Michael Myers: Final Girl

My Little Town

Days turned into weeks, maybe even longer but for the most part, at least for her, life had become uneventful. She couldn't complain, it was peaceful compared to her past. The only real worry had become food, which for the most part they managed. There was just one thing keeping her mind from being completely at ease.

Michael would disappear and often. It was only for a few hours out of the day at first, but then most of her days she began to spend alone. He usually returned sometime during the night to take his place at the edge of the bed. Recently however, there were nights she didn't feel his comforting presence at all. The feeling was all too familiar, but she knew it wasn't the same as before. Over the time they had shared together she had learned well enough he had no interest in romance, at least to her it seemed that way. It had seemed as if he cared, but now she wasn't too sure. And now with his sudden absence, she began to wonder just what he was up to.

It was getting dark out again and he still hadn't returned. She was growing restless, as comfortable as she had gotten with her new home, she could only stand being in the same room for so long. She wasn't going to put up with that again. She pushed the front door aside and scanned the area for any sign of him. She saw none. Her time alone had made her increasingly fearless, especially of him, so her next decision didn't take much thought. She wanted to know where he was going and she was going to find out. She set out to the only other place she knew there was a chance of finding him.

Luckily it wasn't too long of a journey, the man never really strayed far from home. Within an hour or so, she was back in her little town. She approached the familiar house, but something was off. The front door was ajar. She knew Michael well enough to know he would never have left evidence he was home behind. Someone else was in there.

She crept into its dark embrace once more, careful not to make a sound. She instead listened for one. There was movement on the second floor, from the sound of it just one person was lurking around up there. Whoever it was began to make their way down the stairs and she scrambled silently behind the wall of the front room. She held her breath the best she could as she heard the footsteps stop just at the bottom of the stairs. She turned her head back, just to allow a glimpse around the wall to see a man in a tan trench coat.

"You don't have to hide," he said in a calm manner, "I'm not here for you."

She slid out from the shadows to face him. He was shorter than Michael, but then again most were and he was much older. He had lost most of his hair save the salt and pepper goatee. She could tell he had a pistol in the pocket of his coat.

"You're the wanted woman," he said nonchalantly, it didn't really seem to matter to him, "(Y/n)."

So she was being blamed for his 'tragic' death. No surprise there.

"Unfortunately," she replied, "and you are?"

"Dr. Samuel Loomis. Why are you here?" He said shortly.

Loomis, she thought to herself. She remembered reading all those articles about Michael's days at the sanitarium and a doctor. This must whom she had the pleasure of meeting. This could be a problem.

"I'm hiding out here," she said, knowing it wouldn't be a good enough explanation for him.

He gave her a skeptical look, "Well you aren't doing a very good job, I saw you walk in from the upstairs window. I'm sure the whole neighborhood did too. Now why are you really here?"

He seemed to ask himself that more than her. He searched her expression for some sort of answer, diagnosing her in a way. His eyes widened just slightly, he seemed to have found her reasoning.

"You know him," he said, more serious than before.

"Know who?" She said, fighting the urge to back away from him, she knew she could be in deep trouble here.