His Girl - Michael Myers x Reader {Rewrite}

✗Chapter 36: Sweet Support✗

"Hello, how may I help you today?" The receptionist asked in a polite manner, putting down the telephone and readjusting her glasses.

"Hi, my name is (Y/n) (L/n), I'm looking for Andrea (L/n). Can you tell me what room she's in please?" You replied quietly.

"Did you say (Y/n) (L/n)? But the news said-"

"I'm not dead. The police have the actual story. I really need to see my mom. How is she?" You interrupted her surprised tone and got straight to the point; worried about your mother.

"Let's see, let's see...Andrea (L/n)...Ah, here we go. Patient 304. She's suffering from Catatonia, which was caused by her frequent PTSD - what is more commonly known as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was amplified by her daughter's sudden disappearance and theorised death-" The woman stopped nervously, casting you a sheepish look.

"What room is she in? Can you take me to her? Please?" You questioned worriedly, gripping the edge of the counter whilst you waited for an answer.

"Certainly." She dipped her head and stood up, sliding a metal bar across the table that read: I'll Be Right Back! Huh, fitting.

The receptionist gestured for you to follow her and so you did; your shoes hitting the floor tiles rather sharply as you anxiously kept up with her. Eventually she slowed down, stopping in front of a door. She made you wash your hands with this antibacterial soap before you could enter the room - following the hygienic procedure of the hospital. After which you entered, your throat tightening when you saw your mother sitting in a chair.

"Mom? Mom! It's me, (Y/n)!" You called out in alarm, rushing in front of her and dropping to your knees. She didn't move - her rigid position freaking you out.

"Unfortunately, your mother has been very unresponsive to any form of communication. This does not mean we've given up hope however, we're going to keep trying different types of treatment. We firmly believe we can pull her back from her stupor. Perhaps you being here will help." The receptionist tried to comfort you, placing a hand on your shoulder calmingly.

"Y-Yeah. Thank you." You shakily responded.

"I have to return to the front desk, are you going to be alright?" She wondered and you nodded in return, going numb from shock.

"Take care now, hun." The receptionist flashed you a sympathetic smile as she walked towards the door, shutting it behind her softly.

"Mom...I'm not dead. I'm right here, see? Look, please look...look at me." You pleaded desperately, tears streaming down your face.

You took her hand and placed it next to your face, rubbing your cheek against it as you tried to get some sort of response. Nothing. She was emotionless...expressionless...empty. It was like she wasn't even there. Like she was just a...just a shell. Your mom wasn't reacting to you, she didn't acknowledge you, and she certainly couldn't see you consciously. With a soft sob you released her hand, watching it fall limply back to her side.

A few hours passed; nightfall taking over the light of day whilst you spent time with your mother. You talked to her, bringing up memories and hoping that maybe she was listening deep down...very deep down. A nurse entered the room and checked on your mother, giving her the necessary medication and informing you that visiting times were over. You didn't want to leave, so you got permission to stay overnight - deciding to sleep on a sofa.

"Oh Mom...I wish you'd say something... anything. I miss you." You mumbled in distress, clasping her hand between yours and giving it a warm squeeze.

The nurse had helped her into the hospital bed - making your mother appear scarily dead. Her eyes were open though...her glassy gaze causing you to feel on edge. You almost jumped out of your skin when a gentle hand clutched yours, the heavy breathing being very familiar. Michael. He must've found a way to sneak in after dark...thank goodness. You were tired of being alone, you needed a shoulder to cry on.

"Oh Michael, it's awful. She can't even look at me. I'm so worried...what if she never recovers? This is all my fault." You cried into his chest and sought out comfort, grateful when you received some.

Michael shook his head at your statement, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a close cuddle. Although he despised your mother, what he hated most was your suffering. The torturous torment you were trapped in...the emotional anguish of this whole experience...he could see how hurt you were. And he wanted to stop it - in the only way he knew how.

"Stop Michael! Killing her won't fix anything! The receptionist said there was still hope!" You yelped in horror as he pulled out his knife. Disappointed, Michael pocketed it again; feeling unhappy that he didn't have a solution.

"I was so mean to her...I told her not to try and rise above bitterness, but she was just worried about me. I-I was horrible." You admitted in a low voice, thinking back to the conversation in the bathroom. Michael shook his head again, disagreeing with you being horrible. You could never be unpleasant, not to him.

"It's getting pretty late, you should go home. You might get spotted if you stay here." You glanced at the clock on the wall and then decided to get some rest, pulling away from Michael. The killer refused to move, causing a spark of guilt to snap within you.

"Can't you just do what I say? I already got my mom into some catatonic state where she can't even move, I don't want to be responsible for getting you caught too! Just go...Go home!" You demanded tearfully, balling your fists up and turning your head to the side.

"Michael! Are you listening? I just want to protect-" The stalker placed his finger against your mouth, silencing you with another shake of the head.

He couldn't bear to leave you alone. Not right now. Not like this. Not when you needed him most. You were pushing him away on purpose, intending to isolate yourself from everyone you cared about. And while he appreciated the sentiment, Michael didn't care about his wellbeing - he only cared about yours. So it would take more than that to force him to leave. Instead, he pulled his mask all the way off, surprising you.

The dream was like some type of strange foreshadowing; his striking blue eyes and sharp jawline stunning you into even more silence. He was intensely attractive, making you wonder why he wore the mask in the first place. Perhaps his mask was a comfort to him - maybe he found solace in wearing it. Either way, you didn't mind the white mask. Michael cradled the sides of your face with both hands; his rough fingers caressing your cheeks adoringly.

Then he shocked you further - the killer pushing his lips against yours in a loving motion. The softhearted kiss sent you into a sweetened stupor, your heart speeding up as red rushed to your cheeks. W-Why was he kissing you? T-This came out of nowhere! His intimidating eyes sent a shiver down your spine, the possessive glint in his gaze almost forcing you to be submissive. You rested your palms against his chest, shyly kissing back and feeling comforted.

"Thank you. I needed that." You whispered against his lips, a wave of romance washing over you. Everything would turn out okay, because Michael was by your side.

The intense male nodded loyally, running a hand through your hair whilst he tried to reassure you further. All this comfort...All this love...Michael really knew how to keep you together, especially when you felt like you were breaking apart. He was your soulmate - destined to cherish you for all eternity. Even when times got tough he wouldn't leave your side. And oh, how grateful you were for him.

"I love you." You hummed under your breath; hypnotised by his tender touches and endearing eyes. You didn't expect Michael to answer, but he mouthed his reply back to you.

"I love you too." His silent confession made your heart skip a beat, happy tears now mixing with the sad ones. Why did Michael always confuse your emotions, causing them to spiral out of control before you were able to contain them? What was it about him? Were you never going to find out?