His First Love (a Michael Myers Fanfic)

17

I woke up with a massive headache. My vision was blurred. I looked around and tried to sit up. The only thing was I couldn't. I was being held down by chains.

Suddenly the image I saw from the ambulance came back to me. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was to afraid to yell out.

As quietly as I could I tried slipping out the chains. It was no use. They were to tight. I started to silently cry. I want to go home. I want to be with my mom.

Suddenly.....everything froze. There was breathing coming from the corner of the room. I started to shake. Pray. I didn't want to look in that direction. But I just had to know....if that was him.

My face slowly turned to where the breathing was heard. It was him. Michael Myers. I started to violently cry.

"No....no..." I whispered. I started to tug so hard on the chains that my wrist were turning red. Michael silently stalked closer to me. His walk was like a tiger getting ready to pounce on its prey.

He lifted his knife into the air.

This is how I die.

He kept it there for a few seconds, as if he was teasing me.

Killed by my first love.

He swung it down.

In one last attempt to keep myself alive i screamed, "Michael it's me! (Y/N)! Stop!"

His knife stopped just an inch away from my heart. He looked at me and tilted his head.

I sucked in a breath and nodded.

"It's me Michael...don't hurt me please..." tears where rolling down my face like a waterfall.

Michael brought his hand closer to my face. I closed my eyes tightly and waited for him to choke me. But he didn't.

He softly moved my hair out my face and put his hand on the scar on my forehead.

That's right...the bullies. I nearly laughed. The bullies that I thought ruined my life when I was little actually just saved my life.

I kept my eyes shut. I could feel his stare on my face. He removed his hand from my scar and backed away. I slowly opened my eyes and watched him back out the door. I was still chained up but at least I wasn't killed.

Killed.

I started to hyperventilate. I want to go home. I don't want to die. I want my mom.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't t want to die.

I ended up making myself pass out. Hopefully, whenever I wake up I will actually be in my house in my bed. This is all a bad dream.