Unwelcome | Michael Myers x Reader

Chapter 7

You were awoken by your blaring alarm on Halloween morning, and had rushed to work, getting there with mere minutes to spare before your shift began. The day had been slow, people busy with last minute Halloween preparations, and so there hadn't been much business, and the store had remained relatively clean. You were let off early, much to your despair, sent home to wait in your own pool of fear and anticipation, sent home to wait for your most likely inevitable death. So, here you were, cowering on your sofa with a blade on the table beside it. You sat in utter silence, scrolling through your instagram so it looked like you were doing something other than waiting for an attack, a blanket pulled tightly over you as you fought off the urge to shiver. You felt the burning gaze of Michael Myers here and there, but only ever for a moment or two. You wanted to check the news, find out who'd been killed already, but didn't want to, and knew you would scare yourself more than you already were. So, instead of running, or preparing further, you sat on your sofa with strained ears, waiting for the tinites creak of a floorboard or of the opening of a door.

    The night dragged on, and you tried to ignore your grumbling stomach for a while, but decided you'd rather feed the beast than have it feed on you, so you got to work trying to make something Michael would particularly enjoy. He'd polished the pie tin overnight, and you prayed that would be enough to stop him from killing you, but deep down knew there was a high chance it wasn't. You spent a good hour making a sirloin steak, a prized recipe your dad had taught you to 'impress those men that would be chasing after her', and you guessed it came in handy. It was a sweet honey-mustard type thing, and one of the best examples for a sweet meaty food that you could think up. You yourself weren't a big fan of steak, so you made more mashed potatoes and gorged yourself on those instead of the steak itself, leaving it all for Michael.

    The moment the plate was prepared, you heard the creak of a footstep, purposefully loud to announce a presence, and you turned towards it to see Micahel Myers, taking up the entirety of your doorframe. You gulped, and held out the plate, trying to still your shaking limbs and calm your ragged breaths. The Boogeyman himself wasn't covered in blood, but his blade sure was, leaving a dark scarlet stain on the leg of his coveralls where the blood leaked through his knife holster. He took the plate, glancing at the meal before, as always, exiting out the back door. You felt his daunting, threatening aura leave the room with him, and you knew you could relax for a moment while he ate. Knowing he was busy, you felt safe enough to leave the house to go restock some of the food you'd used up; you wanted more potatoes, and more Halloween candy, more for yourself than the kids, because your pre existing bag had magically disappeared thanks to your very own magician known as the Shape. So, you slip into your shoes, completely forgetting your phone on the sofa, and hurrying outside and in the direction of the grocery store with a wave to Callie, who, as always, was perched on her porch with a tight, nervous smile.

    "Good luck tonight, (Y/N)!" her voice was grave, but her tight, forced smile lingered through it all, a tiny sign of a 'I know you can do it!' and a promise of 'make it through tonight and I'll make you a pie!'. You smiled back, a toothy grin, more nervous than anything else.
    "Thanks, Callie, but I don't think I'll need it." you respond. You definitely needed it. Shaking away your nerve, you tell yourself again, Michael's busy. The sun was setting, and it was about 6 pm, so you had a good 30 minutes to an hour to get to the store and back. You force a bounce into your step, ignoring the almost scared glances being shot in your direction, and the clear sign of people avoiding you as much as possible. You entered the grocer, scanning quickly through the isles for whatever you needed. You grabbed new potato mix, some milk, two bags of chips and a new loaf of bread, along with a box of instant oatmeal and a new box of cereal. You found yourself wandering to the candy isle, scanning their measly selection. They were just about picked clean, but you scored a box of mini chocolate bars, and one of bagged gummy candies, throwing them in your cart; two of the chocolate boxes, one of which was exclusively for you. You'd give your leftover 'give out' candy to Michael, since you doubted many people would come to the cursed house.