The Depression Of Repression (Michael Myers X OC)

Chapter 7- Cleaning Up...

"There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line." ~Oscar Levant

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CARLISLE'S POV

I don't get why he makes me eat the entirety of whatever food he gives me, all in one sitting. At this rate, my gut will be so swollen to the size of a pregnant woman by the end of the day. I noticed something else, he didn't tape my wrists or put me in restraints before he left. I know that he didn't forget, he did it on purpose.... weird. I just realized that I had to go to the bathroom. 'Great.' I thought sarcastically. He would never let me.... not alone anyways. Awkward.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the sound of the door slamming shut. Michael was alerting me of his presence so I didn't jump anymore. It didn't work though and I jumped anyways. Clearing my throat, I tried to muster up the courage that I needed to ask him if I could go to the restroom. It had never been such a stressful question in my life."Umm.... Could I u-use the restroom?" He stared at me a moment before approaching me rapidly. I didn't even see it coming. Grabbing my wrist firmly, he yanked me to my feet and I winced at the pain of his vice-like grip. This seemed to catch his attention, and for whatever reason loosened his grip so that it wasn't as painful. 

He tugged me down the hallway that I never got to see and I caught glimpse of a group of four. A tall brunette man and his wife who had the same hair color. She was wearing a floral dress and the man wore a light blue button up and tan slacks with a black leather belt snaking through its loops.  They had their hands on a girl's shoulders, who was standing in front of them. She wore a skimpy pint shirt and light blue, denim booty shorts. There was a little boy beside her standing with an awkward distance between them. He had brown hair and eyes, and a few freckles dusting his nose. He had on a green polo and little tan slacks on. 

It was pretty likely that he didn't want to wear those slacks. He looked miserable, and his parents weren't holding on to him in any way. The poor kid must've felt invisible.... I know the feeling. Michael jolted me away from the image by my wrist and I yelped in pain. I knew there would be bruises later... He shoved me into a room that had a single candle lighting it and much to my surprise, slammed the door shut. He seemed to care about privacy. I knew that he didn't pay water bills, so this Michael guy must've hooked some things up to get water to run. He must've hooked the water to the neighbors. When I was finished, I realized how bad I smelled.

'Just ask to shower.... He doesn't smell like shit, so he must have a working shower too.' I tried to convince myself to do it. Working up the courage, I opened the door. He bent down a bit to reach me and tried to grab my wrist to drag me away again, but I dodged him and his head snapped up. We were merely inched apart and due to the candlelight, I could see his dark orbs looking into my mahogany ones threateningly. He slowly tilted his head and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Uh... c-could I take a sh-shower?" He stared for another moment before shutting the door and locking it from the other side. I started getting a bit scared, but after a few moments, he managed to sneak into the room, and I heard the shower running.

I turned around just in time to see him laying my other new outfit and a grey towel out.He placed them by the sink before disappearing into the shadows. I heard him lock the door from the other side and knew that he was allowing me the right to shower. I hesitantly stuck my hand in the water to check the temperature. 'Warm...'  My mind seemed to confirm and I retracted my hand to unbutton my boyfriend jeans. I slid the pants off of my legs and bent down to peel off my socks. Tossing the articles of clothing in a corner, I stood up straight and lifted one arm in the air. Slipping off the top, I carelessly tossed it over my shoulder.

 My body seemed to have an orange light dancing over it from the candlelight. It highlighted my womanly curvature and avoided the shadowing of my body.The thought of that creeper entering the room to see my nude form was beyond mortifying, but I had to push that aside and worry about my cleanliness. Cautiously, I lifted my leg over the edge of the old, dirty tub. Swinging the rest of my body under the warm, inviting water, I felt it pellet against my smooth skin. I winced at the contact of the water hitting my stitches. The tension in my muscles began to relax as my naturally wavy hair fell straight and darkened. Searching the old tub, I managed to find soap and other essentials.

'Maybe this Michael guy stocked up on this stuff...for me? There's now way that the psycho just has these things laying around.' I couldn't help the slight giggle that escaped my mouth at the thought of a crazed murderer using women's shampoo and conditioner while singing in the shower. That's pretty unlikely that he would do something like that, so he must've gotten these things for me. As much as I'd like to see Michael singing 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow' while lathering up the artificial brown hair that shot out of his Shatner mask. 

Pushing down on the shampoo pump, it slid into my palm and I lifted it to my hair. Running my fingers through my auburn locks, I was finally convinced that it was properly lathered. I let the water do its work before repeating the process with conditioner. Then for the soap which I was pretty eager for considering that my stitches needed cleaning. I carefully lifted the bar to my wrists and got to work. The pain in those injuries was nothing compared to my ankles. I hissed in agony as the soap disinfected the wounds. Cleaning the dirt off of the rest of my body with the dirt eraser, I was finally satisfied. The shower handles protested with loud creaks, but I ignored them and dried myself off with the grey towel.

I dried myself rather quickly before sliding on my underclothing and socks, followed by my Haddonfield sweeper top and cargo pants. Finally, I slipped on my worn out socks and folded my dirty clothing and towel. The second I was done, the door swung open and startled me. I jumped back to the counter and dropped everything. My hands firmly gripped the counter's edge so hard that my knuckles turned white. Michael's eyes drifted down to the clothing, then back up to me. Not. Good.

"Uhhhh.... Sorry."