mercy 4 | michael myers

chapter ii

Just Like You - Three Days Grace

Rachel is officially dead. Gone. Nonexistent. Invisible. And for some rotten reason, I can't find the depression from her death. I'm not mused, I'm not bothered; it's concerning. She was one of my closer friends when I was going through the murders of my other friends. She's now been murdered by the murderer. Or so I think. But it has to be Michael. Why wouldn't it be? This is his way of welcoming himself back into Haddonfield. It happens every year.

It's once again put forth that citizens cannot go out tonight due to the murder. The city is preparing to officially catch Michael Myers, but I have no idea how they will do that. It's near impossible. If he can get away all of those other years then I'm sure he can get away with these years. I wonder how he does it. I suck at getting away. He becomes invisible or something.

I'm sitting on my windowsill, looking over the grass that lays many feet below me. I'm surrounded by nothing but trees, this hospital is located a bit off-grid from the city but it's not far at all. I could walk.

Since I think Michael is back, I want to escape. I have no idea how, though. There really is no way for me to do it. The security of this place is top-notch. There are armed guards all around the area, scoping every little thing. One of them sees me from my window even when I'm four floors above him. He leans back on a concrete fence, smoking a cigarette. His gun is cocked in his hands. It's not just a simple pistol, either. It's a whole goddamn AK rifle. I gulp, trying not to look too suspicious.

I'm peering back at my messy bed, my rocking chair that is slightly moving. The radio in the wall. I wonder how long these guards stay awake or how long their shifts are. Surely there are night guards, I have never checked before because I am always in bed.

I look back down at the now missing guard. His cigarette lies on the grass, stomped out. Maybe his shift is up. Or he's going to report me... but for what? For looking out the window? Is it because I'm sitting too close? Does he think I'm going to escape? Has he read my mind?

There aren't any other guards near him so I'm really confused as to what's going on. They must be switching shifts. I get off the windowsill and huddle myself in the bed, covers over my head.

For once in the longest time, my thoughts are piling on top of one another; what's that doing is causing me to become emotional. True, I need to cry so hard and for so long. I'm desperate for it. I just want my emotions back. I want to feel them.

There's a knock at my door that startles me. Turns out, it was just my nurse giving me some more medication. I go back to laying down, hiding myself away from the world. I think back to my high school years. The year my life changed, the Halloween party at Jason's. I always come back to thinking of it. Because it's the only time I was truly okay. Because it was the last time I could experience normal teenager things. Because it was the last time I could talk and see my friends. I try to think of how I was expressing and feeling my emotions back then but the only thing I'm bombarded with is images of Michael.

Images of him standing at the end of the hall, him breaking the window, and him putting everyone's bodies right before my own in Michelle's room. Michelle. Oh, I miss that name. It's weird to hear my mind say it again, or think it.

With Rachel dead, I try to make myself feel things. I try to make myself upset by thinking of it as discovering Bri's death again. How angry and mortified I was. I'm scrunching my face so hard, trying all my will to feel things. But there's nothing. I'm not sad. I want to be sad.

And then I'm suddenly thinking of how old me would think of the new me. What would young Marissa think of all of this? I have a weird relationship with Michael and I've killed lots of people. Never would I think of doing any of that back then. I kind of want that mindset back. Just a little. Honestly, I'll take anything back that's from me two years ago. When I was just eighteen. Now I don't age. How funny. I'm supposed to be twenty, but oh well. I don't feel it. I don't think it. Technically, I'll always be nineteen since that is the age I was turned.