The Fog ⇢ Dead by Daylight Oneshots

𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜

✩ Michael Myers "The Shape" ✘ Reader ✩

❝Love is a lot like dancing - you surrender to the music.❞

EDITED ON 4/15/2021

THIS CHAPTER WAS REQUESTED

Ballet was your only escape; you started at four and never thought about stopping. The elegance and professionalism in the steps made the sport seem dazzling even when you had your doubts about staying. You never had the best life, but the slow rhythmic piano made your nerves ease and your mind settle. Your favorite thing about the experience was your slippers; the more elaborate the shoe, the better the dancer. You strived to be the best, having full sole satin ribbon pointe shoes that wrapped around your legs delicately. They were your pride and joy, and nothing could replace the item you held so close to your heart. Unfortunately, it was raining cats and dogs on the same day as ballet practice; the weather made you angry because of moisture gathering on your slippers. You didn't understand why it had to rain today out of all the days that week. The experience left you frustrated as you stomped your way throughout the studio, finally landing inside the room you practiced in. The room was pitch black. A creepy aura drifted out of it. You didn't notice because, at this point, you were so used to it. You flipped the switch on the wall and watched as the light flickered on. The room was spacious, with bars about halfway up the turquoise wall. You dropped the bag you were holding and fished out your needed clothing for the class. Heading to the bathroom, you see more people enter the building. You rolled your eyes and continued into the little room. You stripped off your original clothes and put on what was required for the coming class.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, humming at how your outfit went with your curves. Nodding at your double, you opened the door and walked out. Seeing trash on the floor, you decide to be a good samaritan and pick it up, but as you did, another dancer walked into you as you were standing up. She was staring down at her phone while taking a drink out of her unsecured cup. The soda spilled all over your leotard and dripped down onto your favorite pair of shoes. You gasped in shock when the cold liquid splashed against your body, and you became outraged at the girl apologizing frantically. You went into the studio room, grabbed your bag, and ran out of the building into the pouring rain. Huffing in annoyance, you jumped in your car and drove off.

You drove until you ended up in an abandoned park that was somewhat in the woods. The parking lot had weeds growing through all the cracks in the concrete. The metal on the playsets was rusted to the point where sliver didn't dare show. The plastic colors were pastel from the sun's rays, and there were puddles all over due to rain. You placed your head against your leather steering wheel; tears threatened to flow as you stared at yourself through the windshield. Brown stains replaced the light pink fabric of your leotard, and your slippers were damaged. You never took them off when you stormed away from your class, so now they were waterlogged with brown specs.

You slammed your hands against the wheel, hitting the horn that sounded out in the rain. You sobbed as tears started to flow freely down your face; you didn't know why, but thinking of what just happened made you extremely upset. Maybe it was because dance was your safe place, and you always cherished it. Perhaps it was because ballet calmed you down, but it was so hard to see yourself in your outfit and not be extremely mad. It was just an item, something you could easily replace, but something about it made it so special. Eventually, you wiped your tears away and looked up at the roof of your vehicle; you glanced over at the clock that shined a bright blue tinge. Five thirty-five shone against your vision. You sighed, knowing that you had enough time to get back and still participate. But as you watched the droplets fall from the sky, you decided to stay for just a bit longer.

An eerie feeling flowed through your senses; the sky was dark with clouds, and the wind rushed around objects. You looked out the driver's side window, and a white mask was looking back at you through the tree line. Your heart went into overdrive at that moment, you had a hard time deciding whether to stay or go, but your decision was confirmed when you looked back to see the mask right outside the glass that separated you. Tears started to pick up again, you knew death was near, and you wouldn't be escaping soon. You held your breath and let your body shake as the car door opened slowly. Then, breaking out in sobs, you closed your eyes, awaiting a pain that would never come. Instead, you are acceptant a warm embrace, it was gentle, but it terrified you. You glanced up at the person who was holding you close, their body type gave off a male vibe, but they could be a danger at any given moment. The masked man looked down at you; it was like he gave you a 'what happened' look, to which you responded with mumbles and stutters.

"I, my, this girl, I've seen her in a dance class before, and she, she. I came out of the bathroom, ready for the class, happy and excited. I saw some trash, I, I just bent over, picked it up, you know? Trying to be a good person? And she, she was staring at her phone, her damn phone! She bumped into me, ruining my shit, my favorite pair of slippers. Why me? Like why me? I know who she is, you know? She's never put in front. She barely dances. She's always talking to her boyfriend. She doesn't take it seriously. I hope her stuff gets ruined, and then she'd know how it feels." At this point, you were ranting, and the masked man didn't speak one word. He just sat there, holding you in his arms while shielding you from the outside weather. It was pretty comforting and made you relax just a bit.

The man let go of your body. He looked past you at the clock that just turned to five fifty-five. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and realized he wasn't in front of you anymore. Confusion crossed your face as you poked your head out of the car. The rain fell against your face as you searched through the trees. Finally, you sighed, closed the car door, backed up, drove away from the playground, and headed home.

You threw your dance bag onto the floor and turned the television on when you arrived. You started to fix macaroni and cheese, groaning when the news spoke out to you. You went through the process of cooking and mixing, eventually pouring it all into a bowl for yourself. Sitting on the couch, you listened to the politics, making you bored to death. Suddenly breaking news appeared on the screen; a girl got murdered who lived in your town just hours before. She was at the dance studio you went to and was closing up for the night when the murderer came in and ended her life. The wounds suggested that she was choked and stabbed before being flung to the ground. Reports also show that she was missing her newly bought pointe shoes. She was assigned to do the job you always did, and because of that, she became an easy target with no witnesses. A cheeky grin appeared on your face; you felt no remorse for what happened to her. Letting out a sick and twisted laugh, you silently thanked the person who did that to her. Little did you know he was standing right outside your door with the girl's ballet slippers.