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

Chapter 6

"You're serious? Like actually, mega super serious?" Having just returned from training, you were nothing short of exhausted with mud splattered over your legs and a bruise blossoming on your ankle.

You tucked your boots by the door, careful not to stain the floor. The television was humming and and you could smell popcorn wafting out of the kitchen. "Dead serious. Can you believe it? Me being acquainted with some crazy maniac?"

"That would be wicked," Lynda snorted with a glow to her face that put the moon and the stars to shame. "Maybe you'd have a chance with him. Minds think alike."

You didn't react visibly.

Lynda's barbed comments were designed to hurt, but most never really did. Not to you at least. You got used to them after being friends with her for years, though she could still take you by surprise at times, like earlier in the day.

But you knew how she was through and through, and sucked at holding grudges, or staying mad at someone for a long period of time.

People that weren't as close to her were a different story, though. In other's eyes, Lynda was probably the definition of your standard high school cheerleading-spoiled bitch.

Sitting down, you stretched your aching legs in front of you. You smelt of mud and sweat, as you always did after a heavy running session.

"You gotta let me borrow those black pants sometime," she said, chewing on a biscuit. "They're cute."

"If I can take a bath we have a deal," you negotiated tiredly.

"You know the way."

Later, after testing how long you could hold your breath underwater in the bathtub, you zipped straight to the guest room where you would be sleeping for the night.

Even though it was Friday evening, you didn't feel like doing anything exciting, or staying up late.

The same couldn't be said for your friend who went over to Bob's, either to do drugs, have sex, or both.

With her parents out of the house for the weekend, that left you all alone, and with no one to ease your thoughts by laughing over them, they grew dark.

Steady eyed, you stared at the door on the right side of the room through the gloomy twilight as you laid awake on the bed.

The sound of rain beating on the roof, the wind howling all along like a mourning song was deafening, but not even close to the screams of silence that swallowed you whole.

This was fine.

The silence was tearing you apart as vague memories slipped in and out of your mind, slicing away at you so very slowly until a tear slipped from your eye.

This was fine.

You'd been close to a killer that had escaped a mental institution and could be anywhere now.

This was fine.

You had completely and utterly forgotten about him and while it could be argued that it was for the best, you were 18 now and had the right to hear it from your parents, and not only when they had no other choice.

No, this was not fucking fine.

What were you supposed to do now? A dumb question really, you couldn't do anything but hope that the cops would find Michael with the help of Loomis to put him back where he belonged.

Locked up between steel bars.

In the quiet moments of the 11th hour, Haddonfield sat still against the night, unlike you.