October 14nd, 1990
Northwestern University
1:45 pm
"But some of the best known psychopathic killers showed thorough planning before committing their crimes," Freddie said from the front row of one of Northwestern University's best lecture halls.
"Ah, but you can be impulsive and still be thoughtful can't you?" Charlotte asked her student from the front of the classroom. She leaned against her desk as she faced her students. She truly enjoyed her new job and was lucky to have gotten a teaching position so quickly but she missed working with patients. "Yes Lucy?"
"I think the impulsiveness comes in the form of not thinking ahead at the possible consequences of their actions, not so much in their ability to plan the actual crime," a Master's student in the back of the room offered. Charlotte nodded her head and let Freddie respond.
"But by saying someone is impulsive; it suggests a lack of planning doesn't it? I mean how can a person who meticulously plans their crimes be impulsive?"
"Because even by planning they are impulsive and reckless. Like, this person plans to the detail how to murder his wife right, but once he's done he has no plan on how to cover it up or get away with it. He was too busy thinking on the act, not the consequences," Lucy countered.
"But the act itself is not impulsive. It's planned, the person is just short sighted about it," Freddie argued.
"Short sightedness is impulsive," Lucy said.
"Short sightedness is not the same things as impulsiveness," Freddie said but Charlotte held up her hand before Lucy could respond.
"I hate to do this to you all. Great discussion today but it's time for you to go. Look over the case file of Kenneth Taylor for Monday," She said and turned to collect her things. She paused when she realized no one had moved. "Yes?"
"Professor Hurst?" Freddie asked with a sheepish smile. "We were wondering if you could tell us what Michael Myers was like."
Charlotte sighed and looked down at her things. She was still upset over being fired and being robbed of her opportunity to work with the notorious murderer. It was her dream to work with someone as psychologically fascinating as Michael Myers and she was unlikely to get such a chance again. She was not one, however to deny her students information she herself acquired.
"He was incomparable to anything I have ever seen before," she said and the others watched her with grim expressions. "I wasn't there long enough to be able to tell you anything substantial but I can tell you this. There is something in that brain of his. He isn't a breathing machine programmed to kill. There was thought going on behind those eyes and I was able to see it. I want you all to remember that the next time you bring a Samuel Loomis book into my classroom."
Some of the students laughed softly but others were too disturbed by the thought of Michael Myers to do anything but frown. The students all rose form their seats as Charlotte placed her things in her bag.
"Thanks, Professor,"
"Bye, Professor,"
"Have a good day, Ma'am,"
He students said as they filed out of the room. Charlotte smiled and nodded at them as they passed before following her last student out and locking the classroom door. She was having trouble getting Michel Myers out of her head. She had been fascinated before. Now that she had been able to be in the same room as him sit across from him and talk to him, she was downright obsessed. She went through every piece of paperwork she had on the Myers case. She reviewed her own notes every night looking for any little clue she could find on who he was inside his head.
The more and more she searched the more frustrated she grew. She would never be able to get anywhere deeper into her analysis of him if she couldn't see him again. She felt her blood boil as she thought about that asshole Larson. What she wouldn't give to set Michael loose on him for a few moments. A good scare would do the arrogant prick well.
She pulled her coat around her tightly as she stepped outside into the chilly air and made her way to her car. She had found a comfortable apartment only a few miles from school and she enjoyed the walk to and from campus. Especially in fall, it being her favorite season. Leaves scraped across the ground as the wind took hold of them and a strand of Charlotte's honey colored fell out of its bun.
The streets were relatively empty, as they usually were this time of day. Children were not yet back from school and parents were not back from work. It was nice to be out alone with her thoughts and the chilly breeze was oddly comforting. As she walked her mind melted back to Michael Myers. His eyes had been so dark. It wasn't even just the color that made them so dark, it was what was underneath them. The relative blankness seemed to her just a cover for the tumultuous sea of emotion she knew had to lie beneath the surface.
She believed that some people were born broken, born wrong, but she didn't believe a person could be born completely without emotion. Even sociopaths had basic emotions. Dr. Loomis was a brilliant man but he got so wrapped up in his belief that Michael Myers was emotionless and nothing but a vassal for pure evil that he lost sight of his job as a doctor. His responsibility should have been to take care of Michael try to figure him out, not treat him like he was less than human.
She was ripped from her thoughts when she heard her name called and heavy footsteps approaching her from behind. She spun around and saw a small group of her students running towards her.
"Professor Hurst!"
"Dr. Hurst!"
They called. Freddie was among the pack of students running toward her and she walked up to meet them. As they ran a few of them waved newspapers in the air and shouted over each other.
"He's out! He's out!" Jason yelled and Charlotte felt her small smile slipping from her lips.
"What?" she asked and Freddie held his newspaper out. She read the newspaper headline three times before it began to sink in. She blinked repeatedly as she processed the news.
'MICHAEL MYERS ESCAPES DANVERS STATE MEDICAL HOSPITAL: FOUR DEAD IN MURDERERS WAKE'
She took the newspaper from Freddie's hand and scanned the article. Not much was said about the details of the escape and the article contained mostly history and speculation. Her students watched her intently and waited for her response.
"Think he'll go back to Haddonfield?" Jason asked and Charlotte looked away from the newspaper and up toward him.
"What? Oh, yes, I suspect he would," she said and glanced back at the newspaper before murmuring. "He always goes home."
"Only a couple more weeks until Halloween," Richard said and Jason smiled.
"You know what that means," Jason said and made a stabbing motion with his hand. Freddie hit him in the arm and motioned to Charlotte with a jerk of his head. Charlotte stared at the newspaper a few more moments before looking up at her students.
"Can I have this Freddie?" she asked and Freddie nodded.
"Sure thing doc," he said and Charlotte smiled.
"Thanks."
"See you Monday," he said and the small group of students went away. Their professor's discomfort was obvious and no one wanted to prod her for a reaction right now. Charlotte walked back to the small home she rented with two other women slowly. She read the article multiple times, sticking to the parts about the escape. Dr. Larson, Dr. Hirsch and two security guards had been killed in the escape. One of the guards had been found stripped down to his underwear, Michael's gown piled on top of him. It was suspected he had dressed in the guards clothing and simply walked out the front door.
A chill went down Charlotte's spine and she stood at her front door. The thought that Michael Myers was out there somewhere free to do what he wanted, free to kill again, was terrifying. She could only imagine the horror he would bring down on countless people. When she stepped into the house she quickly shut the door and locked the door.
"Hey, Charlotte I was-" One of her roommates Jessica, stopped speaking mid-sentence when Charlotte jumped and cried out in surprise.
"Jesus Christ Jessica," Charlotte said and Jessica laughed.
"Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that I was going out for the night. Christina is watching TV. In a real bitch mood too," Jessica said as she put on her coat. Charlotte nodded. She had half the mind to tell Jessica not to go out but they were miles from Danvers and Haddonfield. Michael wouldn't be anywhere near here.
"Drive safe," Charlotte said as Jessica went out the door and walked into the living room. "I need to put the news on real quick."
"No," Christina said as she stared at the screen.
"It's important," Charlotte said and Christina looked at her and raised her eye brows.
"And I care?"
"Just a few minutes. Michael Myers-"
"Oh God enough with fucking Michael Myers," Christina said. "I'm so fucking sick of hearing about him. He's a psycho killer. Stop being so fucking obsessed with him." Charlotte frowned at the younger woman.
"He escaped," Charlotte said and Christina took a sip of her soda.
"whoopdie fucking doo," she said. "I don't live in Haddonfield."
Charlotte rolled her eyes angrily and turned to go into her bedroom. The girl infuriated Charlotte and the less she talked to her the better. When she got into her bedroom Charlotte curled up on the bed and stared at the newspaper a few more times before tossing it to the side. She rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow.
Exhaustion set in and Charlotte felt herself slowly falling to sleep. The last thing she could remember thinking was whether or not Michael found his jumpsuit and mask in storage before he left the hospital.
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7:36pm
Charlotte woke up to a thud and a yelp. She looked over at her clock with tired squinted eyes and groaned. She wouldn't sleep at all tonight. She usually did her best not to nap during the day but the news of Michael had taken a lot out of her. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She heard another large bang from downstairs and a frown settled over her face. She slid off of her bed and walked into the hallway.
"Christina? Are you drunk?" Charlotte called from the top of the stares. "I don't want to have to carry you upstairs again."
She was answered with silence and Charlotte shook her head. She was about to turn and go back into her room when she heard the sound of a body hitting the floor. She knew that sound. Christina liked to drink and more than once Charlotte had witnessed her falling over or passing out on the floor. What struck Charlotte was odd was that she got drunk so early and usually Christina came home drunk. She never got drunk at the house.
She felt her way down the stairs and groped the wall for the light switch. It got dark so early now that it might as well have been the middle of the night. She felt the light switch at the tip of her fingers and flicked it upward. She waited for the living room to fill with light but nothing happened. She continued to stand in the dark, eerily quiet, house.
"Fuck," Charlotte whispered and took the final step off the stairs.
A sudden shriek left her throat as she felt something against her hip and she threw herself to the side. A laugh bubbled up in her throat when she saw it was the very frightening fake fichus Jessica just had to buy that she had bumped into. She froze when she felt something against her bare foot and she kneeled down slowly. She immediately recognized the object she placed her hand down as Christina's face.
"Christina?" she whispered, a sudden ache of fear settling in her stomach. "Christina?"
She shook her housemate's body but she got no response in return. Charlotte tried to contain her panic as she stood and backed away slowly. She turned to go to the kitchen. She prayed the phone still worked even though the power was out. Before she could complete her turn however her shoulder collided with something hard and warm and she stumbled backward. A yelp left her throat and she looked up at the source.
When her eyes landed on him she at first couldn't process the information. Her mouth went dry and she felt as if her chest caved in terror seized her entire body. The white mask appeared to glow in the dark room and his body looked taller and stronger in that blue jumpsuit than it ever did in the hospital.
Reading the police reports she had never been able to fully appreciate the sheer terror his victims must have felt before they died. Now she could. When he took a step forward she stumbled backward and collided with the coffee table. The back of knees hit the glass covered wood and she fell backward onto the table.
He approached her slowly and calmly, the knife gleaming in the moonlight. His actions were always controlled, he never rushed. She remembered writing about that in one of her articles about him. All the eye witnesses said the same thing. He never ran. He never rushed. Even when things went horribly wrong he remained unaffected.
She felt tears touch her eyes as he came closer to her and she waited. She knew her chances of escaping were slim to none. He'd catch her before she could get two feet. He could snap her like a twig if he wanted but something told her he'd much rather use that big knife he had in his hand. His right arm rose over her and Charlotte put her hands up.
She supposed some would think it ironic that she was murdered by Michael Myers considering how much of her life she had spent studying him, but to her it felt like a horrible betrayal of some sort. She was no doubt ridiculous to feel betrayed by Michael Myers, he owed her nothing special, but she had tried too hard to reach him. She had tried so hard to understand him and now he was going to kill her like she was just…anyone else.
"Michael!" she cried when he suddenly jerked his hand down and he froze. She screwed her eyes shut and waited for the feeling of the blade ripping into her flesh but it didn't come. When she recovered some courage she opened her eyes and looked up at her former patient. The white mask stared down at her blankly but she could see his eyes. They had the look she used to attribute to him trying to make his mind up on something. "Michael?" she asked more softly and to her utter amazement he dropped his knife yielding hand.
Charlotte sat up on the table and looked up at him cautiously. She didn't know how to go about this. Every psychopath she had spoken to had been in a hospital, not two feet from her with a knife in his hand. She flinched when he slowly brought up his left hand and hovered his fingertips over her cheek bone. She could feel his finger tips on her face even though he didn't touch her. It was like an electrical charge that caused goosebumps to erupt all over her skin. As she watched him she felt a swell of happiness rush up inside of her. He wasn't going to kill her! Maybe, just maybe, he had formed some type of attachment to her as a human being. In that moment she felt that everything she had done in her life, granted it was only twenty five years, was worth it. She had done the impossible. If only she knew exactly what kind of attachment Michael had formed.
Her surge of triumph quickly began to fade as she watched him raise his knife again, but before she could feel the inevitable terror that would soon flood through her he jerked his hand down, bringing the handle of the blade down on her forehead.
Her vision immediately went black and fell forward, landing completely unconscious at his boots.
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October 15th
1:03 am
The agony splitting through Charlotte's head was nearly unbearable. A moan left her as she stirred awake. It took her a few minutes to open her eyes and once she did she was struck with the frightening realization that she was in the back of a car, her hands bound at the wrists, and her legs bound at the ankles. The nights events came flooding back into her in waves and she tried to lift her head to the front of the car. The moment she did black spots covered her vision and she felt her world spin.
"Oh, God," she moaned and pressed her face into the leather interior of the car. She opened her eyes slowly as she turned toward the driver of the car. "Michael?"
Her voice was soft but more than a whisper and she knew he heard her. He said nothing in response though and did not even so much as tilt his head. She tried to wrack her brain for a logical reason he would take her with him…wherever it was he was going. Michael Myers didn't take prisoners, he either decided you weren't worth killing for some reason or he killed you. There was no in-between.
She may not have been overly surprised had he not killed her and moved on. But him taking her was something she couldn't understand, and not just because she was suffering from a rather serious concussion. Her thoughts were muddled and confused as she tried to get a grip on herself. A sharp wave of nausea came over her and she hung her head over the side of the seat. She moaned softly before vomiting onto the car floor.
"I have a concussion, Michael," she said but again got no response. She felt herself slipping back into sleep but she fought against it. She couldn't sleep now. Concussions could be dangerous and it was best not to sleep when suffering from them. Also, she didn't like the vulnerability sleeping would expose her too while in Michael Myer's presence. A sharp turn of the car had her once again heaving and her head protested in agony.
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October 15th
6:19 am
She didn't know how much time passed until the car finally stopped but the sun was just coming over the horizon when it did.
"Michael? What are you doing?" she asked as he got out of the car. She managed to pull herself up into a sitting position and look out the front of the car. Michael walked toward the front of the house slowly and calmly, as he did everything else.
Psychopaths do not recognize the risk of being caught or injured as a result of their behavior.
She remembered writing it in her dissertation but had never personally witnessed a psychopath committing a crime. It was chilling to watch Michael walk and know he had no concerns or worry about the mass hysteria that had been created by his escape.
When a middle aged man she would not hesitate to call a redneck walked out of the door holding a shot gun she felt her stomach drop. Her eyes went to Michael who did not stop his stride at all. She knew the outcome before she saw it play out before her. The man called something to Michael she couldn't quite understand from inside the car but Michael kept walking. The man let off a shot into the air but Michael didn't as much as flinch.
Charlotte lowered her head when she saw Michael climb the steps to the small cabin. She kept herself from letting herself cry but lowered her head to her knees. When the car door opened she allowed herself to be pulled from the car by her arm. Michael's warm, large hand wrapped around her bicep and gripped her firmly. She fell to the ground, unable to balance on her bound legs.
When she hit the ground a small sob escaped her and tears leaked out of her eyes. Michael stood over her for a moment, watching her silently. She could feel his eyes on her and when she collected herself she looked up slowly. She sniffed when her eyes landed on his white, expressionless mask.
She looked into his dark eyes but inside there was no sign, no clue, of the reason why he took her with him. As they looked at each other she tried to come to terms with her new situation.
She was in the middle of nowhere, bound at the hands and feet, and completely and utterly at the mercy of none other than Michael Myers.
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AN: Thanks soo much to everyone who reviewed. You inspire me! I hope you guys like the new chapter. Please tell me what you think!
