F A T E || Michael Myers ||

¤chapter two¤

     I blink slowly, readjusting in bed as I sit-up. Toby hops off of me, upset about how much I was moving. He scampers out the open crack of my bedroom door. I know for a fact that my door was closed.

     Curious, but still cautious, I grab my baseball bat that leans on my side table (you never know when you'll need it) and get out of bed as quiet as I can. Walking across the floorboards, I avoid the ones I've learned creak the loudest. One wrong move, and I'm fucked.

     I glance back up towards the door, and then make my way through the threshold. 'Check the upstairs rooms' I tell my shaking self. 'How the hell did anyone get in? I locked all the doors and windows-'

     Suddenly, I hear a low creak of the floorboards from behind me. I freeze in place, unsure of what to do. My senses finally kick in after a few seconds of silence, giving me the ability to swing my body around and aim my bat for where the perp's torso most likely is. Most likely because my eyes are closed.

     My bat connects with something firm and sturdy. Eyes peeling open, I'm met with the stomach of something huge. My eyes rake up the figure, and I'm not kidding this man is like 6'5 and dressed in a blue mechanics suit and white mask. The exact description of Michael Myers, The Shape, The Boogeyman, The-

     His knife swings towards me, and my fight or flight kicks in. I knee him in the groin, and make a run for the front door. I've seen my fair share of horror movies to not be super dumb, but my brain is barely functioning.

     I scramble down the stairs, so close to missing a step and falling down the rest of the flight. Going as fast as my short legs can take me, I arrive at the door, frantically turning the knob. 'OF COURSE ITS STILL FUCKING LOCKED YOU MORON-'

     *SHING* The Shape's blade is now stuck in my new wooden front door, inches from my skull. As he heaves his knife out of the door, I race towards the back door. This time I don't make the mistake of assuming the door is unlocked. I jiggle the lock, now remembering that this lock is rusted and barely turns. I'm grabbed by the neck, spun around, and slammed into the door now facing The Shape.

     My lungs cry for air as I try my best to pry his fingers from my throat. I'm no match for this monster of a man, if there's even any man left. "P-please. I can help-p you. W-what do you want f-from me?" I choke out. The color is draining from my hands that grasp at his.

     He stops for a moment, loosening his hold. I start to sob. "Please." In an instant I'm dropped to the floor, The Shape starring down at me, head tilted. I can tell he thinks I'm pathetic. I gently touch my throat and cry out in pain. It's swollen and bruised. Evidently done laughing internally at me, he steps over the shaking form of my body and opens the backdoor with ease.

     There's no use in locking the doors now, its obvious he comes and goes when he wants.

...

     Michael stomps loudly through the woods, not caring about who can hear him. Everyone in this town is afraid of him.

     The voices were furious with Michael.

'She deserves to die!'

'Kill her! Her blood needs to be spilled!'

'No one meets The Shape and survives! What if she goes to the police?!'

     'The police are useless,' Michael thought. But still, the voices continued to argue.
    
     Michael let's out an inaudible sigh. He's trained himself to be stealthy and utterly silent. He hasn't spoken to a soul in years.

     He continues his journey through his hunting grounds, searching for blood to spill to dull the voices. They wouldn't be happy until the girl was dead, but he could please them with the blood of a few animals or unlucky townsfolk.

      Michael kept her alive for two reasons and two reasons alone. The main reason was that the voices would be oh so happy with him if her blood was shed on Halloween, the most glorious night of the year. Michael had inhuman patience. He could wait in a cell for years, waiting for the exact second to strike. The voices were the opposite. They wanted to see the world run red. Michael wanted the same, but he had patience. The second reason Michael didn't want to admit. It was that she made him curious. But she would soon be no more, and the weird feelings would go away.

...

     After killing a few deer and some squirrels, Michael and the voices were satisfied. His stomach growls. Letting out a groan in his mind, Michael heads back to his home.

...

     I'm terrified. He can come and go whenever he wants, and he obviously watches me sleep! Now he's actually attacked me! Why did he let me live? I shiver. I'll never feel safe here again.

    I pick myself up off the floor and take in the damage of my neck in the bathroom mirror. Treating my wounds I discover I can still talk, it just hurts. "Thank fuck you're okay, Tobes." Toby scurrys into the bathroom and hops up onto the toilet lid to greet me. He was most likely hiding from the intruder. "My poor boy, are you hurt?" I can tell he's safe, just shaken up. He's never liked loud noises, and the scuffle between me and The Shape definitely wasn't quiet.

     I take Tobes with me to the couch where I cuddle with him and begin to laugh a bit. This seriously wouldn't happen to anyone but me. Of fucking course I was attacked by The Shape of Haddonfield. I realize this is my fault. Being the horror junkie I am, I moved into his house. Well now I'm getting the fuck out.