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

Chapter 8

It was mostly muffled at first-in the background- and it took a minute to register exactly what it was.

Heavy and uneven breathing.

Your heart felt like it skipped and beat out of rhythm, any courage you had evaporating inside of you at the mere feeling of the dominant presence looming over you.

Even though everything was happening within a matter of mere seconds, you felt like it all happened in slow motion, seconds ticking backwards.

It felt like it took you years to turn around, to come face-to-face, or face-to-chest with the person that had been monitoring you day in, day out.

"Michael..." You didn't know when you found your voice, a scream dying down in your throat as you took in what was standing before you up close, much more terrifying than it was from a distance.

Black pits for eyes and a rubber seam for a mouth, a shock of tangled synthetic hair. If you could have seen his actual eyes, mouth, or some proof that he was just a man, you might have felt less of the bone-deep certainty that you were going to die tonight.

Your panicky gaze found at the very base of the mask's neck an inch of real skin, rising and falling.

He had a tall, lean body, and broad shoulders. There was a cruel suggestion of strength in them, and you would say he had been very active during his 15 years of being locked up in Smith's Grove.

Even more alarmingly was the blade of a butcher's knife that had to be at least the size of your forearm, if not bigger.

You barely noticed it through your fear, the mask dipping and tilting to the side as if he were assessing you. Curiousity or something else, you couldn't tell, and neither could you get a read on him.

Not in his body language, or facial features and your legs begged you to leap into action, but the rest of your body didn't cooperate.

There was no reluctance in his movement as his powerful fingers curled around your airways with inhuman strength, causing you to cough and hack and struggle.

Not that it did anything. But the more his grip tightened, the more your heart would pound, causing blood to flow within your ears and giving you a borderline headache as well as a trauma.

You weren't aware, but Michael was revelling in the fluttering of your pulse that beat like a bird and would have been just as easy to crush as your hopes of getting out of his house alive.

The Boogeyman was real.

Before, there wasn't any way to know what the Boogeyman was supposed to look like or be.

You thought it to be nothing but a tale people used to teach kids lessons; something that could be anywhere, could do anything- something taking on your fears, and the fear surrounding it gave it power.

A formless personification of terror.

So imagine how twisted it was that it was standing here in the form of a person? Not absurdly large or monsterous, no supernatural powers, just a regular man.

In a way, it was almost poetic. Humanity could be embodiment of evil, inflicting pain upon others without rhyme or reason.

And now Michael had you right where he wanted you.

While gasping for oxygen, your red-rimmed (E/C)s were glued to the soulless black eyesockets long enough to see the whites of his own eyes under the plastic's shadows.

"Please..." the sound of your voice, weak and wailing as if caught halfway in a sob. Still, you weren't putting up much of a fight, and the slightest twitch in Michael's arm let you know that he wasn't pleased with that.