A/N: Got nothin'...

Chapter 4: Halloween

I wake up to the sound of giggling far away. What is going on? Had I slept through the day? Probably...

My thoughts are disturbed by loud clanking sounds. I sit up abruptly, and get out of bed, heading towards the cell bars. I peek into Michael's cell, but I am met with darkness. "Michael?" I say, a slight fear filling my quiet voice. The cell is locked shut, and the moonlight barely lights up the cell. Nobody's in there. Where'd he go? Loomis probably wanted him to test...

Or maybe he escaped, I let that terrible thought creep into my mind. If he did he's gonna kill me...I think again, scolding myself shortly after. "Michael?!" I try to yell. No response. Just...silence. Now I greatly dislike the silence with the possible situation where either Michael had escaped, or Loomis took him out. I look down the hallway, and a small note posted on the door is barely legible to my eyes. I squint, the hallway not being that long, and I finally make out what it says.

Halloween.

That's it? Today is Halloween? Well, I guess I have been looking forward to this day...But, wait.

This is the day Michael Myers rules Haddonfield.

Oh, crud...he really did escape...or did he? I don't know. Wait, why do I care? I shouldn't. I mean he was going to kill me, but...he didn't. I listen closely due to the fact of hearing loud yelling outside the door suddenly. The yelling originates from several voices, with only one I reckonize. Dr. Loomis...maybe Rick...

"She is now unsafe, Loomis!"

"How? How did he escape, Loomis?"

"Loomis lives are at stake!"

"What's going to happen now?"

"Yeah, what's going to happen since Michael has escaped?!"

He did escape. I huge knot forms in my stomach. No. He can't! I hear a small creak down the other side of the hallway which contains more cells, and the light never reaches all of the way down there. "Hello?" I say, my voice cracking from...fear. I hear loud footsteps, inching closer and closer to my cell. Once it gets to the focus of the moonlight from outside on the ground, I see his mask. His pale, white mask. The glint of his butcher's knife in the moonlight.

How he'd managed to escape, I don't know. It's the overwhelming fear filling the situation now, as Michael stands in a pool of moonlight, his icy blue eyes tearing through mine. Little giggles are heard from afar, from the young trick-or-treaters.

"Let's check the cellular containment,"

"Surely he will be in there," A voice says sarcastically.

"Yes sir,"

The door handle twists, and Michael remains still, his grip noticeably tightening on the knife. The door swings open, and men with large shotguns charge in. Still, Michael remains unmoving. "THERE HE IS!" One of the men, with a fully loaded sniper, yells. Fires and bullets richocete off the walls, and a few just barely miss Michael. Michael barely moves as three bullets tear through him with a sickening sound fills the air as Michael falls to his knees. Some bullets bounce off the walls, and fly into my cell. I retreat to the darkest corner of my cell, screaming silently, unable to watch this happen. The blasts, the gunshots, the blood...

"Shylea, get the heck outta there!" Derek, Shylea's best friend, yells. Derek and Shylea, are thieves in order to survive. Shylea's only supporter. Loud gunshots fill the air as Shylea grabs the last necklace from the case, and dashes outside. They meet up on the sidewalk quickly before the two twelve year-olds sprint off in fear of the echoing sirens. Gunshots fill the air causing the two to run faster. 'No, no, no, no, no!' Shylea thinks as she runs. The gunshots get closer as they run. A terrible tearing sound fills the air, and Derek stops, dropping his bag of stolen jewelry with a loud clink. Shylea turns around, to be met with Derek, lying on the concrete, in a puddle of his own blood. "Derek!" Shylea mouths, and Derek groans in pain. 'Derek was shot' Shylea keeps thinking. "Run, Shylea...Run" Derek says, his last words before policemen dash after him. Shylea sprints off, dropping her bag of expensive jewelry also.

"Run, Shylea...Run,"

Those words burned into my mind, scarred memory, taught me how to use revenge. I stare at Michael, who is know on the floor, in a pool of his own blood, unmoving. Triggering more scars, and crawl to the cell bars, my face wet with tears. "He's dead!" One of the men yell. "No he's not! He's still breathing!" Dr. Loomis yells. "Ya, sure doc," The man says, moving towards Michael. "He ain't movin' and he ain't breathin' doc!" The man says, flicking Michael in the face. "See look he ain't-" The man gets cut off suddenly by Michael quickly raising his knife to the man's neck while he was distracted. A quick spurt of blood splatters on my face. I screw my eyes shut, and I feel a quick brush on my hand, and my eyes fly open. Michael is standing there, face to face, his icy blue eyes now full of...concern? The men run off quickly, screaming. Dr. Loomis stands there, observing the situation.

See, Loomis. Michael does have emotions. And, don't mess with Michael on Halloween.