August 1990:

10 year old Jade Worthington opened their house door with her key, flinging her school bag to the floor. Although perhaps the word "their" house should be used with a degree of irony. Imprisonment, even. There was no way her mother Julie Worthington could afford a place like this. It was, if she was going to be brutally honest, Eric's house. Jade was frankly surprised her mother had managed to keep the same man for as long as she had. Six months was a record for her. Jade had constantly seen their mother in hers and her sister's Tara's early years, selling herself for sex to any man who could pay, or for her drugs fix.

Jade sighed sadly as she closed the chipped front door. This was not a place she wanted to live in. It was rough, and smelt of weed and Uren. But she had no choice, it was home. Walking in to the kitchen, she noticed the fridge was as usual empty, apart from Eric's bottles of beer, which no one else, not even Julie, was allowed to touch. God help her if she did.

The day at school had once again been a bad one for Jade. She seemed to have become the target of the school bullies, with no idea why. Wormy, they called her. "Hey, wormy! How's your stinky mother?" Jade wasn't sure if she'd been given the nickname because of her clothes, which all came from charity shops at the cheapest Julie and Eric could get them, or because of her Surname, Worthington. Either way, she hated it. It'd taken her a year to learn to ignore them. The one time she'd tried to approach her mother, who had been drunk as usual, she'd just told her to "grow the fuck up." Not to be "such a baby." She had been 7 at the time.

Even at 10, Jade privately was sure that Eric wouldn't have stayed with Julie without an ulterior motive. But what? Sex? Surely he could get that anywhere. Drugs? Alcohol? All she knew for certain, was that it certainly wasn't love which kept them together. In fact, several times she'd seen Eric hit Julie with clenched fists, a belt and even beer bottles. Jade and Tara were no match for him and when his brutish father Richard was there, even less so. They'd tried to protect her once, but had experienced beatings of their own which were so violent, they'd been taken off school sick by Julie for a week. Protecting herself, not them. School saw the bruising, Julie would be in serious trouble with the law, as would Eric. They would lose their precious stash. Julie cared for drugs more than her own daughters. That was the cold, hard facts of it.

Tara Worthington was only 13, but was left to raise Jade like her daughter. The sisters were very close as a result and Tara was very protective of her younger sibling. They were in different classes at school as Tara was older, but the one time Tara had heard Jade being called "Wormy" among other horrible names, she'd beaten the bully up with a ferocity Jade wouldn't have believed. She'd been suspended for a fortnight as a result and the bully had ended up in hospital for a month.

Jade inhaled the familiar smell of weed, as she climbed the staircase. The house was badly in need of a clean, something which was hers or Tara's job every time. The carpets were so thread bear Jade could see the boards beneath. The smell of weed seemed to have grown in to the house, seeming to seep from the building itself. Jade actually worried that one day soon the place would fall down without any maintenance. Neither her or Tara could do that. They didn't have a clue where to start and it would raise police and social services eyebrows, which Julie or Eric couldn't risk. Not with their drugs, not to mention the two girls strongly suspected Eric and Richard were very high up and active criminals. Though of course they'd never seen anything apart from the violence towards Julie, on an almost daily basis.

Only her best friend, Jenna Henderson knew how bad things really were at home and Jade had sworn her to secrecy. Jenna didn't like it, but had eventually agreed. Although Jade wasn't sure how long she'd keep it for. She'd never been to Jade's house for obvious reasons. As soon as she saw the state of it Jade just knew she'd say something and that could simply not happen. Her mother may hate her, Eric may hate her and her sister was in affect her mother, but Jade couldn't lose her. It would break her heart. Jenna had also never met Tara.

Jade had told her the reason her clothes were cheap was her family were pouring and had no choice. But that her mother loved her dearly. She soon got good at lying under Julie's roof.

"Tara?" She called now as she headed up the stairs. Several times she'd accidentally called her mom. Something else she'd have to avoid. If the wrong person heard it…

There was no response as she entered her tiny room, which was as dank and depressing as the rest of the small house was. Jade strongly suspected Eric and/or his father had a much nicer one somewhere, but knew they'd never let Julie see it. She knew they viewed women as second class, slaves to men's every whim. She hated Eric with a passion that her 10 year old self almost feared. It was so strong, it invaded her dreams at night sometimes and she found herself dreaming of hideous revenge on the mother who didn't and had never loved her, and the man who'd helped ruin hers and Tara's life.

While Julie was out with him, letting him have sex with her and on his arm at parties, Tara was raising Jade and looking after her, a 13 year old mother. Even at her age, that angered Jade enormously. But once again, she couldn't say a word to anybody. The consequences would be too terrible to imagine. Eric beating her or Tara to death, maybe even Julie too. And however Julie had treated Jade, she didn't want that.

She carried her school bag in and dumped it on her hard bed. Along with the Maths homework in it, there was also double history, and she couldn't be bothered with either right now. "Mom?" She called, but there was no answer. Leaving her room, she headed downstairs. "Tara?" She called as she did so, knowing her sister would be home from school before her. But there was again no answer. She walked back in to her bedroom and that was when she saw 2 things she hadn't noticed before when dropping her bag.

The first were the 3 suitcases beside her bed. The second, was the letter on her bedside table. She picked it up and that was when her life changed forever.

Jade, I never wanted you, neither did Eric. We don't want Tara having anything further to do with you either. Do not bother looking for her, she's with us somewhere you'll never find her. Pack your things in the suitcases in your room and leave. Eric will be selling the house next week; you have until then to be gone. I don't care what you do, die for all I care. You were an accident from conception, so I wash my hands of you completely. I don't even know who your father is. Don't bother trying to get the cops or Social Services involved. We have left the country, and they'll never find us. Goodbye.

Jade had never been allowed anywhere near a phone, for fear she'd call the police, Jade realised now. But as she stood there, anger, shock and disbelief crashing through her, she realised she had to get to one. There was only one person she would call, Jenna Henderson.

31 October, 1992

"You were so gawking at that girl's tits; I saw you!"

Garry's sing-song taunt jolted Steve Henderson out of his crazily wondering thoughts. All he wanted now was to get home. He had forgotten how stupid and frankly unpleasant Gary could be when drunk. Not only was Steve desperate to talk to his wife, the rain was pouring down in sheets from the heavens and even his thick black raincoat wasn't proving to be an effective barrier in the sideways blowing wind. A moment later, a streak of lightning flashed through the dark sky, illuminating both Steve's and Gary's faces. If they didn't hurry, Steve knew they were going to be frozen by the time they reached his blue ford.

"Titty?" Suddenly, Gary drunkenly jabbed Steve in the shoulder and that and the stupid name he'd just called him, making Steve's irritation toward his best friend, which had been brewing underneath the surface all evening, spike to genuine anger. Best friend or not, Steve could do without Gary's behaviour right now. Before they had left for the club, Steve and his wife had argued and Steve wanted nothing more than to fix things between them. Gary knew that but apparently didn't care, because he hadn't taken Steve's feelings into consideration at all during the course of the night. Rather, he'd just flirted shamelessly with any female who came near him and even some who didn't and just used Steve for the tab.

That was when three gorgeous women strolled past the two men. The women wore so little clothing anyone looking at them while they strutted underneath the soft glow of a street light would be able to see the goose flesh on their skin. Immediately, Gary forgot all about Steve and tried to attract their attention by shouting and waving to them, looking utterly ridiculous.

Here we go again, Steve inwardly sighed.

"All right, darlings?" Gary slurred, staggering to follow the three women. "Can I buy you drinks?" he added, his indigo-blue eyes traveling down from their round, breasts that were clearly visible through their soaked, white tank tops to their long, slender legs. Gary's gaze remained fixed on their legs as if he was trying to get a glimpse of the secrets that lay hidden underneath their dark, wet miniskirts.

The women turned to look at Gary but then continued on their way without a second glance. They also started giggling, probably as revolted as Steve was. Disgusted by his behaviour, Steve punched his friend, his fist connecting squarely with Gary's nose. Steve loved the other man like a brother, but Gary was acting like a complete ass and had crossed a line, causing Steve to finally lose his temper.

Staggering against the wall of the alley, Gary's blue eyes widened in shock. Steve didn't regret punching his friend at all. Gary had been winding Steve up all evening, ever since the former started downing glasses of whisky at the bar. Steve hadn't caused Gary a nose bleed, but he was certain the latter would have two black eyes come morning.

"Oi man!" Gary shouted, or slurred would be more accurate. "What the fuck was that for?"

"Just give it a rest will you?" Steve snarled, glaring at his friend. "You're being such a twat right now. You're always like this when drunk!"

"Hey, man, isn't that what we came out for? Some hot pussy?" Gary slurred; his words almost incoherent from alcohol consumption.

"You might of," Steve hissed. "But take that "we" out of your sentence. I'm married, you twat, and since you're obviously too plastered to remember, I will remind you that you were the best man at my fuckin' wedding." He was seriously starting to wonder why he had even agreed to come out with Gary in the first place. To get away from Alice, Steve's subconscious reminded him, referring to his wife. He inwardly cringed. If Gary wasn't such an ass when drunk, then maybe more of their buddies would agree to bar hop with him, leaving him less dependent on Steve to entertain him. Steve sincerely hoped his 12 year old daughters Jade and Jenna, along with his 13 year old son Nick were in bed asleep by this point, having done their homework. That was partly what'd started the argument in the first place. He'd accused Alice of being too soft with them, when in fact the opposite was probably true. He'd been too strict. From his own upbringing no doubt.

"You are so pussy-whipped," Gary complained. "It's not like Alice is ever going to find out that you got some pussy on the side. Plus, from what you told me earlier, she was being a total bitch tonight."

Shaking his head, Steve now fully regretted telling Gary about his argument with Alice, especially since he knew Gary would be consuming a lot of alcohol. When he was sober, he was a kind, thoughtful guy who would never hurt anyone on purpose, well, except women and Steve would know. He and Gary had been friends since their first day of kindergarten. During morning recess, Steve asked Gary if he wanted to play with him, and here they were nearly forty years later.

Growing up, Steve and Gary spent time together watching films (which included some porn), reading books, hitting clubs, spying on attractive girls, drinking, and even smoking the occasional joint. They had their bad times, too, of course, but they never slept on an argument. That had been Steve's philosophy. Gary had even been present the first time Steve had met Alice when she had walked into their university lecture one day. Steve hadn't been looking for love, but the moment he laid eyes on the pretty young woman with golden blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes, Cupid's arrow struck his heart and never let it go. That was why he wanted to return home, because despite their silly spats, he loved his wife to death. And he wanted to tell her so. They'd been childhood sweethearts, marrying at the tender age of 18. Nick had come along just a year later, and Jenna the year after that.

Nor was it the time for him to remind Gary that he'd had a girlfriend who really adored him and had come to Steve in tears when she'd seen him kissing another woman. Sometimes, Gary could be a total prick. Steve sighed.

"Come on Gary, let's get the hell out of here," Steve said firmly, already walking away from his friend. "I want to go home." When Gary didn't follow, Steve turned around and sneered in disgust as he saw Gary slumped in front of the alley wall. "Come on, dickhead, get the fuck up!" Steve shouted, but Gary didn't move.

Fed up with Gary's behaviour, Steve was seriously tempted to leave his smashed friend there until morning; however, his conscience refused to comply. Sighing heavily, Steve grudgingly turned back towards Gary, and that was when he saw that Gary's face was filled with terror. Confused, Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Gary stopped him by releasing a garbled cry as blood gushed through a long, deep gash in his throat that extended from one ear to the other.

Yelling in pure horror, Steve's legs gave way, making him fall numbly to his knees. It was at that moment when he heard the sound of calm, measured breathing behind him. He turned his head, and found himself staring at a tall, dark figure wearing a blank, white Halloween mask with a massive kitchen knife gripped securely in his hand. Steve knew exactly who was standing behind him and also that Gary Emerson, his best friend, was dead. Too terrified to feel any grief, Steve gazed upon the cold-blooded killer, Michael Myers.

Back in 1963 at the young age of six, Michael Myers had killed his seventeen-year-old sister, Judith Myers by stabbing her to death. The murder had taken place when Steve and Gary weren't even born. Which would make Myers 35 now, while Steve would be 32 next month. With what Steve knew about Myers, the killer didn't kill unless he was hunting someone down.

Steve tried to clamp down on his building horror. No. Surely not? Surely Gary was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. How would Myers even know that it'd been him who'd spray painted "MICHAEL MYERS NEEDS TO DIE" on the brick facade of the Myers house, having crept there in the dead of night?

After Myers had killed Judith, it had angered Gary deeply, and Steve knew exactly why. Gary's sister had been tragically hit by a car while crossing a busy road when she was just five years old. At the time Gary had only been three - much too young to fully understand the meaning of death. When he turned five, his parents had told him what had happened to his sister and naturally, he was devastated. A few years later after learning that Myers had killed his own sister Judith, Gary snapped, unable to believe that anyone would wish, let alone bring about death on a sibling. But how the hell would Michael Myers have found out that Gary had been the one who had done the damage? Myers couldn't have known; there was no way he would have known, Steve told himself. This was just bad luck and … And it was Halloween.

"How did it happen exactly? 15 year old Steve asked a 15 year old Gary, as they sat on Gary's mother's swing seat in their garden, drinking coke and studying. In contrast to most of the other kids, they actually wanted to pass their GCSE's the next year. Gary's eyes were on the small grave stone at the end of the garden and Steve plucked up his courage and asked, speaking quietly. It was the 1 and only occasion he'd dared ask. It wasn't cowards, it was because he didn't want to hurt his grieving friend and his family any more than they already were.

Gary appeared lost in thought for a second, the seat softly swinging backwards and forwards beneath them. Steve had glanced at the grave. He'd seen it before many times of course, but he felt an extra strong wave of sadness as he looked this time.

Katie Emerson Born 13 March 1962. Died 14 September 1965. We love you forever and always. Sleep tight darling.

Gary followed his gaze and Steve saw a tear slip down his face. But he didn't try to hide it. Steve's heart broke for his friend.

"Total accident they said," Gary's voice was flat, stricken with grief even now. "Kate crossed a road too fast. She was wearing her favourite pink shoes and wanted to show them off to mom and I, who'd crossed first. Guy came round the corner in his van and…" Gary swallowed. "Didn't see her in time. Mom screamed and to be fair the guy braked as soon as he could but…" He took a deep breath. "It was too late. They say Kate was killed instantly. Ambulance was called off course but there was… was nothing they could do. The guy was genuinely horrified and almost as upset as we were. Said he'd do anything to help us. He still tries, still has mom's number, but…" He looked away. "What can he do? He can't bring Kate back can he? Although God knows we wish he could."

"Is that why…" Steve's voice trailed off.

"I took revenge on that masked fucker who killed his 17 year old sister in cold blood? Damn fucking right! It felt so good! He'll never see it in that nut house, but this isn't over, Steve. I'm going to make sure that message stays fresh for the rest of my fucking life! How could he do that? Kate was our fucking world! Ok I was only 5 so I don't remember her so well, but Jesus man she was my sister!"

"Beautiful she was," came Gary's mother's soft voice from the doorway, evidently she'd heard them. For the first time, she showed Steve a picture of Kate Emerson. She explained that to have them around the house would be way too painful, which Steve understood completely.

Now, as Steve Henderson and Michael Myers stared at each other, the killer's cold, emotionless gaze making the night seem even colder than it actually was, Steve remembered all the times he'd gone with Gary to the old Myers house and helped him keep his message alive. MICHAEL MYERS NEEDS TO DIE! I LOVE YOU KATE, RIP, and so on. He'd hole heartedly supported his friends cause and it seemed others had to as no one tried to stop them even though they came at night, or reported the damage. It was Gary's quiet way of doing what he could for justice for Judith Myers.

But now, that deed was what'd killed him. If Myers knew Steve had also helped… he was a dead man. He had too much to lose, too much to live for. But did Myers know? How did he know Gary had done it? Or had he just killed because that was what Myers did?

Shit! Damn! Fuck! He had to get the fuck out of Dodge now, because Myers only killed on or around Halloween. Steve knew he was in mortal danger. Myers was a remorseless, evil, silent, calculating killer - one who had been killing since the age of six.

After killing Judith, Myers had been taken to Smith's Grove Psychiatric Hospital. Fifteen years later in 1978, he escaped on Halloween Eve. He killed five people the following night, including the sheriff's daughter and her best friend while they had been babysitting. Twenty years later Myers had escaped again and was now standing mere feet from Steve Henderson. Apparently, nothing could keep this killer from coming home to Haddonfield, Illinois.

Time seemed to stand still as the two men stared at one another. Myers's cold, emotionless gaze from behind his just as emotionless white mask made Steve shiver uncontrollably with fright. "Michael Myers," he breathed, horror seeming to take control completely at the sound of the killer's name on his lips. He commanded himself to run, but his legs felt like they had turned to stone. That was when the sharp, unyielding kitchen knife was driven into the back of his neck. Overcome with pain and adulterated fear, he slumped forward, following his late best friend to the ground, landing not far from Gary's corpse. As his vision began to blacken around the edges, Steve heard the distant wail of sirens and saw that Myers had vanished from the alley without a trace. Somebody must have witnessed what had happened and called 911! Thank God! he praised. Maybe he wouldn't die after all!

Those were Steve Henderson's last thoughts before slipping away into darkness.