A/N: To @jojitozier , thank you for the definition of Sanitarium/Sanitorium. It was quite helpful (for further chapters in this book). I appreciate it! Also, I can guarantee that I won't have this chapter done on Halloween, so either way, happy Halloween! Here's a Halloween Mix I made for a party that I be having: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GVA2XTpYVwOmjaEqCAxk6?si=5008afbb4c794ac7

The head doctor, Dr. Hoffman, seemed like a quack to you. He just didn't seem legit. He didn't have any business cards, official awards, or any books in his office on mentality.

"I want you to keep a journal. Write in it every day, and present it to the psychiatrist I've assigned to you. You'll meet him in the afternoon. We'll preform a psych. eval. tomorrow, and determine what exactly you need. Terry, Krist; take her to her room." Doctor Hoffman handed you a large journal. He had scribbled your name on it.

"I told you. I have no reason to be here." You mumbled.

"That's not for you to decide, as you're a minor. You need a grown-up to decide that."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"Well, you are."

You slammed your hand down on the mahogany desk and finally made eye contact with Doctor Hoffman. "I don't care if I'm a minor. Treat me maturely. And there is no way I will cooperate with you because I have no reason to be here!"

"Terry, Krist-"

Terry (the macho dude) and Krist (the Chad dude) grabbed you by the arms and began to drag you out of the room.

"I know Doctor Samuel Loomis! He'll fix this, I swear to you!" You cried.

"Well, an even better reason for you to be here. Sam Loomis is so close to kicking the bucket that death himself is standing on his doorstep. Goodbye, Ms. Y/N." Doctor Hoffman stood and shut the door.

You didn't go peacefully. Seriously, any onlooker would have thought that a very large toddler had been denied a candy bar and was being taken out of the store by two angry parents. You were kicking and screaming, and managed to successfully kick Krist in the abdomen.

They brought you into a boring, white room. There was a bed with a floral bedspread that you'd find at Grandma's house, a desk, a chair (duh), a dresser, and a window that looked out onto the street. There was also another door, which appeared to lead to a bathroom.

"Good riddance." Krist said, distaste in his voice. Apparently, someone was holding a grudge against you kicking him.

Terry closed the door (quite aggressively) and you heard it click.

For the next thirty minutes, you were pounding on the steel door. You didn't bother screaming, because, as heavy as the door was, it was very thin. Anyone should have been able to hear your banging. You only stopped when your fists were bruised and it hurt to even touch your hand. Admitting defeat, you sat down on the bed and sighed.

So far, you'd met three people you didn't like, and you'd been here for maybe thirty minutes. Terry seemed like a real joy, and Krist seemed like the life of the party. And Doctor Hoffman, he seemed real fun.

The door leading to the hallway had a little window on it. It was bigger than a peephole, but it wasn't like the window on the wall. It was probably six inches by ten inches, and it was as thick as the door, which wasn't saying much. You only noticed it because you felt like somebody was watching you, and somebody was.

Sam.

Sam had followed you here, checked in as a visitor, and come to see you.

"Sam! Sam, get me out of here!" You cried, running up and banging your swollen fists on the door and ignoring all of the pain.

"I can't," Was his reply. "I don't have legal guardianship over you. I just came to tell you that you received a letter. I thought you might want it." He bent down and slid an envelope between the door and the floor.

You grabbed the letter and opened it, knowing immediately who it was from.

"Sam, do something for me." You whispered hoarsely, tired from all of the yelling you'd done. "Try to convince Aunt A/N and Uncle U/N to discharge me. Please."

"I'll try. I have to go now. Sooner or later, someone will see that I've still got my gun on me, and that won't end well. Stay strong, Y/N."

Sam's figure slowly left the window, and you felt more and more dread the farther he got. You had a slight idea of what Michael meant by 'I will get you out', and you weren't looking forward to it. Did you want out of here? Yes. But, you didn't really want to have a whole hospital slaughtered for you. You didn't know if that's what he was going to do, but that seemed like the most Michael Myers thing he'd do to get you out.

You sat down at the desk and sighed in defeat. Nothing made sense. You didn't understand why Michael had been following you for months. You didn't understand what he meant by 'DNA' and 'Family'. None of it-

"Oh, my God."

You put two and two together, and it finally made sense.

Michael had been following you because somehow or another, the two of you were related.

Oh, what a pleasant fact.