The Lamb and the Wolf

Chapter 6

Dr. Samuel Loomis stood in the middle of the sidewalk, peering silently up at a house. Though this house wasn't just any house. It was the house that shied away any adult and intimidated any child. It was deserted, and sat deserted for the past 20 years. The doctor's eyes withheld solemnity as second-hand memories flooded his mind.

In the year of 1963, Haddonfield was forever struck with an infamous incident that captured the attention of nearing towns and cities for years. And roughly 15 years later, more horrifying events surfaced. It was only after the relatives of the Myers family refused to claim responsibility for the house that the stories and rumors died down. No one wanted the house, and so no one was successful in selling it. Embedded in vines, dirt and dust, the house became neglected. Not one soul dared to enter that house. The only one that did, that was allowed to, was the very being that instilled the fear to begin with.

Dr. Loomis could visualize the moment so clearly; the moment in which he first met the boy and tried to console him. Michael was brought to the sanitarium at such a young age. He was the youngest patient they had, which baffled the doctor when he couldn't get one word out of the boy. He could tell his sister's death stained his gaze– the crimson of blood against the black of night.

Many claimed it was possession; a demon had condemned the boy to such behavior. Others turned to psychological explanations. But Dr. Loomis was certain it was a combination of the both.

On their days spent at Smith's Grove, Loomis sat with the boy in his ward for hours at a time– centered on conversations that were always one-sided. It wasn't only the fact that Michael hadn't said a word, but that he didn't even appear like there was something he wanted to say. Most parents struggle to contain the volume of their child's words–teaching them to use their inside voice–but not even a visit with his parents, Peter and Edith Myers, stifled a word out of him. The one thing that Michael did commit to was working out.

There was no doubt the sanitarium wasn't an extensive gym with plenty of efficient machinery and equipment, but there was a bench press, dumbbells, an assortment of weights and a pull-up bar. To put it simply, it was more than enough for Michael to utilize.
When Michael turned 14, a few more activities were offered to him to complete throughout the day. None of Dr. Loomis's lessons or plans had been working, and so he attested more freedom for the boy in hopes of making progress. They offered a music class, a creative writing session, and of course, access to the fitness center. Although his doctor was hoping for him to choose something more expressive, Michael chose the fitness center everytime they offered the activities.

Dr. Loomis never thought to question Michael's choice of a pastime until it developed into an obsession. Although his strength became a prominent feature, there were days that Michael would skip his meals or just sit and stare at his plate with only a few bites taken. It concerned Dr. Loomis. Managing a solution, the doctor made a deal that Michael was allowed to use the fitness center as long as he ate everything on his plate. Just like that, Michael was eating again. And he was becoming stronger– a lot stronger. Loomis could have never imagined what he would use that new found strength for until it was too late.

Standing a foot from the yard, his ears rang with the screaming of frantic children and the perish of the teenagers that were murdered 5 years prior. His eyes fell upon a group of children who's sounds of joy and laughter greatly contrasted the memories, and they brought his focus away from the devastating thoughts.

Sheriff Leigh slowly proceeded to the doctor's side, his hands stationed on his belt. The two stood quietly and gazed up at the house. The sheriff frowned. The two shared memories that led to very unpleasant consequences.

"If he comes back, I'll kill that bastard myself," Sheriff Leigh bitterly avowed. Dr. Loomis flinched, glancing at the sheriff from the corner of his eyes.