Sirens blared throughout the disturbed neighborhood. The flashing of blue and red lights reflecting off of the many cars and windows that sat attached to the walls of homes. gaining the attention of unknowing neighbors and drawing them outside.

Loomis stood near an ambulance, talking to an officer who followed one of the stretchers towards the vehicle.

Police hurried around the neighborhood, flashlights in hand.

News vans had began to pull up around the area to film, causing a bit of a ruckus.

Laurie sat on the front steps of the house, crying her heart out while a small blanket sat draped over her shoulders; a doctor cleaned the wound on her head in the process, he'd already done what he could to the teens sliced arm.

I sat completely still, seated in the grass of the front yard, a blanket tossed loosely to my side.

I stared blankly at the ambulance just ahead of me before lowering my head and staring down at my trembling hands.

Tears trickled down my face, unable to stop.

My heart was beating slowly, my breathing unsteady and weak.

I could hear people talking.

The police, the doctors and Loomis. The people standing off to the side trying to make sense of what had gone on tonight.

I shook my head slowly, fighting the urge to sob uncontrollably.

I inhaled sharply, a choked cough escaping my mouth as I raised my head to watch as a few doctors made their way towards me to examine me. I stared past them, watching all of the stretchers as they were pulled to their own ambulance.

I could only make out three stretchers from where I was, and I didn't know how many people Michael had killed since I hadn't actually seen a body. So all I could assume was that Michael was one of the bodies laid out across one of those things.

I couldn't help but to let out a pained cry and bury my face into the palms of my hands.

___________

-----

I sighed shakily, begrudgingly getting up from the couch to shut the television off as the news channel continued to tell about the murders from the night before.

"Three victims accounted for, two survivors and two kids caught in the crossfire. All accounted for." The lady on the TV explained, running her fingers through her caramel colored hair for a moment.

"Eh- we do have some news on the suspected killer though. Michael Audrey Myers-" I quickly turned the TV off, not wanting to hear what they had to say about him.

I shook my head slowly and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the soft fabric of my nightgown against my body that ached for food.

I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. I didn't sleep last night either.

After the crime scene was cleaned up, the news reporters had asked to interview Laurie and I. But we both denied. And since I didn't have very bad wounds, I was free to return home. The same went for Laurie, but she did have to stay behind with the doctors for a little while longer, but not overnight.

With a saddened huff I slowly made my way to the kitchen, not for food, but just for a reason to move around instead of sit in the same place and cry the whole day.

It almost felt like a chore though.

Once entering the kitchen I shuffled towards the table and stared down at it, staring at the books I had stolen just a few days before.

I frowned, tilting my head at them and biting my bottom lip.

I stacked all of the books together and picked them up, now returning to the living room and tossing the informative pieces to the ground with a thud.

I let out a groan and made my way to the trashcan that sat against the wall in the hallway. I pulled it into the living room and hurried into the kitchen once again.

I fiddled through the drawers until I found a small box of matches, I snatched them up into my palms and slowly returned to the living room.

I stood in front of the trashcan and dropped the books into it with a shaky huff.

I lit a match a moment later, and dropped it in.

It took a while, but eventually the books caught onto the small flame and began to burn. Individual papers beginning to shrivel up and turn to ash right before my teary eyes.

"God dammit..." I muttered, covering my face with my hands for a moment and shaking my head, feeling the warmth of my dangerous fire beginning to wash over me.

With that, I realized I should probably take the trash outside. Garbage day would come soon anyways, Olif would probably appreciate it.

I let out a sight and bent over, picking up the flaming trashcan and wincing when the hit hit my fingertips.

Tears sprung into my eyes, the pain making my hands tremble, but I couldn't just drop the can of burning books, so I forced myself to make my way to the front door.

I set the can down and grabbed the doorknob, only to jump slightly when a loud knock emanated from the other side.

I bit my bottom lip and wiped my eyes, pushing the trashcan behind me to hide my psychotic tendencies from whoever was at the door.

And finally, I pulled it open a smidgen, peering outside to see who had come to visit me.

I was intending on faking a smile, but the face I saw before me completely erased that plan.

"Samuel Loomis." I stated, my tone dropping to that of a menacing one.

The doctor who stood outside of my house raised his hand and waved a bit, acknowledging my hatred for him in a split second before getting to the point of his visit, "Y/n. Hello. Please just call me Loomis-"

"No." I stated, my glare sending daggers his way.

Loomis sighed, defeated for a moment before continuing. "I know i'm probably the last face you would like to see on this day. But I have news I must tell you! You may have seen it on the television already, but perhaps you have not, so I thought it was a deed that I do owe you to tell you that-"

I quickly interrupted the old doctor, pulling the door open and spinning around to pick up the burning trashcan, the smell of smoke sudden filling the air.

"Y/n? Is that smoke I smell- ah-" he shook his head, realizing he was getting off topic.

"No, no. Sammy, trust me it's fine. I was just baking cookies before you came. Would you like some?" I asked, a low growl evident in my voice as I picked up the can and turned around to face Loomis once again.

I didn't wait for his response, and instead threw the trash at him, allowing the flaming books to fly through the air, one of them hitting the doctors coat and singeing it before it collapsed to the paved ground with a thud.

Loomis gasped and let out a few profanities before stumbling back, and in a panic, patting down his long coat.

"By god! God dammit!" He blurted, shock written across his aging face.

"Hey- fuck you and your gun. You motherfucker." I taunted him, adjusting the burnt trashcan in my hands before throwing it at him and hitting him in the chest.

The doctor groaned, holding his chest and taking a few steps back, "Y/n, I-"

"Get the hell away from me." I commanded, and with that I slammed the door shut in his face.

I could hear the older man collect himself and try to piece together what had just happened, so I stood on my toes and watched him through the peep hole.

He took a step forward and carefully picked up the burnt books now that the flames had died down. He winced in pain when the heat met his skin before he tossed the books, including his own, into the small trashcan and stood back up.

He let out a weak sigh and turned around, making his way down the pavement and to the sidewalk. He sat the garbage down and begrudgingly began to walk away, but not before he uttered a frustrated "God damn you."

...

A moment passed, and my heart rate began to slow, tears had returned to my eyes and I dropped to the floor, feeling even more miserable than before. Nothing felt right.

I didn't feel real.

I felt like I didn't actually exist now that the thing I loved was dead and/or gone.

I was simply a little memory, moving about in a world that never knew I existed.

I began to sob, absolutely dreading the way I was feeling.

Why couldn't Michael be here with me?

Holding me so that I felt that everything was alright?

That I was real? And that I would be safe from people like Dr. Loomis?

"Michael..." I whined, pushing myself to my feet and hugging my waist, "Oh god..." I shook my head, closing my eyes and stumbling towards the stairs as I mourned my only real friends demise.

I had to get my mind off of him, despite how absolutely impossible that sounded.

I managed to make my way upstairs before I leaned back against the wall.

I breathed, it felt wrong but I did it nonetheless.

Slow inhales, heavy exhales.

Maybe a nice, long, hot shower?

Those are always relaxing.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Anything to save my mind from this torture; even if just for a moment.