Michael Myers: Final Girl

Don't Think Twice, Its Alright

Warnings: Domestic violence

It was her turn to learn about him. She read all about him, soaked in every detail of his story. She questioned her own sanity for the mere fact she wasn't afraid of him. Maybe all these years living with her own monster numbed her to him. But she didn't feel numb, in fact for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone. She spent the nights he didn't come home thinking of him, of Michael. She cried less, which felt like such a weight lifted. She cared a little less too, no longer letting her mind wonder whose arms her husband was tangled in for the night.

She could feel him watching her sometimes, like she always had. Being able to put a face, well, mask and name to him felt different. It made her want to go to him. What little sanity she had left kept her away though. But not him. He watched more diligently than before, fearful she might harm herself. She sensed it, and it irritated her, the idea that he felt he could stop her. That it was his right to decide her fate.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door knob begin to turn. She hurriedly stuffed the articles she had gathered under her pillow, afraid it would upset him like most things did. He stumbled into the room, obviously drunk. She put on the best smile she could muster, not wanting to give him any reason to turn on her, although it never took much. His eyes had that venomous gleam in them as he focused his attention on her. She briefly found it comical she was more frightened of him than the serial killer watching outside her window.

"What are you smiling about?" He slurred as he sat in the chair across from their bed.

"Just glad you're home," she said in the sweetest tone she could manage.

He scoffed, "I'm sure you are."

The dense tension that always hung about the room quickly returned as silence fell between them. His eyes wandered to her abdomen, he looked hatefully at it.

"Have you taken care of our little problem?" He said with that evil smirk he always wore when he knew he was hurting her.

She felt a stab inside her from his words, like he was taking care of the 'problem' with just his gaze. She looked down, that heavy sadness pouring over her.

"You know I don't want to do that."

He cocked his head before he leaned closer to her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. As he was looking at her, he caught sight of paper sticking out from underneath her pillow. He quickly snatched it up, looking over it with a laugh.

"Is this what you do when I'm gone? Can't find anything better to do?" He teased.

As he read further she saw that all too familiar anger on his face. His eyes cut back up to her.

"Or are you studying? You think you're gonna kill me?"

She hadn't thought of that before.

He quickly grabbed her throat before she could speak, squeezing tighter than he ever had. She clawed at his hand as his other one clasped on too. His eyes turned dark, they always did when he hurt her. She tried not to look at them, worried it could possibly be the last thing she saw before he killed her. That hateful expression wasn't what she wanted to remember before the end. It felt like he really was going to do it this time. She tried desperately to breathe, but it was no use. The room started to blur, everything going white. It felt peaceful and she couldn't help but let herself slip into it. It felt similar to the calm she felt while she was with him in that abandoned house. She felt her limbs go limp and every hurtful word he was hurling at her while he squeezed started to sound distant. She let a smile spread across her face as she embraced the feeling.

He quickly let go, letting her fall backwards. After a moment, she came to. Disappointed to see the peeling wallpaper of her cage once again. He was in the corner across the room.

"Why did you stop?" She asked, scarily calm as she stared up at the dingy ceiling.

"You're not worth going to prison for," he spat as he rushed out the door once again.

Coward she thought to herself.

She wasn't going to die tonight. Instead she let herself sleep, it was close enough to death to make her feel better. Outside, the Shape had seen everything.

When she woke the next morning she felt like she was lying in a puddle. She was disoriented, but she tried to lift herself, feeling a horrible stabbing pain in her abdomen. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked down. Blood. She started to scream as she frantically tried to find where it could be coming from. She realized there was no wound. Then tears started to fill her eyes.