A/N: Cold's gone. It feels good to have oxygen back. No more Nyquil for me!

The next morning, a piece of paper had been posted on the fridge. You didn't recognize it, so you assumed it was Sam's.

You didn't like that you couldn't be out past nine thirty. Yes, it was pitch black out at nine-thirty at night. Yes, it was so dark that the light from someone's living room could light up the front yard of the family across the street. But, what about Halloween? You couldn't go out and get free candy past eight thirty? That was just unfair.

"Hey, kid." Uncle U/N smiled as he came down the stairs, adjusting his tie. "You eat yet?"

"No, I just woke up. What are these?" You inquired, pointing to the list of rules on the fridge.

"After you went to bed last night, your Aunt, Sam, and I made up a list of rules to keep each other safe. On Halloween, you could either stay in, and we could buy some candy for just us, and we can watch movies, or we could leave, go to another town-- probably about an hour away-- and you could go Trick-Or-Treating there." He explained.

"Oh."

Silence.

"Well, I'm, uh, off to work. Have a good day." He kissed you on the forehead before grabbing his briefcase from beside the front door and leaving.

You grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast. The milk seemed to be hanging onto dear life, as it tasted bitter, but it hadn't curdled. You scrolled through news articles on your phone while you ate, and you came across one that caught your eye.

You didn't read it. You didn't even believe it. No way they'd cancel school over a serial killer. The education system wouldn't do that, they wanted to bore you more than anything. They might consider dismissing school days if there was a zombie apocalypses, but they probably wouldn't.

You waited for the bus, but ten minutes after it was supposed to be here, it didn't show. You couldn't have been the only one to see this article, as it was from The Haddonfield Daily. Everyone in town read The Haddonfield Daily; the elderly, the teenagers, some toddlers were probably taught to read through the news company!

A/N: You don't know how close I was to making the news company The Daily Punctilio. You don't know how close.

You text a friend you had made, F/N (Friends' name), to see if she saw it, too.

Y/N:

Did you see the article from The Haddonfield Daily? Apparently, all schools are dismissing classes until the first.

F/N:

I saw!! I can't believe it! I wonder who saw him.

Y/N:

I saw him in the sheets my Aunt hung up outside. Michael's old psychiatrist is staying with us until the first, to make sure everything's okay. I guess he knows Michael better than he knows himself.

F/N:

Wow, so it's true, then. We'll have to see how this goes. It could either be a bloodbath, or it could've just been some bozo playing a prank on you.

Y/N:

Maybe. I'll talk to you later.

F/N:

👋👋

You sighed. If you weren't going to school, what were you supposed to do? Stake out your yard, waiting for Michael to come back? You refused to be those kids from Monster House. It would scare Aunt A/N to death if you began to obsess over a man who might kill you.

"Why aren't you at school?" Sam asked, making you jump.

"They cancelled school until the first because I saw Michael." You replied, pulling the article back up. "Here, look. The bus didn't even come today."

Sam looked at the article before scratching his bald head. "It's probably for the best. Did you see the paper we made last night?"

"I did. Since I can't go to school, I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to spend my days if I can't go anywhere alone."

"Well, there's plenty to do. You could read, write, help around the house. Your Aunt said last night that she might do some yardwork today, you could help her with that. Now, I've got to run back to Smith's Grove Sanitarium today. I need to pick up the files on Michael. It's quite the drive, so I'll probably be back late afternoon/evening."

"Okay. Make sure you get the files on Michael Myers, and not Michael Myers on the files."

"Ha! No, I don't think I can kill him. I don't think anybody can kill him. I've tried, believe me." And with that, Sam closed the door, got into his Station-Wagon, and headed for the Sanitarium.

Not long after Sam left, there was a knock at the door. You peaked through the peephole, but didn't see anyone. You opened the door and screamed.

There, sitting on the welcome mat, dripping with blood, was the head of Tommy Brandyn with a note. The note had messy handwriting, like someone was trying to write neatly, but had too much Redbull and was bouncing off walls.

-----------------------------

"So, let me get this straight. This kid, Tommy, you say his name was?" Sherriff Morgan inquired.

"Yes. Tommy Brandyn." You replied, sniffling.

"Okay. Tommy's been picking on you and giving you a hard time about living in the old Myers house, right."

"Yes, Sherriff."

"And now, he shows up dead at your doorstep."

"Yes."

"Sherriff, I didn't kill him. I know it looks bad, but I've been here since I got home from school yesterday. I don't even know where he lives."

"Do you have anything with your handwriting on it inside?"

"Yeah. I've got my-my homework from last night."

"Would you mind bringing it to me. I'm no handwriting analysist, but I think that if I see your handwriting compared to the note, we can see if it really was you."

"Y/N? What's happened?" Sam asked, pulling into the driveway.

"The head of the boy who's been picking on her just appeared at your porch, Sam." Sherriff Morgan explained, turning to face the panicked old man.

"Well, Y/N, didn't do it, I can vouch for that."

"I need proof, Sam. Now, the kid is going to run inside and grab me a sheet of paper with her handwriting on it. Then, we can at least prove that it's not her who wrote the note."

"Well, Sherriff Morgan, there's got to be some mist-" You closed the front door and sighed.

This looked really bad. It looked like, since you were the only one that Tommy picked on in that school, you had killed him. You once cried because you had accidentally stepped on a caterpillar and killed it, and they think you're capable of murder? Preposterous.

You grabbed your homework, staring out your bedroom window. There had to be at least ten cops outside, plus some neighbors. For all you knew, half the Haddonfield police force was on your yard. But, something across the street caught your eye.

Peeking out from behind your neighbor's tree was an emotionless mask with brown hair, and a blue jumpsuit on a tall, buff figure.