Author's Note: This is my first Halloween fan fiction, so any feedback would be appreciated. Michael may not appear in this one, since this chapter will be more about setting the feel of the story and character first, but the second one will be up very soon. I don't own Halloween or anything related except Adriana Hart. Story rated M for swearing, adult situations (no sex), and slight gore (not to me, but you never know). Next chapter will be out sometime tomorrow if I get a review or two that lets me know I'm not wasting my time, and it'll be much longer. I write about 8-10 pages, this was about 4 pages. Oh and Adriana is 17 years old and Michael is 20 years old, so it'll be about a year when he escapes for Laurie, and no, I won't be writing 365 days ha, Enjoy!

Ashen, bleached, chalky, pallid, and dull; all words to describe the white abyss that surrounded me. I felt like a damn science experiment, what with all the watching, poking, and prodding. To the left beside a wall is a bed, frumpy and uncomfortable. Facing the bed is a high up 6 x 6 barred, window in which the daylight had shown through, and in the corner of the room was a camera that recorded my every move.

I wasn't provided nor permitted anything that could be potentially harmful, say a paper clip. I was currently on suicide watch; the reason I was admitted into Smith's Grove in the first place, but I'll get into that later.

"Miss Hart? Miss Hart! Are you even listening to a word I'm saying to you?" Dr. Jergens asked visibly irritated.

I continued to stare at him with an emotionless mask, a mask that I've made personally just for times like these. For years, I've put up a certain front, walls that no one yet has been able to tear down. They protected me from any harm, whether it is embarrassment or threats. I'd lie, fight, stay silent, anything to prevent anyone from penetrating my inner sanctum. It's not like anyone actually cares enough to try, so why should I let them in? There's no point what so ever. They could keep me here forever, it's not like I have anywhere else to be or anything else to do.

"You know what Miss Hart? I've had it. How am I supposed to help you if you don't let me or give me anything to work with? How do you expect to get back into the real world if you don't cooperate?" He tried yet again.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't want nor need your help Dr. Jergens?" I countered monotonously.

"Well, you've made that obvious, so I've decided to let go. This will be our last session together, and tomorrow you'll meet your new psychiatrist. Goodbye Miss Hart." He bid farewell for the last time.

He shut the door leaving me to my thoughts. He was the second psychiatrist and counting. I'd talk to them about random and unrelated junk like my favorite color or food etc… but that was about it. They were all trained to look, talk, and act the same way. As long as they got paid, they didn't care. They didn't want to help, they only did what they were told, and that was that. I was right up there on the list of hopeless patients, behind Michael Myers of course. The nurse came and brought me back to my quarters where she gave me my medications and such. I wondered who my next 'doctor' would be.

The next day, I was yet again retrieved to meet my new psychiatrist. I sat down across from an old looking man with white hair and friendly blue eyes, eyes that would normally be icy and full of life, but were now worn full by stress and basically life itself.

"Hello Miss Hart, I'm Dr. Loomis." He introduced himself.

I didn't reply yet, I wanted to see what his 'style' was first.

"Do you know why you're here today Miss Hart?" He pressed on.

"Yes." I stated simply.

"And why is that? Would you mind explaining Miss Hart?" He asked, nearly begging me with his eyes to talk.

I pulled up the sleeves to my blue, standard, Smith's Grove, shirt to reveal several scars and bruises on my wrists going up to my mid-lower-arm. They were of all colors of light brown to a murky yellow to a dark purple, all different lengths and depth; it was almost as if they were telling the story of my life. Some were self-inflicted, others were well, use your imagination.

"Ah yes, Miss Hart. That is why we're here today. Tell me, how did you get these scars?"

"Adriana." I said.

"What do you mean?" He inquired.

"My name is Adriana, please address me as such." I answered.

Before he could start again, I interrupted, "Look Dr. Loomis. I know why I'm here; I know why you're here. I don't feel like playing games with neither you nor anyone else. I don't need your help or anyone else's, I could care less if I get out of here or not, and I don't appreciate being treated like another one of your guinea pigs." I said.

"Adriana, I'm not here to play games either, and I can see why you would see as such-"I interrupted again.

"Oh cut the crap, you're not here to help. I've heard that a million times, and quite frankly, I'm sick of hearing it." I spat.

Dr. Loomis's POV

When Adriana Marcia Hart walked into the room, it was like déjà vu with Michael Myers all over again. I looked into her emerald green eyes and saw nothing. No emotion, no will, no strength, nothing. Her shoulders slumped in her chair showed that she was used to the curriculum and that she was going to respond as such. She, like Michael, in a way, tried taking a life. The only differences were that Adriana tried taking her own, and unlike Michael, she did not succeed, thus, she was in Smith's Grove.

I could tell that she was hiding within herself; she didn't want to come to terms to what she did. Yes, she knows right and wrong, black from white, rules, regulations, etc… but I'm not so sure she's as hopeless as people say she is. I took her case along with Michael's as they were the same, yet very different. I've learned from my mistakes, and I'm not here to play games like she said I am. She was putting up a front, and I will get to her if it's the last thing I do. I won't give up on her, like Michael, never again. Different cases call for different approaches, and I knew that Adriana would not deny what she did and thus here I am.

Adriana's POV

"How exactly did you get these scars?" Dr. Loomis repeated and seemed more determined.

Ah, he decided not to heed my warning, well, two can play at this game.

"A shick quatra razor, paper cutters, scissors, glass, cigarettes, you name it doc." I said amused, pushing my long medium brown hair back.

"So you're saying that they were all your doing?" He tried clarifying.

"Some yes, but the rest, you'll have to ask Daddy." I replied giving a rueful smirk.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened that night Adriana?" He asked me to recall that fateful night.

Flashback

"Oh princess, come to daddy will ya, I only want to play." My father drawled.

Behind the counter I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my breathing.

'I don't fucking think so Frank, not this time, not ever again.' I thought to myself anger and fear boiling.

Annoyed Frank continued, "Look bitch, we're doing this my way whether you like it or not. Why don't you make this easier on yourself and come out while you still can because when I find you, there will be hell to pay!" He hollered, his voice echoing through the house.

When his head was turned, I grabbed a kitchen knife and slashed viciously on his upper back, resulting in a deep gash that was now gushing blood, I could've sworn I almost hit the bone. He let out a painful bellow that rang in my ears. With the knife in my hand I tried running past him but he grabbed my forearm.

"Oh you just cost yourself food for a week you dirty whore!" Ignoring his pain, he punched me in hard in the ribs.

I heard a sickening crack, over and over again as he kicked my mid-section furiously, only pausing to yelp yet again when I stabbed the back of his calf. I rolled on my back and took advantage of the moment. Holding my stomach, I ran as fast as I could into the bathroom. He was now in a rage, screaming my name. He limped up the stairs and tried opening the locked door only to end up slamming it and trying to ram it open.

I've had enough at this point, of everything, of my this room, this house, my father, the beatings, the rape, the screams, the fights, school, my life, everything. I gave up, I was sick of fighting. I carved my wrists repeatedly, ignoring the stinging wet sensation. When the door finally gave in, I was passed out and police sirens could be heard in the background. The neighbors called due to hearing screams and numerous crashes. My father went into the next room to try and clean himself up, leaving me there to bleed out on the floor in fetal position with a knife by my side.

When the police came, he claimed that I did everything to him and the house and finally took my own life when I was to be caught. The police believed him, and once I was brought to the hospital, it was decided that I was to be institutionalized. That took a little while though for me to recover from four broken ribs and wrist, a sprained ankle, numerous gashes on my wrists and several bruises.

"So, you're telling me that it was all your father's doing and not your own?" Dr. Loomis asked.

"Most of it yes, if you don't like the truth, get the fuck over it because I don't have to justify myself or actions to you or anyone else." I growled.

"Adriana, I believe you." He said.

"I don't care what you think, Frank is full of bullshit and you can shove that pen right up your- what? What did you just say?" I asked shocked.

"I said I believe you, I never did understand, I mean, how could you break four ribs on your own and trash the entire house?" He asked skeptically.

I was still flabbergasted.

'Someone actually believed me? Someone was actually on my side? Too bad, that wasn't enough to change things.' I told myself so I wouldn't get my hopes up.

"Well, this is it for today Miss. Ha-, Adriana; I'll see you again Wednesday." He said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

I nodded and was escorted back to my room.

'Looks like my mask needs fixing,' I sarcastically told myself.

Dr. Loomis's POV

'Well, that was very informative.' I thought to myself.

I knew her father's story somehow didn't make sense, but this is just the beginning, now if only Michael would be more open.

This might not do very well for Michael's case, but Adriana needs someone to listen to, someone that won't object, some one she could trust. He knew the perfect person for that job, and the wheels inside his head started turning.