Content warning: brief mention of rape. I would also like to apologize for giving Michael a voice. I know it seems OOC but it gives me so much more to work with. When I read other fanfictions if I don't like something I just change it in my mind. If you don't like him talking just pretend he's not! :-) Or whatever works for you. Thank you!

A soft breeze gently kisses the earth, ruffling blades of grass and causing leaves to sway softly along with them. The girl breathes the beautiful nature in gratefully through her nose, relishing the crispness of the air. The Sun bares down on her nicely, warming her skin and blessing her with the wonderful feeling of contentment and happiness.

She loves being out here, in the country. She loves the animals that she drives past. Loves the old, rotting homes so full of character. She wonders what goes on within them.

She was always one that enjoyed taking risks. She liked to be scared. Liked to be in certain forms of trouble. Liked to go where most people wouldn't dare.

So, she loved to drive out in the country and explore these old, abandoned homes. Homes with boarded up windows, dirty floors, debris and trash scattered about. She always wondered what happened here before her, and wondered how recently the places were abandoned. In one, there were kindergarten and elementary school certificates littered about a sparkly pink bedroom, a huge hole in the floor. In another one, an odd briefcase that had something jingly inside, but the clasps were rusted shut. And in yet another, she was startled at the end of a black hallway when she opened a bedroom door, and by the light of her phone, saw a mangled animal corpse. Its skeleton lay on its side, and somehow an inch of gray fur was still puffed around the very end of its skeletal tail. Somehow, this didn't stop her from pressing forward, into the nasty, decrepit bathroom. Black and brown stains covered the toilet that was full of some form of shit. The bathtub was littered with a mixture of the same substance and some drywall pieces. The mirror on the wall was shattered to sharp fragments of glass. She wondered how these things ever ended up happening. Mirrors don't smash themselves.

Only one room left to explore, now….

She leaves the dead cat room, and pushes the door open to the next.

She is met with the wild eyed glare of a man standing just before her. There is no time to react before she is grabbed and slung around, thrown to the floor atop a pile of plastic and garbage. She screams aloud, terror filling her body as she tried to jump up quickly. But she wasn't fast enough and the man had the advantage. His greasy, straggly hair was splayed about his head in an oily mess. She was disgusted at just the sight of him.

Suddenly, from his pocket the man drew a pocket knife.

"No!" she screamed, before the knife whistled through the air, slashing merely an inch from her nose.

She scrambled backwards on the ground, attempting to gain proper footing before her back met the wall. Her hands flew up to protect her face at the precise moment the knife came whistling through the air once again, slashing open the palm of her hand. She yelped in pain, grasping her hand with the other. Tears began cascading down her face as she looked up at the man who had her cornered now. And in the doorway she could see another pale face peeking out at her; a woman, just as mangled and gross as the man who stood before her.

"Help me," Mara cried to the woman. Her gaze was quickly averted as she slunk from the doorway.

All the hope left Mara's body as the man grinned at her through brown, slimy teeth. "Stumbled into the wrong place, didn't ya girl?"

-

The sound of an elderly woman humming a soft tune fills a calm and placid home nestled within the hills of a small town. She stands at her countertop, preparing a sandwich for herself before plopping down in front of her old television. She takes a bite of the sandwich, flipping the TV on, her eyes settling down over the pretty face of a young news reporter.

"...early this morning detectives are scrambling to find the criminal responsible for the brutal rape and murder of this young woman…" An image of a young girl flashes upon the screen, and the elderly woman's sandwich falls from her hands, tumbling softly to the ground and disassembling itself upon the carpet. The report continues. "Mara Dyer's body was found at approximately four A.M. this morning as a local passerby noticed a car parked for hours at an abandoned house. Deputies assume that the attack occurred about three P.M. yesterday."

The words began to fade away.

The world began to crumble around her.

Her only grandchild… gone. Forever.

Mara jolted awake once again in the dark room as the memory forced her from a light slumber. Her memories cascaded around in her brain, confusing her as to where she was now, before she remembered what had transpired not too long before.

Her mind was reacquainted with the memories of warm, controlling hands. Deep, dark, demanding looks that melted her from the inside out. A hard body that pressed against her and drew out every bit of emotion that lay within her.

Gone now. Where was he?

The area around her began to change suddenly. The dark mist that surrounded her began to create shapes, spinning and twirling around her in a way that was dizzying. She closed her eyes in order to stay straight, and when she opened them, she was somewhere else entirely.

It was a dark den, a cavelike area that she'd only ever seen in movies. All she could see around her were dark, inky blacks that could contain anything within them, jagged, burgundy stones that jutted this way and that. And nothing else, until a massive spider-like mound began to move and crawl down from the ceiling. Its massive form scared her to death and she fell to the ground as she attempted to jump quickly backward.

Then its voice spoke to her, just as slimy and serpentine as one would imagine from a creature like this. And finally, she realized who she was speaking to.

The Entity.

It laughed at her at first, amused by her genuine display of fear. Oh, how the Entity loved that kind of attention, that it didn't receive very often. "Ah, yes, if it isn't the new addition to our… family." It said the last word dripping with a tone that told her the Entity did not appreciate its "family".

When it said no more, Mara stood up, confused. "What do you mean? I know who you are. You are not my friend, or my family."

The Entity chuckled once more, and Mara wondered if there ever was a human cradled within that ugly body. "I didn't say we were friends, little girl. But we share the same blood now. How does it feel to be…" it looked at her, its bone-chilling gaze falling upon her frightened face. "...a killer now?"

Anger welled up inside Mara as the creature played with her emotions. It knew that she didn't want to be called that. It knew that she still had a good heart, even if hers had suddenly been consumed by evil. There was no way to completely stamp out good or evil once it lies within.

"Ready darling? Go on! Have fun!"

She could only stare at the creature for a split second before the ground opened up beneath her and she fell screaming into a pit of blackness. As she fell, her heart escaped into her throat and for a moment she thought to cry out for Michael. Save me, Michael! She nearly screamed. But as his masked face crossed into her vision, she knew he could do nothing to help her now. She was quickly being transported somewhere else.

As soon as she landed and found her bearings, the sights of her environment were immediately recognizable. Rocks. Leaves. Bushes. All scattered about beneath an eerie, bluish moonlight…

Wow, she thought to herself. Another damned trial? Fuck my life.

And so, she began moving throughout the map, her eyes casting about for any of her teammates. She searched around for any sight of her friends, wishing to find Meg or Claudette as soon as possible so she could tell them all about what had transpired since she last saw them.

Finally, after coming across absolutely no one, she settled down in front of a generator. She was surprised that she had seen none of her teammates so far, and decided to sit down and be of some help until she eventually found them. So, she placed her hands atop the cold generator, and began working. That is, she tried to begin working, until little strings of the Entity's arms grew from it and began twisting around her fingers, causing her to fumble around with the pieces, effectively getting herself nowhere for a few minutes. Confused, she eventually left the generator as she heard one pop not too far off in the distance. She began to stalk off after it, finally catching a glimpse of her red-haired friend, Meg.

Quickly, Mara trotted up to meet her. She must not be paying much attention, because she was running really fast. Thankfully, Mara was catching up to her quickly. But then, Meg dashed to a window in a sudden burst of speed, grabbing it with her hands and deftly vaulting herself over it.

Only a few feet away, Mara stopped in her tracks and stared, now thoroughly confused. Survivors onlyfast vault when the killer is behind them, not their teammates…

Then the Entity's sneering voice rung out within her mind once again. "How does it feel to be a killer now?"

And it all came crashing down on her.

These are no longer her friends.

These are her enemies.

"No," she said aloud, still standing there before the window Meg had just vaulted through. "No!" she screamed again, now staring up at the empty sky, imagining the Entity up there looking down at her. "These are my friends! I will not kill them!"

And with that, she continued to take off after the Meg. This time, she had resolved to catch her and explain herself. Explain that she had been corrupted and she needed help getting this evil out of her, somehow, some way. Mara just didn't care. She didn't want to be a killer.

Meg hadn't gotten far, and Mara began to notice the way she could tell where her teammate had just been running by the bright red scratch marks that led directly to where she was crouched behind a rock. So that's why it's so easy to catch us sometimes, she thought to herself, having never known about the scratch marks before. Finally, she reached the rock that she was sure Meg hid behind. She turned the corner with a friendly smile on her face, to let her friend know that she was not here to hurt her. But just as she came around the side, her mouth opened in hopeful greeting to her friend, a heavy wooden pallet came crashing down over her head and she yelped in pain and surprise.

That kind of ticked her off, no lie.

But not enough to make her want to murder a friend.

She continued chasing after the Meg who was a good way away from her now, but she was also around the perimeter of the map, making her easier to find. Just as Meg turned to crouch behind yet another rock, a dark shape suddenly came into view from the distance.

That's Michael!

There he was, his unbelievably fast gait never exceeding from a walk as his eyes were set very clearly on Meg, who apparently did not see him coming. Mara ran toward him, an excited smile on her face as she was so happy to see him now. She closed about half of the distance before she saw Meg dash from behind the rock, her hand clasped painfully at her side. Michael appeared from the other side of the rock once again, effectively mind gaming her and slashing her right at the throat.

Mara wasn't happy to see Meg hit so brutally, but she was joyed to see that as soon as he had downed her friend, he turned to face her. And then began walking toward her. She was happy still, until something told her that something was very wrong. Something about the way he was approaching her. Somehow, without even seeing his eyes, she could sense what he was feeling. That air around him was so strong, and he came upon her so quickly. She stopped in her tracks, the smile from her face falling, as she realized that he was nothappy with her.

Once he came close enough he did not stop and Mara was thrown backward with a strong punch right to the abdomen. "Oof!" she cried in shock as she came crashing to the ground. She lifted her torso up onto her elbow, her confused eyes rising up to meet Myers', fear filling her heart as she could sense the anger that was ebbing off of him.

He crouched above her, bringing himself down to her level before grasping her roughly by the hair at the back of her head. He shook her sternly and she began to feel like a girlfriend in a very abusive relationship. He brought her face close to his and she could imagine the expression he must be wearing beneath that mask: eyes slitted yet slightly open, mouth pursed and turned down at the ends.

That permeating voice broke strongly into her mind. I did not make you a part of me so you can make friends with survivors.

She stared up at him for a moment like a teenager receiving a good scolding. Then his strong arm came down and he grasped her bicep, yanking her upward to stand beside him. He dragged her forward and she stumbled along in an attempt to keep up with him, her legs jogging as he merely walked. They were closing in on Meg who was still laid on the ground, until she suddenly jumped up right in front of them and dashed away. As soon as she'd done this, Michael let go of Mara and shoved her forward, gesturing with his knife to take off after her.

But she didn't. Instead, defiantly, she turned to face Michael. Looked up at his mask. Put her hands on her hips.

"No." The word that came from her mouth sounded a lot stronger than she felt.

A moment passed by. Two. Three. The two stared at each other, stubbornly. Michael seeming somewhat shocked at her overt display of disobedience. Who do you think is going to win?

Quickly, Michael grabbed her once again. This time by the collar of her shirt. He yanked her toward him, and then whipped around, dragging her with him before slamming her violently against the wall of a nearby shed. He lifted her upward so her feet dangled from the ground, her face merely inches from his.

They stayed there for a moment, looking at each other. Michael's head tilted slightly. What a shame, he thought to himself. For my chosen human of interest to disobey me so.

She expected him to hit her again. Or cut her. Or strangle her. All the things that were likely to come from this bloodthirsty man. But none of those things came. Instead, a soft touch at the side of her cheek, caressing her face as he seemed to enjoy doing. He was indeed captured by her sweet, innocent stare that was now framed by the beautifully dark, sunken eyes of a dead woman, complimented by the deep brown and blue bruises that were now forever etched into the skin of her neck. He liked this look on her better. But then, as those feelings began to flutter around within them both, his hand raised up and clasped warningly around her neck. With the other hand, he used the tip of his blade to trail it along her skin, lightly but threateningly, catching around the shirt at her hip before moving it to the skin of her arm. She watched the knife shine in the cool moonlight, leaving a definite line where it had traced her skin.

The knife was in her face, now. Threatening her. He used it smartly, dancing the tip around right in front of her eyes before pressing it hard against the softness of her lips. She cringed fearfully, her feet beginning to kick in protest.

Do as I say, or I will end you.

Just as she had as when he forced her to quiet down in the past, she nodded her head. Even if she felt close to him, and felt as if she cared about him, he still scared her. She still wasn't sure if he was actually willing to remove her from the world that he'd brought her into. He stared at her for a moment once again before stepping back from her, allowing her to fall to the ground before him. She came to a standing position and looked at him, uncertainly, before stepping around him and taking off after Meg.

Her mind was desperately searching for every possible way to avoid committing this act. She didn't want to upset Michael, and she didn't want to be killed, but she didn't want to kill her friend either. She threw a glance over her shoulder as she moved through the forest, and could see Michael back there, watching her. The feeling of that cold gaze gave her a shiver still, along with a flurry of unidentifiable feelings that stirred within her, caused simply by knowing that he had his watchful eyes on her.

Within moments she happened upon Meg once again, and she watched the girl she considered a friend run fearfully away from her. This loss of friendship was clouding Mara's mind with intense feelings of sadness and dismay. She didn't want the survivors to run from her; it hurts!

So she followed the girl, and as soon as she was close enough, she reached out a strong hand and grasped Meg's arm as gently as she could. But with the force of Meg running away and Mara pulling her backward, the two women crashed together and rolled to the ground. They landed beside each other and within moments Meg was already scrambling up to her feet to run again. But Mara was fast to reach out another hand and grab her by the ankle, dragging her backward.

Meg fought harshly. Mara always knew her to be a feisty woman, but she had never seen her from a killer's perspective. Considering that's the side she was on now, she felt a bit scared at the way Meg growled and fought against her grip. Mara jumped on top of the woman, straddling her by the hips and holding her arms down at the sides of her face.

"Meg, chill out!" she plead with her friend helplessly. "Meg, listen to me! Seriously, please!" Meg continued to struggle beneath her, so Mara kept talking in hopes that she would hear the sincerity of her words. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to see Michael watching her still ominously from a few yards away. He wouldn't be happy with this, but she didn't care. She looked back down at the struggling woman. "Listen, Meg. Remember the last time we saw each other in that trial? When Michael left me on the floor of the basement while you struggled on the hook?" A quick flash of Meg's eyes meeting her own told Mara that she was indeed listening. "Well, Michael murdered me in a way that brought me into the killer's realm… and I need to get out! Please, I love you and the rest of the survivors. I'm your friend and I need your help to get out of this!"

Mara stared down at her friend, her eyes wide and pleading.

"FUCK YOU, BITCH!"

"Ah!" Mara screamed as Meg's arm shot out from her grip, clasping a nearby rock in her hand and slashing Mara's face with it. Instinctively Mara sat up, her hands flying to her face as Meg squirmed out from beneath her, taking off again into the cold forest.

Tears sprang up in Mara's eyes as the woman ran away from her again. Her hand clasped her face in disbelief. Then, heavy footsteps pounded up behind her and Michael strode past, knife hoisted high in the air. She sat there still as he caught up to Meg not too far away, the knife coming down onto her swiftly, sending her sprawling on the ground with a cry of pain. Mara rose up to her feet now as Michael bent over the young woman, grasping her by the neck, and holding her high in the air.

"No!" Mara screamed, sprinting towards him, but she was too late.

The knife pierced through Meg's throat as her arms reached out to punch and flail at Michael's face, her hands weakly slapping at his shoulders while he stared into her suffering eyes, emotionless. She gurgled and choked on the knife that stung her throat before the life left her eyes and she went limp within Michael's grasp, and he tossed her to the ground like a worthless piece of trash.

Moments later, Michael was met with a flurry of flying limbs and the ear grinding whines of a hysterical woman that had sprinted up to him in an attempt to stop the gruesome act. He looked down at his side at Mara who stood nearly a foot below him in height. Her eyes were wild with anger, sadness, and helplessness. Her fists flew up to beat at his chest like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Why Michael, why!" she screamed at him. "Why did you turn me into a monster?!" she cried. Her voice even sounded different.

Michael wasn't one to listen to the anguished cries of an unhappy woman. If it were anyone else, he'd have simply Moried them too. But this was a woman that now held a special place within his mind. As he looked down at her, unleashing all of her emotions on him, he decided to take it, something he had never done before. All the women he had encountered in the past were dealt with in the same way he'd just handled the Meg; murdered and disposed of without a second thought. But somehow, within his cold, dead heart he found a feeling of compassion for the girl who was crying at him now. He looked down at her coolly, allowing her to take out all of her anger on him. Those fists couldn't possibly hurt him as they pounded lightly at his chest and shoulders. But before long, he reached out his hands and grasped the girl by her shoulders, stilling her. She looked back up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. The redness of her eyes set out the blue of her irises in a stark, beautiful contrast. Words that had never before reached him flooded into his mind. He cupped her face within his large, deadly hands once again.

I wanted you to be mine.

He felt his thoughts penetrate her mind, and by the look that flashed over her eyes, he knew that she heard him.

You are mine. I won't be giving you up.

There was no response for a moment. Until finally, she spoke.

"I don't want to kill my friends, Michael. I don't want to be a killer. I can't. It's not me. Please change me back!"

What's done is done.

He turned from her now, away from that pleading gaze that had begun to tug on his heart strings. He was never a selfless man, but something about him didn't want to see her so torn to pieces. He was not consumed by the wish to please her, but as she begged him to change her life once again, he almost felt bad for what he had done to her. Then that possessive selfishness took over again, and he just didn't care. As long as she belonged to him, he didn't care. She'd move on soon enough.

Then he stalked off, turning his back to the woman who had already changed him so, before she could change him any more.

He stalked off to finish the job she wouldn't.