Michael Myers: Final Girl

How Can I Tell You

"Michael," she called after him as he walked down the hall towards their room.

She knew he had overheard the conversation with Loomis, or at least part of it. He had provided the distraction for her to escape. However his usual silent demeanor seemed colder than ever at the moment.

"I'm sorry I left," she said as she stood in the doorway of the room, hoping he wasn't angry with her.

He wasn't. He had no reason to be, she was free to go if she chose to. After all, she hadn't betrayed him. Loomis would eventually find him no matter what, he always did. It never bothered Michael, as if the old doctor could stop him anyway. But the picture the man had painted of him was not one he liked hearing and she had heard all of it, or so he assumed. He had only caught the tail end of their conversation, but he was sure she would think differently of him now.

He turned to face her so he could gauge what she was feeling towards him. Words meant little to nothing to him, he knew she said she was sorry, but was it because she was now afraid of him? He could read a hint of worry in her eyes. He let out a sigh.

She slowly walked over with her arms crossed, "I was tired of being here alone."

She stood close as she gazed up at him. She had so many questions but knew it wouldn't do any good to pry, especially at the moment. His demeanor suggested he was suspicious as to what Loomis had told her, but she wasn't willing to give away any information yet.

She wasn't entirely sure how to ease his worries, but she had to make an attempt. She didn't want anymore tension between them. She kept her eyes on his as she reached for his hand. The process of touching him had to be done delicately, she knew that, so her moves were slow and calculated. His lack of a response to her fingers on his was a way of giving her permission. She slowly took hold of the rest of his hand and began to move it towards her hip. Once she had placed it, she rested hers on his chest, never breaking their eye contact. She could feel his heart beat faster under her palm. It was strange to her that she had so much power in such a small gesture over someone like him. He had no reason to fear her and yet she sensed he did.

"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered.

That gave him some relief, but she still felt his hesitation at her touch. He was restraining himself.

"And you don't have to be afraid of me."

She felt his hand relax against her hip, allowing his palm to fully rest on it. He even let his other one find her. He gently pulled her closer to him. She found his desire to be close to her and his self restraint endearing. He was unlike any man she had ever met in that sense, he had a certain control over his body that most of them lacked. It only made her want him more than she thought she did. She hadn't truly considered her own growing feelings, but with his hands pressed against her so gently she was becoming aware of how she felt. His forehead met hers and he found himself wishing the mask wasn't guarding him from her skin again. He considered it.

"Will you stay tonight?" She asked.

He lifted his head off of hers and allowed her a small nod in response. The smile he hadn't seen in a long time appeared and he felt satisfied that he had finally been the one to cause it. She pulled away and he watched her take her spot on the bed beside them. She settled in and he went towards his usual spot on the floor.

"Michael?" He heard her say before he had fully lain down.

"Lay next to me," she said.

It wasn't a suggestion this time, she really wanted him to. She expected him to ignore her as he had done before, but instead she heard his footsteps approaching. She rolled onto her side and watched him awkwardly find his way into the spot next to her. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, utterly astonished at himself and almost horrified. He had never laid in a bed with a woman nor had he ever intended to. He felt that familiar uneasiness bubble up inside him but it was quickly replaced with a comforting warmth when she rested her hand on his. He marveled at her strange understanding of him and that she knew how to reassure him. For the first time in ages, Michael slept.

The night passed quickly and his eyes opened to find sunlight trickling in. He sat straight up and from the corner of his eye he saw her lying there. He was still next to her. A part of him thought it was just a dream or that his mind was playing tricks on him, but he had indeed fallen asleep with her. He turned his head to watch her and how her chest moved up and down as she breathed. His eyes wanted to linger there, to study her body in ways he hadn't before. His hands wanted badly to feel her again, but he pulled himself away and quickly got out of the bed. His mind began its usual grappling. He felt himself changing in ways that made him uncomfortable but it seemed he had no power to fight it. The need to touch her was irritating and he found himself wanting to rid himself of it and of her once more. He had a mission and she was distracting him in more ways than one. He was unable to find Laurie and he knew it was because his mind was elsewhere. Perhaps this was why he hated lust, it was making him sloppy. Was that was he was feeling? No. Not completely. But it was mixed in there with his feelings for her. He could feel it growing like a weed in the back of his mind every time he had allowed himself to touch her or let her touch him. He could feel it as he stood over her sleeping form admiring how soft her lips looked. He replayed that kiss she'd given his mask over and over.

He turned quickly and marched down the hallway. He made sure to grab his knife off the table as he passed it. He wouldn't allow himself to be distracted, he had to find Laurie. She had to die. More than ever today, she had to die, he was certain of that. He wanted it out of the way once and for all. Then maybe he could rest. Then he could allow himself to, he hesitated to think it, but he could allow himself to love her.

So he left.