuous whirlwind of fear and resignation.

“Please! I won’t come back!” he yelled at him.

Michael held him up in the air, his mind going first to strangulation but went against that. The man had been around his home with you, had been watching you, probably had been talking, maybe even getting ideas in your head about leaving.

His mind was settled, and with that, Michael grabbed his large knife that was nestled in his pocket and plunged it into the man's stomach, slicing it up to his chest.

The man gasped for air as blood spurted forth. He didn't scream as much as gurgle. His voice sounded hoarse and broken, all the fight gone from it. He struggled against Michael, flailing about wildly, but to no avail. Blood and snake-like intestines gushed out of the large wound poured down over Michael's fingers and dripped off his thumb.

The blood felt calming.

The man's life quickly slipped away as he felt death surround him. His lungs emptied themselves, forcing oxygen into his mouth. But it didn't help; it already ended too fast.

Michael drops the man to the ground and stands there for a moment before hearing a faint gasp behind him.

He pivoted and sure enough, you were right there. Standing there staring down at the man he killed and his bloodied hands.

He felt bubbling rage again. He tried to focus on his breathing instead of you. Inhaling and exhaling.

He made his way toward you and you froze. You backed away slowly, but he was still coming. He could feel the heat in his face and smell the scent of fear coming off of you. He passed by you without making eye-contact making his way back to the cabin.

You both left the mutilated body there to suffer from the cold and other woodland animals. 

Walking side by side with you on the journey back, Michael kept his gaze averted, an emotionless mask concealing whatever thoughts churned beneath. His eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, where the cabin's windows emitted a warm, beckoning light amidst the encroaching woods. The play of that light filtered through the trees, casting fleeting patterns across his vision, an abstract distraction from the world around him.

Beside him, your sobs resonated like a distant echo, a sound detached from any emotional response within him. It was merely a dissonant note in the symphony of the night, a stark reminder of the world of emotions that remained forever beyond his grasp.

Inside the labyrinth of his mind, the cacophony of voices had ceased, yet a smoldering ember of rage lingered. It was a gnawing sensation, like a relentless ticking clock, counting down to some inexorable conclusion. Though the voices had fallen silent, the storm within him still raged, an ominous undercurrent in the eerie calm of the night.

You were never planning on keeping your promise.

He stood at the foot of the bed staring down at you with sharp eyes, completely unaware of how audible his breathing was through the mask. Leaning on the tall headboard you made yourself into a small ball shivering and hiccuping wildly. He didn’t let any of your uneasy and scared facial expressions escape without notice. 

He was right to not trust your promise. It was just a lie. 

Just thinking about it pissed him off further. His anger, like a smoldering ember in the depths of a firepit, began as a subtle warmth, prickling beneath the surface of his skin as he watched you crying over some human filth. Someone who wanted to rip you away from him.

After a few minutes, the hiccups died down and you were only slightly shivering. His anger simmered quietly, coiled in tension, as you looked up at him with still tears running down your eyes.

You began to speak but your tone didn’t match your current mood. It was almost unemotional.

“The hiker was gonna help me escape, he recognized me as the missing college girl taken by you.” You paused for a moment, your eyes darting between his as you spoke. “After he found me we’ve been speaking for a while about how I’d just disappear one night while you were sleeping. I knew the plan wouldn’t work because you would always find me but I still kept speaking to him about it…I spoke to him because I realized that you never really cared about me. I convinced myself that you did--I convinced myself that you did all of this shit out of love and care.”

The pressure in Michael’s head becomes too much, like a kettle on the verge of boiling over. It's a visceral sensation, like something clawing its way up from the depths of his soul. He could hear the voices again and their wants for blood.

You slowly got off the bed and made your way towards him,  your nose flared a bit with your eyebrows furrowed.  “But it wasn’t… wasn’t it? Because you don’t care. You never did. Someone who truly loves someone wouldn’t kill or maim their friends because they care .”

Michael didn't respond, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. But while there was silence his mind raced, thoughts unraveling into chaos, logic giving way to the raw surge of emotion.

“Michael, what is this?” You stood there finally at his side, your head tilted up at him and your lips trembling. 

In that moment, it's as if a dam broke, unleashing a torrent of unbridled fury. Michael grabbed your throat, squeezed it harshly, and pushed you against the wall next to the nightstand. The lamp from the small table fell to the ground with a harsh shattering noise. The room fell into darkness with only small pieces of moonlight shining through the window.

You gasped for air while begging him to stop, but he tightened his fingers around your neck, making sure to dig his nails in deeper. He just wanted you to stop speaking….stop saying those things. He cared for you, he always did. 

Why didn’t you ever see that?

New tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I'm-- sorry," you pleaded weakly. He didn't say anything, but his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly.  Rationality crumbled in his mind, replaced by an overwhelming need to listen to what they were telling him, to release the pent-up storm that's been held at bay in him for far too long.

Promises, lies, sneaking around, never wanting to be with him. If he couldn’t be with you then maybe nobody else should.

Why should someone else enjoy the smell of you, touch you, thrust themselves in you?

It wasn’t right.

Amongst the whirlwind of words that echoed and blared in his mind, he noted your lack of moment. Your slowly closing eyes and lack of struggle. Finally, as if shaken from a trance, he released his grip and stepped back. You fell to the floor inhaling small amounts of air to bring yourself back to your body. 

He looked down at you feeling a suffocating weight that settles upon his soul now. The voices disappeared as fast as they appeared and all that was left now was a tightening in his chest, a flush of heat in his cheeks.

I’m sorry.

Beneath the moon's gentle caress, he gracefully stooped, his strong arms tenderly gathering your form, different from the ferociousness he held you with a few seconds before. With a loving touch, he cradled your half-limp body, the rise and fall of your breath a gentle cadence against his chest.

He always liked how you slept, just hated the fact that he brought sleep to you. He couldn’t do that again. 

His gaze descended upon your serene visage, framed by the soft night, a picture of tranquil repose. Your lips, slightly parted, whispered secrets to the breeze, and your eyelashes brushed your cheeks with delicate grace.

He just wanted to drink you, consume you. 

He stepped towards the bed and slowly placed you down, then made his way to the bathroom for some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. 

That night Micaal spent a large amount of his time lightly patting your bruised neck with alcohol-drenched cotton balls, and the other amount of his time just cuddling with you, holding you but not too hard. He didn’t trust himself. 

The next two days were odd between you two, to say the least.

Michael felt some type of way when you flinched away from him while he stroked your back with his large fingers, or left after making breakfast but leaving him at the table only to eat in the bedroom. He couldn't understand why you pulled away from him - he thought he was being gentle now.

He felt something akin to hurt and confusion for once, unsure of what he was doing wrong now. He just wanted to get close to you again, keeping his vow to now hurt you, but you wouldn’t let up. You even ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room. You would wake up to see him hovering over you. You wouldn’t say anything anymore, gave no reaction. Just got up and went about your day.

One night he came home later than usual, holding a variety of things in his arms among them were your art supplies, make-up, the satin pillowcase you always wanted for your hair, and the band posters he ripped from your dorm room that was still a bloodied crime scene mess.

He came back to see you staring into space while sitting at the edge of the bed, barely noticing his presence. You do that a lot now too.

When you came back to him, your brows furrowed at the sight of your prized possessions from your dorm. He gently placed them on the bed and silently looked at you. You got up from the edge and came over looking over at all the items like they were foreign now. Then you looked back at him and looked away crossing your arms.

He took off the white latex mask.

He kneeled before you.

He bowed his head down, hair obscuring the face he noticed you admire in the shower nights ago.

“Michael, get up,” you whispered. It's been almost three days but your voice felt almost foreign to him now. “Jesus fuckin christ.”

When you turned away from him he grabbed at your hands softly wanting to feel you. It's been too long. You yanked your hands away. “Look, I just want to sleep right now.”

He raised his head up at you, he wondered if you could see the desperation in his eyes from how put off you were from this. You had a look of shock and bewilderment when he lightly touched your hand again, delicately fiddling with your small fingers between his.

“What do you want from me?” you whispered as you stared down at him. Though he couldn’t answer he nudged you down to kneel with him and you complied.

Though you sat down more than kneel and that was fine. He caressed your face tracing from your cheekbone down to your chin. Your breath hitched in response.

He leaned into you loving the small of your fruity fragrance. Before you could flinch away from him this time, his lips touched your forehead gently, lingering for a few moments. His stubble lightly grazed your nose which felt soft to the touch. There was a new feeling now, a warm tingling sensation that mixed in with yearning.

He closed his eyes and savored the moment.

Michael’s hand continued to hold on to the side of your face, hearing your shuttered breath under him. As his lips left you, your breathing only became louder. The first thing he saw was glistening like crystalline dewdrops on your cheeks.

“Why won’t you just let me go,” your voice trailed off. He leaned forward towards you again this time his lips brushed yours. When you began to flinch away he wrapped his arms tightly around you to press you against his hard chest, pulling you deeper into his kiss. His warm tongue brushed past your lips and collided with yours. You tried to back your head away.

He felt your fists balled up punching his side but he didn’t care. He felt like devouring you at that moment. All he ever wanted was you. At least you were noticing him now.

"M-Michael Stomph!" Your voice muffled under the pressure of his mouth. "mmmhp!" He left your mouth with his kisses trailing down your neck leaving hickeys in their wake as he made it to your shoulders where he bit down on you. His mouth slowly fills with the pleasant taste of your coppery blood. You shrieked in response. It was only one of many bite marks you chose to ignore.

"Please let me go!" you pleaded.

Right there he felt like he wanted to show you who owned you, take your body only for himself. Michael pulled you onto the bed, laying you on top of the sheets. He pulled back from kissing you as he lifted your shirt and ran a hand down your stomach.

Your breasts heaved beneath his palms. He bent over you and kissed and licked at your nipple and then moved to the other one sucking it deep into his mouth until the tip became hard.

You were so fucking beautiful.

His hands were now all over you. You had a firm grip on his blood-spattered suit you forgot to wash, trying to get him to stop moving. He felt himself chuckle against your breast, nipping at your skin and tugging your nipples. It was cute seeing you try to stop this. But you couldn't

He couldn't wait any longer. Without another thought, he yanked down the striped shorts you settled on wearing a lot. He loved them too, they always complimented your body. But now they, along with your black panties, were in the way of what he wanted. He ripped off the panties hurriedly.

"I'm tired...please." You begged. It only fell on deaf ears when he removed himself from his overalls entirely. Now being just as naked as you. You looked away from him with teary eyes, not wanting to see him in his monstrous form. But you didn't have to.

Michael was now on top of you, his large cock pushing against your folds, he could already feel the wetness there.

"Please..." you whimpered but you didn't know what else to say.

He pressed his hips against yours and pushed forward, sliding inside you slowly and steadily, inch after inch filling you completely. You moaned out loud before looking at him in his eyes searching for something. Was it humanity you wanted him to show?

He kept his pace slow and steady, moving in and out of you gently. He held onto your hips and leaned down, kissing every bit of flesh he could reach. Your breasts, your belly, thighs, ass, and legs.

"Oh god....."

It wasn't long before you were bucking your hips to meet his thrusts. His large balls slapped against your thighs with each thrust. You arched your back and gripped the sheets under you as he moved faster with every passing moment.

You were moaning loudly underneath him, feeling him slide further inside you every time. Something in him felt content from the fact that he could easily take control over your body like this.

"Mmmmmmm..." was all you could muster when you heard the first letter of your name being stuttered, barely over a whisper through his lips. He looked down at you, his gaze was dark but there was a hunger to it. He was focused on the pleasant feeling of your gummy walls welcoming him once again. Reveling in it actually. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every last detail. Every single part of you.

Michael was relentless in this position, thrusting his cock into you forcefully over and over again until you screamed in pleasure and cried out his name as he filled you again.

The room was dark and filled with all sorts of misshapen shadows in the corners. The sounds of sex could be heard all throughout the cabin as well, it didn't matter if the doors were closed or not any living thing outside the cabin could hear you clearly. They'd think someone just got murdered or killed in another violent fashion by him.

Michael's hands were firmly grasping onto your hips, pulling you close to him while fucking you hard enough to make you feel every inch of him inside you. He needed you to. His eyes looked deep into yours and his lips parted to speak but he didn't need to say a word because the way he was thrusting into you told you everything you wanted to know already.

"Mmhph" his breath was hot on your lips as his body moved against yours. Your head was tilted back slightly to give him better access to your neck but he didn't seem to mind that at all. He was in his beast mode now, only caring about one thing. Getting inside you, filling that hole that had been empty for years now. He was getting closer to the point he couldn't hold back anymore and he knew it would only be a matter of seconds before he came inside you, making a mess of the bed beneath you both and leaving a stain on both sides of the sheets.

But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. While underneath him, you were riding him just as good as he was driving into you. You wanted this too. he didn't know why you always put it off. You were gripping at the sheets as you buckled your knees upwards.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" you screamed. Michael's thrusts grew even harder as you were yelling out his name louder and louder with every thrust, making him feel so powerful knowing he made you scream like this, and no one else not even the human shit you let in you at your campus. He was about to come but he didn't want to pull out yet, instead, he kept thrusting until the point he couldn't take it anymore, his entire length buried inside you, he let out a growl and came deep inside you.

He held onto you tightly not wanting to let go of your warmth, your body, your soul. It was all his. He knew this while he was kissing your shoulder before turning himself on the bed and pulling you to lay on top of him, feeling his hot load spill out of you while he was still inside.

You let out a whining noise before speaking again “Why won’t you just let me go.”

He liked the way your hair felt on his chest, he hoped you could hear his heartbeat. It was beating faster than usual and his breathing was heavy after such an intense session showing you, you couldn’t escape this.

As you lay down on top of him, Michael pulled the sheet up and covered you both. He liked the feel of your arms limp along his sides. In response, he wrapped his arm around you, cuddling you up against him with your head still on his chest. He felt content now while hearing your breathing slow down after his. 

Within the bedroom hearing your small heart beating against his, his hand gently caressed your thigh before moving higher up your body.   His lips brushed against your forehead as he kissed you. He held you closer, knowing you’d never leave him no matter what you did.

Chapter Text

Short gentle breezes caressed your forehead as awareness gradually returned to you. You could feel warmth emitting from his skin and his soft chest hair under you. The best thing to do was to focus on the warmth rather than the pain in your lower half of the body that reminded you of last night.

What was the point of focusing on it?

You let out a horsed hum as the sun’s light blinded you. The straining of your eyes caused you to try and swing your head to the other side but you immediately winced. Your neck. He choked you.

It was best to not think about that too. You heard a deep exhale before you were met with a large hand on your back. Fingertips traced a soothing path, akin to a delicate breeze ruffling through the pages of a cherished book. The caress carried with it a silent promise of comfort and solace to you. Gooseflesh pebbled your arms.

This wasn’t love or care.

This was what you repeated to yourself in your head as his hand made its way up to your neck, making you slightly flinch again with pain coming afterwards. His finger tranced up and down what he did to you. From below, you could hear the soft rhythm of his heart reminding you that he was human after all. A human did this to you. Not some monster or pinnacle of evil, a person made of flesh and bones that could easily take you out of this world if he felt like it as he has done to so many others. And he could keep you here as long as he wanted. 

And it was this lack of humanity that made him seem so inhuman.

You felt his morning wood throb as he was still snuggled inside of you, his hand that was traversing the expanse of your back raked it’s way across your skin to your thigh, tightly gripping it and hiking above your hip for more room for him to consume you once more. Your nipples hardened against his chest as your arousal grew.

Why did you even have to try and escape again? 

Why drag that poor camper into your bleak reality?

 It was selfish. 

Now the man’s mangled body is lying somewhere far out in the woods.

Gentle as a whisper, soft lips brushed against your forehead, leaving a fleeting trail of warmth in their wake. You softly groaned in response, wanting to just be carried away by the anticipated waves of sexual bliss he was promising as he became harder. You wanted to try to ignore the tiny voice in your head telling you you deserved better. That this wasn’t the life you wanted. That your wants still mattered not his. That you had to keep trying.

That tiny voice was hushed as Michael moved his hips to his own accord. His pace was slow as it seemed he didn't want to hurt you any more than he already had but still had his hand so tightly gripped on your thigh, that it might leave lovely bruises later on. You let out a quiet mewl you almost didn't hear. All you could hear was his heart starting to beat faster and faster with yours.

“Hh...Mhmmmmm~" Your lips curled at the sound of his deep but faint grunts in response. His breath was hot against your face as his hands trailed over your body, tracing your shoulders and back, occasionally gliding up to cup your breasts or slide underneath you to knead your thigh.

A small sigh of pleasure escaped your parted lips as it filled up the air between you two.

Your mind tried to wander again. But his steady thrusts kept you in the moment. You softly moaned into his pecs and arched your back further, your arms wrapped around his neck as if holding on for dear life. It's better to not think anymore. It was all too much. You pressed your hips down with each of his thrusts feeling a familiar tingle and warmth that spread down your legs from his wire-like pubic hairs rubbing against your clit.

Michael groaned deeply as he held onto your hips, guiding himself deeper into you. His hips moved fast and hard as he started to fuck you with his full length. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and their shared moans reverberated through the room.

He was so big. Even with how thick he was, he slid in and out of you like there was nothing to it, hitting every painfully sensitive spot inside of you so beautifully. 

"Ahh, ahh." you moaned as his hips slapped faster against your ass. You thought of saying something at the moment. Maybe an apology for what you did, going against your promise, but he would never forgive you, let alone trust you after that. You knew that. It was stupid to pretend to be sorry now. He knew you’d never accept him let alone be with him.

He continued having his way with you, moving his hips in such an erotic manner that it seemed to make it even more enjoyable for you. You babbled incoherently, feeling your legs trembling. You should’ve been used to this by now but you weren’t in all honesty. 

Michael slipped his index finger beneath your chin, his touch feather-light yet commanding, and pulled you in to press your mouth onto his. His lips were warm and smooth as they touched yours. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, darting across yours. His other hand gripped your thigh tight as his fingers dug into your flesh, pulling you closer to him. His thrusts gradually increased, faster and more powerful as he groaned into your mouth. Every thought in your head oozed out of your ears as his cock plunged in you, soaking in the slick caresses of your warm gummy walls around him.

When he parted his lips from your’s you could feel his growl deep. His free hand gripped your cheek as he tilted his head down to capture your gaze once more. You blinked your eyes several times before looking into his dark eyes, fierce yet loving. He brought his lips back to yours again.

"M-mmm-mi." You whimpered into his mouth when his fingers dug in harder into your thigh, grinding his pelvis against yours, forcing you closer to him. You let out another moan as he continued his assault, pushing himself into you over and over again, burying every inch of himself deep inside until you were filled to the brim with his girth.

He broke the kiss off as he pulled away from you, his lips smacking against your cheeks as they kissed you over and over again. He groaned loudly as he pulled back, lifting his hips down from where you had him trapped beneath you before slamming back up. You let out a sharp cry and bucked your hips down, taking him to the hilt once more and letting him pound you relentlessly, his hands gripping your thighs, digging his nails into your soft skin.

You felt yourself nearing the edge already. The pleasure was overwhelming. You couldn't take it anymore and cried something incoherent with "Mmghnnn!" following right after.

The man growled low in his throat and bit into your neck so hard you felt steaming liquid run down, his cock pulsing inside of you as he came, feeling his seed flood you with release. Your muscles clenched tight around him as pleasure shot through your body. Your stomach begins to churn again with orgasm, intense, painful, yet satisfying. 

It felt nice to not think, at least for a while. You didn’t even know what to do anymore.

The tension left your jaw as you sighed heavily, relaxing on him as his fingers trailed up your arms and around to grab hold of your breasts, gently massaging them as he rode out the waves of his climax. You swore you heard a low and hoarse purr from Michael. The sound caused tremors to convulse your ribs as his hips slowed down. He began to move more and more slowly and gradually pull out of your wet folds. Compared to you, Michael was as still as a corpse while you were limp on top of him for a few minutes. In those minutes your mind was simply blank, only focusing on the warm sunlight that filtered through the window, illuminating dust particles fluttering in the air.

You felt his eyes piercing through the top of your head so you strained your neck to look up at him, his pupils dilated in the hazy glow of his eyes. You didn't know whether or not to hate yourself for enjoying this moment, but you enjoyed it anyway. 

“Morning,” your tone was groggy. Under the sunlight, his eyes appear lighter and gentler as he studies your features. He leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. You felt your heart flutter and a sense of warmth spread through your body. You brought an arm down from his neck to rub your cheek, only then were you aware of the dried tears that were still on your face.  “Ugh, I needa wash my face.”

A hint of disgust could be seen on your face. You brought your hands to both sides of him trying to lift yourself up but were met with immense pain. Air was sucked through your teeth as you quickly brought yourself back down. You were determined to stay in bed for a little while with him until, with a gentle yet firm touch, Michael scooped you up into his strong arms, his muscles effortlessly supporting her. You nestled against his chest, finding solace in his sturdy embrace. your head rested on his shoulder, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of relief from the throbbing ache.

He navigated through the familiar path to the bathroom, his steps sure and steady. The tiled floor felt cool beneath his bare feet as he approached the toilet. Carefully, he lowered you onto the seat, his hands cradling you as if she were the most fragile of treasures. You wince as you put yourself into a more comfortable position, your pain ebbing just slightly.

The soft hum of the bathroom's ventilation fan provided a soothing backdrop to this quiet moment. Your eyes met briefly, conveying unspoken words of care and concern. He reached for a towel, dampening it with warm water from the sink, and then tenderly dabbed your forehead, wiping away the traces of dried tears and pain etched upon your face. He made his way from your eye bag to your chin before you spoke.

“I'm sorry I haven't been good to you.” His face behind the curtain of disheveled hair gave you nothing as he went on his way to wipe the other side of your face with tender grace. "I've been…inconsiderate. You did all of this for me and here I am shitting on you for it, trying to leave when I promised I wouldn’t. I understand if you'll never forgive or trust me. I wouldn't forgive me either but -" 

You felt his thumb press down on your cheek breaking you away from your sentence. His thumb caressed your cheek, softly moving up and down while looking at you as with a hint of affection.

"Please...please don't hurt me again.”

He sighed, his breath a gentle breeze that ruffled a few strands of his hair, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts that weighed on his mind. You wondered if he was regretting hurting you. You wonder if he ever regrets anything at all, still remembering his raging blue eyes as he held you tightly by the thought. He looked truly depraved..demented even. On second thought, he probably regret what he did seeing how he was a killer who lodged a blade in the head of a woman in front of you, killed a man in cold blood in the woods last night, and almost killed you shortly after. 

You began to have morbid thoughts of your still body lying haphazardly on the floor instead of lying on top of him fully alive, waiting to be found by someone. Dread began to creep into the pit of your stomach like a slow, sinister shadow, its icy fingers coiling around your insides. It was as if a heavy, looming cloud had settled in your abdomen, casting a pall of unease and uncertainty over your entire being.

If you stayed you were his forever, your entire livelihood was tied to him, but if you tried to leave again, to not be a part of his world anymore he would probably kill you or those around you. It was best to stay with him. He could’ve killed you by now though, you only tried to escape like what? Three times?

Interrupting your reverie, he leaned in for another kiss, his lips a punctuation mark in the prose of your thoughts. You felt a flutter in your stomach. You honestly thought this was going to be easy, agreeing to live with him. But it proved hard when every sign of escape came near, the camper being one of them. The man had only come by to see if the people in this cabin, who he assumed were caring and generous, had any bottles of water. He was not ready to deal with the fucked up shit that was happening here. Now he’s dead. 

You told yourself you couldn't help the next person who stumbled on the cabin.

Before you knew it, so deep into your thoughts you were already back on the bed, this time you lying on your side as he pushed your back on his chest. You dozed off again only focusing on his rhythmic heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall. 

***

Your eyes fluttered open to the white ceiling above, your mind was still very much drowsy. 

The throbbing pain around your wrists felt like iron bands, squeezing tighter and tighter with every passing second. You winced when you tried to wiggle your hand free from a  pair of handcuffs connected to the headboard's bedpost on either side.

This surprisingly didn’t phase you.

You made him mad, now you were tied to this place, tied to him.

“Michael?” you tiredly called out. You perked your ears to listen carefully to the sound of heavy footsteps but there was nothing but steady pitter-patter against the bedroom windows and the distant rumbles of thunder.

You were all too familiar with the sense of silence and seclusion that hung with intensity in the air. It felt like a welcoming friend now. But then there was a thump, you told yourself you couldn’t help whoever the fuck Michael had held hostage up there even if you wanted to. It would only mean their death or yours. It was better to pretend they didn’t even exist for both of your sakes. 

So there you sat on the bed staring into space, a past activity you took up when you were in the basement. It always helped you get through the day, maybe it will help you now. 

Your thoughts once wandered freely, tracing a path back to your parents, your college acquaintances, and the life you used to know. But now, a shroud of silence enveloped your mind. 

Your previous life just felt like a distant memory. When you tried to look back it was like looking at a photograph of a distant past, where you knew the people in the picture, and could almost remember what had happened, but the details were blurred by time.

The thought of those days felt like trying to grasp smoke with your bare hands - elusive and ever-slipping. The faces of your loved ones, once vivid and full of life, had now become faded snapshots in the album of your past. 

You could barely even watch a movie late at night with Molina before her life was sliced away by the cold blade of the man who imprisoned you here.

You stared off in the hope of distracting yourself somehow with the thought of something else.

The smell of cooked food coursed through the room ripping you away from your mind. You looked outside the window to see nothing but darkness outside, but the distant sound of thunder can still be heard. In fact, the entire room was shrouded with darkness since Michael broke the bedside lamp. 

You tried in vain to jiggle your hands free but that only caused you more pain from how tight the cuffs are.

Where the fuck did he even get handcuffs?

Silence hung heavy like a shroud, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing. You lay there, propped up on a few pillows, your gaze fixated on the ceiling, where shadows danced in the feeble moonlight. The soft creaking of the floorboards and the occasional rustling of your sheets were the only companions to your solitude.

And then, as if summoned by the stillness, the door beside the bed let out a familiar, eerie creak. You turned your head slowly, the anticipation causing your heart to race. There, in the doorway, stood Michael. He wore his usual rugged mask,  tainted to a mottled gray and yellow, while his overalls bore splatters of crimson, like battle scars from a gruesome war. 

In his hands, he held a small bowl, a delicate vessel that seemed incongruous with his rough appearance. Your eyes tracked him as he moved with an uncanny stillness, crossing the room to reach your bedside. The springs of the old bed groaned beneath the weight of his presence as he settled down beside your extended legs, the creaking accentuating the gravity of the moment.

Michael's gaze, hidden behind that well-worn mask, fixed on you. It was an inscrutable stare, at once blank and filled with a hint of affection. A stare you were all too used to.

You felt the world around you narrow down to only him and everything he is and what he’s done, as if the creaking floor, the dimly dancing shadows, and the passage of time were all but distant echoes, fading into the background.

You felt tears start to well up in your eyes. 

With his other hand, Michael scooped up whatever mess was in the bowl and held it close to your lips. It looked like a feeble attempt to mimic porridge, with its pallid, lackluster appearance. The spoon burned your lips a little, causing you to back away slightly. The spoon moved closer and closer to you, it started to part your lips. You finally opened your mouth, there was a churn in your stomach.  He slides the metallic spoon into your mouth. You swallowed the spoonful quickly and immediately regretted it. The flavor was bland and the texture was strange, almost as if it was made out of rubber.

 The bitter taste of the shit he gave you lingered in your mouth. You grimaced, feeling your body shudder with disgust. You looked at him again, and though you could barely see his eyes behind the mask you could still feel him stare into your soul with the same affection only meant for you. An affection that kept you confined here to him. An affection that you knew you would never escape. An affection that you knew you would never forget even if you did.

You didn’t say anything to him. You both just sat there in silence, and then he scooped more of the grey matter from the bowl and put the spoon up to your face. 

At that moment, you felt your heart sink. You finally understood there was no surviving this, there wasn’t a way to live with him knowing his adoration for you might just end in your death. If he was even capable of adoration. 

Maybe he was just delusional…unhinged, but it wasn’t like he had hinges to begin with. Maybe it was just easy to not really think about him being mentally unstable because among the abuse he was being good to you in his own twisted way…..

You took the spoonful in your mouth, this time more slowly.

But no amount of care mattered when you realized he was truly fucking unhinged.

He killed your friends.

He forced himself on you.

He was forcing you to be his.

He hurt you.

It was all too much. 

Tears welled up, coursing down your cheeks as you struggled to contain your emotions. Michael's calloused thumb gently brushed them aside, offering comfort. But despite his caring touch, the tears continued to flow, and your breathing quickened, spiraling into a state of hyperventilation.

Through the tears, you caught sight of Michael putting on the shitty porridge on the nightstand. You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. 

You started sobbing and shaking, with the cuffs pulling at your skin. You felt helpless and alone, with nothing you could do. You felt your heart break as you realized there was no escape. 

 You knew that no matter what you did, you were completely and utterly at his mercy.

This was insane.

“Why won’t you just let me go?” your voice barely rose above a whisper. He just stared at you. 

You felt even more powerless and scared like you were going to suffer the same fate as countless others. You thought you actually had a shot with the poor camper. Hoped he might’ve been your way out away from Michael but that was just…useless. All for him to die.

Now you only hoped people would catch a whiff of the bodies that have piled up in the woods.

That someone would stumble upon the mangled corpse of a man with his stomach ripped open.

That someone would notice something strange. 

That someone was even around to notice. 

That you weren’t forgotten and left here with a monster. 

Then there was the thumping again.

You heard a soft sign from Michael as he got up from the said bed and began to walk away from you. Leaving you with the shitty meal he made and you still cuffed to the bed. 

You told yourself you couldn’t help whoever the fuck was in there so you just sat there waiting for him to come back.

***

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been cuffed to the bed that Michael has now neatly made and bruising now formed around your wrists. You grew worried because you began to not feel some of your fingers occasionally, and your pinky fingers were starting to get numb. You tried to wiggle them from time to time and change the position of your hand so they were downturned all the time but that just hurt your wrist. 

Michael of course came in occasionally to feed you whatever gross shit he concocted. You ate it because you had no other choice at that point, well the other choice was starving. So you did have a choice.

 After he’d feed you, he would just stand there by the bed, leisurely caressing one of your legs, with his hefty hands stopping short at your inner thighs, as if he felt a strong desire to pry them open and claim what his but he held himself back.

  Why he didn’t just take what he wanted? He always did.

Then there would be thumping again that always broke him away from his trance, and then he would leave. This was your life for five days.

You started to prefer to go back to Haddonfield in that shitty basement. At least when you tried to escape he would only hold you against him. It was weirdly cute and comforting. 

No…No, it wasn’t. 

“Don’t tell yourself that” you whispered to yourself. “You hated every second of it.”

The thumping suddenly stopped, he was in the attic. At least he could torture that poor person while you’re down here. 

Often you just remind yourself he was a horrible person while the other side of you commended him for not hurting you thus far, even finding it adorbable how he kept staring at you. 

You didn’t like the fact that your mind was twisting in favor of him. But haven’t it always? 

You always told yourself to give him what he wanted. Make yourself smaller for him as he took everything from you. Your head swerved toward the expansive cabin window, feeling the coils of your hair resting on your head like a soft cloud flattened against the headboard. Beyond the window, which stretched from the polished wooden floor to the high vaulted ceiling, you were given a  breathtaking view of the snow-covered woods 

The world outside was a picturesque winter wonderland. The snow-clad trees stood like sentinels, their branches heavy with the weight of fresh snowflakes. The woods, once vibrant with the colors of autumn, had transformed into a serene landscape painted in shades of white and gray. It was a scene of pure, untouched beauty, untouched by the hustle and bustle of the outside world.

An outside world you’ll never be a part of again. 

As you watched the gentle snowfall, you couldn't help but reflect on the time of year. A mental calculation of days gone by led her to the poignant realization that it was now December.  Many days since that Halloween night. You remembered the fear and the pain and the hurt you felt at the time when he kidnapped you. You tried to take your mind off of that.  You tried to focus on other things like your parents and the joy of the season you loved.

The air felt crisp and carried a hint of nostalgia, as you remembered past Decembers filled with laughter, warmth, and the loving presence of your family.

Your heart ached with the knowledge that, this year, you were hidden from all those who knew you, and the prospect of spending another Christmas with your family seemed increasingly distant. 

The isolation of the cabin in the snow-covered woods mirrored your sense of separation from the people who meant the most to you. You'll miss the familiar gatherings, the joyful chaos, the shared traditions, and the heartfelt moments that defined your Christmases with them.

In the quiet cabin bedroom, a solitary tear glistened in your eye as you contemplated the bittersweet reality of this holiday season, knowing that this time, the embrace of your family and the comforting sounds of their shared celebrations would remain a very distant yet cherished memory, rather than a present reality.

Your only reality now was Michael, and being his forever. Nothing will ever change that.

Even if you kept telling yourself you could’ve done something different the moment he found you at the concert, or any moments when you had a chance to finally get true freedom, especially when you running like a mad woman in the woods but in the end none of that really mattered. Did it?

Like you always told yourself, he’ll always find you and you’ll always be his.

When night finally came your eyes felt heavy but your hands were heavier. Then you heard a creak from the door. You were too tired to notice that your hands were now on the bed by your side or even the fact that you were being picked up. 

Through your eyelashes, you saw the ceiling of the cabin pass you by until an orange light illuminated the ceiling. You felt yourself be placed down on something soft but with a hard surface underneath. You tried to move your hands but you found yourself unable to move them. 

You could feel hat initiating on your face, and heat the cackling on a fire. Your body was then turned to face the fireplace, a bit far away from you for safety but close-enough for warmth. You felt him lay behind you wrapping his arm around your mid-section, while his stubble scratched the top of your head. 

****

As night descended, your eyelids grew heavy, but it was your weary hands that felt the weight of the day the most. The bedroom lay in complete darkness, the only source of light, the lamp that had long since ceased to function, still layed shattered on the floor.

Then, there it was – a soft creak from the cabin's door. Your exhaustion dulled your senses, and you remained oblivious to the fact that your hands had slipped out of the cuffs and down to rest at your sides, or even that you were being gently lifted.

Through your partially open eyelashes, you caught a fleeting glimpse of the rustic wooden ceiling above. The room remained shrouded in darkness until an amber glow suddenly bathed the ceiling in a warm, flickering light. You felt yourself being gingerly placed onto something soft, but beneath the softness, a hint of a firmer surface.

You attempted to move your hands, but a curious sensation overcame you – they were immobilized, pinned in place. A soft fabric brushed against your face, and the unmistakable sound of crackling logs in a fireplace reached your ears. Your body was then gently turned to face the hearth, which was positioned at a safe but inviting distance, its flames casting a soft, mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.

As your senses gradually acclimated to your surroundings, you felt his presence behind you. His body radiated warmth, and his arm wrapped protectively around your midsection. His subtle stubble grazed the top of your head, a rough contrast to the softness of the night and the gentle crackling of the fire. The combination of heat, the comforting embrace, and the soothing sounds lured you into a cocoon of serenity, as you settled into the profound stillness of the cabin, the only sounds now being the symphony of the crackling fire and the soft, steady rhythm of your breaths.

You hummed softly as you felt his fingers trace delicate circles over your stomach, the gentle touch sending a warm shiver through your body. The rhythmic motion of his fingers, combined with the crackling fireplace and the comforting presence behind you, created a moment of quiet intimacy and contentment.

His hand, once exploring your stomach in gentle, soothing circles, began a slow journey, sliding up your arm with a tender touch. The delicate caress continued up and down, eliciting a languid response from your senses.

Then, his hand moved to your throat, where your pulse point danced beneath his fingertips. A soft, gentle caress at this vulnerable spot made your breath catch in your throat, and a heavy sigh escaped your lips, a subtle testament to the affectionate attention he was bestowing upon you.

"Mmmm." was all you could muster as the sensations and your drowsiness melded into a dreamy state. You were too lethargic to notice that his hand had returned to your stomach, resuming its comforting circles just as before, but then dipping underneath your white panties creating a soothing, rhythmic symphony of touch on your clit. He fondled it between his index and middle finger for a moment eliciting a quiet moan from you before slithering away.

As the sensations slowly took control over you, you found yourself sinking deeper into his embrace and his caresses, becoming more responsive with each passing moment. The gentle pressure at your neck became harder, a sure sign that he had begun to work his way up your chest, and his fingers began to circle around your breasts, teasing them gently between his thumb and forefinger.

This caused you to gasp quietly, as you arched back to receive him better. His fingers began to slide lower, tracing lines along the contours of your belly, and finally slipping beneath the waistband of your panties again. You gasped as a cool breeze rushed down your thighs, and instinctively tightened your grip on his arm.

He chuckled quietly at the reaction.

"Mine." His voice had a husky undertone.

As his hand worked its way down to your pussy, you closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure he was providing, and his fingers began to tease your swollen, needy folds.

"Oh God." You moaned softly, and your arms crept forward to wrap the fabric in front of you that was reaching just at the front of the fireplace. Gripping the puffy blanket for dear life. "Don't stop,"

A low chuckle escaped him, you could feel the rumbling of his chest against your back. You felt his warm breath brush up against your earlobe, and a slight shiver ran through your spine when you felt one of his large fingers sling inside of you. Your hips stuttered for a moment against his hand until he started to slide it in and out of you leisurely.

"Shit." you softly moaned.

He chuckled quietly again as he slid another finger into your pussy, spreading you open, and pushing deep into you. You let out a soft whimper, but he did not seem to mind.

"Mmm," he whispered, as his fingertips grazed your clit, sending a tingle of electricity across your nerves.

"I'm- I'm sorry." you stammered, unable to find the words to form an apology. He doesn't answer you as his fingers slide in and out of you at a steady pace. As your arousal grows so does the size of his fingers. They begin to feel large and foreign inside of you, but it also feels good, as if this is how they should have been all along. You're so aroused now that you don't know what to do.

Suddenly, he stops and slides his fingers out of you without warning. You feel a wave of disappointment flood over you; why would he stop?

"N-No, please. Continue." You pathetically pleaded. A tender sensation washed over you as soft, warm lips touched down gently on the top of your forehead. It was a sweet, affectionate gesture that seemed to encapsulate the intimacy of the moment. Suddenly your two fingers make their way into your mouth through the barriers that were your teeth. You tasted your arousal that coated them as something else. Blood maybe? You didn't care. It tastes salty and sweet.

While you lapped at his fingers, wanting to wipe them clean of your essence, you felt his other hand, cling onto the waistband of your panties from the back and pull it down. You couldn't refuse him now, not like you wanted to. This was a pleasant distraction from your bruising hands.

Suddenly you flinched, feeling something hit your butt, smearing something wet on your sensitive flesh. It poked at you from behind as the two fingers left your mouth and eventually came to one of your cheeks, spreading them open. A familiar sensation of pain spread through you as you felt something hard poke against the tender skin in between your ass cheeks and slowly slide between your pussy lips. Finding its way to your entrance.

"Please." You begged as the object entered you fully; stretching your innermost parts open wide. "Please continue."

With a firm grasp, he guided his cock towards the opening of your vagina, sliding in slowly with each push until his entire length filled you up completely. You were so wet already that his dick slid smoothly into you, causing you to let out a sharp cry as he filled you with his member.

"Ohh...fuck!" you cried out, your head falling back against his chest as your legs spread themselves more against the blanket. "Y-You feel really nice." You breathed, as he pulled back just enough to watch his shaft slide out of you, his member glistening with your juices as you clenched tightly around it. Slowly he thrust forward again, forcing his cock into you again.

"Uhhh..." You moaned out loud, as his thick, veiny penis pushed its way into your tight hole with every forceful shove, stretching you open further with each movement until you felt the tip of his dick hit your sweet spot over and over again.

Your breathing became faster as he began to rock his pelvis back and forth, grinding himself against you while his hips pressed against yours. You could feel his heavy balls slapping against your ass as his shaft slid inside of you over and over again until you couldn't take anymore; a burning sensation grew within you. Your orgasm was building rapidly in intensity and you couldn't help but cry out, biting into the fabric underneath you with a cry of pleasure as waves of pure euphoria flooded your body. Your body tensed up from the overwhelming rush that consumed you until you felt Michael's warm seed splashing deep into you with a few final thrusts, coating his cock in warm semen.

Once it subsided, you lay there panting heavily for a moment. You felt his chest rise and fall behind you. You knew he wasn't done yet, he usually put more and more loads in you before finally being tired.

"Thank you," you muttered through your fucked out state. With that, you began to slowly seep into slumber feeling your body bouncing up and down once more. Feeling his still-hardened cock pressing into you with each thrust using you while you drifted off to sleep.