The morning breeze coming in through the broken window was cool and calming. Though it made it difficult to get out of bed. (Y/n) groaned with annoyance and slowly arose from her blankets. She opened up her closet and grabbed a change of clothes before heading into the bathroom.

The one thing (Y/n) had made sure to clean was the bathrooms. She hated dirty bathrooms and could never wash up in one so filthy.

She turned on the water to the shower and waited for it to heat up. In the meantime, she stripped and examined her body. A frown took over her lips and her brows furrowed, sadly.

Her breasts were bruised and her lip was busted. She had scratches on her hips and stomach. Her neck had bruises from her father's tight grip around her neck, as well as a cut. Finally, there were scratches on her thighs that still tired to bleed.

(Y/n) released a sigh and entered the shower, allowing the warmth to encompass her tired body. Her tired mind refused to work as she closed her eyes and let her arms droop to her sides. (Y/n) stood unmoving, wanting some relief from her crazy world.

It was a good 2 minutes before (Y/n) started washing herself and everything else she felt like doing. It wasn't much longer till she was out of the shower, wrapped in a towel as she plugged in her hair dryer. As she waited for it to heat up, (Y/n) began to conceal her visual injuries.

Soon she was drying her hair and getting dressed. Today she wore a long black dress complimented with a brown trench coat. Soon she was downstairs, eating and putting on her boots.

Her and Daniella were going to a special reading done by Dr. Loomis today. (Y/n) had been curious and Daniella had known about it. So both of them made sure that their schedule was cleared so they could go.

She was more than ready to learn about the crazed child who once lived in her home, and knowing he's alive, a part of her wanted to meet him. Of course when she addressed this desire, she was promptly called insane (rightfully so). Though it was his rightful home and she didn't want to do anything that would disgrace it.

The ride to the college campus was silent, as Daniella's father had wanted to drive us. At first (Y/n) had assumed there was some theft at the corner market they passed on the way, but that hadn't been the case.

"You know, they're moving Micheal Myer's today. He hasn't said anything in years apparently and now he's just taking up space." Her dad announces to his two passengers. (Y/n) nodded while Daniella scoffed to him about being over dramatic.

"His eyes will deceive you. They will destroy you. They will take from you: your innocence, your pride, and, eventually, your soul. These eyes do not see what you and I see. Behind these eyes one finds only blackness, the absence of light. These are the eyes of a psychopath."

~ Samuel Loomis, Halloween (2007).

The presentation was about an hour and a half long before everyone started to leave. Of course, the two girls had more plans than to just listen. Daniella grabbed (Y/n) by the wrist and tugged her along as they made their way toward the doctor.

"Excuse me, Dr. Loomis!" Daniella waved to the man, pulling (Y/n) next to her when they were finally in front of him. The doctor rose his head to look at the two young women who had addressed him. One fidgeting and one beaming with an innocent smile.

"How can I help you two?" He asked in a friendly voice. His smile crinkled his eyes and his hands folded together. Daniella's smile brightened before she patted (Y/n) on the back.

"This is (Y/n) (L/n), she moved into the Myer's house and she wants to know more about the infamous Micheal Myers." Daniella explained to Dr. Loomis.

"Ah. So you're the woman who was in the papers last weekend." Loomis asked, observing the woman. She was (y/h), with (h/l) (h/c) hair, with (y/body/type). Lovely to the eye, but definitely seemed the shy type. In other words, she looked almost exactly like her picture. The only difference was that she was actually in color.

"Yes... they insisted on that. Anyway... I was more hoping to know if there was anything I should avoid doing to the house to be respectful to the original owners and the people who died in the house." (Y/n) asked, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed because it was probably ridiculous. The older gentleman smiled widely though.

"That's a very kind notion, Ms. (L/n). Though I'm quite certain there is nothing you could do to disrespect their home. In fact, I'm certain they appreciate that you're cleaning it up. It hasn't been touched since the suicide you know." Dr. Loomis said, his smile softening, trying not to smile on Mrs. Myer's death— it was so unfortunate she had died, though it wasn't uncommon for parents or relatives of patients to spiral into a depression.

(Y/n) nodded before she left with Daniella, not wanting to take up anymore of the doctor's time. She went home after a ride from Daniella's dad, before getting back to working on the house.

When dawn awoke the town (Y/n) found herself out of the shower and cleaning up the house once more. She was hoping that in a week or so, the bottom floor would at least be decent to look at. Though, in the moment, (Y/n) couldn't truly bring herself to think about the house at the moment as she thought about everything that had brought her here.

The job loss, the abuse, her mother dying, her father turning his rage entirely toward her, her father taking things so far she finally left. Then a part of her wondered if there was the slightest chance she was similar to the murderous child who once lived here. They both had a sucky male figure, both their mothers killed themselves, and both were abused. Perhaps, that's what brought her here now. The irony.

(Y/n) decided to take a short break to clear her head. She got herself a glass of water from the (mostly) cleaned up kitchen and a plate of pancakes that she had made yesterday. She didn't hear her back door open, she didn't hear the removal of floorboards, and she definitely didn't hear the silent footsteps of the man slowly approaching her.

When (Y/n) finally turned, she gasped in shock, fear, and surprise. There stood the infamous Michael Myers. He was taller than she had imagined, quite well built as well. And here he was now, most likely going to kill her.

"May I have a second to speak...?" She asked, trying to ignore the urge to back up. The killer slowly tilted her head at the woman. "I-I know this is an odd request, but would it be so bad if I stayed here? Clean up the place and you could come and stay in your home?"

The killer took a step forward. (Y/n) smiled softly and closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate. She didn't care though, she died with her mother after all. Maybe a part of her was ill as well, not caring about who she was putting at risk with her offer.

Suddenly, there was a strong grasp around her throat and her body was raised off the ground like she weighed nothing. Her body trembled due to the slow decreasing of oxygen, but she didn't care.

She abruptly fell with a loud thump, a whimper leaving her as she scraped the island she had installed on the way down. There was a pain on her side and the killer stared down at her.

"I-is that a yes?" She didn't receive a response, so she figured she asked the wrong question. "A trial?"

Michael nodded. He wanted to see if she would be true to her word. That meant she couldn't rat him out or even disobey him. At least that's what Michael thought. He watched as the woman slowly rose to her feet, holding her side.

"Alright... I have work this weekend and a class tomorrow." (Y/n) said, Micheal shook his head once more. She gave him a look of confusion before it suddenly sunk in. "I-I'm not allowed to leave on this trial period...?"

The masked killer nodded slowly, a new feeling building up inside of him. Possession and obsession fueling his brain. He could make prey out of anyone, but owning someone? Having possession over someone like the sanitarium had possession over him? This feeling gave him a rush unfamiliar to him that he was more than ready to investigate.

She was fixing his home, offered to become his possession, and wouldn't rat him out to the cops of Loomis for that matter. Micheal knew that she was now his.

"Alright... I'll call out sick to everything then a-and we'll figure out this... dynamic and communication." She replied, grabbing her phone. Micheal listened, standing over her shoulder as she called various numbers, telling them the same thing over and over. "Well... now I guess this is official?"

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