Unwelcome | Michael Myers x Reader

Chapter 8

Dark. Black. Foggy. Everything fucking hurt so bad. You tried so desperately to grasp onto anything; there was very little sound, very little light, and you couldn't make out what was going on around you. You were moving, no, being carried. They weren't being careful, at least not careful enough to handle you gently. Your head swam with every burst of movement, a clear concussion pounding viciously in your head, but why? You didn't remember anything at all. A sudden ear-shattering ringing went off right beside your ear, making you let out a groan and struggle away from the sound, but whoever was carrying you was holding you tight, an iron grasp that provided little movement. As the ringing continued, it finally clicked in your brain; it was your phone ringtone. You tried to grasp onto reality, you needed to answer. You grasped randomly for the phone, shaking your head as your hand tightened around the familiar object. With a blurry gaze, you just barely managed to make out the name 'Elijah', but as you moved to answer it, your vision darkened again and the ringing cut off. Your arms gave in, going slack once more as a fresh wave of pain washed over you, caused by a painful collision, your head hitting a doorframe, or so you guessed by the following sound of the close of a door.

    Seconds later, you were on the sofa, and you knew it was your sofa. You screwed your eyes shut as the light flickered on and you were roused into wakefulness by the light. At last, you opened your eyes once more, and were able to piece together what was happening. It was still darkening outside, you guessed about an hour since you were attacked, if you remembered correctly. You stared around, craning your neck then immediately tensing as your throat and head burned from the strain. You were in your house, you were sure of that now, but you saw no one, heard nothing other than your own shuffling and laboured breathing. You struggled to sit up, closing your eyes as your entire body screamed for stillness, and just before you sat up completely, there was a hand on your chest, pushing you roughly back down. Your eyes snapped open, and you tried to scream, but your throat wouldn't let you. There, towering over you was Michael Myers, a glass of water in the hand he wasn't restraining you with.
    "Let me-" you croaked out, but your throat stung immensely so you shut up, screwing your eyes shut. Pain burned through your whole body, and you felt tears spill over your face once more.

    Michael stared, a hand pressed against your chest restraining your movements completely. He just stared. No strangling, no bludgeoning, and no stabbing, he stood motionless, one hand on your chest, one hand holding a cup of water. You struggled feebly, though you knew it was useless, and only once you stilled did he pull his hand away and offer you the glass of water. You hesitated, then took the glass, chugging it despite the burning in your throat. You were parched, and starving, and in pain. You finished your glass, and with a shaking hand, tried to move to set it on the coffee table, but again, Michael pushed you back down and took the glass to put it here himself.
    "W-Why..." your voice was quiet, but after another attempt, loud enough to be heard, "Why didn't you... k-kill m-me?" you stuttered out, still shaking. He didn't answer, just stood there, watching you. You stared back, waiting for an answer, some sort of sign that told you his answer, but there was nothing for minutes and minutes. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky sigh, enjoying the silence rather than being annoyed by his silence. You sank into the couch, curling in on yourself as you reviewed what had happened. You could sense Michael standing there the whole time, unmoving as you calmed your frayed nerves. You were calming slowly but surely, but all that was tossed away as terror rocketed through you as the doorbell rang, echoing through your home. "Shit!" you cursed, heart thumping again, moments after it was calmed.

    On shaky legs, you struggled to your feet, and you would have toppled over if Michael wasn't suddenly there to steady you for a moment.
    "G-Go hide or something." you hissed, more out of pain than anger, stumbling towards the door. You peered through the peephole, making out the familiar form of Elijah, and almost collapsing right then and there. You couldn't open the door in your condition.
    "(Y/N), are you there?" he called through the door, pounding relentlessly against the door and sending drilling pain into your skull.
    "J-Just a sec!" you choked out, wincing at the pain from your high volume. You turned back to where Michael was moments before, glad to see he'd hidden like you'd asked him to.
    "Oh, thank god you're alive!" Elijah's voice was audibly relieved, and you could hear the slight waver in his voice as he spoke. You looked down at yourself, covered in blood, matted hair, dizzy eyes... You were barely alive.