I'm Your Boogeyman

October 4, 2013

A/N: I apologize for the lack of chapters lately. I've had a cold (no longer, though), I've had a bunch of schoolwork, and I've been getting a bunch of baking orders. I had to get my main priorities out of the way. 

You didn't want to get out of bed the next day. You were horrified that there would be another 'gift' at the door. You were afraid that Michael would still be watching. You were scared of what would be on the news. You were just afraid in general. 

"Y/N? It's time to get up, it's nearly ten." Aunt A/N gently opened your bedroom door. 

You groaned and pulled the blanket over your head. 

"What's the matter? Do you not feel good?" She inquired, opening your curtains. 

"No." 

Well, you didn't feel good. You didn't like the bottomless pit of fear that was forming in your stomach. It felt like when you were younger, being afraid to roll over (or even move) in bed for fear that the boogeyman would see you. For fear that the horned beast under your bed would grab you if you made one wrong move. For fear that the monster in your closet would see you moving through the crack under the hinges and make a move. 

"I'll bring up some water, then. Maybe that will help. How'd you sleep?" She asked, placing he wrist on your forehead.

"Not well." 

"You feel pretty warm. Fever dreams?" 

"I guess." 

What she didn't know (although could probably guess) was that your dreams consisted of Tommy Brandyn's head. Michael peeking out from the trees. His emotionless mask peering at you between the sheets flapping in the wind. She was probably afraid, but you were terrified. 

"They called the F.B.I in. Not for the state, though. I mean, the F.B.I. Sam doesn't know what good it will do. Even if they did take Michael, he thinks that he'd just escape again. He-" 

"You can't hold it anywhere." Sam interrupted, stepping into the room. "The amount of times it's escaped from Smith's Grove Sanitarium and really any kind of custody cannot be counted." 

"It?" Aunt A/N raised an eyebrow at Sam. 

"There's no way that thing is human. It's evil on two legs. It's been shot at, stabbed, electrocuted, everything. It just doesn't die." Sam explained, looking out the window. "I wish it would."

"...Okay. Well, I'm going to get Y/N some water. She doesn't feel well. Do you have any plans today?" Aunt A/N asked. 

"Yes. I was supposed to go down to the police department. We were going to record something of a criminal profile for the town. Everyone knows who he is, but they don't know how to avoid him, so there's the purpose." Sam sighed, tearing his eyes away from the window and turning to you. "You should get her that water. She looks hot. Temperature wise, I mean." 

"Yeah; yeah, I'm on it." 

Aunt A/N left the room and Sam sat down at your desk chair. 

"Have you seen Michael since the thirty-first?" Sam asked, reaching over and gently closing the curtains. 

You hesitated before answering. You'd barely been up five minutes and had already asked to relive the events sixteen hours prior. You'd be more open to it if it was the F.B.I asking. Criminal Minds had been your obsessive show of choice lately, and you found the interviewing tactics quite interesting. 

"Yeah. I saw him yesterday. When I came up here to get my homework-- with my handwriting on it-- and I looked out my window when I turned, and I thought I saw his... its mask and jumpsuit behind the tree out there. The big one." You slowly replied.