Trick Or Treat || Michael Myers X Reader

= Chapter One =

      Smiths Grove Sanitarium
         November 13th, 1963

                         -------

I shifted in my seat, quite uncomfortable. My eyes shifted to the young boy that sat across from me.
"I don't mind what you did," I whispered to him.

I leaned closer to him, though the table separated us from getting too close.
My movement seemed to catch the boys attention, he lifted his head to look at me; though his sloppily made orange mask hid the expression he carried on his face.

I crossed my arms against the table and tilted my head, a small smile tugging at my lips.
I made sure no adults were close enough to hear what I was about to throw out into the air.

"I kind of like what you did..."

The boy slowly leaned back against his seat, what a small reaction to such a compliment.

"It's really cool... To me at least..."

The boy slowly tilted his head, my guess was because he had never heard someone encourage his past actions.
But then again, he didn't really have emotions- from what i've seen at least.

"Do you like what I did?" I asked, my voice low.

There was a long silence.
The boy slowly began to lean forward, much like I had done.
Our faces were only an inch or two apart, both our arms rested on the table for balance.

I narrowed my eyes, taking this as my chance to study what I could see of his face.

Dark brown eyes, almost soulless.

His brown hair, that looked more dirty blond than anything at this point fell into his face, shielding what his makeshift mask couldn't.

The more I stared into his dark eyes, the more he seemed to intimidate my young self.

But I wouldn't let him see it.

I swallowed hard and stood my ground.

Our faces only an inch apart.
And I refused to move.

Our eye contact never broke, even when we heard the sound of shoes smacking against the shiny floor of the cafeteria.

The adults were worried about what he might do to me.

We were too close for them to be comfortable.

As the adults arrived, before they tossed their arms around his shoulders to pull him away, I could see him narrow his eyes from behind his orange mask.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as the adults pulled him away from me, as he responded in the quietest voice I had ever heard; I could hardly hear him.

"Yes," was all that escaped his mouth.
He was pulled back in his seat before more adults emerged from the doors that surrounded the cafeteria.
They made their way towards us.

My eyes widened at his voice, so quiet.
Yet it held so many words.
So much anger, so much confusion, so much sorrow.

I was in love with his voice.

The adults walked to me, grabbing my arms and pulling me to my feet.
They didn't bother speak, I understood what they were doing.
Bringing me back to my room.

As they began pulling me away, I turned my head to look at the young boy who was being held against his seat by the adults; he was watching me so intently.

I slowly raised a hand and waved softly, only for it to be forced back down by my doctor.

The words rolled off of my tongue as if I had lost all control of myself.

"Bye-Bye, Michael..."

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           Haddonfield, Illinois
            October 28th, 1978

                             -----

My eyes slowly fluttered open, having the suns rays shooting into your eyes is an easy way to wake up.

I slowly sat up in my bed and stretched, it had been a few months since I had left the sanitarium.

Freedom.
It's what I had worked for all these years.

And yet, I felt bored.
I missed the person I had grown up with. He never spoke to me, only once as I recall- but I had fallen for him since the day he spoke to me.

Only a simple word, and I was obsessed.

Maybe it was my rotting mind that did it to me?

Possible.

I inhaled a deep breath and climbed to my feet, I looked around the nearly empty room I was staying in- it was very boring compared to my friends room back at the sanitarium.

Masks, his artistic work planted along the walls of his room. It was magnificent.
Another reason why I was so addicted to him.

Though I wasn't sure if he felt the same way about me.

It was always me that asked to see him.
But, it seemed that every time I entered a room with him in it, the tension would flow away. The dimly lit room would always light up once again!
But maybe that was only in my eyes, perhaps all my friend saw was a small child that looked up to his violent ways?

I sighed at the thought and made my way to the room down the hall from me.

I placed my knuckles against the wooden door and knocked, "Mrs. Olif, may I borrow some clothing? I need to purchase some clothes of my own." I informed through the thick mass.

I gained no response, so I placed my hand against the doorknob and twisted it before walking into the room.
I stopped and sniffed the air.

What a sour smell that loomed in the air.

I cringed at the smell that engulfed my nose, a shiver ran down my spine.
"Mrs. Olif! You must take a shower today, you wouldn't want your visitor to run off, would you?" I called.
I frowned when the room fell silent.

My eyes fell upon the bed I assumed the woman I had began staying with was supposed to be sleeping in.
"Are you asleep?" I asked, my voice softening just in case.

I shrugged to myself and opened the closet door, I flipped through the clothes that hung to the wrack.
I tilted my head before pulling out a simple long sleeved white shirt, and a pair of faded blue high waisted jeans.

I made my way to the bedroom door and shut it as I made my way to my new room.

"I'll return your clothes later! Thank you very much, M'mam!"

I entered my room and threw the clothes on, the top I had borrowed fit me just right. My curves, and bust just enough for the shirt to fit.
I guess I was a bit  more blessed than Mrs. Olif though, as the outfit did feel a bit tight on my body.

I smiled slightly as I stared at myself in the mirror that sat against the white walls of the room. I tugged my jeans higher against my waist before tucking my shirt into the hem of my pants and patting everything down.

I could only wonder if my friend would enjoy my outfit.

My hair was a bit messy though.
But that's how it had always been, I never had a brush to run through my locks of hair.

I hope my friend liked my appearance as much as I liked his, even though I had never actually seen his face.