The Depression Of Repression (Michael Myers X OC)

Chapter 2- The Myers House...

CARLISLE'S POV

I don't even know how long I was laying in the bed, thinking about Jumbo. Minutes, hours? I don't know... I just closed my eyes and tried to relax. After however long it had been, I finally decided to open my eyes only to see my captor standing at the foot of the bed. Finally, I can get a good look at this creep. It was definitely a man judging by his build. He was abnormally tall for starters. Probably 6'7", whereas I'm only 5'6". The outfit he was wearing was a dark blue mechanic jumpsuit. The most haunting thing about the guy was his ghostly white mask, with crazy brown hair that appeared it had been slicked back at one point. The eye holes in the mask were pure black, and I couldn't see his eyes.

Maybe the oddest thing about him was how he'd snuck in the room without making a sound. He slowly cocked his masked head to the right, noticing my struggling against the chains. He must've been mocking me, because even he knew that my attempts to escape were pointless. I wanted to ask why I was here, but crazy people tend to do rather random things without a second thought, and this guy was most definitely a lunatic.  His gaze that never left made me feel really, really uncomfortable. Then a thought came flowing back to me. And before I could stop myself, I said;

"Why....." I tried to prevent the words from slipping out as my eyes began to sting with tears. He slowly cocked his head the other way to symbolize confusion. "Why d-did you.... YOU KILLED MY DOG!" I suddenly screamed as a few stray tears came running down my cheeks. I tugged on the chains that held my wrists, and only managed to deepen the cuts formed by them. I just wish I could see his face. It almost felt like the mask was his face. Certainly, it matched his personality, blank and creepy. The guy didn't seem to care for animals either. Add that to his list of character traits ..... ruthless.

A slow and shaky breath escaped me as I stared up at the hollow shell of a man. "Why am I here?" I don't know why I expected an answer, but I never got one. The man turned on his heel and left the room in a flash. I noticed something else about him.... His posture never changed. His body was completely stiff. That was a sign of stupor, a disorder in which one will remain in rigid poses from anywhere between minutes and hours. They are usually unresponsive and hardly conscious seeming. It is an odd disorder indeed. A very sad one at that, but I didn't feel bad for the dog-killer by any means. Not. At. All...

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THIRD PERSON POV

Carlisle thought over everything that had just happened. The girl slowly began to piece everything together. When she'd read that book about Michael Myers, who she knew about from the radio since she never watched television, it was mentioned that he was blank... Emotionless, just like the white mask that he wore. As she thought about it, a certain quote by Dr. Loomis came to mind;

 "I met him, fifteen years ago; I was told there was nothing left; no reason, no conscience, no understanding; and even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child with this blank, pale, emotionless face, and the blackest eyes... the devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil."                                ~ Samuel Loomis

And that's when it hit her like a hammer... She was being held captive by none other than Michael Myers himself. The insane mass-murderer that had broken out of the sanitarium once again. He was free, and no one could stop him. Carlisle was suddenly flooded with the feelings of captivity and fear. She was trapped under the mercy of a soul-less, unreasonable, psychopath. He had no sympathy in his body , nor did he have a heart. Carlisle was screwed, and she knew it. This was the worst feeling in the world. Knowing that her end was near, that the heart hammering in her chest would cease before too long. That her life was going to be cut short by the hands of another...

It was a feeling of helplessness, a feeling of torture... Like an animal in a cage, a bear in a bear-trap. Pure, uncensored fear overloaded Carlisle's nerves and adrenaline began to rush through her bloodstream. Heart racing a mile-a-minute, she tugged on her restraints again and again. After about four tugs, the adrenaline shot through her at full force. With the last of her strength, she tugged once more and managed to free her left wrist. The rusty chain snapped and blood was pretty much all she could see on her wrist, due to the fact that the jagged metal was burying itself deeper and deeper into her with every tug.

Panic washed over her at the sudden sense that Michael was coming. Her body tensed up as she grew more and more afraid. She could feel it by the way that the air thinned and got colder.... That was the feeling of his approaching presence. Fearful shivers ran up her spine and the auburn hair on the back of Carlisle's pale, soft neck stood on end. If he came in here now, it was bad news. So Carlisle decided to be obedient, this way he might trust her a bit more. The probability of that happening was rather small, but Carlisle wouldn't give up hope. Not now... Not after she lost so much blood to free herself, in fact, she was bleeding out. He'd have to give her stitches, and maybe... Just maybe, looser restraints. Now, that would be nice. If she gained his trust, she may have the privilege of not having to be tied down all the time. 

And if she was lucky, Carlisle could get the chance to escape, which would be far beyond fantastic. Carlisle squeezed her eyes shut as the feeling of him approaching grew very obvious. Without warning, a pair of cold, rough hands tightly gripped just below her bloody wrist. Carlisle jumped and stifled a yelp as her eyes shot open. Turning her head, she caught sight of Michael roughly handling her wrist. The vice-like grip that he possessed would most likely leave bruises. It was startling to say the least. Then, Carlisle finally caught sight of something that she was yearning to see. As the candle light danced upon the rough and ghostly features of his mask, she could've sworn that she caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were an almost black color, but she knew that they were brown. One of his eyes had a scarred lid that she could hardly make out in the quick flash that she saw it.

And there was one thing in his eyes that Carlisle would never forget. Loomis was right, Michael was expressionless. "Purely and simply... Evil."