Chapter 2: Entrapment
- 7 Months Before Halloween - April 1969 -

Still I heard the voices, calling me, begging me to open my eyes, take a breath, anything. But, in that moment, I was nothing. Only a shell. In a way, I wanted to let go, to allow the darkness to swallow me. Yet, despite being absolutely engulfed by shadows, I could still see the light, feel the warmth caressing me.

Easily the warmth had outweighed the frigid darkness.

Still deep in slumber, my lungs received a fresh breath of air. The outside voices calmed. I'd live, for now.

My eye's still wouldn't open. The light moving across my eyes told me I was being transported. Most likely to the infirmary. Dr. Loomis tightly held my hand. A warmth resonated from him. I knew, with him around, I'd be safe. I felt as they laid me down, and the sting of a needle, being poked into my vein.

"She's doesn't realize she was conscious. She had no reaction." Loomis spoke, as they moved around the room.

"It must be a side effect from the medicine. She was having a bit of trouble with her breathing."

"The side effect wasn't supposed to be this severe. Loss of vision, and fever, yes. Falling unconscious, seizing and losing function of her lungs, no. This has to be something more."

"You're paranoid, Doctor. If it was something more, we wouldn't have recovered her so easily."

A shadow moved over me, blocking the light. My body jerked and my eyes fluttered open. Dr. Loomis was standing next to me, messing with one of the machines. The nurse was nowhere to be seen. The room was mostly dark, aside from where the doctor was working.

He walked to the counter, throwing something in the trash bin, glancing back at me, before having to do a double take noticing I was sort of awake.

"Elaine, can you see me, hear me?"

I slowly nodded my head.

"Good." He breathed a sigh of relief. "You weren't aware of your surroundings earlier. Didn't even realize we were in the room. You had us worried."

He walked back over to me now, moving my hair from my face. "Do you know what happened? Was someone else near you? Did they try to hurt you? Was Michael around?" There was a franticness in his tone.

There was no way I could tell Dr. Loomis about the dream I had. Even as a young child, I saw the paranoia he was suffering, trying to somehow figure out what Michael was doing to cause injury and death to the staff and patients, all without being noticed, or suspected by anyone else.

It was hard to speak, but, I managed a shaky voice.

"Michael is my friend…"

Without giving him a clear yes or no, I figured that if I didn't seem threatened by him, Loomis would give up trying to get such a confession from me.

"He's your friend?" His expression was puzzled. Like none of the other kid's had ever tried befriending him. I knew they all seemed to avoid him, I didn't think it would be so surprising when I persisted in wanting to get to know him.

Again, I nodded.

Soon after Loomis left, I blacked out again.

I heard their worried chatter, I'd only been awake a couple of minutes and I fell back into an unconsciousness. Back into the darkness.

Occasionally I'd open my eyes, due to this, the doctors weren't too worried. Assuming I needed to sleep it off, I suppose.
However, on the third night, I woke up, and instead of seeing a doctor at my bedside, it was Michael, stare as blank as ever.

The room was dark, Michael only illuminated by the lights the machines put off. How had he even got here without the nurses noticing, or the other boys telling someone that he left the room?

I drifted in and out, my eyelids kept falling. The anxiety of Michael being in my room was the only thing allowing me to stay haphazardly awake.

He never moved, he only stood there, staring through me.

My pulse increased, Michael, glanced at the monitor, I could have sworn for a moment, I saw him smirk. Like, he was proud he scared me. That had been his goal, he warned me and he showed me what could happen if I didn't obey. I felt as if I was only alive because, I kept telling the doctor's that he wasn't involved. If I would have thought of placing the blame on him, I wouldn't have taken that breath. He would've just let me die.

After a few minutes, of trying to keep awake, I felt myself giving into the slumber I'd been cursed to fall into. Michael had turned, ready to walk away. A thought occurred to me the same second. If I truly believed that he was behind my condition, that the dream had caused it, surely he'd be the only one who could fix it?

"Michael!" My voice was weak and hoarse, but, strong enough for him to hear. He stopped, not bothering to look at me. I knew he was listening. "I-I can't wake up Michael…"

My heart rate increased again. One of the machines had started beeping, drawing the attention of a nurse as I heard her loudly grumble. "I'm never going to get anything done if these damn things keep going off…"

"It's not like you're doing much anyway." Another nurse replied in a snarky tone.

Michael turned towards me, anxiety pounding through my body, my mind convincing me that he was going to silence me. Permanently.
He placed a hand over my mouth, using the other to tell me to keep quiet. Though, before the nurse had a chance to enter, I blacked out again.

I awoke back in nightmare land.

Laying at the bottom of the stairs, I'd been oh-so casually tossed down, I heard the familiar, heavy, disembodied footsteps from before, they approached me, stopping for a brief moment, before continuing up the stairs.

The wound on my leg was no longer there, I couldn't feel the burn. The heat that had spread throughout my body was gone too. My splitting headache remained and was accompanied by a new pain, a dull pain around my throat.

It was surprisingly easy to get to my feet, at least for someone recently choked out and thrown down a flight of stairs. I did find that I was somewhat out of breath and had to inhale deeply a few times before, I felt that I could attempt walking up the stairs. Where I knew he was waiting.

As before, each stair creaked, and if he didn't know I was on my way, there's no way he didn't now.

At the top of the stairs, where he pressed me against the wall, there was now one of those strange symbols. I had to look up the meaning later. If there was any way I could find it. I couldn't ask the doctors, they'd want me to explain where I'd seen it. And, I had no sane reason.

That door had been left cracked open again, the flickering of a candle from inside, illuminated the room. He was in there, waiting for me. And now, he was going to let me out of this prison. I'd force myself out if I had to.

The halls seemingly grew darker, with each step closer to that door. Downstairs no longer existed, instead it was a pitch black hole, devoid or sound or shape. The other rooms upstairs were the same, my only choice this time was to enter that room. Unless I wanted to disappear with the rest of the home.

Placing my hand against the door, the wood was frozen to the touch. I pushed the door open, straight ahead, positioned in the corner of the room was a vanity, the mirror on the vanity also donned the symbol. What was Michael's obsession with that rune?

There was a doorway, just around the bed. I couldn't see much, it appeared that there was another bedroom was connected. A bloody handprint was smeared across the frame. It hadn't been from someone trying to make their way from room to room, rather they were trying to keep from getting pulled back into the previous room.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly maneuvered through the room, pausing as I stood in front of the doorway. Michael was on the other side. I could feel him. Taking one more step, I could feel the dull throbbing in my left shoulder, reacting to the sudden muscle spasm, my hand covered the wound, hoping to soothe it. I was met with a slippery, yet sticky substance under my fingers. My own blood, partially dried.

This nightmare had to end. I forced myself to walk through the doorway.

Michael was standing to the left. Mask over his face, knife still gripped tightly in his hand.

He wanted me to run, the doorway behind me vanished, but the door behind him, opened. I knew he was stronger than me, there was no chance. Perhaps, death here, was release? I hadn't been able to wake up because I was merely knocked unconscious. That was his game, if you didn't die, you didn't wake up.

What would happen if you choose death? Choose to die at his hand?

"Michael I'm not going to run." He didn't move. I took a step closer, still no reaction.

"Michael, you need to let me-" My sentence was cut off, he grabbed my shoulder, digging his thumbnail into the wound, before plunging his knife into my abdomen. I fell into him, he was the only thing keeping me upright. The air being knocked from my lungs.

Suddenly, the urge to run made itself apparent. I wanted to push past him, try and make my way out to the hallway. At the same time, I wanted to collapse. My breathing was shallow, it hurt far too much to try and force deeper breaths.

With what little strength I had, my fist clutched the fabric of his shirt, allowing me to keep myself on my feet, pulling myself up. Michael let go of my shoulder, moving his arm under my own, keeping me supported as he yanked the blade out, pulling my body closer as he re-positioned the knife.

The blade was aimed toward my right lung.

My hand loosened, I was falling back into the abyss. How much would I have to suffer, before being allowed to escape?

The knife broke my skin, and I shot up in bed, panicked and breathing frantically.

Dr. Hill was at my side immediately, putting her arm around me for support. "Calm down, baby, everything is alright!." I was still shaking, but managing to slow my breathing.

Part of me thought I was still in that dream, that he was trying to trick me, so I'd let my guard down. He liked the thrill of the chase, from what I'd seen.

"It was just a nightmare. You're fine, Elaine. Everything's fine."

-April 29th, 1969-

The next morning, after making sure I was awake and alert, and going to stay that way, I was briefed on everything that had happened.

When I first began dreaming, I was sleep talking, repeating the words "Don't let him get me." This of course was reference to, Michael. I convinced the doctors it was a reference to my father.

Soon after, I developed a high fever, began thrashing about, seizure-like behavior. I nearly died several times. And I'd been pretty much in a comatose state for two weeks.

I was kept in the infirmary for a few more days, to monitor my health, before they allowed me to return to the girls' room.

-May 3rd, 1969-

Samantha, was delighted by my return, sitting on the edge of my bed most of the day with me. I didn't really want to leave the room. I was afraid of seeing Michael, of being swept into that dream world once again. Samantha was fidgeting with the bed frame, unscrewing a screw and tightening it again. She was nervous, probably picking up on my own nerves.

"Michael hasn't been out in the common room, since that night. But, he was there this morning." She spoke in a light voice, assuring no one besides me could hear her.

"You're in danger. But, he's not the danger. He's the obsession." Samantha didn't make eye contact with me after that.

"What are you talking about? Sam, you need to tell me." I scooted closer to her. "Please, Sam… If you know something…"

Still, she refused to look at me.

"The symbol. It will bind the two of you together. Thorn is interested in you, because you are trying to be close to him. I think that's why he tried to hurt you. He doesn't want you involved. He wants you to see what he is. The evil inside him."

Before I could get another word out, Sam leaped off the bed, returning to her own.

Dr. Wynn walked in seconds later.

"How are you feeling, Elaine? I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." He glanced over at Samantha. "To any of you."

I felt afraid. No longer did I trust this doctor. There was something about him, something that sent chills up my spine. They way he talked to me, the way he looked at Samantha, as if he were threatening her, telling her to keep her mouth shut.

"I'm alright….. I'll be alright…" I swallowed harshly.

After he left, Samantha didn't talk to me. She didn't talk to herself either.

-May 4th, 1969-

The next morning didn't come quick enough. I didn't like the darkness anymore.

When the nurse came to get us all up, Samantha was already gone, Nancy too. It was only Chelsea and I. We were directed to shower, change our clothes and meet in the cafeteria for breakfast.

The other girls had already been in the showers, and they left as soon as we showed up. I sighed, while taking my sweet time. The showers were rather warm today. At least that would be enjoyable.

"I think that kid likes you." Chelsea called from her stall. "I don't know, he just doesn't seem as empty , when you're around. I've never really seen him look at anyone before, and you two pretty much had a five minute staring contest."

"Michael? Is he really that strange?"

"Well, yeah, kinda. I mean, I guess he isn't too strange for a kid that freaked out and killed his sister. I'm sure any of us would shut down after that. He didn't even seem to have a motive."

I paused everything I was doing. "He killed his sister?"

"Oh shit, I probably shouldn't have told you. Since you're so young and all. But, hell, if you can survive a place like this, honestly, you doing better than most adults. The doctors and nurses here all seem loony." Chelsea laughed. "But, yeah, he killed his sister, I think five years ago, or something. Stabbed her several times, hasn't said a word since. Maybe she pissed him off? He thought that was how he should've reacted, and didn't mean to actualyl kill her. Maybe that's why he's so quiet."

A shadow passed by one the wall, before I heard Chelsea's shower curtain being pulled open.

"Do not talk about the Myers boy!" One of the nurses shouted. "He's an ill omen."

"Jesus Christ, you don't have to fucking scare me like that, Barbara." Chelsea protested.

"You two need to hurry up, you're almost out of time."

We finished up rather quick, drying ourselves and changing clothes. Chelsea was drying her hair, keeping her gaze locked on the nurse, until she walked out.

"Anyway. Now that mega-bitch isn't here. What do you think of Michael? There's been a couple people here approach him, but, no one has ever approached him multiple times."

My face turned red as I looked away. "I don't know, I mean he just looked lonely to me, and I don't like being alone, so I figured he wouldn't. And, I guess he's kinda cute. For an older boy anyway."

Chelsea smiled. "Hey now, there is nothing wrong with older guys, I think they're more fun."

Maybe these two girl's weren't as bad as I originally thought. Whenever Chelsea was taking her meds, she was pretty cool and whenever Samantha wasn't acting insane, she was nice too.

The two of us headed out, starving and ready to eat.

When we exited we were met by Dr. Loomis, chatting with the nurse in a hushed voice and Michael, not too far behind. He slowly turned his head, making eye contact with me. I quickly severed the gaze. I didn't want to look in his eyes. Not after what happened last time.

But, Chelsea nudged me forward, not knowing of my new found fear.

"Barb, I will take care of your concerns later. Right now, they aren't urgent, what is urgent is that these children get something to eat. "

I had no choice but to walk towards Michael. The cafeteria was passed him.

Maybe I was just freaking out? I had been through a lot and now for some reason I was buying into Samantha's delusions. Somehow Michael had stalked me through my dreams? How ridiculous was that? I deserved to be in this place, if I honestly believed that I was being haunted by a 12 year-old boy.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I felt a bit more confident about approaching Michael.

When I got close, Dr. Loomis was getting ready to see us all to the dining room. Michael's cold stare, still pierced through me. I didn't want to let it bother me. The poor kid killed his sister, and his parents died, now he was stuck in this place, alone, just like I was. He needed someone. He needed me.

On the way down the hall, I lagged behind the group. Trying to think things over. Loomis and Barb were still arguing, even as they walked. Which is why Loomis hadn't noticed When Michael stopped, waiting for me.

As I caught up, he didn't glance at me, but, instead, he offered his hand. I didn't want to suddenly confuse him by avoiding him like the other kids did. So, I accepted the offer. He deserved to have one friend, terrifying nightmare or not.

Dr. Loomis didn't seem to notice until he'd looked to his right, where Michael had been, and didn't see him. Panic became apparent in his eyes as he turned to look. He wasn't fond of Michael being out of his line of vision. His gaze landed on us and the dread disappeared, replaced by bewilderment.

The doctor continued to walk ahead as if nothing had happened.

Michael's hand was warm, and surprisingly rough for a 12 year-old. My ring finger brushed against a raised scar on his palm. It was dry, possibly a burn?

I wondered what could have caused it, he stabbed his sister, so it couldn't be from that, unless she burned him? Maybe I could ask Dr. Loomis at a later time, since Michael still wasn't speaking.

For some reason, the more I felt his scar, as he pulled me down the hall, the more the scar unnerved me. I had a feeling I knew what the scar was.

Hurrying my pace, I swung both of our hands up far enough to turn his arm, glancing down to examine the scar. The one I felt had just been an average burn scar.

Underneath that scar, on his wrist was another.

That scar, was that strange symbol.

Michael's grip tightened, squeezing my hand roughly and forcing our hands down. I didn't dare look at him, I felt his irritation. He didn't want me to see.

What was the significance of that sign?

To be continued..