You had fallen asleep fairly quickly once you had arrived home. Michael had resigned to his room once he knew that you were okay. He sat in his room staring at the 'hang in there' poster you had put on his wall. It was a stupid poster, but he kept it up because you had put it there. You had cared enough to put something on the bare walls to keep his mind from going back to the white walls of the institution. Again, the flashbacks of everything Loomis and the other so-called doctors did to him started. As a child they performed horrible therapies thinking that somehow further traumatizing him would 'fix' him. Anger rose in his chest and his knuckles turned white from his tightening fists. His breathing was heavy. He flickered his eyes to the poster in an attempt to ground himself. He wasn't in that horrible place anymore. He reminded himself that here was the safest place for him.
Michael kept his eyes trained on the poster, the small gray striped kitten hanging on to the branch calming his wild mind. Now only Loomis's voice rang in his head, his words of how Michael was a monster of pure evil a constant reminder that he was less than human to that man. The creeping tendrils of the Shape wrapped around his mind willing him to leave the apartment and kill again. The mask, The Shape needed to satisfy it's growing bloodlust. He wanted to kill Loomis and all the doctors at the institution but for now he would have to settle for strangers.
It didn't take long for The Shape to make its way to the woods and find a lonely camper. A man around thirty years old. An easy target for the killer. The man began to feel uneasy, his eyes shifted around the area. The shape could tell the man's heart race had increased. It fueled the Shape even more. Soon he was behind the camper and grabbed his throat. The man let out a strangled cry and thrashed with a strong will to live. He managed to kick the serial killer in the knee with his heel. The shape let out a grunt and tightened his grip on the mans throat. Bruising could be seen forming from under the killers grasp. This was too easy and so he let him go. The chase was on.
In his signature walk he followed the man as he ran screaming for help. They were deep enough in and it was late enough that no one would be around to hear his desperate cries. The camper choked for air as he ran trying to stay upright and ahead of the killer on his heels. Some part of him knew he would die tonight. No one except Laurie could escape his deadly grasp. He couldn't run anymore, his lungs and legs screamed in agony. The moonlight illuminated a clearing that he stopped in. Collapsing to his knees, lungs heaving for air. He grabbed a broken stick nearby, it was sharp on the end and hoped that maybe just maybe he could defend himself.
The shape appeared in the clearing, he grabbed the man by the throat again, his knife in his other hand. Clawing at The shapes hand the man begged for his life "please, please, oh god please don't kill me. I have a family. I can't die, please god don't let me die here" He pleaded. His cries fell on deaf ears. As The Shapes knife plunged into the mans chest the stick the camper had held on to was sunk into the killers side. This angered him and so he stabbed the man more times than he could count. Once satisfied with the damage he dropped the mans now limp corpse, the blood soaking the grass under him.
Michael stumbled backward now feeling the pain of the stick lodged in his side. He didn't want to leave his DNA at the crime scene and so he walked back to the apartment with the stick still in his side. Once home he grabbed a towel from the bathroom and duct tape from the kitchen. He then walked to his room and sat in the desk chair. The masked killer took his mask off and bit down on the handle of his knife. Mentally he counted to three and pulled the object out of his flesh. It ripped the wound open even more and hot blood gushed from the wound. Michael grunted and pressed the hand towel to the wound and then wrapped the duct tape around his torso and the towel to keep it in place and provide compression to the wound. He put his white latex mask back on, removed his bloodied clothes replacing them with clean clothes from his dresser and fell asleep in his warm bed.
Hours later he would wake to loud knocking on his door. "What the fuck Michael!"
