Y/n seemed to be staring at Michael; his e/c orbs, once full of life, were now empty and cold. His hand, which had been holding onto Michael, had sunk to the floor, his other hand still lying in his lover's, who didn't want to let it go. Time stood still for a moment (or so it seemed) and he blocked out all the sounds around him. Loomis hysterically screamed at Anderson, who turned into a crying and sobbing mess as soon as Leigh let go of him, finally coming to realization of what just happened.
The sheriff kneeled next to Anderson, only a few centimetres away from Michael and y/n. He could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his head, giving him a headache. He stared at the boy's lifeless body, eyes widened as his thoughts were running wild.
This can't be true. For Christ's sake, please tell me that this is just some crazy joke. But it wasn't, and he knew that too well. The last time he had felt the way he did now was when his daughter had been killed, by the man who was holding y/n in his arms at the moment, staring at the boy in disbelief and sorrow. And even though he shouldn't feel anything for him, even though he should still be disgusted by the fact that Michael wasn't in prison, that he had been free and had been able to live (at least for a short while) like a normal human being, he felt sympathy for him. He knew too well how he felt know and he also knew that this feeling wouldn't go away. He would learn how to live with it, but it would never stop haunting him.
Leigh ruffled through his greyish brown hair (or what was left of it) and took a deep breath; y/n was like a son for him. He had been friends with his father when the boy just started walking, still needing to hold on to his mother's dress when he tried to take steps. His life had barely begun. And now the gun of a disoriented officer, who would probably get charged for this, ended it within a split second.
Michael brushed softly over y/n's eyes, closing them in the process, and placed a final kiss on his forehead. Now that his eyes were closed he looked really peaceful, as if nothing had happened. As if he's just sleeping Michael thought, carefully placing the boy's body on the wooden floor. His gaze rested on y/n's peaceful expression.
Anderson pushed himself off the floor; he was still crying, like a toddler who had just lost his favourite. His face was starting to take on a tint of purple, which was a result of him sobbing without really trying to breath nornally. His eyes were red and swollen and tears kept rolling out of them over his cheeks. "I am so sorry." He howled out, like a dog, as his legs gave up on him. "I am so sorry." He kept repeating as he crawled over to y/n. "I am so sorry." He cried, reaching out to touch y/n's hand.
But before he could even come near the boy, Michael got up and grabbed Anderson by the collar of his shirt.
"Keep your disgusting hands off him." Michael's expression darkened as he loosened his grip, letting Anderson fall on the floor. The officer turned around and got on his knees, trying to crawl away from him, but Michael didn't intend to just let him go like that; he needed to be punished for what he did.
He pushed Anderson to the ground again, ignoring the doctor who threatened to shoot him if he dared to move any more, and the begging of Leigh, who didn't want to see anyone else die that day. But both of them knew that Michael wouldn't stop. He would never stop.
Michael didn't have anything on him that he could have used to slaughter anyone, but he didn't need anything. He knew how to end someone's life as painfully as possible, even without a knife, which he usually preferred to use.
Michael stepped on the officer's head with his heavy boots, slowly putting more and more pressure on it. Anderson started screaming, trying to push Michael off, to get away from him, but he was too weak; the pressure just kept getting worse. Michael ignored the shot from Loomis' that pierced through his left shoulder. He couldn't feel the pain at that moment (not that he would have felt it anyway) and he didn't care, either. He heard the cracking of bones under his foot and finally Anderson's skull gave in, breaking under the boot; his eyes popped out of their sockets and a mixture between blood, bones and his brain splashed everywhere. Leigh stared at the officer's corpse, his stomach yelling a last warning to him as he threw up in front of him on the wooden floor, spreading his breakfast all over it.
Michael took a step back, staring at the mess on the floor with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, like an artist, who just finished a painting after many sleepless nights of work.
His eyes wandered over to the sheriff, who still tried to calm down, then over to Loomis. As soon as their eyes met, Loomis knew that he would be next. And he knew that he needed to think of something to get out if situation.
Don't think you can beat me, you sonofabitch. He kept telling himself that there was no way that Michael would get away this time, that there was no way he would let him run off again.
He took a few steps back, getting closer to the staircase.
"See what you did? If you would have given up sooner, y/n wouldn't be dead. It's your fault, Michael. You killed him." As soon as those words left Loomis' mouth, Michael stormed toward the doctor, holding his hands out in front of him. Loomis fired his gun, in hope he would hit Michael, but he knew that this wouldn't help him at all.
He remembered the first time Michael got away, 10 years ago, when he had tried to kill his sister, killing many others in the process. He had shot him six times back then. Michael had been injured as well, and the fall out of the bedroom window should have given him the rest. But it didn't. Of course it didn't. Something like that would never kill the impersonation of evil. And no matter what he would do now, it wouldn't stop Michael. And he knew that too well.
But he didn't want to just give up now. Right before Michael could get a grip of him he jumped out of the way; Michael ran past him, stumbling as he tried to stop in front of the staircase, but it was already too late. He fell face forward down the stairs and even if it didn't hurt him it still took him by surprise.
Loomis stared at him, reloading his gun as he slowly followed him downstairs, ignoring the fact that the sheriff was still with him, trying to get his attention with telling him to stop immediately.
Michael, who had been lying at the end of the stairs, got up slowly, observing every move the doctor made.
"How about you just give up? We both know that there is nothing worth living your miserable life, is there? At least not anymore." He said while grinning at Michael, showing him his yellow teeth (he hadn't brushed them in a while). He knew that he hit a soft spot when he saw the look in Michael's eyes; they were full of pain and grieve, showing emotions Loomis never expected from him. He never thought he would see something like that, not from Michael, never from Michael.
His grin grew wider. He knew that he had already won, no matter if Michael decided to continue fighting back or not. Michael had finally experienced something that was way worse than death; the loss of a loved person. And that made him weaker; his reaction was slower and it seemed like he didn't really know what to do.
Oh how I love to see you like that, Michael. And oh, how he'd love to make sure that Michael would never be able to forget those feelings. How he'd love to make him suffer forever. Killing him would only free him from his misery.
Loomis dropped his gun when the sheriff pushed himself past him, getting his handcuffs out. Michael stared at Leigh, taking a few steps back, looking like he would attack him if he didn't stay back. Leigh took that as a warning and stopped, holding his hands up to show the other man that he wouldn't try anything.
"Come on Michael, you knew that this would happen eventually. If you fight back you will make this harder for yourself. And killing us wouldn't solve anything. That's not what y/n would have wanted, is it?" He said with a soft tone in his voice.
Michael hesitated; he knew that killing Anderson was already something he would feel guilty about, just because of y/n. And even though he would love to end at least Loomis' life, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The part of him that wanted to kill yelled at him, telling him to man up and kill the bastard who was guilty for y/n's death. But the other part, the part y/n had brought to life, told him not to, told him to just accept his fate. And so he did.
He lowered his head, staring at the floor as Leigh slowly put the handcuffs around his wrists.
Loomis' grin never faltered. In fact, it grew wider within every second that went by (if that was even possible).
It's over he thought to himself. It's finally over and that bastard will rot in a cell forever.
Leigh turned to Loomis with a dark expression written over his face. "Don't think you'll get away with this. I will make sure to sue your ass as soon as we're back in Haddonfield. You won't be free, either, my friend." He said as he led Michael out of the house, toward the hidden police car.
But Loomis didn't care. He didn't care about what would happen to him. He finally reached his goal, that he set himself ten years ago, and he could now rest.
New chapter, wohoooo\(^0^)/
I think there'll be only two more after this one here...and oml it's hard to accept the fact that this is nearly over xD
Yes, I let y/n die and omg I'm so sorry for that, but I just felt like it would be something different. Something, that didn't seem to be a 'normal' ending for a fanfiction. And I hope that my assumption was right and that I didn't disappoint you with how it turned out xd
But yeah...only two more chapters to go.
Think you can stick with me till this ends?