Michael Myers: Final Girl

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)

She shot me was all he could hear in his mind other than the echo of each bullet she had fired at him. He had died many a time before this, but this was a new kind of death. Each blow hurt him in ways he didn't know he could hurt. She was willing to risk living without him, killing him. Everything he knew to be true about her was a lie. She had betrayed him to the fullest. No one betrayed him. He began to feel life stirring within him once again. Feeling spread throughout his body, first his fingertips, then his limbs and finally his heart began to regain its pulse. It was slower than usual and he ached more than he normally would. His eyes fluttered open to meet the ceiling. It was silent. No screams, no movement. It was finished. Dread built steadily inside of him and he almost wished she had succeeded in killing him. If he could have, he would have willed his heart to stop beating so he wouldn't have to lay eyes on what she had done. The silence made him wonder if she had taken not only the woman's life, but her own. He had to know. He sat straight up, triggering the sharp pains her bullets had left behind to pierce him once again. He winced underneath his mask and backed himself against the doorframe before he took in the scene that lay before him. Her body was left unrecognizable, if he hadn't seen who she was before he wouldn't have been able to identify her. She was bathed in shimmering crimson, her eyes left wide with terror being the last expression they had conveyed. Not an inch of her had been left untouched by the blade. He couldn't recall a time even he had decorated a victim with as many marks as she had. He let his hand drop to the floor at his side only to have it soaked in her blood. So much had spilled that it surrounded him. His gaze shifted to (Y/n), who was sat against the wall across from him. The knife was still tight in her grasp as if it had found a new home there. His eyes took their time traveling up to her face. He wasn't quite ready to see that yet. Crimson covered her as well. It was splattered over her legs, her hands, her jacket and finally her face. It no longer looked like her own. He knew all along committing this act would mean the completion of her own mask. And there it was. It wasn't physical, like his own, it was derived from the blood that covered her, the life she took. She was changed. Her eyes held images he knew too well. Looking at her was now like his own reflection. She was a mirror, a nagging reminder of what he was, what they were. Monsters.

"Michael," she began, she sounded exhausted.

He couldn't quite look at her. So much anger and sadness was building within him he was frightened he could actually kill her this time. Killing him was the first strike but seeing her like this was too much. She was no different than him now. And he had fought so hard to protect her, to make her understand. All for nothing. All to lose her.

"Michael, you have to leave," she said with a hoarse voice.

He stared blankly at her, trying his hardest to stifle the urge to wring her neck. She hadn't hesitated to kill him so why should he.

"I called the police, they'll be here any minute now."

He was deadly still as his body began to tingle with blinding rage.

"It's done."

Within the blink of an eye he was across the room lifting her by her neck up the wall. Whoever this was who had taken her from him would pay. This wasn't the woman he had come to love. That look in her eyes as she pulled the trigger, what she had done to the woman on the floor, none of it was her, it couldn't be. He began to squeeze tighter than he ever had before, his eyes burning into hers from under his mask. She didn't fight him.

"It's okay, Michael," she choked out, "you can let me go, it's okay."

He knew what she meant. She wasn't afraid to die, she never had been. She welcomed it. He had every intention to crush her beneath him but he thought back to when she had first said his name. To when her lips first kissed his fingertips, her hand over his while she lay next to him. The way she had accepted him in every way and loved him regardless of what he was. He was a monster and she had loved him more than he had ever deserved.

He brought her into him and held her. No matter what she had become he couldn't kill her. He was incapable of it. He heard the knife fall and felt her arms wrap tightly around his body. The sound of sirens slowly crept toward them and he knew this would be their last embrace. She pulled back and rested her hand on the cheek of his mask. Her eyes frantically moved over him, memorizing everything she could so she could remember both versions of him. The one only she knew and the one the world knew. He could see the tears welling in her (e/c) eyes, but she was always careful not to let them fall.

"Promise you won't forget me?" She whispered.

The thought of forgetting her hurt more than the bullets. He lifted the bottom of his mask and pressed his lips to hers one last time. He knew forgetting her would be impossible, but the thought of living here on out without her was crippling. But this was her choice. He wouldn't stop her. He kissed her firmly before he pulled himself away. He fixed his mask back into place and then allowed his hand to brush her cheek. He had to remember how soft she was. He wouldn't allow his last memory to be anything other than that. Red and blue light filled the room and she took his hand from her face, pressed her lips to it and place it on his chest as she pushed him away. He slipped out of the house and into the shadows. Once hidden, he watched the police enter the home to retrieve her. She surrendered and was soon escorted out in handcuffs. For a moment he wondered why he hadn't just taken her with him and what was stopping him now. It was as if she knew, her eyes found him like they always did no matter where he hid. She wanted this. He saw that. This had been her last act and she didn't want him to rescue her from the consequences. He truly had to let her go. He stayed long after she had been put in the car, long after it had driven away and long after everyone who had come to pry had gone home. The streets were empty once more as if she had never been there at all.