She must've fallen asleep at some point, because Alex suddenly jerks awake when the car comes to a stop. Everything is a bit fuzzy, and she tries to sort through where she is. It's something she has to do every morning, every nap, because she can't just wake up, open her eyes, and see that she's safe and sound in bed anymore. Instead she has to either remember where she fell asleep or use clues about her environment to deduce where she is. The last time she'd fallen asleep on a car ride had been when Laurie had driven her back to her aunt's house (she refused to call it home, because it wasn't, no matter how much her aunt tried) late one night. It'd been the first time she'd allowed herself to relax in a car since the accident. The doctors had said that she may never be able to be in a car again without having a panic attack, but without her sight, without the visual input of the road moving under the tires and the shine off the windshield, there weren't any triggers (no sounds of breaking glass, bending metal, breaking bones).
She's warm and comfortable, curled up on the backseat of a car. She doesn't startle when someone starts tapping on the outside of her self-imposed cocoon, merely sighs and reaches out a hand to meet the one disturbing her peace. She grabs the hand, lacing her fingers with the captive digits to hold it. It's odd, this hand doesn't feel like her aunt or Laurie. It's much too large for one thing, but it also feels too calloused to be either of them. There's a tentative single tap on the back of her hand from the appendage she still has held captive by her own, and it's enough to make everything from yesterday (this morning? last night?) come rushing back to her.
Alex calmly disentangles her hand from the one she had been holding, retreating into her blanket (that she was now realizing was really a dead man's sweater). She knows she can't ignore her captor, and she knows she can't ask where they are. So instead she sits up, slipping the sweater back over her head and facing the general direction of the driver's seat. Again, a tap is delivered to her person, this time on her knee. And huh, she hadn't realized there was a hole in the knee of these pajama pants until now.
"What do you want?" she asks quietly but with a slight attitude. She hears the groaning of the driver's seat before a tap is placed on her cheek. She flinches away, and thinks for a moment before realizing that he was probably asking for his mask back. She feels around on the seat for it to no avail before she thinks to check under herself. Only then does she find it, the rubber warm from her own body heat. It feels softer in her hands now that she's paying attention, older. She can feel the shallow cracks on the surface of the mask from where dry rot has taken it's toll. Before she can reach inside to investigate the interior of the mask, it is gently removed from her grasp by Michael, who she realizes had been watching her feel out the mask the entire time. Her cheeks feel warm with embarrassment, like she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. She hears the driver's door creak as it's opened, but she doesn't know whether she's supposed to stay in the car or get out as well. Her unasked question is answered when her door is opened for her. She moves to get out of the car but doesn't get very far before she's instead scooped up like a child. Oddly enough, she's getting used to this from her captor.
She hears the crunch of gravel under the man's shoes, and the air smells like nature; fresh air, pine, and rain. They could be anywhere, as she isn't aware how long she was asleep. She can't even tell what time it is, but she guesses that it's probably sometime in the late morning. She startles when she's shifted slightly before she realizes that they're going up some steps, his footsteps echoing like he's walking on wood. She assumes that they are on the porch of some house or cabin if the sound of a door opening is any indication. Once inside the dwelling, she's hit with the smell of must and dust. She covers her lower face with her sleeve before she can start coughing. There's a tap to her side to get her attention before she's being lowered, her feet meeting a cold floor. As she stands on her own, she thoughtlessly hangs onto Michael's sleeve while she tries to get her bearings. Alex shifts her feet, the feeling of a dirty wooden floor foreign yet recognizable. She slowly sweeps out a leg, trying to determine if there's anything near that she would run into or trip over. When she doesn't discover anything, she goes to drop her connection to the man next to her, only for a hand to wrap loosely around her wrist. There's a slight tug before he starts leading her somewhere. She stumbles, unsure of where they're going in the house or if there's anything in the path.
"Stop, this isn't how you guide a blind person," she huffs, dragging them to a halt (while acknowledging that if he didn't want to stop, she couldn't stop him), "You offer your arm like this, and I hold on like this and follow. If there's steps or something I would I trip over, you gotta warn me somehow. Okay?" He answers in the affirmative with a single tap to the hand in the crux of his elbow before moving forward once more. By how her shoulder brushes against a wall, she can tell that he's leading her down a hallway now. They squeeze through a door frame and enter a room before coming to a stop. She waits, expecting him to do something, but instead they just stand there.
"Is this a bedroom?" she asks hesitantly, receiving a yes. She lets go of his arm and feels around, stubbing her toe on something in the process. She hisses in pain, and is startled when a hand reappears on her wrist, not having even heard him move (which sends a shiver down her spine). Her hand is guided to something solid and wooden, identifying it to be a bed frame after a quick investigation of the object. She freezes, thinking through the implications of this situation. She's been kidnapped, and though he hasn't made any threats of a sexual nature yet, they are currently in a bedroom, with her being guided towards a bed.
"Is this where I'll be staying?" she asks instead of the burning question in her mind, only slightly relieved when he answers yes.
"Do you want me to get on the bed?" is her next question, but she doesn't receive a response, meaning he either doesn't want to respond or his answer isn't one of the options they came up with.
"Am I allowed to explore the room?" when she receives a yes, she continues, "Am I allowed to explore the house?" Alex doesn't immediately get an answer, instead he seems to be think it over before indicating maybe.
"Can I explore the house now, with you here?" This time she receives an immediate yes. She carefully extracts her hand from his, nervous about his reaction. Up this point, she had never tried to escape him or his grasp, but he let her hand leave his easily. She then began to map out the room in her head, using the bed as her reference point. From there she finds two nightstands, a large window, a fireplace, a small book shelf (though nothing is in braille), a dresser, and a door that leads to an attached bathroom. She investigates the dresser, finding there to be plenty of clothes. There's mostly long sleeved shirts, jeans, and some boxers, but there's also a few pairs of pajamas and some socks. Everything seems two sizes too big for her, but she knows she can make it work. Alex moves to leave the room through the door they had come in originally, tensing as she steps foot into the hallway. She has no doubts that he's been watching her, but she doesn't know where he is. She can't hear him when he moves, even though a man of his size shouldn't be able to walk silently, especially with the creaking floors of the house. It's unsettling, almost inhuman. And it's thoughts like this that make her panic, remembering exactly what her captor is capable of, the blood on his hands. The world is empty and black in front of her, an endless abyss with only unseen monsters and traps, and she's afraid to move. Alex is aware that she's starting to hyperventilate, but all she can do is ride it out. She carefully makes her way back into her room, although she had been prepared to explore the house. This bedroom is safe, is known, is her own now. She slides down the wall until she's sitting, bringing her knees to her chest. Her lungs hurts, her eyes hurt, everything hurts. She's alone and lost in a void, and she doesn't know if anything is real. Everything is spinning, and she can't get her bearings.
Suddenly, there's a tentative tap to her knee. It doesn't startle her, she had known that he had to have been nearby, watching. It actually helps a little, knowing exactly where he is.
"Panic attack, like back at Laurie's," is all she can get out in way of an explanation. She tries to make the world small in her head, but it's hard when it feels like there's nothing there. She tenses when his hand appears again, this time just resting on her knee. It's a solid point of contact that she can use to ground herself, and even though he is the one who indirectly caused her panic attack, she's grateful.
"Thank you, I'm fine now. Maybe it would be better if you guided me around the house to different rooms?" She starts to shift, her intent to stand up clear, when hands appear and lift her easily to her feet. Again she is forced to recognize the strength of the man before her, how little hope she would have against him in a fight. But she pushes those thoughts away viciously, using the contact to find the crook of his arm. He seems okay with her suggestion, as he then begins to lead her around the house. It's slow going, as she thoroughly explores everything from top to bottom, but he always waits patiently in the same place for her to be ready to move onto the next room. By the end of her little adventure, she's pretty confident in her mental layout of the cabin. There's only two bedrooms, each with an attached bath, the hallway with a few closets, a kitchen, and a living area. All the furniture she comes across is covered in plastic, and in one of the closets she finds a combined washer and dryer, along with a hot water tank and a furnace. In another she discovers rugs and linens. There's a nook in the kitchen where she finds a broom and a mop. She tries the sink and is surprised to find they have running water. It sputters as it leaves the faucet, unsurprising as it hasn't been run in awhile, and it smells like well water, like metal and minerals. But when she runs her hand under the water, it's freezing, and she's stumped for a moment before she realizes that there was no hum of electricity, that the appliances earlier weren't running.
"Have you tried turning on the power yet?" she asks Michael, knowing he isn't far. She hears two knocks on the wall somewhere behind her, and she's happy that he doesn't need to touch her to communicate now.
"Can you go flip the breaker, it'd be nice to have some heat and some hot water," she requests, wondering when his patience with her would finally break. But all she heard was a single knock, followed by the front door opening and then closing. Alex used this moment to collect herself. She missed Laurie, missed Haddonfield in general. She missed her aunt even, and the house that she hadn't quite been able to call home yet. She may die out here, where no one would ever find her. He could kill her, torture her, beat her, rape her, enslave her; but not once did she think that he would free her. Even before Loomis showed up and she became a hostage, Michael had been watching her. She doesn't know if he had intended on taking her or killing her there or what, but here they were now. She jumps when the furnace and the hot water tank suddenly kick on, but she is quite glad as the vent at her feet begins to blow warm air, chasing away the fall chill. She decides that if she's going to be staying here awhile, she may as well make it more habitable. She fills up the bucket the mop was placed in and checks under the sink, finding cleaning supplies. Although she can't see, she would know the smell of Pine Sol anywhere, adding some to the bucket. The door opens once more, her captor entering the house. He makes his steps known this time, and she's relieved that he's catching on to how to deal with her disability better.
"Can you clean the kitchen counters and the bathrooms while I mop?" she asks, moving past where his footsteps stopped and continuing until she was near the door. She begins to mop, and after a moment of watching her, he knocks on the kitchen counter. It doesn't take long for her to mop the entryway and the living room. The kitchen is easy as well, though she's sure she wacks him with the mop on accident at some point. She makes her way through the hall and into the back of the house, her bucket and trusty mop following her along. She can hear Michael cleaning as well, wiping down counters and removing the plastic from the furniture, although every time she makes her way from one room to another, he follows as well. At some point she begins to sweat, removing the dead man's sweater when it becomes apparent that she doesn't need it anymore. She goes back to the sink multiple times to refill the bucket that she's sure is now disgusting and is happy to find the water warming. She uses the linens in the closet to make the beds, though she doesn't know if the sheets match at all. Once the clean floors are dry, she places down the rugs she found earlier as well. It's a long process, but eventually the cabin isn't too shabby. She feels disgusting, however. Alex knows that her feet are dirty, that her clothes are covered in dust and soaked through in sweat, and she doesn't even want to think about how she smells. She grabs some towels and a washcloth from the linen closet, making her way into her bedroom and then bathroom. She turns on the shower and makes sure the water is hot, then turns on the fan so the steam doesn't build up. It's only once she closes the bathroom door and it immediately is thrown back open that she remembers Michael.
"I was going to take a shower," she offers sheepishly, "Can I have some privacy?" To which he immediately responds no, the knocks absolutely thundering on the poor bathroom door.
"How about I leave the bathroom door open, but you wait in my bedroom? There's no way for me to escape in here, and I'd really rather not have you watch me shower," she reasons, to which he agrees to. She can hear him step back and out of the bathroom, to which she slowly grabs the door and only leaves it cracked open. She is quick to disrobe and jump in the shower, worried about him creeping, only to immediate get scalded by the hot water. It burns, and she's sure her skin is turning red, but it feels like it's washing the entire day away. Thankfully there had been a bottle of shampoo left in the shower, so she uses it to clean both her hair and her body. She sits down at some point, trying to draw out her shower. Michael could be anywhere, from inside the bathroom to outside, and there's no way for her to know unless he alerts her purposely. She sits there until the water starts to get cold, only then does she emerge from the shower, immediately wrapping herself up in a towel. She uses another towel to dry her hair so she can stay covered. It's only once she's done that she realizes that she didn't bring any clean clothes into the bathroom with her, and she refuses to put back on her filthy ones. She can either go into the bedroom and hope that Michael isn't there, or she can call for help. The choice is obvious.
"Michael?" she calls out through the crack in the door, "Michael, are you there? Can you grab me some clothes out of the dresser, please?" For a moment there is nothing, but then she hears the sound of a drawer being pulled open. It takes him a moment to decide on what to grab, but then a neat stack of clothes is handed to her through the crack. He grabbed her a set of pajamas, not that she's complaining. The soft fabric feels nice on her raw skin, even though the pants threaten to fall at any moment and the shirt keeps slipping off her shoulder. She hangs up the wet towels and picks up her dirty clothes before bracing herself, pushing the door all the way open. Now that she knows the layout of the house, she doesn't hesitate to walk around normally, making her way to the washer and throwing in her dirty clothes. She then makes her way into the kitchen, enjoying the feeling of the rugs they found under her bare feet. She uses this opportunity to investigate the canned and dried goods she had found earlier while cleaning. While the dried garlic and herbs were easy to identify via smell, the canned goods were another beast. She couldn't tell what was in the can she was holding without opening it. For all she knew, it could be dog food or expired. There was a tentative knock on the counter next to her, only startling her slightly. Alex had just assumed he had followed her, but she had no way of knowing if he had because he hadn't made any indication. She wondered if he had simply forgot or if he was messing with her.
"I'm hungry, but I can't tell what's in any of these cans," she explained, guessing that his knock was a question, "We're going to need more food than this in any case." Her only response was silence, no surprise there. She was a bit startled when the can in her hands was removed and replaced with a different one.
"Is this enough for the both of us?" she asked, figuring Michael also had to be hungry. Another can was added to her hands.
"I'm assuming these are either the same thing or can be mixed together?" she asked as she grabbed a pan and placed it on the stove. There was a single knock on the counter next to her; yes. It was odd, knowing he was so close but not being able to tell other than when he wants her to know. She opened the cans carefully, wary of cutting herself on unseen sharp edges, before dumping them into the pan and turning on the burner. From the sound and smell, she was guessing it was some type of vegetable soup, possibly with some hunks of beef in it. The smell of food made her stomach growl, embarrassingly loud in the silent cabin. He didn't acknowledge it, so she didn't either. Once she could hear the soup boiling, she turned off the burner and grabbed two bowls. She poured the soup into the bowls, doing her best to make sure they were equal but definitely failing. When she returned with some spoons, one of the bowls was already gone. She held up one of the spoons, Michael carefully taking it from her. When she picked up her bowl, she was surprised to find that he had left her the fuller bowl. Surely a man as large as him needed more to eat, but she didn't bring it up. She took her bowl to the small kitchen table, something like fondness settling in her when the chair across from her was also pulled out, the other man joining her. There was an odd sound that she had come to associate with Michael removing his mask. She hadn't even considered up til now that he would still be wearing it. They ate together in silence, the warm soup quickly making her drowsy. She wondered how long she had slept in the car, clearly not long enough. Or maybe she was just worn out from the stress and the cleaning earlier. In any case, she finished her soup, leaving the bowl in the sink for future her to worry about.
"I'm gonna go take a nap," she announced, making her way back into her bedroom. She didn't shut the door behind her, not willing to push any more boundaries today, wary of upsetting her captor. Instead, she climbed into bed, completely hiding herself under the covers. For being as tired as she was, sleep didn't come easily. She was too hot and then too cold. The pillow was too soft, and the sheets didn't smell right. The mattress was comfortable but didn't have the same indent for her body that her own mattress did. It was hard to feel homesick when she didn't really have a place that felt like home. She missed Laurie and her aunt though, in a way that left her aching and trying not to cry. She wondered what they were doing, if they were missing her too. The police were probably too busy cleaning up the trail of bodies that Michael had left behind to properly search for her. She remembered the doctor that had been with Laurie last, Loomis. Maybe he was out still looking for her captor. She finally fell asleep an hour later, musing over why Michael had taken her in the first place.
