You'd fallen asleep near the end of the film, and woken up the next morning in your bed, tucked in nicely with a fluffed pillow. You stretched, your body quivering from the strain, sitting up afterwards with a contented sigh. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, noting that it was earlier than you usually wake up, 8:00 am. You didn't want to risk waking anyone as you crept towards the stairs, wanting to grab your laptop and head back up to start work in bed with a cup of hot cocoa or tea. You yawned as you passed through the living room, stretching once more after filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. Maybe you should make some drinks for the others, but you had no idea what they'd like. You could guess Danny would be a hot chocolate kind of guy, reading his bubbly personality. Jason? He'd probably drink tea because of the earthy flavour, and you thought Michael would enjoy a black coffee. You decided to take your chances, the worst that would happen is that they wouldn't drink it. You waited for the kettle to boil, then poured the water into cups with their selective flavouring added however it needed to be added. You left the three cups for the boys on the counter, then took yours and went to grab your laptop.

You come to a halt as you stare at the coffee table. Your rocks from Danny were gone, as was your laptop.

"What..." you furrow your brow and scan the room. The picture was safe in its place but you wanted those rocks on display just like Michael's rebuilt china bowl. Speaking of... you race back to the kitchen and stare at the displayed china. You hadn't noticed before, but the fancy china bowl was missing, nowhere to be seen, completely disappeared. You were dumbfounded. They had been here last night, and Michael and Jason wouldn't touch them, Danny wouldn't either. Had someone broken in? No way one of the murderers wouldn't have noticed and stopped them, and a sensible thief would have taken more than some rocks and broken china. You take a curious sip of your drink, shaking your head. What had happened? Who had taken all of your gifts? You can't help but frown, setting your glass down on the table. You didn't want to drink it anymore, bummed and honestly a little bit nervous despite your three over-qualified bodyguards.

"Chin up, Honeybuns. What's the matter with you?" Danny limped into the room, heading straight for the refrigerator.

"Someone took the rocks you gave me. Michael's china, too. And my laptop." you mumble out, reaching to pick up Danny's hot cocoa and hand it to him.

"Oh, why thank you," Danny took the cocoa with a grateful nod, lifting his mask halfway as always, and continued, "Not much of a surprise, he's always taking my things."

You tilt your head, "What?" Danny takes a sip of his drink, waiting a moment and savouring the flavour before swallowing,

"Y'know, the guy in the walls?" terror wracks your brain and body and you tense, a shiver running up and down your spine.

"What?!" you hiss out, gaze settled on Danny, determined to get a straight answer out of him, "What guy in the walls? Is this some sort of joke?" Danny tilted his head.

"You haven't seen him? Heard him? Suspected that he's there? He's not very quiet all the time, y'know. I know you're unobservant but you to have at least heard him one time! You've lived here your whole life!" Danny seemed just as genuinely confused as you, but for different reasons. There was a man living in the walls of your house? What the ?

"H-How long has he been living there?" you step away from the table and towards the walls, pressing your ear against it but hearing nothing.

"He doesn't know, lost track of time." Danny was still nonchalant, as if this wasn't an absolutely horrifying discovery.

"What's his name? How old is he? What does he want?" the questions that were pooling inside your head made it pound and scream with warning alarms, red flags erupting left and right.

"Hasn't told me his name yet, he's not too fond of people. He looks about my age," that told you nothing! You didn't know how old Danny was, and the 'not fond of people' only served to make you more nervous. You were a person. If he wasn't too fond of you you could be in danger.

"And you've just... hung out with him?" you scoff, not able to believe your own ears. Your brain was racing but frozen at the exact same time, how, you didn't know. Danny shrugged, sipping his drink again.

"I'll go get your things back for you if I can find him." he sets his drink down and fixes his mask. "I still don't know the total layout. It's like a maze." You had never questioned why the walls were so thick, why you heard random creaks or thumps in the night, especially now that Michael, Jason and Danny were living with you, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being an absolute dumbass, having had a man living in the walls of your childhood home without your knowledge. Things had gone missing before, but you simply blamed it on being a scatterbrain, ditzy, forgetful. Along with the fear came a solemn... acceptance. He hadn't killed you so far, right?

"I-I want to see him. Talk to him." you blurt out, and Danny chuckles.

"You won't get much out of him, he's hardly spoken to me. Just don't get your hopes up Sweetheart." Danny limped away and you followed close behind.

Your heart was beating fast as Danny stopped in front of a mirror, a mirror you used every day before leaving the house for work, grocery shopping, anything like that just to check your hair and makeup before stepping out into public. He raised a fist and tapped on the wall three times, rocking back and forth on his good leg while the other hung limply.

"Hey, kid! Open up!" Danny shouted after a moment of nothing. Suddenly, the mirror rocked, opening as if it were a door, but only a crack. You barely saw the porcelain mask on the other side when it snapped shut again with a thunk. "Come on, you know who she is! She wants to meet you." Danny gripped the opening side of the mirror and tugged, but it didn't budge. His voice took on the sound of a whine, "Pleeease!" moments passed, and the mirror trembled again, opening just a crack. You took a startled step away, as if behind the mirror sat nightmares and hellfire, ready to drag you in and kill you. You were sure the reality wasn't far off. "There you go, come on out! She just wants her gifts back, and she wants to introduce herself."

Through the crack in the door was a tall figure, seeing as the mask, the only part you could make out, was so high up. You could tell they were too tall for the mirror, maybe even as tall as Michael or Jason. The man's face was hidden by what seemed to be a porcelain mask, only allowing you to see his vibrant green eyes. His hair was black, curly and there was lots of it, clearly unkept and unwashed for an extended period of time. He tilted his head; all of your serial killer friends would do that. It was odd, a simple act showing curiosity and intrigue. He was sizing you up, yet another thing your serial killer friends would do. It didn't take half a brain to know this guy would be dangerous and possibly violent. The smile you forced was pathetic and scared but those facts seemed to calm down the man enough for him to open the mirror a little more. With a shaky hand, he pointed a finger at you, gaze directed at Danny. In a low, high-pitched and wobbly voice the man said,

"(Y-Y/N)?" you almost hadn't heard him, and you honestly wished you hadn't. The childish voice the man used was... petrifying, rooting you to the ground like a terrified oak tree.

"Yeah, this is (Y/N). You know her, obviously." Danny's words didn't send a good message into your head, though it was something you'd already realized. This weird wall-man had totally been watching you. For how long? No clue, but you knew it was at least three months. That's when one of your new band tees had gone missing, and never showed up again.

The mirror was opened a little more, and you took in the man's clothing- A white shirt, dark pants, black suspenders with silver buckles and a green cardigan, all of which were visibly covered in grime, dirt and dust, just like his mask.

"H-Hi." you forced out in a small voice, trying to get your legs to work again. The mirror shifted open a little more. That's when the smell hit you; strong, suffocating BO, almost drowned out by the reek of dust and mildew. "W-What's your n-name?" you craved the comforting presence of the vicious mother hen Michael, or the caring gaze of Jason on your back. Ghostface was still injured, and this tall, lanky man would most likely overpower him if it came to a fight.

"Brahms." the man's childish voice made you shudder, and you almost blacked out from pure fear as the mirror was opened up the rest of the way and Brahms stood to his full height. He was tall, at least 6' 6" and only ever so slightly shorter than Michael and slightly taller than Jason. His shoulders were slumped, and you knew if he straightened his back he'd easily be taller than Michael himself, the tallest man you'd thought you'd ever seen. Brahms tilted his head at your silence, watching you as you stared intently.

"Nice to finally hear your name, Brahms." Danny broke the awkward silence and stepped/limped in between you and Brahms, sensing your discomfort. He extended a hand, which Brahms originally flinched away from, before taking it hesitantly and giving it a small shake. Heavy footsteps were accompanied by the burning gaze of Michael Myers and you relaxed instantly, though you shouldn't have. Michael had sensed your fear and knew something was wrong. He was in the room in an instant, frozen in place as he took in Brahms. The porcelain-masked man snapped his gaze to Michael, shrunk into himself, then retreated rapidly back into the walls, the mirror slamming shut and shaking the pane of glass. Michael was on you and Danny in an instant, quickly scanning you both before turning to the mirror. He gripped the side that had previously been opened and gave a mighty heave; the mirror pulled away momentarily, a tiny little crack, then it slammed back shut. Brahms was almost just as strong as Michael, and he visibly hated that. The moment the mirror slammed back shut, Michael had his blade out and ready.

It took a long while for Michael to calm down and put his knife away. He was following along the walls, staring at picture frames as he passed them with tense shoulders. He could clearly hear Brahms moving inside the walls, but you couldn't. Danny continued to reassure you that Brahms wouldn't hurt you, that he admired you and had been intrigued by your presence for a long time, but that wasn't exactly reassuring. It was terrifying to know that this tall, strong, unstable man had been watching you through your walls for who-knows-how long, and you didn't even know how he got there or where he came from. You were halfway through a panic attack when Michael finally gave up following Brahms along the walls and came to sit beside you. He set his blade down on the coffee table, making sure you saw it. He was trying to comfort you, and comfort you needed for what happened next; three sharp knocks on the wall by the mirror. Danny seemed delighted that Brahms hadn't been scared away, and he raced to the mirror and tapped back. The mirror was very quickly opened then shut, and Brahms had left something on the ground at the base of the mirror. A china bowl, filled with Danny's rocks. Ghostface plucked it up and squealed, rushing to you and setting it down on the coffee table. Michael was on his feet again, but he didn't move away from you and Danny, though his watchful gaze was following along the walls, most likely as Brahms moved through them.

"What a sweet dude, 'ey?" Danny dropped back onto the couch and began to rearrange the rocks. 'Sweet' wasn't the word you would use. You would use something closer to 'wants to make you run away' or 'absolutely fucking terrifying', but as not to ruin Danny's good mood you smile a tight smile and nod.

"I still need my laptop though..." you sigh, and look at the mirror expectantly, as if it'll open just as you spoke for pure convenience; it didn't. You let out a sigh and bite your lip, weathering the skin. You couldn't help but feel a little bit of anxiety- scratch that, a lot of anxiety at the thought of yet another murderous figure living in your home, one that was there without your consent and one that had been there before you'd even let Danny in.

"Brighten up, Doll. He won't hurt ya. That goes for you too, Mikey, he's just living off (Y/N) like we all are." Danny waved a hand in the air as he spoke, leaning back against the couch and placing a hand behind his head, feet propped up on the coffee table. "He's just like me, you and Jason," Danny tilted his head, "Where is the big guy, anyways?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen him all day." you say, leaning back as well. Michael stayed standing still, his head scanning the room in a rhythmic fashion from mirror to boot closet to kitchen door and back.

"So what do you usually do in your free time around here? My leg won't let me hunt." Danny mumbled the last part almost angrily, most likely directed at Jason. You actually have to think for a moment. You usually weren't very productive. Your parents always had you doing things like chores or cooking meals, and any free time you had was used to write your articles. The few things you did other than work were things like reading or napping.

"Not much. I'm not used to this newfound freedom." you smile sadly to yourself, your words gathering the attention of both Michael and Danny.

"Is that a reference to someone's old tragic backstory?!" Danny leaned in, intrigued. "I told you my name! You owe me!" he claimed and crossed his arms, letting out a 'hmph!'. You bite your lip again, and finally break.

"Fine, but-" you're cut off by Danny's squeal of excitement, and you let out a huff as he calms himself before you continue, "It really isn't all that much."

"I don't care! Start from the very beginning!" he urged, so you did.

You started with you as a child, when everything was moderately better. Before your father got so addicted to drugs, before your mother became attached to alcohol as a coping mechanism, before they took their anger out on you. When the mornings were filled with light music and chocolate chip pancakes, when you looked forward to the bus ride home from school because it meant you got to see them again. When you would do crafts all day long on saturdays and watch movies all through sundays, your 'Fast Food Friday's' and the days you'd have sleepovers with your best friend. You told Danny and Michael about the day you'd gotten suspended from school for getting into a fight with a kid who was making fun of another kid. You'd punched him right in the face, but he'd shoved you over and you'd sprained your wrist in return. Your parents had been fuming, not because of the suspension, but because they couldn't host their special mixer party when their daughter had a broken wrist; they always had fancy parties you didn't particularly enjoy, save for the opportunity to dress up in a pretty gown and have your mother put your hair in a bun. They'd hit you for the first time that night when you'd told them you would break your own wrist if it meant it would stop those stupid parties from happening. They'd overreacted, and apologized afterwards, but that was when they stepped off the deep end.

From then, they would get angry more easily. They had said you were too 'emotionally taxing' and that you drove them mad. That's when your mother and father had gone out and had one too many drinks, leading to an inevitable addiction to alcohol and therefore more... physical fights and mental abuse. You had to pause many times while telling your story, but Danny and especially Michael waited patiently as you gathered yourself. Your father had been offered cocaine one night by one of his friends, and grown addicted just like that. You never knew how easy it was to fall into an addiction until you saw your parents ripped away from you and completely redesigned by these drugs and alcohol. The final breaking point, the night when you lost everything was another night you'd gotten into a fight at school leading to a week-long suspension. The kid deserved it; he had claimed you'd turn out to be a whore just like your mother, a trainwreck, that you should just go get yourself killed somehow to save yourself the trouble. You'd broken his nose but he'd slammed your head in a locker, giving you a nasty concussion. A concussion that hadn't been helped by the vicious beating you'd received that night from your parents as punishment for being so problematic and troublesome. That night marked your first near-death experience. Your mother's depression pills had looked oddly tempting, but you had tried to down too many at a time and thrown up. You had a weak gag reflex, but you were grateful. If it weren't for that night you never would have met Danny and Michael.

It took all of your willpower not to cry during the next parts when your friend had moved away and you'd been left completely and utterly alone. You were left to cope with your problems all by yourself and... it wasn't good. Emotions were hard to come across other than blind rage and crippling anxiety, most nights spent crying in bed or patching up wounds from your parents or other kids. You remembered the night when your mother was at the bar and hadn't told you, the night with the camping rope. Your friend, the one who had left two years prior had texted you out of the blue, complete luck, or maybe fate. She had brought a tiny little bit of life into your life for the night you had messaged. You were pretty sure you scared her off with how much you'd changed; your new dark sense of humour and insensitivity, no matter how hard you tried you were always too snappy and short-tempered. She never texted again after saying goodbye that night, faking comfort until she had an excuse to ditch you like everyone else.