𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 • MICHAEL MYERS

013

×~sirens~×
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Logan stared up at her old house, it now broken down and in ruins. Ivy, moss, and plants of all kinds grew from the moldy wood that creaked under her feet.

Everything looked oh so disturbingly similar to how she had left it. Both memories good and bad drifted through the air like the bits of dust that caught Logan's breath.

Something else was here. Large footprints broke the years of dust that rested idly on the floor.

In fact, the thing that made them stood just out of reach, figure hidden by the shining moonlight that broke through the windowless frames on the walls. Logan and Cathy could not see him, however. He watched patiently as they observed his masterpiece.

In messy, almost illegible writing, was 'welcome home' painted on the wall in crimson. Cathy took Logan's hand in hers and flipped open her switchblade.

"I guess you spelled out your own demise, haha..." Cathy tried to force a laugh, but Logan could feel her shaking beside her.

Michael watched the two observe the room quickly before moving farther in, glued to each other's side. Oh how he wanted to approach her. But after what he had done, he knew it probably wasn't the best idea. Knowing she was armed and (probably) unafraid to hurt him.

He felt slightly threatened by the presence of her friend. With how close the two were standing, he wanted nothing more to treat her like he treated the boy named Wesley 18 years ago. How had they found him here, anyway? Nobody had missed the mailman and the delivery boy had been collateral. Which reminded him; why was Logan's mother's mail still being delivered here?

Logan and Cathy finished searching the bottom floor. However, neither wished to continue. "Do you really think he's here?" Cathy asked warily. "I don't think he is. Let's just... Go... We can say he wasn't here and be lucky."

Logan thought about this for a moment. A chance to keep my life and leave unharmed, or chance him wandering around upstairs, waiting for them. The chance to avenge Deborah. And If he was, how many shots would he be able to take? How many until he was down and how many until he was dead?

"No..." Logan said breathlessly, holding the gun up into the still darkness. "I won't leave until I know the house is empty."

Michael could appreciate her stubbornness. It was one of the things that made her unique to their classmates.

"Logan I really think this is a bad idea." Cathy said warningly as her friend started up the stairs. Logan ignored her. And when her and Cathy had disappeared up the stairs, Michael began to move. With every room they swept through, he grew closer and closer. Until, finally, Michael was waiting for Logan when she pushed through her cracked bedroom door. Hidden in the shadows beside her window. She stared around the room, trying to adjust her eyes to the shadows. She stared directly at him and he almost thought she could see him. The handgun was pointed at him for a long moment before it and her eyes moved around the rest of the room.

Logan it had been a long time since Logan had seen this room. The walls were still painted the same pastel pink she'd repainted it with years ago. Her floral shaped fan was still there, with glow-in-the-dark star stickers stuck to each petal. The posters she disliked the most were still hanging from her walls; torn edges and folding in on themselves. She couldn't see much of the rest, as the darkening sky shadowed most of it. She suddenly wished she had a flashlight, as the hair on the back of her neck prickled and she felt uncomfortable under the gaze of something unseen.

Cathy wandered into the room with a reasonably relaxed expression. "Nothing."

Logan stared through her broken blinds to the outside. She watched their car and the driveway, hoping there would be something that didn't make their trip a waste.