ONE DAY LATER

Haddonfield, Illinois

November 2, 2009

The Shape woke up after getting only about two hours of sleep. Although it was still early, he could no longer fight his need to fuck the girl slumbering in the bedroom next to his. If she was still tired, he would let her nap later. Perhaps he would even steal one himself.

The killer trudged up to the girl's door. He decided to shed his uniform and boots before joining her to add to the element of surprise. He quietly unlocked the door and walked into the room. He frowned when his eyes landed on his captive. She was huddled on her side underneath her coat, obviously feeling the Autumn chill in the air. The cold never bothered him, but he supposed he could provide her a blanket or two to make her more comfortable.

The Shape would get those later. Right now, he had more pressing matters that needed tending to. He silently approached the sleeping girl. Using very subtly moments, he lifted her coat and her skirt. He then urged her legs apart. With one powerful thrust, he drove into her weeping pussy.

The girl shrieked, clearly surprised by the sudden intrusion. However, once she got her bearings, she rolled into her back. She let the Shape rapidly fuck her until they both came.

Afterwards, he led the girl to the bathroom. He did not trust her enough to let her go downstairs by herself. Despite her willingness to have sex with him, the Shape was certain she would still run if given the chance. So far, though, she hadn't even tried.

The killer suspected that his captive was attempting to lull him into a false sense of security. Well, it wasn't going to work. He had no qualms with keeping her locked up in Judith's room indefinitely, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't come to that. Her desire for him was too damn strong. In time, she would become a slave to it and lose the will to leave. He would make certain of it.

The Shape and the girl returned to the bedroom. He aggressively threw her up against a wall and reached up underneath her skirt for her clit. He pinched it tightly between his forefinger and thumb and viscously twisted it. Her eyes welled up with tears as he cut off the blood supply to the swollen nub.

"Michael, no, stop," the girl begged, trying to push his hand away.

The only problem was moisture was starting to drip from her pussy, which told the killer that she was more than ready to receive him. He shoved his cock inside of her wet folds while applying even more pressure to her clit.

"Fuck, Michael, what are you doing to me?" the girl whimpered.

Her pussy was the wettest the Shape had ever felt it. Its juices splashed around his cock as he fucked it, and it felt absolutely incredible.

"Michael, please," the girl suddenly cried. "I need to come. Please, let me come. I'm so close…"

The Shape gave her clit a sharp tug and then released it, allowing her blood to flow back into it. With tears spilling down her cheeks, the girl threw her head back and screamed.

Grunting, the killer thrust his cock as far into her as it would go. He shuddered hard, gifting her with every last drop of cum he possessed. For the first time in a very long time, he finally felt spent.

The girl sagged against the Shape. Her quiet sobs reverberated against his chest while he carried her to the bed. He laid her down on it and was about to leave when she said, "Michael, please don't go."

Against his better judgement, the Shape stretched out next to the girl. She curled up onto her side, facing but not touching him. Within minutes her light sobs turned into deep even breaths as she dozed off. That was when he should have left her. Instead, though, he closed his eyes and joined her in sleep.

Jillian had no idea how long she had slept before the intense burning sensation between her legs finally caused her to stir. She squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to ease the discomfort, but it only made the pain worse. She choked back tears of utter shame. She couldn't believe she have acted so wantonly toward the Boogeyman - her captor. She hated herself for letting him control her in such a way.

Jillian gradually moved to sit up and quickly discovered that two thick blankets had been draped over her. Part of her was tempted to chuck them across the room out of spite. However, the more sensible part was grateful for the extra warmth.

Just like the day before, Michael had also left behind a sack lunch. She nibbled on the ham and cheese sandwich, not feeling particularly hungry. She was really beginning to miss her family and friends. Were her parents out searching for her? Would they think to look in the old Myers place? Surely someone would. After all, she disappeared on the same day and from the same place where Carolyn had been killed a year prior.

"You led me there," she muttered angrily, trying to conjure her cousin's spirit. "You led me there knowing he would be waiting for me. He is your dark fantasy, not mine."

Heavy footsteps stopping outside her bedroom door was the only response she received. A moment later it opened. The Boogeyman appeared to be on a mission. He urgently gathered Jillian's clothes and set them down next to her legs.

"I take it you want me to change?" she asked.

He gave his head a single sharp nod.

Jillian didn't bother arguing. While she exchanged Carolyn's gown for her own garments, Michael collected all the trash from the room and took it somewhere downstairs. He hadn't bothered locking the door on his way out. He must have known that trying to escape the house with him still in it would be futile, just like she did.

The killer returned a few minutes later. He hastily cleared the room of the remaining items, which included her gallon of water; the two blankets he had generously given her; and Carolyn's dress. Where he stashed them, Jillian had no idea. However, his peculiar behavior confused her. What the hell was going on?

At last, Michael strode back into the bedroom and reached for Jillian's hand. Once he had helped her off the bed, he promptly flipped the mattress over to its clean side, or to its clean-er side, at least. That was when she began to realize he was preparing his house for a possible invasion. The thought of someone finding evidence of her survival and existence within the house exhilarated her.

However, one look at the Boogeyman was all it took to distinguish Jillian's excitement. He had brandished a large knife and threatenly waved it at her. His meaning was clear. If he couldn't have her, no one would. Well, she obviously wouldn't be of use to anyone dead, so she decided it would be best to cooperate with him - for now.

"Okay, Michael, you made your point," Jillian stated. "So, where are you planning to take me?"

He claimed her hand again and forced her to follow him downstairs. They walked through the living room and kitchen to the back door. The killer shoved Jillian outside. She stumbled into the backyard. A moment later he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her behind an old garden shed. Her blood ran cold when he raised his knife to her throat, warning her not to move.

It was then she heard a vehicle pull up to the house. Two doors opened and then closed. She held her breath as the front door creaked open. Whoever the occupants of the vehicle were, they entered the house without officially announcing themselves.

Michael and Jillian stood in the shadows both not moving as the intruders searched the house. She wished they would just give up and leave. The tension in her companion's hands told her he was less than thrilled with having strangers roaming about his house. If he hadn't been guarding her, she knew they would have been dead by now. Of course, if he hadn't been guarding her, they'd have no reason to be there in the first place.

The back door suddenly swung open. A brunette woman and a tall blonde man walked into the backyard. Jillian recognized them right away.

Mom! Dad!

She instinctively lunged towards her parents. The tip and edge of the Boogeyman's blade immediately sliced into her skin, halting any further movements. Blood flowed down her neck from the cut, but she paid it little mind. Her focus was solely on the two people standing within mere feet of her.

"Gretchen, come on, let's go," her father insisted. "She's obviously not here."

"She is," her mother argued. "I know she is. We just have to find her."

"Gretchen, darling, think about it. Even if Michael Myers is responsible for Jill's disappearance, what motive would he have for keeping her alive?"

The blonde woman remained silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, "I don't know, or maybe I'm too afraid to guess, but she isn't dead, Lyle,. Not yet, anyway."

He sighed. "Be that as it may, Gretchen, I think we should leave now. It's getting dark, and the cops said they would call us if they found anything."

"The cops," Gretchen scoffed. "Have they even been out here, yet? Are they ever planning to be? I highly doubt it. They fear Michael Myers too much to confront him."

"I'll talk to someone in the morning," Lyle promised. "In the meantime, let's get out of here."

Jillian watched her parents leave with a heavy heart. The instant they drove away Michael finally released her. The teenager bolted back into the house and up to her room. She slammed the door. Then, she sat with her back against it as a barricade. She was well aware that the killer could still easily barge into the room, but she wanted him to know that his presence was not welcome.

Jillian raised a hand to her throbbing neck. Fresh blood coated her fingers, and that scared her. She hated the thought of asking Michael Myers for help, yet she currently had very little choice. What if the cut was too deep to clot on its own, or what if it got infected? Those were risks she was unwilling to take.

Swallowing her pride, Jillian rose to her full height and opened the door. However, the Boogeyman was nowhere to be seen. She even daringly ventured next door to his room only to find it empty. Had she actually angered him enough to make him leave? She somehow doubted it, but the house did seem eerily empty. Then again, that could have been just wishful thinking on her part. Maybe he was simply testing her to see if she would try to escape, if given the opportunity.

Jillian knew that failing that test right now would bring death to her and her parents, so she decided to stay put. Besides, she suspected that even if she did attempt to run, she wouldn't get very far. She was beginning to feel a bit woozy from her injury.

Jillian sat down at a writing desk and put her head in her arms. All she wanted was to go home. Seeing her parents had only worsened her homesickness. She just wanted to put this whole ordeal behind her. Unfortunately, she knew the Boogeyman would never let that happen. Even if she and her parents moved far away from Haddonfield, eventually he would find them. And then they would all die.

But maybe Jillian would die regardless. Maybe she would bleed out while sitting at the desk, and this nightmare would finally be over. Then, she would be with Carolyn, again. She smiled at the thought.

The Shape followed the girl into his house. When the door to Judith's room closed, he knew she wasn't going to run. But, she was hurt and still bleeding as evident by the multiple droplets of blood he found on the floor. He had to get her some help.

Cloaked by the dark shadows of nightfall, the Shape walked across the street to a brick house that belonged to the only person in Haddonfield who he trusted. Using the back door, he entered the house and wandered into the living room. Dr. Blankenship, an attractive blonde-haired woman, was relaxing on the sofa, watching a game show on her television set. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, because she suddenly sat up and gasped.

"My goodness, Michael! You nearly scared me to death! What do you need?"

The killer picked up the woman's medical bag and handed it to her.

She looked at him, confused. "I don't understand. Are you injured?"

The Shape impatiently shook his head.

"Someone else?"

He nodded.

"Interesting. Where?"

He pointed to his house.

"Hmm, not the most sterile of places," the physician said. "Can the patient be moved? I'd like to take care of him or her here. Less chance of infection that way."

The Shape nodded, though very reluctantly. He really didn't want the girl to leave the confines of his house. However, if she got sick… Well, that was not a viable option either.

The killer left Dr. Blankenship's house and returned to his. He strode upstairs expecting to find his captive in Judith's room. When she wasn't there, he wondered if his instinct to trust her had been wrong.

Taking a deep calming breath, the Shape continued onward to his room. Sure enough, the girl was slouched over his desk. He swiftly walked to her side. He then carefully lifted her head so that he could examine the wound she had received.

The cut wasn't very long, but it was deep, especially where the tip of his knife had dug into her neck. And it was still bleeding. Both the collar of the girl's coat and the front of her teal sweater was soaked with blood. The Shape had to get her to Dr. Blankenship and fast. He lifted her up off the chair, cradling her in his arms.

"Michael," she breathed, without opening her eyes.

He drew the girl closer to his chest and strode out of his bedroom. She didn't speak again as he made the journey to the doctor's house. However, the killer found it quite encouraging that it had been his name she had spoken in her unconscious state and not anybody else's. Soon, she wouldn't give a damn about anyone, except for him.

The Shape carried the girl into Dr. Blankenship's kitchen. He figured it was better to get blood on the linoleum floor than the carpet.

The physician greeted him with a look of surprise on her face. "I must admit I was not expecting you to bring me a young woman," she mildly said. When she stepped closer to the girl, her eyes widened even farther. "Wait, is this Jillian Rykes?"

The Shape slowly nodded.

Frowning, the doctor studied the laceration and said, "This will need some stitches." She taped a thick piece of gauze over the wound to control the bleeding. "I prepared the guest room for her. I will be in shortly."

The Shape took the girl to the designated room. He laid her on the bed, which was covered with clean sheets. He drew his knife and sliced the front of her bloodied sweater in half. He stripped her of her soiled clothing, leaving her dressed in her pink bra and blue jeans. In spite of the circumstances, she looked damn sexy.

Dr. Blankenship walked up behind him, her lips pursed in a thin line. "I'm going to have to put her out," she said. She showed the Shape a syringe. "This is propofol. The effects will only last about ten minutes, but that should give me enough time to stitch her up."

The Shape nodded his approval.

Dr. Blankenship cleaned the girl's arm and then injected the anesthetic. While the doctor waited for it to take effect, she retrieved a suturing kit. She then took the piece of gauze off the wound and sanitized it. "The bleeding has finally stopped, so that's good." She threaded her needle and began the process of stitching the deep cut.

"Propofol doesn't have any painkillers in it, so when she wakes up, I will give her some medicine that will help ease her discomfort."

Again, the Shape nodded.

"So, was this an accident?"

He shrugged. Yes and no. The girl had to learn that he was not one to contend with, yet the extent of the injury had been unintentional. He hadn't expected her to react so strongly upon seeing the intruders.

"She has lost a lot of blood. She will probably feel weak for a few days and will need extra rest."

Understood.

Dr. Blankenship cut the last suture and rose to her full height. "There. All set. It will most likely scar, but that cannot be helped."

That didn't bother the Shape at all, especially since the scar would have come from him.

The physician gathered her instruments together. "I'm going to take care of these," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Jillian should be awake by then."

The Shape watched the women leave. Knowing time was short, he leapt onto the bed. He quickly unzipped his uniform and unfastened the girl's jeans. The moment his hard cock penetrated her dry pussy, her eyes flew open.

"Michael!" she hissed. She weakly tried to push him away, but her body quickly reacted to his presence inside of it by becoming very wet.

At that point there wasn't anything the girl could do to stop the Shape from fucking her. For the next few days she would be at his mercy, which would give him the perfect opportunity to break her. By the time she fully recovered from her injury, she would be his.

"Michael, no," the girl weakly commanded. "Stop. Please, stop. I don't want this. Not right now."

Liar. The killer proved it by making her quickly come. As her body quivered from the experience, he poured his seed into it.

"Dammit, Michael," she seethed. "Get off of me."

His captive's anger only strengthened the Shape's resolve to impose his will over her, and he did so by dipping his face very close to hers. He saw the look of fear in her eyes as his mouth hovered within inches of hers.

"No, Michael, don't -"

Too late. The Shape pressed the lips of his mask firmly against the girl's real ones. She stiffened at the contact, yet her wet pussy tightened around his cock, betraying her instant arousal. She must have known that would happen, too, which was why she had been so frightened for him to kiss her.

However, despite the girl's wanton reaction, the Shape refrained from fucking her, again. He purposely wanted to leave her deprived and confused. The decision to stay with him had to be hers and hers alone for him to completely possess her. And, in order for that to happen, certain steps had to be taken. In the end, though, he felt confident she would finally come to accept that her entire being belonged to him. He just had to remain patient.

When a knock sounded at the door, the Shape stopped kissing the girl and zipped up their clothes. Upon entering the room, Dr. Blankenship gave him a hard look. He understood the reason behind it, yet it didn't phase him. Her daughter had moved on with her life, and so had he. Kaylee was his past; this new girl was his future. Simple as that.

The physician walked up to her patient's side and said, "Hello, Jillian. My name is Dr. Blankenship. I just put seven stitches into your neck. How is it feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Yes," the girl honestly answered.

The woman handed her two pills. "Here, take these. They will help."

"Thanks." The girl swallowed the medicine and then sagged back into the mattress.

"Other than your neck, are you feeling all right? Nothing else hurts?"

The Shape shifted on his feet, warning the doctor to tread carefully.

The girl caught his eye for a brief moment before saying, "No, I'm fine. Really. Just tired."

The woman appeared unconvinced, but all she said was, "You need to rest."

The girl gestured to the Shape. "Tell him that."

Dr. Blankenship sighed apologetically. "I did; trust me. Now, what about birth control? Are you on any?"

The girl's face blanched noticeably. "No. I mean, I wasn't planning to have sex anytime soon. This was all very unexpected."

The doctor deliberately nodded. "Well, at least you're of age. You are eighteen, correct?"

The Shape glared at the doctor. Enough.

Dr. Blankenship eyed him and said, "I apologize, Michael. I overstepped my boundaries. However, I do think it would be wise to start Jillian on some birth control in order to prevent any mishaps from occurring. Will you agree to that?"

He nodded. If that would help him earn the girl's trust, then so be it.

"Very good," the woman said. "I'll be right back."

Once the door closed, the girl stared at the Shape. The color still hadn't returned to her face, and her expression was that of sincere concern. "Michael, it may be already too late for the pills. I have such sporadic periods, so I'm never quite sure when I'm ovulating. It changes every month."

No, the girl wasn't ovulating. The Shape would know it, if she was. To ease her anxiety, he lightly touched her bare belly and shook his head.

A look of relief instantly spread over the girl's attractive features. "Really? Are you sure?"

That Shape firmly nodded. Yes, he was sure.

Dr. Blankenship sauntered back into the room holding a blue sweatshirt and a sleeve of pills. She set the items on the bed next to the girl "These pills should be enough for now. When you need more, Michael can let me know."

"Thank you," the girl replied.

"And make sure you take them at the same time every day," the doctor added.

"I will."

The woman turned to the Shape. "She's all set. There's nothing more I can do for her. Just please make sure she gets proper rest, and be mindful of the stitches. I'll check on them in five days."

At his nod, Dr. Blankenship addressed her patient one last time. "Goodbye, Jillian. I wish you the very best."

"Goodbye," said the girl. "And thank you, again, for everything."

The woman solemnly walked out of the room not to return.

The Shape helped the girl sit up and carefully slipped the sweatshirt over her head. He left her ruined sweater and soiled coat lying on the floor.

"Thanks," she muttered. She both looked and sounded utterly exhausted.

The Shape promptly scooped his captive up into his arms. It was time to bring her home.

Jillian rested her head against the Boogeyman's chest as he carried her back to his house. The street was dark and quiet, so they were able to slip through the front door undetected.

Michael stopped at the bathroom to give Jillian the chance to empty her bladder. Then, he carried her to her bedroom. He sat her down on the bed before going to retrieve the items he had hidden from her parents.

The killer handed Jillian the gallon of water, insisting that she drink some of it. After taking a few sips, she set the jug on the floor and let him tuck her in underneath the two blankets. She was so tired that as soon as she closed her eyes she began drifting off to sleep.

It was in that moment when something warm and pliable lightly touched Jillian's lips. She was sinking too far in the darkness for her mind to process what the object was; however, it made her pussy tingle pleasurably. She moaned softly, wanting more. But then the warmth lifted from her mouth, and she fell deeply into sleep.

The Shape pulled away from his captive and lowered his mask so that it once again covered his entire face. Although she had only been semiconscious when he had kissed her, she had reacted quite strongly to it. He was certain something inside of her would remember it when she woke up. The seed had been planted. Now, it was time to water it and watch it grow.