Rest For the Wicked [Michael Myers x Reader]

Chapter 5

Sticky. You grimace and touch your neck- pain sparks on your skin. It's hot and tender and with only the slightest exploring you find the first of what you assume is many, many scabs in the shapes of Michael's teeth and thin flakes of something that fall away at the first brush of your fingertip. You don't wait for Michael's permission to get up and make your way to the bathroom mirror.

The bed creaks behind you, footsteps echo yours.

The mirror reveals the damage left from Michael's attention. Your whole neck is bruised. Between his choking and his biting, your skin has turned royal and maroon, isolated spots bright red with scabs and dried blood. The softer, playful nip to your chin was still hard enough to elicit a half-circle just beyond the corner of your mouth. But where he bit you first, where he'd sunk his teeth into you and you'd feared he would rip your throat out, is raised and glowing. You touch it, and trace the shapes of incisors and cuspids, perfectly recreated as outlines in your skin. It still stings and you can feel the deep-set wound he's made.

And on top of it all was a peculiar film of clear-white streaked across your chest and neck. An unsettling mix of nausea and arousal settles deep inside.

The white mask appears behind over your shoulder and you look to him. He did this to you. He does this to people- does worse to people. Does he- you can't hide the revulsion- does he attack people like that? You'd never really researched his crimes before you'd met him, but you didn't think...

You don't think he'd really have time to... do much. And kill so many people on the same night. You plead with him silently, but all you're rewarded with is a slow tilt of his head, and a slower descent of the mask as his gaze trails from your face down to his handiwork in the mirror.

You glance at those empty black eyes again as you reach for a wash cloth. Today, he does not stop you.

Cold water makes you hiss, but cools the heated skin. The evidence of his release wipes off easily, but you let the cool, damp cloth sit on your neck to help with the inflammation while you brush your teeth. Still need to get him a toothbrush.

Through it all, Michael does not move. He's still crowded close to you in your little bathroom, but too far for you to feel his coveralls or warmth. The taste of mint replaces dryness and you spit, rinsing your mouth, then ringing out the wash cloth and wiping your face again. You should really shower.

Would he let you?

Hunger pulls at you, but showering first would be easier. You seek out his gaze again. "Did you eat..." you hesitate, steer away from the reality of it. "while you were... gone?"

He does not reply for a long moment and you begin to worry. You'd hoped, perhaps in vain, that last night would have left him a little more amicable and then- you watch his shoulders shift, the slight movement of his mask. He nods, cooperative again. You don't want to ask what. You nod as well, psyching yourself up and trust your instinct "Can you wait before I make breakfast? I want to shower."

And amazingly, he nods again. Relief loosens the tight muscles of your back. A genuine smile graces your lips in the mirror; you hope he can tell. From a stack on the counter, you grab two towels. You turn towards the shower- and find a blue wall. You can't help but yelp and step back, peer up at the expressionless mask.

He's not angry. You're starting to get better at understanding what he wants and how he expresses it- and it's not anger that makes him block your door. If he didn't want to allow your shower he would not let you, would've taken your arms in his huge hands. No, it's... something else.

He likes to surprise you, you think- or perhaps reiterate the power dynamic you had. Just something to make sure you know that he could stop you. You touch his side and feel the shape of his ribs. You see nothing behind the mask. The barest pressure makes him sidestep, and you slip into your bathroom. Maybe it's just an excuse to have you touch him again.