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"Ugh this is bullshit" Y/n muttered as she stared at the ceiling. "Bullshit bullshit bullshit" Her teeth chattered in the cold, her body covered only by an old quilt that was already on the bed. The cold didn't treat the old house nicely, it seemed as if it was intentionally out to bite her in the ass. Which is what it was metaphorically doing.

Y/ns nostrils were letting out every fluid imaginable, and her only option was to sniff it back in every two minutes. And what abandoned house has tissues lying around? None. She was eventually going to catch a cold if she didn't find another blanket. Soon at that. But her body was next to numb and wouldnt move.

"Damnit" her eyebrow twitched as her head strained itself to turn and look around the room. A stack of dusty blankets sat on a toy chest, almost like a call from the gods above had answered her. All that was left to do was retrieve them.

Y/ns body did the exact opposite of what she wanted it to do. It stiffened and cramped. But that didn't stop her. Her hand rotated and grabbed the bedsheet, using it as a way to leverage herself. After a few minutes, her body finally obliged and lifted itself off the bed, legs swinging off the edge.

Her sides ached in pain from the past cramps as she let out a few cusses before hanging onto the bed frame and standing up. Goosebumps appeared on her skin as the cold air hit. Her hand reached out for something else to grab and hold onto while she walked, but there was nothing. Her knees buckled under her weight and down she fell.

"Fuck"

Y/n propped herself up on her elbows.

'"Michael" she called out. No answer. "Michael?"

There was no wind, no creaks, not even a groan. She was alone, and the stalker was nowhere to be seen. "Puleaaassee tell me I'm not gonna be stuck here" she tried hoisting herself back onto the bed. There was a loud slam that came from downstairs, startling Y/n so much that she fell back to the floor with a thump.

"Ouch"

The droning and beeping from a walkie-talkie echoed up the steps from what she could hear. 'The police are here?' Y/n thought, then she remembered, there's a dead body here. But how would they know it was in this house? Did she miss something? It would explain the police tape though.

The steps creaked, fast, it wasn't slow, like they knew where they were headed. A dim glow of a flashlight glowed at the bottom of the door.

She quickly scurried under the bed and listened closely. "Hello?" a voice called, belonging to an older man. Her hand subconsciously covered her mouth, as if the man could hear her breathe in the first place, but she couldn't be too sure.

The man continued down the hallway and opened the door to other room, presumably with the body.

"We have a Code fifty-five A, fifty-five K, presumed homicide victim, causcasian, brown hair, female"

Y/n heard him report through the door.

"Send dispatch to Forty-Five Lampkin Lane, Haddonfield"

Why would a police officer come here, alone, of all places. Only Y/n knew the danger he could be in if he came back. And why was she hiding from an officer who could help her in the first place? Nothing- no, something was stopping her, and she didn't know what. She could call out for him and she'd be saved from the grasp of the obsessive killer. Her childhood friend could be locked up again. The latter didn't sound right to her.

He'd been locked away for so long. With no family to visit him. A topic for the news articles to cover. A murderer. That's all he was, right? In the deepest part of Y/ns heart, she held compassion for him. Hoping that the boy she once knew was still in there. At the same time, if she stayed here any longer she'd pass out from the cold or starvation

Without thinking, Y/n bashed her head on the metal frame of the bed. She cussed and rubbed her head. "Who's there?" The assumed police officer opener the door and rapidly shone his flashlight around the room. He stepped near the bed, his black boots in full view. At that moment, Y/n couldn't bear it any longer. Her hand wrapped around his ankle like a monster under the bed.

The officer let out a distraught yell and shined his flashlight on you. "H-help me please". He pulled Y/n out from under the bed by her arm and sat her on the mattress

"What's your name hun?" The man was older, in his 50s, grey strands stood out from his brown ones on his head.

"Y/n L/n, I live across the street"

"And how did you get here Y/n? This isn't exactly the safest place to hideout"

He must've assumed she was still in highschool, a runaway even.

"I'm not hiding out... you need to get out of here, please" The situations' danger seemed to be rising every passing moment the officer stayed in the house. "Have you smoked anything Y/n? Your eyes are a bit dilated"

She grabbed his vest and pulled him closer, somewhat shaking him.

"You need to get out of here! Please! He's coming!" Y/n pleaded with the ignorant officer. "You need to calm down, I can't help you if you yell at me. I have backup on the way and they can help you"

He grabbed her wrists and pried them off of him, grabbing the cuffs on his belt. "Listen to me, he kidnapped me and his name is-"

The officer stopped in his tracks, his hands loosed around her wrists as he started coughing. Blood seeping from his mouth.

When there was a looming shadow behind the man, Y/n immediately assumed it was Michael. And she was right. But that's not what she was worried about in this moment. The officer clutched his chest with one hand, while the other reached behind him, pulling something out. All that came out of his mouth choked out in a garbled mess. A large metallic object dropped to the floor.

It was a knife, same one she saw Michael with before. It was completely covered in blood. From its tip to its base. It had been shoved in deep, probably to his stomach. That explains why he's bleeding from his mouth. Michael then grabs his head and slams in repeatedly into the wall, Y/n shielding her eyes from the event infront of her.

How dare he touch Y/n with his filthy, impure hands. Michael looked at his nametag, and his rage only grew. With his hands around his neck, he squeezed tightly. The police officer punched and kicked him as he was raised off the floor. With a crunch, his body stopped moving and went limp. Michael, satisfied with his work, dropped him to the ground and looked at Y/n. Inscpecting to see if she was hurt. Luckily she wasn't.

Y/n, on the other hand, was traumatized. Staring at the dead body in a pool of blood. She held her arms and shivered in fear. Not knowing what to do anymore. This was the stuff nightmares were made of. And she was living in one.

The stalker had seeming appeared infront of Y/n. Her body jumped when she made eye contact with the dark circles. He pushed a single strand of hair off of her face. Eyeing her compulsively while his anger dissipated with every second he shared with her.

Y/n swallowed her thoughts and looked at his masks' dark pools. "More of them are on their way..." the killer tilted his head. "Police officers, he called them" She paused, waiting for him to do something. Nothing. She continued. "They'll take me away, and you too. They're already looking for you"

She was already desperate to leave the dreadful house. Tired and hungry and craving her own bed. "I haven't had anything to eat in eight hours, and I'm going to catch a sickness if I stay here any longer" She touched his arm tenderly. The killer was deep in thought, ofcourse this place worked for him, but for her?

"Please, Michael" Her eyes welled up with what tears she could muster "I need to go home"

The killers heart beated somewhat faster. Something about seeing her like this, made him feel a negative emotion as well. Not as strongly as the girl infront of him, but enough to put him into deep thought. Y/n hung her head down and let out a sigh of giving up. When suddenly, two strong arms wrapped under her legs and behind her back, elevating her into the air and into the killers chest.

'This is what bridal style feels like' Y/n wondered pressing her hand against his chest for balance. Michael steadily walked down the steps and out of the front door. 'He's taking me back to my house' She rested her head on his surprisingly large bicep. She thought about the events that happened before her, witnessing Michael kill a man infront of her. This must've been his normal behaviour, in no way would she be able to combat that idea with an 'I'm sure it won't happen again'

It definitely is going to happen again. All the while, Michael, would never leave her side. Y/n is his obsession after all

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