Michael Myers x Male!Reader

Chapter 33

Paul raised a brow before he asked with his raspy and tired voice "What do you mean? Know what?". Brackett sighed. "Please don't freak out. Nobody could see this coming, it was a surprise for us all but we're already doing everything we can-" "Fucking hell Leigh, say what you've got to say or leave it!"

The sheriff went silent for a second before he finally decided to say what would give the widowed man the rest.
"It's Michael. He escaped."

Paul's eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he just heard and he hoped that it was just a bad joke, or even better, a bad dream. And that he would wake up any second, his wife lying next to him in bed and their son in his room, still asleep. They would have breakfast together and he would tell them about the dream, in which 'The Shape' tore apart and destroyed their family. They would laugh it off and continue with their day, as if nothing ever happened.

But he didn't wake up.
This wasn't a dream; this was reality.
His son and wife were dead and the man responsible for all of this slipped right through the fingers of the police, just like that. Paul heard Brackett's voice through the phone, trying to explain everything, but he didn't listen. He didn't care anymore.

He couldn't even bother to hang up as he put the gun back to his temple, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before he finally pulled the trigger.
His body collapsed to the floor, blood streaming out of the wound in his head.
But he wasn't dead yet. He still heard the ringing in his ears, he still felt the throbbing in his head as he saw his whole life, until this very moment, run in front of his eyes like a movie, before he took his final breath.

-

Paul Wilson, beloved son, husband and father. Time of death: 11:24 pm on the 15th February, 1990.

Brackett called an ambulance as soon as he heard the gunshot; he knew that it was probably too late already, but he couldn't bare to lose another friend. As soon as he made sure that the ambulance was on their way, he himself got out of his office and rushed over to the Wilson's house.

He screamed Paul's name as he kicked the door in, running up the stairs, and rushed into the bedroom, assuming that the widow would be there, but when he saw that he wasn't, he didn't hesitate long. His pulse was running wild when he stormed into the next room.

His gaze fell on the lifeless body of Paul, his friend and neighbour. He got on his knees in front of him and observed the body; first, he noticed the bullethole at the right side of his head. A few single strains of hair lapped over the wound which made it look like they got sucked into it.
The blood had dried a bit already, leaving a crust in a brownish red colour behind, which caused the hairs to stick together. Around his head was a puddle of blood that slowly soaked through the wooden floor, surely going to leave an annoying stain that nobody would be able to get rid of.

Leigh sighed as he stripped out of his jacket to put it over his deceased friend's head. With this, Michael managed to kill a whole family. This turned even more into something personal, but he couldn't act out of revenge, otherwise he would end up like Loomis. No, he needed to be professional, or else he couldn't continue working on this case. But was there even a case that needed to be worked on?

Michael had been acting very strange the past weeks, as if he was slowly losing his mind, the influence y/n had on him disappearing slowly day after day. He had stopped talking. He always stood in one corner of his cell, never moving unless someone came to lead him into the interrogation room. Leigh always made sure to check on Michael once in a while, worrying about his mental health. Of course he felt some kind of disgust toward him, but he couldn't bring himself to fully hate the man.

Even now, that his best friend and his friend's wife are dead, too, he couldn't hate Michael. He couldn't understand himself, but instead he felt some kind of sympathy toward the man. Y/n had told him about how Michael had been treating him, how he felt how he slowly started to fall in love with the man, even though he should fear him.

It fascinated Leigh that something like that was even possible. And he guessed that, all the things y/n had told him, were the only reasons why he couldn't hate Michael. It was complicated, but it seemed logical.

He brushed those thoughts aside. Everything that counted now was to find Michael and to bring him back before he could harm himself or others. But Leigh already knew that they wouldn't find him.
After a few weeks the case would be declared as unsolvable. People would start thinking that he died out there somewhere and they would forget about him.

But Leigh would know better.
So would Loomis.
Someday, he would come back, to slaughter everyone who had been there when it happened.
We won't be able to talk sense into him anymore. He won't care.
Leigh wasn't really sure if he'd come back. And, if he really did, if he would come for him or Loomis first. But he was sure that he would never be able to sleep through a whole night again. He was sure that something could happen to him any time. And nobody could help him then.