𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 • MICHAEL MYERS

017

×~Night of the Living Dead~×
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Night fell upon Haddonfield slowly, as if the earth had slowed it's movement to delay the inevitable.

Dr. Loomis pressed that Logan had not yet woken, though Judith and Angel didn't believe it was as he said, and believed she was awake and conscious, ready to go back and face Michael for the last time.

She was, in fact, very concious. But for the first time since she had arrived, she did not want to leave her room. Because she knew that if she did she'd have no control over herself. She didnt know what she'd do to herself, to other people.

But all she could think about in the moment was Cathy. Everything she had done was to protect Logan, and she was too reckless. It got her killed, and Logan was unsure if she could live with herself. She didn't want to live with herself.

The window in the middle of the wall of her holding cell had gone dim as the sun disappeared. But from what Logan could hear beyond the door, the police station was all but sleepy. Inaudible orders were being sent left and right to people beyond Logan's view. So she sat still, in the corner of her cold holding cell, as far away from Cathy's empty cot as she could.

Looking at it drove stakes into her chest over and over again. Remembering the heatstroke finally doing her in as the dirty police cruiser drove up beside Logan's car. But they had been too late. And everything was her fault. She couldn't bear to look at herself, to touch herself. She had long since changed into a thick sweater and pants, to keep her warm during the cold Illinois fall. But her hands sat on either side of her, gripping the icy floor.

She did not deserve to hide her face and mourn. She felt absolutely sick, so sick that she had tried to slam her head against the walls. She was only rewarded with a scolding from the crazed Doctor outside her door and a thumping migraine. She had been offered food many times, but she couldnt stomach anything. She thought about throwing up, even now, on an empty stomach.

Logan noticed something she hadn't before, sitting in the sill of her tiny window. A gun. The gun she had lost during the events of that afternoon. And suddenly it became all to clear that this had always been his game.

🖤

Nothing was stopping Michael Myers from entering the police station and tearing it inside out to find her. That was his plan, anyway. The last three things he needed were inside, and that's what he was going there to get. Only one of them had to make it out alive, however.

He was surrounded by children as he walked down the busy sidewalks. They were mostly chatting amongst themselves, but a few stared and pointed, complimented his costume, and even ran in sheer fear.

The police station was a 15 minute walk from where he was. A bit longer if he cautiously avoided the dozens of police cruisers tearing up and down the street in hopes of finding him. He chose to do so.

As he walked along dark alleys, he couldn't help but picture her face again and again, replaying their reunion on repeat. Her expression drove him crazy, watching the mortal peril spread across her features. He began to speed along the more he thought, being impatient to see her again. He found himself longing to be beside her again. To smell her floral perfume again, the faint smell of parchment that she carried from all her work around it.

Before he knew it, he had appeared in the private parking lot belonging to the Police Station. No doubt the back doors would be locked. Despite, he knew of one way in. Only one window was large enough for him to fit through, and it had been all too familiar to him. It was the same room his love resided in, waiting for him. He had spent countless hours outside that window, in wind and rain, watching her do various tasks while locked up. Where he had found her obsession with catching him quite charming. It was how he had known to revisit her house. The lock was busted long ago, the first time he broke into the room to watch her sleep.