Halloween [✓] (Michael Myers X F!Reader)

Chapter 3

Faint, swirling wisps of warmth slowly rose and dissipated from the mug of hot chocolate that was clasped between your fingers as you sat on the counter. "No offence, doctor Loomis, but why are you here?"

You didn't exactly have the greatest memories of the man who'd been visiting you up til the age of 7. It had been too long ago to recall what the visits were about, but you did remember the aged man had been a little too strange and invasive for your liking.

"Apologies, Miss. (L/N). I didn't come here on pleasantries," he dodged your question. "I come with dire news."

"Well?" You raised your chin expectantly. "What's this 'dire news'?"

The tension in the room grew palpable. Loomis scratched the base of his bearded chin, looking like he was about to break the worst news possible to a hospitalized person.

"Michael Myers has escaped."

You cocked your head slightly as if dissecting the information in your head. "And...? Who is that? What does that have to do with me?"

"Michael was my patient for fifteen years," Dr. Loomis explained sullenly. "He was to be locked up in Smith's Grove Sanitarium indefinitely."

"Was? "So not anymore? And what did he do to end up there?" You were familiar with Smith's Grove. It was Haddonfield's very own mental institution and only the worst offenders were to be sent there.

"(Y/N)-" Your mother began in a soft tone as if she was preparing to explain to a toddler that Santa didn't exist.

"No, mom." You frowned and pressed on. "I want to know what's going on. Tell me, Dr. Loomis. What did Michael do?"

"He murdered his older sister when he was 6 years old," he said blandly, and instant dread knocked in your chest.

A 6 year old boy that killed his sister?

You weren't sure if you had heard him right, but judging from the grim dip to his eyebrows, you did.

Taking a comforting sip of your drink, you let the warmth sear down your throat. "You mean by accident..?"

You hoped- no, prayed it was that. Maybe an unfortunate web of events that lead into...

"No," he said resolutely, ending your wishful thinking. "No. Michael understood what he was doing, I know as much. He stabbed her. "

You winced and pressed your fingers to your temple. How could a child willingly murder his own sibling? It was beyond your comprehension.

Could someone that young even understand what taking someone else's life meant? The consequences?

"As for your other question, you had contact with young Michael at the age of 3. Perhaps your mother would like to explain the rest?"

You reeled back, a shaking hand dropping the mug beside you as your hand trembled at the revelation. It was with difficulty that your mother told you everything in details of what happened October 31st, 1963.

That you were found next to Michael by his parents when his sister had just been killed by him.

That you were left traumatized, and that your parents sought multiple child psychologists to help you get over it which, eventually, you did.

You'd gotten awfully quiet, two pairs of concerned eyes asking you to speak.

Shaking your head, you ruffled the front of your hair, refusing to believe anything of what they just told you out of self preservation. "You expect me to buy this crap? About me having been past friends with an evil killer?"