Haddonfield, Illinois, 1978
It was Halloween night. Was I doing anything for it? God, no.
Well, it wasn't that I didn't want to. I just couldn't; physically couldn't. I was pretty unwell these days. My house was also pretty unkept. I just didn't have the strength to clean it anymore. Let alone decorate it for Halloween. I spent most days alone in bed sick, but that was okay. It was better off this way. If I went out there, I would hurt myself. It didn't take very much for my blood to escape or for me to lose my breath. I was a very fragile young woman.
So you could've imagined my fright, that one Halloween night.
All was fine. Children were out and about, trick or treating on the street. They never came near my house. Not that they were scared of me or anything. I mean, they could've easily been. Some may of seen me as a bit scary. My hair was almost white, very long and dead straight. My eyes were the same, an extremely light blue that was nearly the colour of a winter wonderland. But they didn't seem to mind. No, they didn't come to my house because it looked as if nobody lived here in the first place. It wasn't my fault though. What was I going to do? Get up and clean it? Maybe a few months ago, or maybe last year. But as of now, there was no way I had the strength.
I sat in my dark living room, cuddled up on the couch. I had a movie playing on the old tv. I sat back and simply enjoyed it, trying to make myself forget about the lingering pain I always felt. But as the commercial break came on, I was a little alarmed.
"Breaking news! The masked murderer that has been nicknamed 'The Shape' by the public was spotted in Lampkin Lane at approximately seven o'clock earlier tonight. Four bodies have been found at the scene and police expect to find more. The Shape's whereabouts as of now are unknown but there is speculation that he could still be around the area. We urge the town to stay inside and assure no children are out trick or treating."
I clutched my heart and tried to calm my breathing. I lived on Lampkin Lane... I forced myself to focus back on my movie when it came back on. I breathed in and out carefully. It didn't take much for me to lose my breath, especially when I was frightened. The gentle glow of the tv illuminated my sickly face as the quiet chatter of the movie wafted through the room. My eyes felt heavy as my eyes fluttered shut. I leaned against the couch and began to drift off to sleep.
CRASH!
I gasped and shot right up in my seat.
What was that? What—what was that noise?
The loud crash came from the kitchen. My bare feet hit the floor before I carefully rose off the couch. My slim legs wobbled and shook as they tried to support my weight. I stumbled over to the doorway that lead into the kitchen. I squinted my eyes slightly, trying to peer into the dark room. I was filled with dread when a white face glowed through the darkness of the doorframe. A tall man stood there in the door, a white latex mask over his face. The bloody knife in his hand shone in the pale moonlight. A petrified shriek ripped through my throat that wracked my weak body.
The Shape.
I breathed in and out quick and hard. My frail hand went to my chest again, clutching it through the fabric of my pyjamas. The Shape shuffled through the doorframe towards me. All I could focus on was the silver glimmer of his bloody blade and that godawful emotionless mask. I stumbled back until the back of my legs hit the coffee table, causing me to loose my balance. I fell back onto the floor with a raspy squeal. The edge of the coffee table scratched my arm when I fell. Beads of blood trickled down my sickly flesh and immediately began to gush.
Oh, no...
Normally a cut or scrape like this wouldn't of been a big deal. In fact, nothing at all. The bigger problem was the masked serial killer that was currently staring me down. But I had this disease... some sort of sickness that would make my blood simply 'escape'. It was another reason why I was so sick and weak all the time. What was meant to be a minor scratch on my arm soon became an open wound that oozed thick blood. I gasped for air desperately as if I was drowning.
I couldn't breathe...
No, really—I wasn't breathing!
The Shape moved slowly over to where I laid, struggling to stay alive even without his help. I wheezed out and heaved, my face turning blue. My shaky hand reached for my arm, blood spilling fast. As the Shape came closer, the tv illuminated his hulking frame. My eyes blurred and everything began to fade to black. But through the dark living room and the weak tv and my fuzzy eyes, I noticed something. Upon further inspection, the Shape wasn't in good nick either. A huge bloodstain was fresh against his blue overalls, making them look wet and black.
The Shape lifted his knife weakly, preparing to thrust it down into me. A final guttural wheeze left my lips as I accepted my fate. But instead, the man before me dropped the knife. It hit the floor, little sprits of blood sprinkling onto my pyjamas. I heard a groan from behind the man's mask, then he collapsed. He laid there next to me, not moving a muscle. One last deep exhale left him, his chest falling with it delicately.
All was still.
I gulped at the air and sputtered as it finally flowed to my lungs. I flopped on the floor like a fish and gasped for as much oxygen I possibly could get.
Breathe. I thought.
Just breathe again.
When I caught my breath, I scrambled to my feet. My frail body teetered slightly as I tried to keep upright.
"Ugh...!" I groaned out.
I looked down at my skinny arm to see it stained red. I staggered into the kitchen and flicked the light on. I threw myself over to the drawer and yanked it open. I frantically dug through it to fish out a roll of bandages. I wrapped it around and around my arm until it was on thick. I pulled the bandage with my teeth until it was tight on my arm. After I stopped the bleeding, my mind wandered back to the man that laid in my living room. I turned to the drawer again, this time pulling out a knife. A shaky breath left me as I gripped hard onto the handle.
I crept into the living room, knife ready to strike. The Shape laid flat on his back near the coffee table, the tv playing in the background. I snuck over to him silently and loomed over his wounded body. The blood on his jumpsuit was illuminated by the tv and the moon that peaked through the window. It was glossy and dark in the dim lighting. I also noticed the three small holes in the fabric where the blood was coming from.
Bullet wounds.
I gasped quietly. Three police cars went zooming past the window before I could even process. Sirens blared and painted Lampkin Lane with reds and blues. I winced at the loud and colourful noises, hoping they didn't awake my little 'visitor'. But when I looked over to where the Shape laid on the floor, he did not stir. A million thoughts flooded my mind. What was I to do now? The police were going the wrong way, first of all. Little did they know the Shape was safe and sound here in my own home. That was probably why he chose this place. The Shape must've given my house one look and thought that it was abandoned. That was fair.
I went back to the kitchen to call the police. My hand ghosted over the telephone, but then a wave of uncertainty hit me. I glanced over my shoulder at the Shape in the other room. His blood was leaking down his chest and onto my living room floor. I moved my hand away from the phone and placed it back at my side. No... I couldn't call them yet. This man could die! He could die in my house! I didn't want that. I dropped the knife I was holding onto the counter importantly. I whipped around to grab the bandages I had and went back to the Shape.
I knelt down at the man's side and examined his wounds. I carefully moved his jumpsuit off of his shoulders and yanked it down. Three bullet wounds in his lower abdomen. And yet, here he laid with a chest that rose and fell with each breath. How on earth was he still alive? It didn't matter, all I needed to do was stop the bleeding. Couldn't of been too hard. I had to do that to myself everyday anyway. It was a tedious job. I could barely lift the Shape up to wrap the bandages around him. I was a sick woman, getting weaker by the day. But when his wounds were no longer gushing blood everywhere, I knew I had done well.
I slowly rose to my feet, and started for the kitchen. I sped towards the phone and began to punch in 911. I held the phone to my ear as it rung. I turned around on the spot to look at the Shape on the floor. But instead I was met with his bare chest that I had just finished bandaging up.
"911, what's your emergency?"
The Shape loomed over me, sandwiching me between his frame and the kitchen counter. I dropped the phone and let out a horrific scream. The receiver fell to the floor, hanging limply by its cord.
"Hello? Ma'am? Are you alright?"
The Shape thrusted his arm out and wrapped his hand around my neck. I let out another strangled scream before he crushed my windpipe.
"What's going on? Ma'am? Hello?"
"Help...!" I choked out.
The last thing I saw before blacking out was the Shape's devilish eyes boring into my pale white ones.
I awoke in my bed. I shot upright and looked about my room. Daylight poured in through the window, painting the bedroom with a golden glow. I recalled last night's events, and pondered if it was all just a dream. But as I looked down, the bloodstained bandage around my arm told me otherwise. I pulled myself out of bed with some difficulty, heading towards the open door. I went around my house frantically, looking for the strange man from last night. Everything seemed in order, dried blood stained the living room floor. The tv was still on, playing the morning news. A big red headline panned across the screen.
HALLOWEEN BLOODBATH ON LAMPKIN LANE
I trudged into the kitchen, finding the receiver back on the telephone instead of being hung by its cord. I sighed to myself, glancing at the knife I left out on the counter. I took it from the counter and walked over to the drawer where it belonged. The drawer was still ripped open, the contents of it sprawled about messily. I dropped the knife into the drawer, sliding it shut with my hip.
I turned around to exit the kitchen but ran into the chest of a bloody jumpsuit instead. The Shape glared daggers down into my small form. A scream ripped through me, only to be cut off by a huge hand. The Shape clamped his paw over my mouth roughly. I went to run but his other hand gripped my wrist hard enough to snap it. I roared into his hand, struggling in his grasp. I swung my other arm at him at one last attempt to escape. The Shape took his hand off my mouth to catch the arm, resulting in me bellowing out another scream.
The Shape shot out his arms and spun me around, pushing my back into his chest like some sort of twisted embrace. His muscular arms hugged my bony frame tight, tight enough to crush my brittle bones. I squealed in his embrace, resulting in a hand getting clapped over my mouth again. The more I wiggled, the tighter his grip on me got. When I struggled to breath and began to feel my body break, I relaxed in his arms. I breathed hard through his hand, trying to keep myself alive.
A car door slamming shut was heard from the street outside. The Shape's gaze snapped over to the window. The older man dragged me over to it, me whining in protest. He peered through the window, spotting a police car parked on the road. A policeman stood with his hands on his hips next to the vehicle, waiting for his partner to step out. A policewoman exited the car, closing the door behind her. The two cops talked to each other while another police car drove up the road towards them.
My white eyes grew wide at the scene, stifling a cry for help under the Shape's hand. The killer forced me away from the window, moving us both into the living room. The curtains were closed and we were both left in the dark together.
"Mmm! Mmm, mmm!" I mumbled.
The Shape ignored my pleas and stood with me in his arms for a few excruciatingly long moments. His arm unwrapped from my chest. The only thing that was holding the back of my head to his chest was his strong hand on my mouth. Soon a shaky hand rose to my face. The Shape placed a finger over the back of his other hand, where my mouth was.
"Shh..." a deep voice crooned, muffled by a latex mask.
I whimpered against him as hot tears trickled down my sunken cheeks. My body shook with fear and stifled sobs when he pulled a knife out and pressed it to my throat.
"Shh..." the Shape uttered again.
I slowly nodded my head, silently promising him that I'd be quiet. The Shape carefully removed himself from me, stepping back to give me space. I whipped around to look at him through the dim room. I had no idea what to say. The man stared at me, not moving one bit. All that was heard was the news on the tv and his deep breathing. Another car door shut from outside.
The Shape's head turned to the curtained window at a painfully slow pace. The chatter of police officers could be heard softly from outside. The Shape's head ever so slowly turned back to look at me. I stood there completely frozen in the middle of the room, my bare foot right next to a puddle of dry blood. My shoulders rose and my eyes widened when footsteps sounded from right outside the door. A balled fist hit the door three times loudly.
"Sheriff's department." A gruff voice called.
The Shape and I didn't move. Three more knocks on the door.
"Hello? Anybody live here?"
I held my breath and stared fearfully at the killer before me. His hand that wasn't wielding a knife rose to his mask, pressing a finger over where his lips would've been.
Shh...
I gulped, hearing the policeman bang on the door once more.
"Hello?" He called.
A second pair of footsteps sounded and stopped outside the door.
"Nobody lives here, sheriff. Looks like this place has been abandoned for a while." Another policeman who sounded much younger said.
The two sets of footsteps walked away from the door. The Shape moved to the window, peeking through the curtains at the cops. As I watched this, I peered at the bullet wounds that I had crudely bandaged up on his belly.
"Oh." I whispered. The Shape moved away from the window and shot straight up, startled by my noise. "They shot you, didn't they?" I asked in my usual hushed tone.
The Shape looked down at his wounds, crusted blood seeping through the bandages. He looked back up from his injury and at me.
"That's why you came here. You thought this place was abandoned." I uttered. The Shape remained still. "I'm too sick to make this place look nice. I don't move much anymore. It gets worse everyday." I explained. The Shape tilted his head to the side.
"I'm dying... I just know it."
His head moved back up.
"You can stay here, away from them." I whispered, more out of fear of what he'd do to me than anything.
The Shape stepped towards me. I stepped back until my legs hit the coffee table like last night. He breathed in and out from behind his mask, black eyes studying me. I flinched when his free hand rose to my face. He stared into my icy white eyes, then stroked my equally snowy hair. He seemed fascinated by the white strands, falling limp and dead through his fingers.
"Why didn't you hurt me last night? And did you...? Put me in my bed?" I asked.
The Shape tilted his head, running a hand through my long hair. His other hand traced over the bloody patch on his overalls that covered the bandages.
"Hmm," I hummed. "We better get you better bandages."
The Shape tilted his head the other way. I stepped away from him and made my way to the kitchen. I looked over my shoulder to see him not following.
"Come on." I stuttered. "Let's patch you up."
December 1st
"Michael, dinner!" I called as loud as my strained voice would let me from the kitchen.
I lifted the steaming pot off the stove and placed it down on the kitchen table. I could hear the Shape's heavy footsteps trudge towards the door. Before I forgot, I raced over to the microwave to get a cup of hot chocolate out. I placed the mug down on the table as well and readied some silverware. Michael Myers entered the room with his mask on his face like always.
"Here you are. Hope you enjoy." I said nervously.
Michael shuffled over and pulled out his chair, plopping down in front of his dinner. I pushed the hot chocolate closer to his plate, hoping he'd acknowledge it.
"It's pretty cold tonight so I made you some hot chocolate." I commented shyly.
Lampkin Lane had been blanketed in crisp white snow. The icy frost clung to each window of the house, leaving gentle kisses of snowflakes. I left the kitchen without another word to let Michael eat alone. I had never seen his face and I was pretty sure he wanted to keep it that way. He had been staying here with me ever since Halloween night. The police and public were still hunting him down, oblivious to the fact he was hiding here with me. Michael was severely injured, so I had been treating him. Of course it was hard, his injuries being bullet wounds. But there was something strange about this man. He seemed almost unfazed by the wounds, so did his body.
Michael stayed in my guest room, where I was forced to wash his sheets and clothes for him. I was like a maid in my own home. I cooked for him, cleaned up after him and put a roof over his head. In return, he didn't kill me. It had been a pretty scary and uncomfortable month for me. Not to mention I was getter sicker and weaker by the day. My hair and eyes were as white as ever, my body bony and frail. But I kept my head high, Michael in the house giving me a new purpose. Even if it was a very weird purpose, it beat moping about alone everyday.
While Michael wouldn't of ever admitted it, I knew he was fond of me. He watched over me most days when I was bedridden or sick on the couch. He sometimes even picked me up and put me to bed if I fell asleep watching tv. The man was a silent one, but his actions spoke a thousand words. Like tonight, when Michael finished his dinner, he sat next to me on the couch. I was wrapped up in a blanket with my own hot drink, trying to combat the cold winter brewing outside. I kept my eyes fixated on the glowing screen of the tv. Every so often, I'd sneak a glance in Michael's direction. He sat dead still next to me, studying my grainy face.
I took a sip of my drink, trying not to choke on the overwhelming atmosphere of the living room. I tensed up and froze in place when I felt Michael's hand touch my hair. His fingers ran through the white locks, entranced as he always was when he did this. I turned my head and locked eyes with his from under his mask. The older boy stared into my soul, taking in my feminine features. Soon he was leaning in, and it took everything in me not to recoil. Michael's hand moved down from my hair to my neck, where he gave it a gentle squeeze. I gripped my mug tightly until the hot ceramic stung my fingertips.
"Michael?" I whispered fearfully.
Michael's masked face was just centimetres away from mine. His heavy breathing rang in my ears and was all I could focus on. His fingers stroked my skin, cold and sallow. Through the dark eyeholes of his mask, I could see a softness in his brown eyes. It was a strange look that I never even knew he could muster. As alien as it was for a young man like Michael, I could read it easily.
I like you. It said.
I want to know you.
December 14th
Michael was a lot more clingy than he usually was. Normally he was distant and aloof, giving me space. But now he was at my side all hours of the day. Michael would watch me like a hawk on my bad days. They were the days that I was more sick than usual, often bedridden or curled up on the couch. The masked man would make an effort to supply me with food or a hot beverage when I was too weak to fetch them myself. I was surprised at his new behaviour, having been used to tending to his needs instead. He even wrote me little notes, since he never spoke.
Maybe Michael felt a little guilty about my condition. Hell, it had gotten much worse since we met. Last week I even had to go to the hospital after cutting myself while cooking. When I bled, it simply just wouldn't stop. I felt okay now, but Michael failed to hide his anxiety about the incident.
"Michael, I'm fine. Thank you." I said to the man standing over me.
Michael handed me a hot mug as I sat up in bed. He didn't reply or even acknowledge my words, looking over me menacingly as I sipped my drink.
"It's late. Aren't you tired? You can go to bed if you'd like." I offered.
Michael slowly tilted his head to the side as he always did. His heavy breathing seemed so much louder when we were in a dark bedroom like this. He didn't budge from where he stood over me. I sighed softly, taking another sip of my drink.
"I'll be fine." I reassured.
The other night, I didn't sleep so well. I had a nasty nightmare, and ended up shooting up from my slumber. My heart was going a million miles an hour, jumping out of my chest. I tried to slow it down, tried to breathe. But all I could do was clutch it through my shirt and suffocate myself. I couldn't breathe again. I was going so well! I hadn't had a fit like this since Halloween but it still went on strong. Way stronger than I was.
Michael had bursted into the room, his knife shone in the dark. I screamed, wide eyed. His dramatic entrance only made it all worse. I inhaled and exhaled desperately but no oxygen was going through. The killer raced over and sat on the edge of my bed. He dropped his knife next to him on the tousled bedsheets and clamped his hands over my cheeks. He glared into my wide eyes, breathing irregular under that emotionless mask of his. Staring crazily into his dark eyes seemed to work. Slowly but surely, I began to calm down in his grasp. Michael and I breathed together carefully. A newfound respect for the killer hit me like a truck that night.
So it wasn't a surprise that now he was worried for me to go to sleep tonight. Michael sat on the edge of my bed and watched me drink my hot beverage.
"I'm gonna go to sleep after this." I said. Michael seemed to tense up at that. "I'll be fine. It was a onetime thing." He didn't seem convinced. "I'm tired, Michael." I whinged.
Michael's slow hand rose up to his mask. I quickly set my mug on the nightstand, staring intently at the man before me. He gripped the bottom of the mask and began to yank it up over his face. I held back a gasp when I was face to face with a young man, pale white with brown curls.
"Michael." I uttered in wonder.
Michael stood from my bed and walked around to the other side of it, where he laid down next to me. I looked down at the man next to me, something warm brewing within my chest. I was hesitant to reach out and touch him, but he didn't flinch when I stroked his hair like he'd do to me.
"I guess you can sleep here tonight." I teased.
One thing led to another with this man. We laid on our sides and just looked at each other for a while. In the past, that would've been awkward. But now it just seemed different. Maybe it was because he was unmasked and seemed more human. It was undeniable that there was something between us. I moved his brown hair away from his face where it fell. His face showed no emotion, but I knew he surely felt something. We laid there in total silence for a few more moments
"Thank you for showing me." I whispered, referring to his cute face.
I couldn't believe it when Michael leaned in. I froze right there when his lips collided with me. For once, this stone cold man was passionate. This made me melt into it instantly. That night changed us for the better. The feel of him... it made me feel healthier than I ever had. I forgot about my illnesses and just became a normal eighteen year old again. After all, that was what Michael saw me as, he never saw my sickness.
He just saw... me.
February
I sat there in bed, alone. I couldn't wipe the sour frown off my face as I stared dead ahead at the blank wall. Michael was out, and I didn't want to know just what he was doing. But I knew anyway. My stomach gurgled and lurched for the third time today. A pain manifested deep within my gut as I felt hot bile rise in my throat.
"Oh, no." I panicked, ripping the sheets off my legs.
Not again.
I sped to the bathroom and heaved over the toilet. I gagged and wheezed, spewing into the bowl. I huffed, grimacing at the bad taste in my mouth. But then I grimaced for a different reason, something much worse. I puked a few more times, my skinny legs wobbling. Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead that I wiped with a shaky hand. When I felt a bit better, I recollected myself and weaved some fingers through my long hair. My bottom lip trembled as I sat on my knees in front of the toilet. I couldn't help it, I let out a sob.
"Oh, god." I cried into my hands.
I sat there and let the tears roll down my face for a few minutes before I shot up in realisation. I glanced over at the sink... where I had left the test. I struggled to get to my feet, stumbling a bit before holding onto the toilet. I breathed heavily, my frail body trembling. I walked over to the sink and screwed my teary eyes shut.
The pregnancy test sat on the sink, and I picked it up in my hands. I cracked my eyes open, to find it came back as positive.
"No!" I sobbed.
Normally this was supposed to be a happy moment. A moment where I was with child with the man I loved, Michael. But this was bad. This was very, very bad. There was no way that my body could handle a baby. I was far too skinny and far too weak. That wasn't the worst part though. The childbirth... the blood loss... I got a simple cut or scrape and I was gushing with blood. So you could only imagine what would happen during childbirth.
When I gave birth to this baby... I would definitely...
I curled up on the bathroom floor, leaning over as I cried sad, sad tears.
Michael could tell that something was up with me. I was so much more distant, often asleep in bed. It was rare that I'd go outside before, but now I really never left. I was just so frightened, frightened of everything. One day after racing to the bathroom to throw up, I ran to our bedroom and locked myself in it. I threw myself onto the bed and cried into my pillow.
From behind me, I could hear something sliding. I whipped around to see Michael slipping a note under the door. I stood from the bed and staggered over to where the paper laid on the floor.
I am worried. It read.
I was quick to wrap my hand around the doorknob and swing it open. I was face to mask with Michael who loomed over me. Instead of being afraid like I used to be, I engulfed him in a hug. The older boy froze like a statue in my embrace. I hid in his chest, letting the tears fall.
"Michael." I sobbed, my hushed voice completely broken. "I've gotta tell you something." I stuttered.
I was so terrified of Michael's reaction. I was pregnant with this serial killer's baby... this surely wasn't going to go well. Especially with a unique medical condition like the one I was burdened with. Michael wrapped his strong arms around me, making me feel so secure. I closed my eyes and felt the hot tears slip out from the cracks. He gave me a gentle squeeze, and I could feel his eyes looking down at me.
What is it?
"I'm pregnant."
Michael and I were as quiet as ever after that. We tried not to think about it. Well, he tried not to think about it. I never stopped thinking about it. Every slow and painful day I remained cooped up in this rickety house, I tortured myself with the thoughts of death. My stomach got bigger, straining my delicate body.
All I could do was wait.
Halloween, 1979
Blood.
It's what we needed to survive. I guess I never really got the memo.
I screamed. I screamed as loud as I possibly ever had. I screamed more than the night I met Michael, and that was saying something. But unlike our first encounter, there he sat next to me with his hand in mine.
The labour was awful. My water broke in the house where I cried out for Michael. I groaned out in pain when the contractions struck me like a hot knife. In a weird way, my whines of pain were like a rattle of death. Because I knew, anybody would've known, I was not going to survive this. I remembered seeing Michael stride over to me and grab me by the wrist. He began to drag me over to the front door, ripping off his mask before grabbing the car keys.
"I'm sorry, Michael." I croaked out.
I didn't know what he was going to do by himself with this baby. I really, really didn't know.
I'm so sorry, Michael.
I couldn't believe that he stood by me this whole time. I was truely thankful. I dug my nails into Michael's hand as I pushed like the doctor ordered me to. There were so many doctors and nurses and midwives. They were trying their hardest keep me stable. Alas, caesarean was no longer an option. This baby was coming fast and was coming now. It was already crowning and it hurt so bad. I cried softly to myself, clutching Michael's hand as tight as my dying strength would let me.
"Alright, missy. You gotta push. Push!" I heard one of the doctors bark.
I shrieked in agony, pushing as much I could. I could feel my skinny body breaking. When I pushed, far too much hot blood gushed out.
"Doctor, we're losing her!"
My eyes rolled back as more and more blood escaped. The hospital bed I laid on was completely saturated in it. My head hit the pillow, and I faded out.
Michael squeezed my hand.
I faded in again. I could barely see or hear anything.
Beep.
Huh?
Beep. Beep.
My eyes slowly cracked open.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I looked around the room, noticing I was still in my hospital bed. I drew out a long groan, trying to sit up but to no avail. The heart monitor continued to beep and was all I could focus on.
"Michael?" I called out weakly. "Michael!" I cried through a broken voice.
"It's alright, miss. He's in the waiting room." I heard a woman say sweetly.
I lifted my head a little to see a nurse standing over me.
"My baby... where's my baby?" I panicked, trying to get up.
The nurse held her hands up in reassurance. "Ma'am, please relax. Everything's okay. Your baby is alright. Please don't struggle. You're in a very serious condition." She pleaded.
"Please... I want my baby... I want Michael..." I sobbed.
"Of course. He's bringing her up right now. You just relax." The nurse replied gently.
I froze in place. "Her...?
The nurse smiled sadly. "Yes, it's a beautiful baby girl. You've done so well." She said.
Tears welled up in my white eyes.
"Thank you." I uttered tearfully.
The nurse left to go fetch Michael and our daughter. I laid my head back on the pillow and relaxed. My eyes felt heavy and I felt so comfortable. Which was weird since I nearly died. The beeping on my heart monitor slowed as I breathed in and out weakly. The door swung open to reveal an unmasked Michael. There in his arms, he cradled a baby girl that looked just like me. Michael approached me slowly, showing me the baby he held.
"Oh, my god." I whispered.
The baby girl looked around tiredly. Her eyes were a pale white just like mine. Her hair, though there wasn't much, was too a crisp white. Michael sat on the edge of the bed with the baby.
"Michael..." I rasped out.
I wanted to sit up and hold my child in my own arms. But that blurry feeling kept insisting. My eyelids felt like stones.
Beep... beep...
Beep...
I could hear the nurse's heels clicking against the floor as she approached us.
"Did you have a name in mind?" She asked.
I glanced at my daughter in Michael's arms. She was like fresh snow. Her hair and eyes were as icy and frosty as mine had ever been. Hmm, frost...
"Michael...?" I whispered to my boyfriend. Michael looked up from our baby and tilted his head. "What about...? Frostine...?" I uttered.
"Frostine." The nurse tested it. "Very pretty."
Frostine cooed softly before closing her white eyes.
Beep...
Beep...
Beep...
I turned my head to the side and too closed my eyes.
"Mm, Frostine..." I murmured tiredly.
A cold gust of wind blew through the hospital room. The window wasn't open, I didn't think. Thick fog glazed over my orbs as I felt it dragging me down. I couldn't see anything but I could hear Frostine crying. I could feel Michael's hands grab my shoulders and I could feel him shaking them. I could hear the nurse screaming out for the doctor to help.
Beep...
Beep...
Flatline.
I'm so sorry, Michael.
The Entity's realm
"Are you okay? Hello? Wake up!"
The ground under me was hard and rocky. My body felt stiff and completely frozen. I could feel hands on me, trying to shake me awake.
"Uhh..." I moaned.
"Wake up!" A girl said.
My eyes slowly cracked open to be met with the face of a young woman.
"What?" I slowly sat up. "Where am I? What is this?" I croaked.
"You're stuck like me. Like the rest of these people." The girl gestured to a group of unfamiliar faces huddled by a campfire.
I furrowed my brows and tried to process.
"What the hell? Am I dead?" I asked.
I was sure I was dead. I did die. I heard the line go flat. Was this the afterlife?
"No," the older girl answered. "No... this is much worse."
A scream ripped through me when I felt a jagged cleaver slice into my back. I flipped over and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of me. I wheezed, rolling over and hissing at the pain. A large man with a smiling mask and hooks in his shoulders scooped me up. I struggled in his grasp, causing him to teeter slightly. The man approached a hook in which he prepared to throw me onto. Before he came close, a flashlight shone in his masked face. The man grunted and dropped me to the ground. I gasped and tried to get to my feet.
"Laurie!" I cried.
Laurie Strode shoved her flashlight back in her jean pocket and sped over to me. The man lifted his cleaver over his head to strike us. Laurie yanked me up off the ground and lead me away. We both ran as fast as we could. I of course was much slower than the older girl, with my illnesses and newfound injury. Laurie rounded a corner, where she ducked down behind a brick wall. I limped over and crouched down next to her. The blonde went straight to patching me up. Her skilled hands were quick to mend up the huge wound on my back where the cleaver struck.
"Thank you." I breathed, thankful I hadn't lost too much blood.
"You're welcome." Laurie replied.
We both ventured off together to find the last generator. I liked Laurie. She arrived in the Entity's realm around the same time as me. Almost the exact same time. She seemed to be from the seventies too. We had noticed that some of our fellow survivors had clothing on that we had never seen before. It was strange... but Laurie had curtain bangs and wore flared denim jeans. That was what other girls back at home usually wore and how they had their hair. I was normally seen wearing a white dress, made of thin material. I steered clear of clothing that restricted my delicate body, because of my sickness.
With a little teamwork, Laurie, Ace and I managed to escape the Trapper. Alas, we couldn't save Bill... I hated when that happened.
Laurie and I seemed to adapt to this strange realm okay. It was harder for me. My body was so slim and I could barely run without hurting myself. Laurie was however different. The older girl seemed to have this relentless determination, like she had been prey before. Well, that was because she was. At the campfire, Laurie would tell me horror stories. Horror stories starring herself, and a crazed killer. She told me that there was this thing, this... shape. He brutally attacked Laurie and her friends when they were walking home from school on Halloween. The worst part was, he was in this realm with us. I didn't know why, but the term 'Shape' seemed so familiar...
I was terrified of Laurie's story. I could tell that it really bothered her as well. After she told me that, I opened up to her as well. I told her that I had a baby before I arrived here... and that I never even got to hold her.
I thought about Frostine and Michael twice every minute. I wondered how they were. I hoped that Frostine was okay. I prayed that Michael was being a good father like I told he was going to be...
Laurie and I found ourselves in another trial that night. It was in a realm I had never been in before. All the colour drained from my face and my blood ran cold.
"Lampkin Lane...?"
Laurie snapped her attention to me with her green eyes wide.
"You know this place?" She asked.
"Yes... yes! This is Haddonfield! I lived on this street back home!" I exclaimed in my quiet voice.
"Then you'd know the boogeyman." Laurie said.
"What?" I asked in confusion.
"The Shape—the monster I told you about!" Laurie squealed.
Shape... that seemed so familiar... I didn't know why!
"No... no monster... the only killer I knew from here was—!"
A girl's scream ripped through the fog. Laurie ordered me to fix a generator while she went off to rescue the poor survivor. I did as I was told and crouched down by the generator. My mind kept drifting back to what Laurie said about 'the Shape.' I thought about how she told me he was as dangerous as any other killer she had been faced with... and some survivors agreed with her.
After successfully repairing the generator, it got a little too quiet. The last thing I had heard was Feng Min scream, now nothing? Was she okay? Was Laurie okay? And where was David? I hadn't heard from him in a while... fear overcame my frail frame and I found myself racing over to a locker. I slammed the door shut on me and peeked through the slits.
David's scream sounded in the far distance.
I gulped and tried to control my breathing. I could hear heavy footsteps outside the locker. They seemed calm... deliberate. That wasn't a survivor.
It was the Shape!
The locker door ripped open violently. I shrieked as loud as my damaged voice would let me and shielded my face. I curled up and cowered, awaiting my death. My breath hitched as I desperately tried to get oxygen into my lungs. My heart slammed against my chest over and over at an alarming pace. I couldn't calm down, I couldn't look up. I was far too terrified. I didn't want to see the grotesque face of the Shape. I just couldn't bring myself to see.
Nothing came at all.
My breathing was still irregular, me trying to breath but failing. I slowly peaked through the cracks of my fingers up at the killer. Through my teary eyes, I could kind of see a white face. He was tall, very tall. Just like...
My hands flung away from my face.
"Michael?!" I shrieked.
I scrambled to my feet, using the narrow walls of the locker as support. There before me, Michael Myers stood with a bloody kitchen knife in hand. That same white mask was over his face, his blue overalls grimy. Before I could engulf him in a hug, Laurie came up from behind him. Laurie came charging over to attack him, thinking he was trying to hurt me (of course she did). I caught glimpse of a shard of glass in her hand, shining in the moonlight of none other than Lampkin Lane.
"Laurie, no!" I cried.
Michael whipped around to be met with Laurie's small frame creeping over to him. He lifted his knife over his head and thrusted it down.
"No!" I shouted again.
Laurie dodged the hit by an inch, eyes locked on me.
"What do you mean no? He's going to kill us! This is the Shape! This is the boogeyman! Run!" The young woman screamed.
I instead ran to Michael, hugging his arm.
"No! He's—!" I tried to speak, but Laurie cut me off.
"Oh, my god..." she trailed. "You..." The blonde lifted a shaky finger, pointing at us and backing away. "You... you fucked him!" Laurie screeched.
"Laurie!" I almost scolded.
Michael remained by my side, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his knife hard.
"Your baby... Frostine..." Laurie sputtered out something that sounded like a laugh.
A hurt look crept upon my face at the mention of our daughter. Now that I had realised... if Michael was here... Frostine was out in the real world... without us...
"That baby is pure evil." Laurie uttered darkly.
Michael broke away from my arms and slashed his knife into Laurie's cheek. She screamed and clutched her face, blood gushing quick.
"Laurie..." I sobbed, distraught that my friend would say something like that to me.
"You're evil too!" Laurie roared. "I'll see you all in hell!" She then sprinted off, leaving a trail blood with her.
All I could do was watch as she ran away through my teary eyes. I couldn't think, couldn't speak. I slowly turned around, to be met with a white mask.
"Michael..." I whispered.
My feet dragged across the ground. I approached the man, looking up at his masked face.
"Michael." I repeated, with more urgency.
I could hear Michael's heavy breathing. I moved to wrap my arms around his neck. He immediately dropped his knife and snaked his own around my tiny hips with haste.
"Michael..." I rasped out for a final time.
Michael's deep brown eyes bored into my light ones.
"I don't care." I started. "I don't care if we're evil."
Michael tilted his head.
"I love you." I said.
I yanked the mask off his face and slapped it to the ground to join his knife. Michael didn't waste any time. His pale lips smashed onto mine hungrily and he clenched my waist like I'd disappear.
Somewhere in Haddonfield, Illinois, a baby girl with an icy appearance laid swaddled in her crib. The white snow that fell against the window matched her complexion perfectly. The baby began to cry, and a woman lifted her up into her arms.
"Shh... it's alright, Frostine..."
The baby's crying quickly simmered to a coo as she rested against the woman's chest tiredly. The woman patted her back gently.
"Everything is okay."