He was alive.

Michael Myers was alive and he was in my house.

He'd been right in front of me.

My hands gently shifted against the mattress my body rested on, my palms moving to feel a mask right beside my immobile head.

I furrowed my brows, hesitating for a moment before opening my eyes, the light from the lamp overhead burning my irises.

"Hum..." I muttered, slowly tilting my head to the side so I could see what was sat beside me.

My hand crafted bunny face mask.

I carefully placed the palms of my hands against the soft mattress, pushing myself to a seated position, only to realize I was in a completely different outfit than earlier.

The wedding dress I had taken from Mrs. Olif and used on that horrid halloween night now clung to my body. The clothes I had been wearing before I passed out nowhere in sight.

I swallowed hard, finding there to be a lump in my throat.

I bit my bottom lip and looked around the room— still a mess.

"Michael..." I mumbled a small moment later, my mind returning to those shocking memories of finding him in this exact room who knows how long ago.

Had I been hallucinating?

I placed my hands over my face, hunching over and shaking my head, trying my very best to snap out of my odd state of mind.

My heart was thumping against my chest in a speedy motion, the speed enough to give me butterflies.

I waited a moment, attempting to collect myself before slowly standing up and moving away from the bed, only just then connecting the dots that I was still in Mrs. Olif's room.

I sighed shakily, wrapping my arms around my waist and stepping out of the room after finding that the bedroom door had been left cracked open. So with that, I entered the hallway and turned to the bathroom, taking note of the fact that the light was no longer on.

I thought for a moment on what to do before concluding that I should investigate the rest of the house before narrowing in on the washroom.

I eyed my bedroom door, hearing light howls of my puppy from within the room.

I hurried over, my feet pounding against the wooden floorboards whilst I threw my hand forward and took hold of the door knob, proceeding to pull it open and watch as my unnamed dog bolted out of the bedroom and back down the stairs; reminding me of what had happened just a bit before.

I stood still for a moment after reaching the head of the stairwell, my eyes studying each individual step as I considered returning to Mrs. Olif's room and laying in the bed until something happened. But what if nothing happened? What if I dressed myself up in my gown and just forgot?

I huffed, growing impatient with myself.

I placed my hand against the railing and began my way down the stairs, tilting my head and listening to the ground creak beneath my weight.

What was going on?

Was it really Michael I had seen?

Was he truly alive?

If so— how? He was shot more than three times that night, it surely should have killed him.

I chose not to question too many thoughts just yet, since I had no conclusive answers.

With that, I made my way to the bottom of the stairs and looked around, only to feel my heart jump in alarm when a loud thud came from the kitchen, along with the sound of my puppy yapping.

I hurried into the hallway, adamant on finding Michael, even if he planned on hiding again.

"Michael?" I called, growing nervous.

I slipped down the hall, my feet shifting slowly as I inched towards the kitchen where all of the noise had come from; despite it being eerily silent at this point in time.

Eventually, I made it to the doorway and stood for a moment, bowing my head and fidgeting with my fingers.

"Michael... I'm awake now..." I commented, finally taking a slow step into the kitchen and raising my head to see if anyone truly was in the room.

My heart fluttered, my eyes widening with disbelief as I stared at the tall man who stood over the counter, facing away from me. He was easily recognizable though. The blue mechanics suit and white mask that sat atop his head giving him away on the spot.

Michael was alive and there was no denying it.

I froze in my tracks, my jaw sat agape and my eyes wide. My heart was dancing in my chest and my hands were trembling— I didn't quite know what to do.

And when the masked man before me turned his head to peer over his shoulder, I nearly collapsed. I managed to catch myself though, not planning on passing out a third or forth time within the same day.

"Michael..." I repeated, unsure what to do.

The tall man slowly turned around, revealing his unzipped boiler suit, a black shirt sat beneath it, hiding his chest from my eyes. Though he was resting one of his hand against his collarbone.

"H-How are you..." I attempted to speak, though it was incredibly difficult. How do you react to reuniting with someone you thought was dead just a few hours ago?!

"How are you alive?" I finally managed, taking a few steps toward the stalker, taking in the many blood stains that covered his suit. "Have you been here this whole time?" I continued on, eventually standing only a few inches away from him. I felt delusional now that I was in his presence again— this didn't feel real.

Michael stood stiff, per usual, staying silent. Though he did lower his hand from his chest, holding it out for me to take.

My eyes lowered to look at his palm, shivering as I eyed the red that coated his skin. "Are you hurt?" I asked, my throat dry and my eyes watery.

I was trying my best not to make a fuss about Michael having survived being gunned down by his own doctor.

I slowly raised my hand and set it in Michael's palm, his fingers immediately wrapping around my own and pulling me closing to him. With that, he carefully set my hand against his chest, to which I responded with a faint gasp, the warmth of blood gradually seeping into my hand and covering my skin.

"The bullets..." I concluded, quickly pulling my hand away from him so I could make my way to the counter. I gabbed some paper towels and soaked them beneath the sink for a moment. Soon enough I squeezed out the paper towels and turned to the man before me.

"Can-can you um... Your shirt... Can you..." I swallowed hard, gesturing to the black shirt he wore beneath his coveralls.

Michael let out a heavy huff and pulled his arms from the sleeves of his suit, wrapping the sleeves around his hips a moment later. He eyed me for a moment, though his eyes were hardly noticeable from beneath his emotionless mask.

"Okay... And the shirt..." I continued, waiting for him to listen so that I could at least try to tend to his many gun wounds.

Michael stood still for a moment, watching me and studying my mannerisms before eventually giving in and pulling his dark shirt over his head, managing to avoid pulling his mask.

I inhaled sharply, lowering my head as to not look desperate or anything.

"Hold still..." I requested in a soft spoken voice, still unsure how to act around him after such a sorrowful past few days.

After another moment, I hesitantly raised my head, taking in what he looked like without his shirt. He was tall and built, strong and balanced.

My heart fluttered in my chest, my hand quickly rising so I could place the damp paper towel over one of his injuries; my other hand shifting to rest on his shoulder.

I could hear his heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly as he stared down at me, taking in every detail as he always seemed to do.

"Laurie was here earlier... So was Loomis..." I summarized, attempting to make conversation with my only real friend.

Michael's heavy breathing went silent a moment later, his hands tightening into fists.

He still wanted to kill Laurie.

"How soon do you wanna try again?" I asked, tilting my head to look up at him, dabbing his bloodied wounds in the process. Although I was helping him and talking to him about murder, my mind was more focused on the fact that he had been alive and hiding within my house this whole time.

I couldn't react how I truly wanted to, only because Michael showed no signs of emotion. It didn't feel right.

Instead, I felt joy bubble up within me, causing hints of a smile to spread across my face before being forced away by myself.

"Do you still want me to help?" I pursued the conversation, pushing any other thoughts to the back of my mind; i'd dwell on those ideas later.

"I've been thinking of plans... I just never went through with them..." I began, hanging my head and taking a step away from him, setting the blood stained paper towel down onto the counter so I could grab a few new pieces, to which I dampened and set against another one of Michael's bullet wounds.

"I never went through with them because I thought i'd never see you again... I thought you were dead... I saw no point in doing anything without you..." I explained with a shaky sigh, unintentionally spilling my feelings to my emotionless friend whom I loved.

"But Michael... Now that you're back... Now that... Now that we're together again..." I paused, looking up at him with a soft smile, watching as Michael tilted his head at me, his bare shoulders rising in anticipation— waiting for me to finish.

He slowly raised his fist, setting one of his hands against my back, fidgeting with the cloth of the wedding dress that clung to my body.

"We can kill them. We can kill Loomis... We can kill Laurie. We can kill them all, Michael."