Author's Note/Disclaimer: I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. This chapter is finally going to introduce the one and only Michael Myers! Feel free to comment on what you think about this chapter :) I do NOT own any of the characters in the Halloween franchise.

Chapter 2: Smith's Grove

When Angela was told her that Michael Myers, the infamous Butcher of Haddonfield, was her biological father, her whole world felt like it shattered to pieces. Every romanticized image of her father was replaced by the grim reality that her "daddy" was a cold blooded murderer. She almost wanted to believe that this was some bad joke conjured by her mother's drunken state, but the dead serious look on Deborah's face told her otherwise.

So many emotions came rushing as Angela struggled to comprehend this realization, it was tearing her apart from the inside out. She felt like screaming, but couldn't find the strength or will to do so. Instead, a floodgates of unanswered questions consumed her mind.

"How could this be?"

"Why would mom even be with this man?"

"Did they really... do it?"

"Was I an accident?"

"Will grow up to be like him?"

Deep down inside, she didn't even want to know the answer because some things like that are best left forgotten... forever. Instead, Angela ended up going to bed early without even saying a word. She remained silent for the rest of the evening, even as her now sober mom kissed her goodnight before turning in. All Angela did was stare into space until she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep plagued by nightmares of the Boogeyman. She would imagine herself running away from him in a dark and endless hallway. It was only a matter time before she was caught by him and torn limb from limb by his crooked, claw-like hands. Before her dream could've gotten any worse, Angela forced herself to wake up only find herself drenched in a cold sweat. Though she was relieved that it was only a nightmare, the young girl sobbed quietly to herself. After drying her tears, Angela slipped out of her bed and pulled out an old shoe box, her "treasure chest." Inside was a time

capsule filled with random mementos of her past ranging from old photographs to once cherished toys that had since been long forgotten. One of the newest addition to her bizarre collection was a silver, shell-shaped pendant. Opening the tiny locket revealed a small black and white picture of a smiling Angela with an inscription that read, "To Dad, with Love." She remembered having to save almost a year's worth of allowance money to purchase this trinket, intending to give to her father when she would finally have the opportunity to see him; she was such a hopeless romantic. She did everything to keep this secret from her mother, fearing that it would upset her but now that didn't matter anymore. All these years, her mother had been hiding truth about her father even going as far as feeding her lies. Serial killer or not, Angela believed that letting her seeing her father on his deathbed was the least that her mom could do after so many years of deceit.

The next morning, Angela sat at kitchen table mustering up as much courage as she can so that she could find the right words to choose but she only managed to squeak out,

"Mom... can I see him?"

Deborah, who's back was turned to Angela as she was pouring a cup of coffee, stood perfectly still as if frozen in time. Angela noticed that the mug Deborah was pouring coffee into was haphazardly overflowing with the black liquid. She was shaking.

After what seemed like an eternity, Deborah replied in a dry, apathetic voice,

"Sure..."

Angela didn't have enough to react before Deborah grabbed a hold of her wrist and practically dragged her daughter to her car. She sped off from the neighborhood and into the main highway, eyes glued to the road. Angela turned to see her mother and gasped because she almost didn't recognize her. Her bright and lively blue eyes were now dull and tired; her blonde, wavy locks were a disheveled mess; and the fair, smooth skin on her face was stained with tears. It looked like she hadn't slept at all last night. It made Angela worry that they would crash because of how erratic she was driving.

After a silent yet tense hour long drive, Deborah and Angela finally arrived at Smith's Grove Sanitarium. Once inside, Deborah talked to a nurse the front desk. Angela was too distracted by the horrible crying of the inmates to even notice her mom arguing with the nurse. At long last, they were escorted down a hallway a slightly older man named Dr. Wynn along with two heavily armed guards.

Angela nervously bit her lower lip as they walked down the barren hallways where Haddonfield's most dangerous psychopaths now dwell in solitary confinement. Occasionally a muffled scream emanated from the padded cells, frightening the young girl as she made her down the eerie corridors. Theoretically, there was nothing for her to fear: not only was Angela escorted by a pair of imposing wardens but there was a one in a million chance that the inmates would escape. Still deep down inside, Angela could only imagine the horrible things that they'd do if they had escaped. As they finally made it to the last door at the end of the hallway, she turned she to see that her mother was standing behind her from a distance, with a look of utter fear in her eyes as her gaze fell upon the name that was displayed on the placard of the door: "Michael A. Myers."

The guards unlocked the door revealing a glimpse of the massive figure that lied motionless in the fluorescent lit room; Angela looked at her mother, anticipating her to join her. Deborah only shook her head "No" as the guards motioned Angela to step inside.

"Alright, you've got about five minutes, kid. So make it quick," said one of the guards.

At this point, Doctor Wynn kneeled down to Angela and said to her warmly,

"I can assure you that there's nothing to worry about, Angela. He won't hurt you, these two gentlemen over here," motioning over towards the two guards, "will make sure of that. You can go inside the room, if you want to. Your mother and I are just going to have a little - 'grown up talk' - for a couple of minutes."

Angela nodded and took a deep breath as she stepped inside the room. As she laid eyes on her father for the first time in her life, she gasped. From what she could tell, he was very tall with a height spanning to least 6 foot 3. To her surprised he possessed an athletic physique, which was considerably lean and muscular for someone who was already on his deathbed. She also noticed that his entire face was tightly swathed in bandages except for his eyes, which were tightly sealed shut. Angela deduced that he had the bandages because of some terrible accident, mostly likely one created by an explosive fire because the flesh on his otherwise pale skin was adorned with burns and red scars. Underneath the bandages she could make out the outline of a once-normal looking man: an even, oval-shaped face; an average sized nose that looked slightly crooked from being broken; and a thin mouth accompanied with a prominent jaw line. Now, he was a shell of that man, nothing more than shadow — a Shape. Angela shivered at the thought of how his face would like now; judging be how much damage he must have gone already, it must not have been a pretty sight to behold. Seeing her father in such a tortured state almost made Angela feel sorry for him, until she remembered that this same man was responsible for the brutal Halloween Murders of 1978.

A couple of minutes had past in an eerie, uncomfortable silence. As she tuned out the beeping noises of the life support equipment, Angela could hear Michael's deep ocean-like breath as well as observe the subtle rise and fall of his broad chest. After letting out a heavy sigh, Angela broke her silence and started to talk to her him.

"H-hi... ummm... dad," she squeaked out, unsure how to address the infamous serial killer. "M-my name is Angela Thomas, I'm your... your daughter."

As expected, no response.

"I always wanted see you, and get to know you better... but I guess that isn't happening," she said sadly, as she reached inside her coat pocket to pull out her silver shell-shaped locket necklace. "I wanted to give this to you so you'd have something to remember me by when you... go away." She then placed the locket onto the palm of his hand.

"Goodbye, daddy," Angela said as she turned towards the door, failing to notice Michael's hand curl into a tight fist as it clenched onto the silver pendant. She was about leave the room when she heard a noise behind her. She quickly turned around only to see Michael lying where he was... However, after taking a closer look she saw that his left hand was loosely dangling off the side of the bed. "I don't remember his hand hanging from there like that," she quietly said to herself as she cautiously stepped toward the side of the bed. Carefully, she grabbed onto his hand (which was enormous compared to her more petite ones) and placed it back on the bed, gently tucking it underneath the blanket that covered the rest of his body. She glanced down to take one last look at his shrouded face, only to find him staring right back at her! Angela stood frozen in fear as she was caught in his ice cold gaze. Those eyes didn't belong to a human; they were the Devil's eyes, devoid of any feelings, emotions, and humanity. Cold. Empty. Dark. The blackest eyes.