She was always on his mind.
Of course she was. Even now, as he drew back the blade and stabbed it over and over into the wriggling flesh beneath, she was on his mind. Like an Itch or a craving that had to sated, but it was not something Michael Meyers could wrap his head around easily – he knew he wanted something from her, but this was not the usual urge to kill he had.
Releasing his hold on her neck, Michael dropped the now lifeless nurse in a crumpled heap, moving past her and back out into the hallway, eyes hidden beneath white rubber gazing up and down ends of the hallway. With not a soul in site, Michael moved over to the nurses' station and jammed his bloody knife into the wooden desk with a dull thunk before moving around it and beginning to sift through the papers that where stuffed in a compartment at rather impressive speed.
It had been a long journey to Haddonfield General for The Shape – he had made a point of keeping off the roads due to the increased police presence out looking for him. It wasn't fear that guided his actions; simply increased encounters would slow him down in finding his real target.
With calm efficiency he scanned down the list of patients until he found his target. Smiling slightly under his mask he retrieved his knife and strode towards the stairs that led up the building – faster than the lifts in his case.
Another bonus of Laurie coming to the hospital and at such a time was the sheer space Michael had to move around in and the rather lack of staff – which meant in the event he did have to kill anyone else it would be a while before the bodies were found and he could move around much more freely. Having seen the police cruisers in the parking lot, The Shape was more than ready for an encounter with law-enforcement, probably posted outside Laurie's room. No real challenge, but the threat of noise was a constant factor.
The killer mounted the first flight of stairs and started up. As he reached the third set he heard the sound of a door opening on the landing above, and ducked back down the flight he had just scaled, waiting silently as always.
As the figure walked down the stairs to his right, Michael realised it was simply a doctor, and he was distracted by something in his hand. Catching something in the corner of his vision, the man looked up and his eyes widened. Before he could react any further, he was grabbed by the throat and pushed roughly against the wall, the knife pistoning into his stomach twice. The man gurgled and slumped down the wall, blood running from his stomach, hands clutching feebly as Michael turned away and carried on his upward journey. He felt no remorse for who he killed, because they were just obstacles, distractions.
It took him a further five minutes to locate his sister, and as he expected it was guarded by two policemen. The corridor offered no ways of sneaking up on them so he simply walked up the corridor, knife in hand. The two officers spotted him and didn't wait for conformation, simply opening fire. Bullets slammed into his chest and staggered him backwards, the knife dropping from his grip.
Luckily, Michael had come prepared. Under his boiler suit was a bullet proof jacket he had taken from the corpse of one of the officers he had slain earlier in the night. It hurt, but The Shape was otherwise unharmed. However, his plan involved separating the officers, so he promptly sank to his knees and fell backwards over, next to his fallen knife.
The two officers looked at each other, and the one on the right, probably the rookie, was sent inside the room to comfort Laurie. The more experienced officer kept his gun trained as he edged closer, until he was directly above Michael. As he reached down, the killer promptly reached up the lighting force, gripped the knife and, gripping the back of the cops head, and slammed the knife into his neck.
Immediately the cop tried to shout for help but couldn't as Michael ripped his throat out with the knife and pushed his body roughly aside. The masked murderer got to his feet again and walked towards the room, as the sweet sound of his sisters voice met his ears;
"You need to go back out there! He's not dead! He's no-" And her voice was turned into a frightened whimper as she saw Michael step into the doorway, knife in his hand. The rookie spun with wide eyes and scrabbled to get his weapon in his hands, but The Shape crossed the room in three strides and stuck the knife into his armpit. The rookie cried out, eyes bugging, and toppled backwards, but not before Michael stabbed twice more to finish the job, withdrawing the knife with a sick sucking sound.
Now he could turn his attention to Laurie. She was frozen on the bed in terror, eyes wide and her mouth in a crude O shape. The hospital gown did little to hide neither her medium sized bust nor her long slender legs. Her blonde hair was covering her face, fists clenching the bed sheets white knuckle. She had a nasty gash that had been covered on her right temple but otherwise Michael found her... beautiful. Stunning, in fact, something he had never experienced in his life. Certainly, he had never gotten such a reaction from any other member of his now-dead family nor any of the nurses at the mental hospital.
Michael cocked his head at these feelings, processing them. Certainly he had never been so reclined not to drive his knife into flesh and certainly not from anyone out of his family, and Laurie Strode was his family. He knew it, she was his little Sister. But he couldn't stab her – not her, not her beautiful body.
Laurie herself was just as confused, but more frightened. Seeing a 6'2 giant of a man with a dirty white mask and a blue boiler suit massacre several people over the course of the night, including two trained police officers, and try for herself was terrifying beyond any shadow of a doubt. But now, when he finally had her cornered, he wasn't doing it. He was just staring at her like every other guy in her class.
He couldn't possibly -
Michael made the move first, and went for her. He was confused, yes, but that didn't mean he couldn't try and subdue her until this had sorted itself out in his head. Laurie lunged from the bed and ran down the corridor, crying for help. Michael turned and watched her go, and couldn't help but notice his gaze lingered on her buttocks.
Confused but determined, the masked killer gripped his knife and made after her.