The Depression Of Repression (Michael Myers X OC)

Chapter 17- Black And Blue...

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Dragging her bloody and bruised body off of the ground Carlisle yelped in pain. Fire raced across her nerves as she forced herself to stand. This reminded her of all those times mother beat her as a child. Shaking her head, Carlisle limped to the dresser. Seeing a spare outfit, she stripped down to her bra and underwear. An old, cracked mirror caught her attention, showing her the horrors of abuse.

A deep purple and navy blue color stood out among her pale skin, painting her body with bruises. A tear trailed down her cheek as Carlisle remembered the last time she'd been beaten this bad....

-FLASHBACK-

A fifteen year old Carlisle hesitantly unlocked the front door of her childhood home, aware of the horrors hiding within it. She pushed open the door lightly before sneaking up the stairs. After taking off her book-bag and shoes, she crept towards her mother's room with a question to ask. Hanging her head low and twiddling with her fingers, she pushed the doorway open a bit farther with her hip.

"Umm... Mom?" A drunken grunt followed in response.

" I... I was... I was asked t-to the dance.... C-could I, uh... Could I maybe... go?" Staring at her shoes, she was too absorbed in her mind that was filling with anxiety to notice her mother stumbling towards her.

"Who the hell asked you to go?" 

Carlisle chose her next words carefully... but not carefully enough.

"H-his name is T-Tanner West...." A loud burst of drunken laughter caused Carlisle's whole body to tense up.

"You'll take anybody who asks you, won't ya?" Carlisle looked down at her feet again.

"No. You can't fucking go. Now get outta my room!"

"B-But Mooom-"

"NO!" 

Carlisle wouldn't just walk away... not now.

"Please-" But before she could finish, her mother shoved her, causing Carlisle to ram into the hallway wall. Before she could get up, her mother grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, forcing her to be on eye-level.

"Don't. EVER. Disobey. Me." And with that, she threw Carlisle down the stairs before re-entering her room. 

Oh, how cruel life was....

-END OF FLASHBACK-

By the time the flashback had ended, Carlisle was balling, tracing the scars her mother gave her. 

Allowing herself to fall onto the bed, she cried herself to sleep....

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Michael was coming back today... he didn't want Carlisle to starve. Carrying the grocery bags, he crept back into the house. It was getting late.... and he had to come back eventually. But, the memories of what he saw... what he did to her. They kept coming back. Sighing, he slowly opened the basement door...knowing that she was probably not going to be happy to see him.

Sneaking down the stairs.. a sound alerted him. Like a wheeze... but more drawn out... or a gasp? A whine? Crying. Slightly quickening his pace, Michael stood at the foot of the stairs, and purposefully dropped the bags to get her attention. And there she was, Carlisle. She wore a t-shirt and jeans over a terribly bruised body, and had tears staining her cheeks. She had a nasty deep purple and yellow bruise painting her right eye.

Michael felt a sting in his chest. The one person he ever loved that loved him back.. he hurt her. Bad. And not just emotionally either, but physically. The killer watched her eyes widen and her body stiffen at the sight of him. What should he do? Michael took a step forward and she backed away... just like she had when he first approached her. It had to be because of the mask... the scary appearance it gave him. It matched the evil within.

Michael slowly lifted his shaking hands to the mask and pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor. For once in a very long time... he had an expression on his face. Regret. It was Michael's turn to reach out to Carlisle for once. He owed her... after all... she felt like she was just his captive again. Taking a few slow steps forward, she rushed away until her back hit the wall.. trapping her. Finally, he was close enough. Reaching a hand up, he was surprised when she didn't slap it away. As lightly as possible, he ran his fingers over her black eye... the one that HE caused.

Carlisle let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed enough to place her hand on the back of Michael's head and pull it towards her. Resting her forehead on his. 

"It's okay.... you didn't mean it." And with that, she slid away, pointing towards the bags.

"You brought food?" Oh. He forgot about it completely. Retrieving his mask, he nodded.

Carlisle didn't care about where she ate, so she sat on the floor, stuffing KFC chicken into her mouth like an animal. Myers watched with amusement, completely still like always.  When Carlisle finished eating, she stood up and walked towards the bed, sitting on it's edge. Michael did the same, peering at her through the holes in his mask. 

"So... about those people. They are hunting us Michael." Carlisle regretfully informed the killer.

'Hunting us, why? Are we worth something? Probably a lot.' Michael's mind raced. He stared at the floor in contemplation. What was there to do? Carlisle rested her head on his shoulder with anxiety burned into her eyes. This was terrible. 

"I won't let them put you away. I promise." She spoke with certainty. Michael didn't care about that anymore. He just didn't want Carlisle to be hurt because of this little arrangement. White hot rage flowed through his body, and the giant killer plunged his knife into the mattress beside him, causing Carlisle to jump again. He let out an angered huff while pulling the blade from the cotton sheets. Carlisle stood up and began pacing as she thought things over. There was nowhere in Haddonfield that was safe. What situation had she gotten herself into? This was madness.

And then... she got it.