Hearts and Daggers

Chapter Eighteen

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Halloween series in anyway =(. But I DO own Katarzyna, Emmy and my other OCs.

Chapter Eighteen

The morning after the double murder, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of embarrassment crash over me when I remembered how, in the middle of an emotional breakdown, I had thrown myself at Michael. He had disappeared seconds after getting me into my room and depositing me on my bed.

Then, I rolled onto my side and remembered too late that Derek had re-opened my shoulder wound, causing pain to shoot up through my body. I bit into my lip to keep from crying out and shakily stood to inspect the damage. I knew I would need to go back and get new stitches, and to explain why the original ones were sliced. I needed to make up one hell of a story.

Not to mention I would need to cake on layers of make-up to cover up all the bruises that had formed on my body to explain even more what had transpired. The cut on my stomach wasn’t nearly as bad as I originally thought, sure it would heal on its own in a couple of weeks.

The moment she woke up, Emmy acted as if the night before had never happened; laughing and smiling and asking me what we were going to do together. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. However, at breakfast, the first change took place.

“Emmy! Come on, you have to get to school!” I yelled as I took a sip from my coffee and set it onto the counter. I heard her little feet come bounding down the stairs as usual and I turned to get her waffles from the toaster. When I turned back around, it was a miracle I hadn’t dropped the plate.

“Emmy, what did you do to your hair?”  I asked, setting the food down in shock. Her once long, blonde locks that were nearly reaching her waist had been chopped to her shoulder blades in messy, uneven layers.

“It kept getting in my way,” she shrugged.

“Then why didn’t you just tie it up?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned at her answer and continued to inspect the damage done. Where did she even get scissors sharp enough to cut her hair? I always made sure that she had safety scissors and if she needed anything sharper, to make sure an adult was with her.

“An adult…,” my mind echoed and immediately my eyes narrowed at the little girl.

“Emelyn Michelle,” I began and didn’t miss the way her eyes widened in fear at the use of her full name, “What did you use to cut your hair and who was with you?”

She shifted her weight and looked down at her feet, muttering something.

“What was that?”

“Michael’s knife,” she said a little louder, fear evident in her voice.

“Michael’s knife?! Do you know how dangerous that is Emelyn!” I yelled and she looked back down at her feet.

“You said to always have an adult when I used sharp things,” she defended weakly, “Michael was there and he is an adult,”

“I don’t believe this,” I whispered to myself and placed a hand over my eyes. I heard shuffling and Emmy pulling herself onto her chair before starting on her breakfast. After a few moments, I stood and straightened my clothes.

“Okay, before school, I am running you to the salon to fix your hair,” I explained walking back to my coffee and taking a huge gulp, “Then when I get back here, I am going to kill Michael,”