"Bond's always formed in the most unlikely of places. And sometimes? Scar's came with them. But, what didn't I expect, is when I became attached to a silent killer, all those years ago."

Chapter 1: Meeting The Shape
- 8 Months before Halloween - March 1969 -

I still remember the day I arrived at Smith's Grove Sanitarium. It was a windy, spring day, I was only nine at the time. A week prior, I'd been admitted to the emergency room at Graham Hospital, in Berwick, Illinois, after a rather traumatic event, involving the loss of my parents. The doctor's had declared my case to be too severe for them to handle. It took a lot to convince them that I needed more help, then they were able to provide. I don't remember how many professionals I had to tearfully break down to, how many fits I had to throw, for someone to finally realize how severe my condition was.

The transfer had been terrible, it was late evening when the doctor's arrived as my escort. All I had was the costume, a kind officer, named Daniel Winters, brought me from the place I once called home. Two nurses picked me up, Marion and Dawn. The ride to Smith's Grove took over an hour, and had been rather uncomfortable, as the two women prodded me for information regarding the incident, despite being given all necessary knowledge from the hospital staff.

I understood that this was part of the process. But, the memories weren't something I wanted to recall. The same questions were repeated as I entered Dr. Carpenter's office when I arrived, filling out the required paperwork for anyone being admitted.

- March 23rd, 1969 -

At the crack of dawn, maybe a bit before, Dr. Wynn had come to assess my overall health. Blood tests were run, my blood pressure was taken, checked to see if I had a fever, that sort of thing. Dr. Evan Lussier, the psychiatrist who'd been treating me at the hospital came by, discussing medications I had been on, what I could take, what I shouldn't. Warning the doctor and the staff that I had tried to take my own life, swallowing pills, even with my young age.

My medicine had been drastically changed, and any medication changes could be unpleasant, dealing with possible side effects, meaning I would be kept under watch, though I was told the side effects weren't dangerous. As if I even cared…

The first day had been even worse than the transport there. I was kept in a private room overnight, while they evaluated me, seeing if I'd continue to be a threat to myself, or if I'd threaten the others. Four days had passed before I would be transferred to the shared room.

I'd been woken up by a nurse shaking me, yelling at me to get breakfast in the common room. She told me about the girl's I'd been sharing a room with now on.

Two other girl's were there, they were older than me. Samantha, a 13 year-old, ebony haired girl, who suffered from delusions, and Chelsea, a 17 year-old brunette, she was obsessive and had a severe drug addiction. I heard Chelsea had been recovering for a few years, since she was 13. She'd made a quick recovery and was released about a year and a half, just to be readmitted recently, just after her 16th birthday. And there was a third girl, named Nancy, also 13, and currently, in solitary as punishment for mocking and bullying other patients.

I wasn't told much about the boys, just given a couple names. James, Roger, Michael, Anthony and Mason. The nurse told me that Michael and Roger were both troubled children and though, they were behaved enough to spend time in the common room, I should stay away from them.

My vision was spotty and blurred at moments. Upon telling the nurse, she told me not to worry and that it was just a side effect. She hadn't been very nice, and honestly seemed as if I'd disrupted her whole life by telling her about my condition.

I stayed quiet after that. Kept to myself. Samantha sat next to me, she started warning me of one of the troublesome boys, Michael, told me he was bad news, to stay away from him. He'd killed three boys within the past five years and Roger had killed one himself. Of course, I didn't believe her. They were allowed in the common room. If he was attacking people, he would be locked up with the other inmates in the building instead of the juvenile ward.

Right?

That evening, I hadn't really settled into the shared room. Chelsea wept whenever the lights were shut off, it sounded awful. She scared me. If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was being tortured, being forced to beg for whoever was hurting her to stop. Those were cries I was very familiar with.

Samantha had been talking to herself, seemingly having a full conversation. Whenever she fell asleep, her mumbling continued and her dreams seemed pretty violent. The night shift nurse didn't seem to care, she checked the room once and wasn't seen from again.

I didn't feel safe. It was hard to sleep.

- March 28th, 1969 -

The next morning came and I was introduced to group therapy. Today was only the three of us girls, though, I was alerted that at time's we'd have the boy's in the group as well. Group therapy was only once, occasionally twice a week. The rest of the days we'd be given individual therapy, talking to the doctors alone.

The group was just to help everyone get along and to encourage supporting each other, while solo talks were meant for the real breakthroughs.

Another therapy I'd been introduced to was art therapy. This was normally done in the common room. It was far easier for the whole group to participate at once.

The nurses couldn't be bothered for anything. They wouldn't respond, no matter your concerns. I'd have to wait till next individual session to speak with Dr. Loomis, or Dr. Wynn. The doctor's actually listened to complaints.

And since, I began experiencing this strange blockage in my vision, my depression was only getting worse, seeing as the nursing staff didn't care. I'd be lying if I hadn't thought of trying to horde my medicine for a few days, in order to take everything at once and hopefully overdose… Everything I did felt as if I was a bother. I didn't belong there, and I feared the outside world. There wasn't a place for me. It would be better if I simply, didn't exist.

When Dr. Wynn heard my confession, he urged me to interact with the others more. I'd been keeping to myself too much and I needed to make friends, so I wasn't suffering and lonely. That was a dangerous combination.

But, Samantha was a lot to handle with her delusions. Her conversations turned to arguments, which occasionally meant screaming. She'd also taken to sitting on the edge of my bed, whispering to me while I slept. And Chelsea, if you didn't act or respond the way she wanted or expected, she got angry.

And Nancy, well, she was certainly a piece of work. She pretty much spent a lot of her time trying to mock the others.

I tried to avoid all of them.

Rather, I spent free time reading. I did spend quite a lot of time in the common room, rather the girls' room.

Strangely, Michael, was also in the common room a lot. He just stared out a window, watching life pass. He never talked. Not to the other patients, not to the staff. His stare was blank, as if he wasn't really there.

Somehow, despite the rumors, it didn't stop the others from trying to tease him. As rumors had it, he was a killer, and as kids do, they wanted him to prove he was the big, bad wolf, everyone thought him to be.

He did .

Kids would always get injured because of this. Though, no one had been killed since 1964. At least, no one that could be traced back to Michael, or any other patient in the juvenile ward. There had been whisperings of other deaths elsewhere in the facility.

Despite somehow feeling that Michael had been the source of these minor attacks, I felt drawn to him. Compelled to spend time with him.

While in the common room, I decided to sit across from him reading my book, rather than, on the other side of the room. Of course, neither of us said a word. I did catch Michael, glancing over at me. He seemed curious. I didn't seem to fear him and I wasn't teasing him.

I can only imagine he was trying to figure out what I wanted.

- April 1st, 1969 - 7 Months before Halloween -

The next morning, during my individual therapy, Dr. Wynn asked about my sudden interest in Michael.

"How do you feel when you're near Michael? Do you feel fear?"

"No." I shook my head.

"Hmmm, I'd say that's a bit of improvement. You haven't been close to many, especially males, since you arrived. Perhaps your fear is subsiding. Would you feel comfortable for the male nurses to check on you?"

I shot a worried glance up at him, as he halted his writing on the clipboard he was carrying. "I don't trust them." My reply was nothing short of a mumble.

I was surprised that Dr. Wynn had heard me. "Is that all? You know they are here to help, no harm will come to you." He continued writing things down, raising a brow.

There was a rage inside of me. It boiled. They were supposed to help me, protect me. It was all bullshit.

"You're lying ." I replied sternly, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

"I assure you, Elaine, I-"

"He said he wouldn't hurt me. That he wouldn't hurt..."

"Yes, he promised not to hurt you or your mother. But, he lied. He is not a good man. The staff here is good, however."

By then, I refused to look up at the doctor. He liked to read my emotions, and I didn't like him to know how I felt. The doctor also hated when I refused to talk to him, which is the strategy I'd reverted to.

"Young lady, I hope you realize that you are not going to recover until you open up and talk about the events leading up to your incident. Do you want to carry the anger, the guilt, for the rest of your life?"

Again, I refused to say anything. I heard a disgruntled sigh from the man.

"I'll see you again on Wednesday. I hope to have better results then. I just want you to talk to me, dear, make me understand what happened, why you tried to take your own life."

My eyes stung. I was trying to suppress the events of that night, but, everyone kept bringing it up.

So my father hit my mother, and he touched me inappropriately. That was normal. I was the one at fault for trying to defend myself. At least, that's what I believed back then.

That's why I tried to find an easy escape. I didn't want to witness any more nights where my parents would scream at each other.

I suppose, even without ending my own life, I stopped those nights from happening.

- April 3rd, 1969 -

Dr. Loomis was much more understanding. He knew I needed time, that I wanted time. Dr. Wynn seemed as if he wanted a miracle recovery from me, so he could send me to the nearest orphanage.

Though, since I still didn't want to talk about the events, he, too, had decided to ask about Michael. His interests were different.

"Has Michael said anything to you? A greeting, a threat? Anything at all?"

Of course, I wasn't aware that he could even speak, I assumed he was mute. And that is what I told the doctor. "I didn't know he could talk."

"Ah, yes. He was always a quiet boy. But, even so, his mother told me that he used to speak to her quite a lot. He hasn't spoken since he came here."

He paused, continuing his examination. I noticed that I was much more open with him, than with the other doctor.

"You know, Michael and you have something in common. Aside from your quiet natures, though, I cannot say it's a good thing to have in common. It is still a familiarity."

This drew my interest. I knew nothing about Michael, and now I was being told we have something in common? I needed to know, so I gave Loomis enthusiastic glance.

"I apologize if this brings up any negative feelings, Ellie. You see, Michael also lost his mother, nearly four years ago."

Honestly, I didn't have high feelings about either of my parents, I was closer to my mother, so of course, when father had killed her, I lost my mind. Yet, I still remembered how drunk she used to get. I hated when she drank.

"I suspect from the marks his mother tried to hide on his little sister that his father was abusive as well. Still not a nice thing to have in common with someone, maybe you two can find some kind of solace in one another, hmm?"

- April 5th, 1969 -

Dr. Loomis had also been trying to encourage Michael to talk to me. I knew, as Nancy had taunted me that evening before we went to sleep.

"Gonna try and befriend the devil, huh?"

I tried facing the other way to ignore her, she grabbed me by my shoulders, forcing me to look at her.

"He'll kill you, ya know. He doesn't like when people get close to him."

I sighed, wanting nothing more than to brush the conversation off.

"Are you gonna fuck him? Maybe he'll touch you like your dad did."

Something inside me had snapped, hearing those words. Tears stung my eyes, I was whimpering, but, my eyes stared at nothing. It was hard to control myself, easier for me to just shut down. Nancy, however, wasn't having it.

"Already taking lessons from the freak? Gonna try and pretend no ones here? Fuck off. They should lock you both up in the ward, let those guys run their hands all over you."

Samantha's head perked up as I pushed Nancy to the floor, closing my fist and punching her in the face. And again. And again.

"Nancy's gonna die here..." Samantha mumbled, chuckling at the thought.

Sadly, Nancy's screams were loud enough that she called attention to the nurses and before I could do any major harm, we'd been pulled apart and the doctor had been called.

The doctor on duty wasn't one I'd interacted with. Dr. Hill, an Asian woman. She had a motherly charm about her.

I'd been taken to her office, so we could speak privately.

"Why did you do it?" Simple and to the point. I liked her.

"She deserved it."

Dr. Hill kept her eyes on me.

"Yes, from her record, I'm sure she probably did. Dr. Loomis has reported that you are the best behaved patient he has here, and I don't want to send you to solitary, so I need to know why your personality has suddenly changed."

My eyes wandered to the floor, I wasn't sure what to tell her. The truth? A lie? If Nancy was a troublemaker, they'd probably believe a lie. Yet, I settled on telling the truth. Well, the half truth. I didn't want to mention Michael's involvement.

"She told me that I deserved all the things that-..."

Finishing the sentence was almost impossible. My hands tightened around the chair arms, body trembling.

"I know it's hard, sweetie, but, you need to verbally tell me."

Hill had a warm smile across her face. She was understanding. She wanted to help. Her welcoming aura made it a little easier to choke out the words.

"She said I deserve everything my father did to me... And.."

I paused again. Biting my lip.

"And that I deserved more..."

Dr. Hill seemed upset, her face grew red.

"Oh, no baby, you most certainly do not deserve that! No one does!" She placed her hands on my shoulders, comforting me.

"I'll make sure that after she gets out of the infirmary that she'll be the one going back to solitary."

Afterwards, Dr. Hill had Wallace, the security guard, escort me back. When I walked into the room, Chelsea had thrown her arms around me. Had her past also been similar?

- April 6th, 1969

The next morning, Michael was back in the common room. I decided to sit next to him, rather than, across.

"Hi, Michael."

He didn't respond, not even a glance. Nor, any semblance he even realized I was there.

I wasn't offended. But, something made me wonder if he was traumatized, or, if he'd just been biding his time.

Waiting.

His silence made me uncomfortable. Though it was hard, I persisted, keeping my seat next to him for a couple hours, before dinner was called.

-

As it so happens, one of the staff went missing on the night shift. The nurses were chatting rather loudly about the events. He apparently disabled the inside camera's and left the building. Leaving spots of blood, before getting in his car and apparently driving it off a cliff.

With the circumstances, it seemed impossible for Michael to have anything to do with it. Yet, his aura was all over the situation. The nurses seemed share the same uncomfortable feeling I had, day's earlier.

Still, I decided to continue pursuing him, sitting next to him during common room hours.
This time, I wanted to try playing his game.

Watching. Waiting.

Soon, I realized I was nowhere near as patient as he was. I'd have a long way to go.

"Michael." My voice was stern, as I called his name.

He glanced up, letting me know he was aware.

Now that I had his attention, I wasn't exactly sure what to say. I didn't want to say anything that might offend him. But, calling his name so harshly,and saying nothing afterwards, that would totally piss him off, right? The warmth in my cheeks was unbearable.

"S-sorry if I've been invading your personal space… I just, I don't want to be alone… I also, don't want to be with…. Well, them." My gaze gestured towards the other girls.

Michael was three years older than me, and in a roundabout way, I just confessed that I liked him. A warmth made its way to the surface of my cheeks.

He shrugged, turning his attention back to the window. It was raining today.

Rain had always been my favorite weather. I wondered what Michael's favorite time of day was? Deciding to watch, rather than ask him, I kept an eye out, watching for some kind of excitement when lightning raced across the sky. There was no reaction.

Soon, his gaze was fixated back on me. His head cocked, slightly to the side, as if he were wondering why I was still there, why I wanted to be there? When I looked over at him, I noticed that Dr. Loomis and Dr. Wynn had been standing in the back of the room, examining us.

Michael hadn't even glanced their way, the look on his face, however, was almost as if he was saying something along the lines of: 'They're annoying. Aren't they?'

I could feel fury radiating from him. Michael didn't care for this place, he hated the doctors. The darkness within, made itself evident within his chilled stare. He wasn't looking at me, he was looking through me, as if with one glance he figured me out. I shuddered. Michael wasn't threatening me, it was meant as a warning.

If I got in his way, I'd be disposed. That was easy to understand.

The doctors decided it would be a good idea to separate us a little while later. Apparently, the way Michael and I were staring at each other was too eerie for Dr. Loomis. He made sure that I was alright, and that I hadn't been threatened. What did he think of Michael? Not very highly, that's for sure.

Dr. Wynn, however, seemed even more interested in the two of us.

Throughout the rest of the evening, I wasn't able to shake his stare. I could feel it. He was somehow watching me. Though, I couldn't see him, he shouldn't have been anywhere near me. I felt him. Within the shadows. It was hard to sleep, I kept hearing footsteps, walking down the hall, walking through the room, yet no one was following them. I was watching, waiting to see someone, anyone. No one ever showed.

Tonight night, I began having strange dreams. Dreams about being killed, by him… By, Michael.

The first dream, had possibly been the most frightening.

-

I stood in a plain white room. No door in sight, no windows, no people. My head hurt, the pounding, unbearable. Stepping backwards, my foot landed on a piece of paper, nearly causing me to fall. Papers were scattered around my feet, each with the outlining sketch of a mask, ready to be cut out.

Those footsteps echoed around me again, yet no matter how many times I turned around, no one was ever around.

My body felt hot now, it was burning. My lungs were also on fire, making it hard to breath. Beads of red now began to fall from the ceiling, splashing against the floor, the blood was creating a pattern on the paper masks.

A straight line with two separate, smaller lines meeting in the center, creating a triangle formation.

The footsteps stopped.

Looking behind myself once more, Michael was standing there, in the center of the room, a large kitchen knife in one hand, and a mask in the other.

"Michael?"

He tilted his head in a similar fashion from before, taking a step forward, I stepped away, slipping on the bloodied papers, however, instead of landing on the hard floor, I fell into darkness.

When I eventually landed, I hit the ground harshly, my leg suffering a lot of damage, as a tree branch had torn through my skin. Somehow, I was still able to stand, albeit there was a searing pain, stretching across the gash.

The forest was dark, the tree's were mostly barren of leaves and the breeze was frigid. I didn't know where I was going, I had no choice but to start walking.

Freezing, in pain.

My head still hurt, my body was still hot. It was strange how these feelings seemed to overlap each other so perfectly that I could feel them all together and yet, separate enough that neither drowned out the other.

Even with the heat in my body, I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to warm up.

Eventually, through my mindless wandering, I stumble upon a jack-o-lantern, illuminating the tree before it, showing a bloodied arrow, pointing towards the right. Similar jack-o-lanterns and marks of blood continued down the path, leading to an old house.

Walking up the stairs, that same strange symbol marked the door.

I noted that the paint was peeling, shutters were damaged and ripped off and one of the windows was broken. The house was abandoned. Thus, the door opened easily, creaking every step of the way.

The inside of the house was in no better condition, furniture still remained, but covered in dust and cobwebs, the wallpaper was peeling and dirt littered the floor. There was another red arrow pointing upstairs, urging me to follow it. As much as I didn't want to, I really didn't have a choice.

At the top of the stairs, I saw Michael, leaning against a doorway, examining the knife, which was freshly coated in blood. Looking up, he saw me and retreated back into the room, the door slowly swinging closed, but, staying cracked open. That symbol was on this door too.

I couldn't convince myself to go any further, that symbol scared me. It wasn't the blood, or the strange events, it was that damn symbol. There was a darkness about it. The same darkness, Michael carried.

Apparently, I wasn't going to be able to just stand there, thinking about my next move.

I was grabbed from behind, pinned against the wall. It was too dark, I couldn't see who the assailant was. The figure was only a shape in the dark. In my heart I knew, this was Michael. I wasn't sure how he'd gotten behind me.

"Michael…" I whispered his name again. Hoping to evoke a response.

The response I got wasn't the one I wanted. While pinned down a harsh force hit my left shoulder, a dull throbbing pain made itself apparent, the pain grew and panic set in. He was going to kill me? And for what? Trying to befriend him?

"Elaine!"
Someone yelled my name, it echoed, sounding distant. The voice was familiar. One of the doctors?

"She's not waking up, she hasn't been responsive since before I called you."

The shapes head cocked to the side again, like he too could hear the voices.

"You need to let me go, Michael!" I screamed, hoping to reach him, convince him that he wouldn't get anything out of killing me.

This was a dream and I was trapped inside, pinned by Michael.

"He struck again, I knew that child was nothing but bad news!"

"Sir, Michael hasn't been in this room, neither has anyone besides the other girls. Maybe it's a reaction to her medicine?"

"It's always a coincidence with him! That's what he wants us to believe."

The knife was pulled out and Michael let go of me, dropping to my knees, I clutched my shoulder. He hadn't hit anything vital. Thankfully.

The shape bent down, placing his hand against my cheek, moving to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at his second later. He turned my head, examining me.

Again, he let go, cocking his head. This time I could feel confusion from him. I realized I hadn't been crying. I was afraid of dying, but, not afraid of him. Maybe, I could use this confusion to my advantage.

It was a struggle to make it to my feet again. He watched. Curious as to how I'd react.

"I need to wake up, help me, Michael." I begged, reaching for him, grabbing his shirt, only to be met with his hand closing around my throat, blocking the airflow.

I couldn't make another sound, as I flailed, struggling to get loose. My lungs gasped for breath. Finally, my mind started to fade, my eyes forcefully closing, I was barely keeping conscious.

"She stopped breathing, give me room!"

There's no way I could pry his hands away from my neck, his grip was too tight. Instead, I reached towards him, resting my hand on his cheek, feeling the mask brush against my wrist. His grip loosened momentarily before returning and throwing me down the stairs. I blacked out before hitting the bottom.

To be continued...