Carlisle and Edward still screamed for her to change her mind at the gates while Esme ran up the long drive back to the school. Michael wasn't gone. She needed to seek him out; find him. She needed to end this.

When Esme was out of sight, Edward couldn't contain his sobs and Carlisle grabbed him by both shoulders.

"Look at me, Edward." He was stern but sympathetic. "Take the keys, take Bella. Go to the police and get them out here."

"I can't.."

"You can.. and you have to." Carlisle shoved the keys in his hand. "Go."

Edward hesitated, staring at him with glossy eyes. "I don't want either of you to die.

"Just go." Carlisle glanced up at the gates and knew he had to get himself inside the grounds of the school. He didn't want Esme to take on Michael Myers alone.

Edward reluctantly made his way back to the vehicle and sped off into the night, prompting Carlisle to work on his entry back inside.

..

Esme screamed his name, over and over, willing him to emerge and challenge her. "Michael!" Desire and anger and all of the above willed her body forward. She didn't feel afraid. She was determined and hungry, turning her role from the hunted to the hunter.

"Michael!" Esme shouted his name again as loud as she could, still donning the fire red ax she had earlier.

He had to emerge. He had to come out. He had to face her.

Esme stalked Michael. She looked everywhere she could think of. Outdoors. Indoors. She held the ax firmly in both hands as she paced the corridor of the school's main building.

White curtains fluttered with a breeze in front of the windows on either side of where Esme walked. It was almost heavenly, a stark contrast to the hell that had taken over the small campus that autumn evening.

Esme could hear her own breathing. She feared finding Michael. She feared not finding Michael. Each step get like its own miniature panic attack. Step. Creak. Nothing. Step. Creak. Nothing.

Nothing. There was nothing. No one. Until.. there was.

He was there. Call it a sixth sense but Esme physically felt him in her presence. A shiver tiptoed down her spine and she felt the sudden urge to turn around.

Was it a faint sound? Was it a vibe? A message from God? A gut feeling? She didn't know; but whatever it was, it made Esme slowly turn her head to look over her shoulder.

Like a great white shark about to emerge from the murky waters to devour a seal, Michael descended from the beams on the ceiling like some type of fallen angel.

Esme's breath got caught in her lungs, refusing to creep up her diaphragm to allow her to breathe. The pale, emotionless face that had haunted her dreams for so many years stared back at her.

For a brief moment, she didn't act. Neither did he. Was it possible that he was shocked by her bold act to return and face him; or did he truly have the inability to feel even one emotion?

He's a mindless predator, Esme told herself. She knew it to be true. Michael Myers felt nothing. He was a vessel designed to kill. The thought snapped her out of her momentary daze and the will to live and end it all took over.

Esme swung the ax, burying it into Michael's shoulder where it stuck. She attempted to pull it back but the took was wedged in him so deep that she couldn't.

Michael stumbled back a few feet, holding the area with one hand before he removed the ax himself and slammed down, penetrating the wooded planks beneath them.

Esme stared in horror as she began to backpedal. Michael stared at her again and then began his pursuit of her. With a large kitchen knife in one hand and paced with menacing strides in Esme's direction.

She turned now, weaponless and scrambling, as she rounded a corner and hurried down a flight of stairs. When Esme looked back as she ran, Michael was just behind her, trailing her every move.

For the first time she contemplated if he was some supernatural force. What kind of human being could walk away from being struck with an ax as if it were nothing?

Esme shook the thought from her mind, coming to the bottom level and stared at two rows of rectangular lunch tables, each topped with a plain, white table cloth.

She huffed a breath, seeing nothing in the immediate area to fight with and so she did the only other thing she could think of - hide.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Michael's heavy footsteps echoed off the high ceilings of the empty cafeteria as he took the stairs down one by one. His movements were slow; casual, almost - a vast contrast to his dark intentions.

Esme slithered beneath one of the closer tables. She laid on her stomach and peered beneath the three or four inch gap in between the table cloth and the floor.

When Michael's footsteps came to a sudden halt, the silence froze Esme in place. That was when she was most frightened - waiting her turn; waiting for Michael.

She took a breath as quietly as possible and prayed it wasn't too loud in the dead silence. Esme wished she could wake up and this would just be one of her nightmares, but she knew that wouldn't happen. This was her reality.

A short series of creaks alerted her senses and she slowly peered to the left. And then the right. Esme took in another deep breath, careful not to let it out in a huge sigh.

As her eyes adjusted in the darkness she tried to look for something, a clue of any kind of Michael's whereabouts. But she didn't see him anywhere.

He's waiting for me, she thought.

Esme's chest heaved in and out again with another deep breath and then she froze when she heard it - a creak on top of the table where she laid with her palms pressed against the hardwood floor. It made her stomach do flip-flops.

Her eyes pressed shut and she tried to think rationally. If Michael Myers was on top of the table, where the hell was she going to go?