Michael Myers x Reader
Air. Air.
Air!
Opening my eyes, Michael was above me.
This isn't the first time this happened, it happens when the voices are too loud. He had his hands tightly around my neck, unaware of his actions. I tried to loosen his grip, on pure instinct, but I knew that wouldn't work. I tried to rub his face and my fingers through his hair but no avail.
He hasn't gone killing for a while, it was bound to happen if he didn't cater to the voices. This is the last bit of Michael before The Shape fully shows itself. Before he becomes an unstoppable force to be reckoned with.
The last thing I noticed was his facial expression starting to change. He was slowly coming to himself and realized what he was doing. It was already too late, I was loosing consciousness and was fading into darkness.
When I woke up, he wasn't in the room. I got up to go to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, two handprint bruises on my neck. They were going to be there for a while too.
I went downstairs and got some ice. Instead I grabbed some frozen vegetables and held it to my neck. I waited for like 10 minutes, then went back to my room.
My neck hurt like crazy, but I wasn't dead. It was still late at night, or early in the morning depending on how you look at it. I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
When I woke up, it was to the bedroom door opening. My eyes had to adjust a bit, but I knew it was Michael. He had on some sweats and a t-shirt on, he must have taken a shower. He had a tray in his hand, a tray of food?
"What's this?" My throat hurt a bit.
I sat up in the bed, and he sat it down in front of me. It was a sandwich, a cheese danish, and sprite. I giggled at effort.
"Thank you, I appreciate it." I said lowly.
He reached out at my neck, lightly touched the bruises.
"It hurts, but it'll heal." I tell him.
He leaned down and pressed his face into my hair. I knew he felt bad about doing it, especially this time. He normally gives me a gift the next day, but that's when he realize what he's doing. He's going to go back out again, and I won't see him for a few days maybe.
When he come back, the voices will be silent. He may have something for me when he returns. It doesn't matter though, I'll still be waiting for him. Waiting to tend to his wounds and to ease his mind.
He'll be back home, with me.