How had he done it? Michael wasn't entirely sure. He'd woken up with the entire house around him engulfed in flames. He had been covered in gasoline. For whatever reason, the flames hadn't reached him. It was when he moved that the fire jumped at him. The gas helped ignite parts of his body, and yet he found the strength to get out of there.
Had it been any other time, he would have stomped out through the front door to take on those who tried to kill him. But, he wasn't stupid. He was injured, partly on fire, and exhausted. He went out the backdoor. The fools had left only one person to watch that exit. They were easy to catch off guard. He didn't kill them. Instead, he managed to paralyze them and then threw them into his burning home for good measure.
After that, he trudged through the woods with no particular destination in mind. He needed rest. He needed to get better. He needed her.
He had collapsed at some point, his mind kept replaying the look on her face. She came to him, mouth gagged, eyes hard and accepting of the fate she had told him. When she spun and gave him her cheek, he knew what she wanted him to do.
He couldn't do it. This was his choice to make. He wasn't about to let "fate" tell him what to do. If he was to scar her it would be for his pleasure or amusement. Not like this. Besides. He was Michael Myers. He could take them.
Except-
He'd fucked up. She'd been pulled away from him, screaming into her gag at him to cut her. And, in that moment, he lost his cool. Desperation overtook his calm and collected senses as he tried to get her back. The first hit should have knocked some sense into him. They weren't going to kill her. He'd get her back, he would just have to be patient as usual. But it didn't. He kept seeing the man's face. The one who held her. The way he grabbed her so possessively, covering her eyes. He gave Michael a look, a smile that read only one thing. Mine, now.
Her ghost had come for her and got her. Michael lost. He lost hard. Completely unable to get back into his killer mindset as his desperation hit a whole new level. They beat him. They "killed" him, tossing his body into his grandfather's home and setting it on fire for good measure. But, he was Michael Myers.
It was at least a day, he lay on the cold, hard forest ground, gathering his strength. A part of him wished it was in bed, with her doting over him. Feel her warm soft hands, see her concern. The only person in the world who would ever feel worried for him.
Warm hands? By the following nightfall, he knew where he needed to go. He had gathered his strength and made his way back to town, back to the house that belonged to someone who could take care of him for a night. They wouldn't be happy about it, but they would do it.
Except, reaching Dr. Amelaner's house, he saw the bright yellow police tap on the door. The blood in the home told the tale of her and her family's murder. It was probably blamed on him, not that he cared. Unfortunate. For the both of them. He had started to like the idea of having a doctor "in his pocket" so to speak, in case Gretchen needed help again. Now he'd have to find someone else.
Michael had slept in her house and before leaving in the early morning, he took a butcher's knife that was in her kitchen. It was rather nice and seemed to be of good quality. His killer side grew excited at the idea of testing it on someone.
What an oddly perfect day for someone to die. Multiple people, in fact. It was Halloween. He didn't even realize his favorite holiday was so close. The citizens of Haddonfield wandered through the streets and downtown without a care in the world. They were happy. They felt safe. News of his demise played on the radio and TV. Little did they know that the killer was walking among them now.
But, his mind was conflicted, as the two halves of him, that had merged into one, split again. The killer part of him wanted blood and fear, and the lover part wanted her.
Not want. Need.
He hadn't realized just how at peace he was, knowing she was safely hidden at home for him to come back to. Now that ghost had her. Who knows what he was doing to her. Probably things that only Michael was allowed to do.
It made his blood boil. But losing his temper, getting desperate, it was what had almost killed him. Not this time.
His body led him to the hospital and that's when he saw her, standing in front of a window three stories up. He stood under a tree. Waiting. Watching. Thinking. Even in broad daylight, he seemed to go unnoticed.
It was impossible to see her facial expression, the distance was too far. But her body language told him everything. She had her arms crossed around her, hugging herself. Sad. Mourning him? It really shouldn't have surprised him. She did unknowingly tell him she loved him. It was wrong. For her at least. He wasn't a good guy. He would never change, not even for her. He had a bloodlust and had no problem appeasing it.
But then again, maybe it was a good thing that she wanted him. Because, even if she didn't, he was still coming for her. Willing or unwilling, he was going to get her and take her somewhere else so that it was just the two of them again. He had to wait though, for the right moment.
He kept tabs on who entered and left the hospital. He expected the hospital to get busy, expected to see more police officers because surely they knew he was coming for her. They had to have realize he wasn't dead. And, there were police officers. Just not enough and they weren't on alert for him.
A cute family had passed by him as the day slowly turned into night. All dressed up and laughing, ready for Halloween. Halloween, his holiday. Everyone was far too happy, far too at peace. He was going to have to fix that. Remind them that there was still a boogeyman out there.
They were almost his first victims of the night. The parents at least. He hardly noticed the children till he felt eyes on him and stared back at the little boy. The kid immediately hid behind his parents. As if they could protect him from Michael. It was rather amusing.
It was a quick glance up. His need to strike fear was starting to overpower his want to get her back. Oh, he'd get her back. He was sure of that. But, there were so many potential victims just wandering the streets. So many homes opened and inviting. But, that's when he saw him. It was difficult to make out exactly what was happening in her room. She was pressed up against a window and a man was in front of her. Far too close. Too intimate.
Well, he could have his fill of murder in the hospital. Michael had moved with determination, making his way into the building. No one noticed him. Not even Dr. Loomis. The good old doctor was sitting in a wheelchair, with Michael's mask on his lap, near the front desk. Two police officers were by his side. It amused him that the old man lived to face Michael yet another day. Was this the day he was destined to die?
Michael resisted the urge to just walk up and take what was his. He needed his mask. But, it would have caused too much attention to him when he didn't want it. He walked past a nurse as he went into the stairway. So unnoticed, even without his mask.
He was walking up the stairs when he heard a door slam open. She practically flew down the stairs, running into his body. He tried to grab her, to calm her down. But she didn't see him. She managed to slip through his fingers but that was alright. He heard someone yell down at her, calling her a bitch. He couldn't very well have that.
The first man was surprised when Michael's blade pierced his heart. The second man started to put up a fight, but Michael didn't have time for that. He slashed the man's throat before walking back down the stairs to find her. That wasn't hard.
She was fighting, desperate to get away as strangers wrapped her in a straitjacket. The way her eyes changed when she saw him: happy, sad, determined. And yet, somehow, no one noticed him. It was as if he was a ghost.
There were only six people in the hallway. Gretchen, the two men who held her, Dr. Loomis, a single nurse and a patient waiting on one of the chairs nearby.
The nurse stepped between them, close enough for him to grab. Her hand was raised with a needle in it. Not today. She was so light, so easy to turn and lift up. His knife easily sliced into her skin, mingling her blood with those he had just killed in the stairway. And, then there she lay, on the ground. Completely lifeless. Once a woman with a job, probably a family, and now nothing.
Michael looked up, meeting Gretchen's eyes. Relief? Not the emotion he would have ever expected anyone to give him. Then again, that's what she did to him. Give him responses he didn't expect anyone else to give. She made him feel different. Only to her though.
"Oh shit," one of the men said.
"You son of a bitch!" the other yelled as he placed his hand on his hip, going for his gun.
Gretchen threw her weight on him, causing him to lose his balance. They both fell to the ground. Michael grabbed the needle that was on the ground. He jabbed it into the standing man's eye while plunging his knife down into the other man's leg.
Both screamed.
Gretchen convulsed on the ground, thrashing about as her face started to turn red. There was something in her mouth. Michael quickly pulled out the cloth. The moment she was free she let out a loud gasp and coughed, filling her lungs with air.
Michael turned his attention to the man whose leg still had his knife. Before the man could react, Michael wrapped his hands around the man's throat. Not a quick death for this one, his careless act in stuffing the cloth in Gretchen's mouth could have killed her. He let that more brutal, sadistic side of him show as he slammed the man's head onto the floor until his body only twitched and moved because of the dying nerve pulses.
Finally, he stood up, pulling his knife out of the man's leg as he did so. He stared at the knife, at the blood, twisting his hand curiously at the freshness of it.
More.
"Michael," Gretchen's soft voice pierced through his head.
He slowly lowered his gaze. The straitjacket bound her, making her look more like a victim than ever before. He reached down, grabbing the front of her jacket he pulled her up to her feet.
"I'm sorry, Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis said. His voice was just loud enough for the three to here. Not that he needed to be so quiet. The last person had took off running, out the front door the moment Michael killed the nurse.
The doctor expected Michael to kill her.
Michael leaned in, playing into the doctor's expectations. He ran his knife along her face, leaving a small trail of his victim's blood on her skin. She waited patiently, accepting whatever fate he had in store for her.
Fuck, never kill.
Michael ran his knife down and then used it to cut through the straps that bound her arms around her chest. She immediately threw off the jacket and dumped it on top of one of the bodies. He saw her muscles tense, clearly, she wanted to hug him. But, for some odd reason, she didn't.
Her hand lightly touched his arm. She seemed hesitant, unsure. She tilted her head up, giving him questioning eyes.
"Are you real?" she asked. Her voice was soft, fearful that she was imagining him.
He wasn't quite sure what possessed him. He should have just grabbed her and taken her away to prove that he was very much real. But instead, he raised his hands to cup her face. The flat of his blade pressed against her cheek. She didn't move. Her eyes glistened as if she was about to cry.
He pressed his lips against hers, not quite demanding the kiss he wanted because he couldn't be that guy just yet. He couldn't be the Michael he was starting to show her. But, just enough pressure for her to know he was very much real. Very much there.
He pulled back. Her right cheek had more blood smeared on it. He reached out and wiped her cheek with his thumb, clearing a small patch.
Dr. Loomis let out a gasp, surprised by Michael's actions. The man had spent eight years trying to find that bit of humanity in Michael. There wasn't any. Well, apparently there was. It seemed that she was somehow able to bring out just that bit of him.
Michael leaned in again. His lips brushed her ear. He saw her skin raise as his warm breath grazed her flesh.
"It takes more than that to kill me," he whispered. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Yes, much more than that.
Gretchen gripped his sleeve, squeezing his arm as if assuring she was real as well. Then she moved. The sudden feeling of panic gripped him as her fingers slipped off his arm. His hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist, rather painfully he was sure. But, it was time to go. Time to stash her somewhere safe before he began his Halloween killing spree.
Michael tightened his grip on his blade while he pulled her closer to him. His brow furrowed. It dawned on him. The two really only important things to him right here in his hands. His knife in one and Gretchen in the other. Sure, he had killed people with things other than a knife, but it was the knife that he enjoyed the most.
Michael spotted Dr. Loomis who stared back at him, frozen, transfixed. Michael couldn't help but turn his head away from the old man. He was acting too human for his liking. Gretchen moved and he tightened his grip on her wrist.
I am not letting you go right now. She understood. But, she still moved away from him. He kept her within his sight through the corner of his eye. She leaned down and grabbed something from Dr. Loomis. The old man grabbed her free wrist.
"He doesn't love you, Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis insisted. His voice was loud enough for Michael to hear. "I don't know what kind of sick game he's playing, but he's just using you. He can't love. He can obsess to an unhealthy level. But the man has no soul. He is incapable of loving someone."
Gretchen's body tensed and Michael saw her look back at him. He still kept his head to one side. Not that it really mattered. Both had seen his face plenty of times. It was the principle of the matter. And, he wasn't quite sure why Dr. Loomis thought she had a choice here.
Michael couldn't admit to loving her. She knew that. And Dr. Loomis was probably right. He wasn't sure he knew how to really love. But he knew how to fuck. And he knew how to obsess. And she was his obsession. She would have to make do with that.
Gretchen moved back to his side.
He noticed something in her left hand and he turned his head to look down at it. His mask. Michael raised his head, eyebrows knitted with surprise and confusion. Gripping his mask, she rose to her tiptoes and placed it on his head. Slowly, she lowered it to cover his face. She paused for a moment and then kissed his lips before pulling the mask completely down. Michael's breathing came out smooth and steady through his mask. He felt oddly complete.
A silent gasp made both of them turn to look at Dr. Loomis. The old man's eyes were wide with surprise. It seemed as if he was having trouble understanding what was happening.
Michael gave Gretchen a look. You know who I am. What I do. He felt as if he was giving her a choice.
She looked up at him without fear.
"I want to end him. I want to save my uncle and cousin. Can we do that?"
Gretchen's heart pounded in her chest at her request. Michael stared down at her through his mask. His beautiful blue eyes revealed nothing about what he was thinking. His mask amplified his deep and even breathing.
Not even a hint.
She knew what she was asking of him. A lot. To actually try and help her save two people. How they were going to save Nathan was beyond her. But, at least her uncle's life would be easier. If Brandon hadn't already killed him.
He'll use Jethro as leverage to get you.
Gretchen didn't look away from Michael's eyes, letting him think about what he wanted to do. Be a hero? Your hero. He would get to murder though. She wasn't going to stop him from doing that.
Michael turned his head and looked up at the ceiling lights.
"Oh shit!" A man yelled.
Michael spun and moved from Gretchen's side as he rushed over to the officer who walked in from one of the hallways. The man scrambled to grab his gun. He fired, but his bullet hit the ground as Michael pushed his gun down.
"Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis said, just loud enough for her to hear. She looked at the old man. He was still trying to reach her. "Think about this. Really think about this. You're a decent young lady. Your family loves you. You don't want to do this. You don't want to help this evil stay on this Earth."
Don't want to do this…
The officer let out a cry of surprise as Michael pushed him back into the hallway and away from her view. Didn't stop them from hearing the sounds as the two men fought.
Dr. Loomis was right. She didn't want people to die. She bent down and picked something up from the ground. Walking over to the old man, she placed her hands on his wheelchair.
"You're going to sleep, Dr. Loomis," she stated, pressing the needle into his skin. The one meant to knock her out.
His eyes widened and he looked as if he were going to fight her, but the drugs kicked in quickly.
"Pray to your God that we die up there. Together," she said, pulling the needle out of his neck. "I don't want him to kill people. But I'm not going to stop him. I want my family to be safe."
Dr. Loomis's head slumped. She carefully arranged him so that he wouldn't hurt himself. Michael's presence made her stand up straight and look up at him.
"You like him," she said. His mask was raised just enough for her to see his mouth. She so desperately wanted to kiss him again. "But he hates you. I figured knocking him out would be better than having him hinder you."
Michael reached out and ran his fingers along her jaw. He leaned down and pulled out the keys from her pocket.
"Go," he said as he placed them in her hands.
"But-"
"I won't kill them. I'll find you. Go or I'll go with you."
She clenched her keys, wanting to argue with him.
"The ghost is in my cousin. Just… help my uncle escape and then get out of here."
Michael didn't reply.
Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she made her way to the front door. She paused. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead. It had started raining at some point. Putting her jacket over her head, she walked outside.
Maybe he was sparing her from seeing him in full action. Although, she'd already seen him kill several people by this point. Or perhaps she was his kryptonite. His weakness. He knew he'd be too distracted with her around.
Reaching her uncle's car, Gretchen paused. But, Michael didn't know how to deal with a ghost. She tapped her head with the palm of her hand. The fog in her brain persisted, but, she could feel glimpses, sparks. Feel that bit of her that had been unlocked before her birthday.
Michael couldn't deal with a ghost, but she could. And she wanted things to end. Needed them to end. She couldn't constantly be looking over her shoulder. Wondering when Brandon would show up again. She needed him to move on.
Gretchen spun on her heels and rush back into the hospital. Michael wasn't in the front hallway, meaning he trusted her to leave like he told her to.
Oh, he's going to be so pissed. For a brief moment, her heart jumped at the thought of what he would do to her once they were alone. Focus!
Gretchen opened the door to the stairway and ran up the stairs. She had to skip by two bodies. She recognized one. The man who had rushed after her when she was running down the stairs.
Michael. She'd bumped into him and didn't even realize it. Her mind was so focused on escape. Reaching the top door, she paused for a moment before opening it.
A nurse lay on the ground, blood pooled around her from a stab she'd received. Michael hadn't wasted any time in doing what he did best. Turning the corner into the hallway that had her room, she froze. Nathan. Her cousin lay on the floor near her door. A quick glance around him show no weapons, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her.
Another body was near his. Michael's knife stuck out of the man's chest. Further down the hallway, she heard objects being thrown and pushed followed by some men shouting.
"Nathan," Gretchen whispered. She rushed over to her cousin, then paused. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of Michael's blade and pulled it out of the dead man's chest.
Just in case. She didn't want to use it on her cousin. But she wanted something to protect herself. Her own powers still remained just out of reach.
Crouching by her side, she tightened her grip on the knife. Carefully, she moved Nathan's head to face her. She examined him. His face didn't fade. She didn't see Brandon. He didn't look like he was bleeding. Had Michael just knocked him out? She placed her hand by his nose. His chest moved and warm air came from his nose.
"Nathan?" she asked, pushing his shoulder.
His eyes opened for a moment. He moaned and started to move. She kept a close eye on him. He was himself. Brandon was gone. For whatever reason, his ghost left her cousin.
"Fuck. My head's killing me," he groaned.
She placed her hand on his forehead. It was burning up. "Nathan, you-"
"Gretchen?" his eyes widened and then he shook his head. "No. You need to get out of here. He's obsessed with you."
"But-"
"Go. I'll be… I'll be… fuck." He placed his hands on his head.
A hand wrapped around her wrist that held the knife and roughly pulled her up on her feet. She let out a cry of surprise and tried to attack, switching the weapon to her other hand. Michael grabbed her other hand as well, glaring down at her in anger. Still the same eyes. Still himself, but then again, she had a feeling that the ghost couldn't possess Michael.
Michael took his knife out of her hand. Gripping her wrist harder than he needed to, he pulled her away. He shoved her toward the stairway and elevator the moment he turned into that hallway.
"Michael!" she started to protest.
The elevator dinged. A sharp sting burned her chest, just above her right breast. Michael had slashed her.
"Asshole!" she snapped, pressing her hand against the shallow wound.
Michael's pupils dilated as if he was surprised by what he'd done. Giving her the smallest of headshakes, he squared his shoulders and moved toward her. His threatening demeanor caused her to walk backward.
"He went this way!" a man yelled.
Michael turned his back to her. Gripping his knife tighter, he took three long steps away from her and toward the new threat. One of them could be Brandon. She needed to know where the damn ghost had gone.
"Michael-" Brandon's ghost is still around. Some-
Gretchen let out a gasp of surprise as a hand clamped around her mouth.
"We're going, love," Jethro's voice whispered in her ear.
She'd fucked up.
Michael turned. His eyes widened slightly as he took a step toward her. Two men rushed into the hallway.
"Die, you piece of shit!" A shot rang out, hitting the wall near Michael.
Time slowed. At least for her. She could feel Michael's dilemma. Turn his back to his attackers and get to her. He'd probably die. Or turn his back on her to take care of his own immediate threat. This couldn't be a repeat of last time. They both knew it. Her look of panic changed to understanding. Michael would find her again.
Michael turned his back to her while Brandon dragged her into the elevator and pressed a button. Her heart beat dramatically in her chest as the door closed her in with the ghost that just refused to give up.
Not that it really mattered, there was only one extra floor, but Gretchen quickly hit the unlit button. Jethro released and spun her, slamming her against the wall. Clear anger on his face. She should have known. Nathan was injured and himself. She should have realized that the ghost had moved into her uncle.
"Fuck you, Brandon," she snapped. "Get out of my uncle."
Her head snapped to one side as a burning pain pulsed on her cheek. Stars invaded her vision for a moment. He'd smacked her. She pressed her hand against her cheek but refused to give him a look of surprise. Instead, she glared at him with contempt.
"Language," he said, pointing his finger at her face. "I'm getting tired of your attitude."
"Fuck you," she spat, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him back. "What? Did Nathan give you too much of a fight that you had to leave him and possess my uncle now?"
The elevator door dinged and opened. Brandon placed his hand around her neck. They both looked as if expecting to see Michael there, waiting for them. He wasn't. The door slowly closed, trapping her once again with the angry ghost.
"I know, by the way. My uncle told me everything!" She pushed against him, trying to escape his grasp.
Jethro glared at her. No. He's Brandon. Not Jethro. His face shifted from anger to a look that made him seem a bit more conniving. He let her go and stood back.
"Oh? What did he say?"
"Told me about our family legend. How apparently I was destined to be chased by two men. An evil murdering one and then my soulmate." She was stalling for time. There was a clearing in her mind. Or at least, there was going to be. She could feel it. The tingling sense of growing power as the fog slowly lifted. And Brandon's face was starting to show over Jethro's. Not to mention, she needed to give Michael time to get to them.
Brandon slammed his hand on the emergency stop button. The elevator let out an alarm as it came to an abrupt stop.
"And, I take it you think I'm this evil man. This murderer?" he asked, turning to face her.
"What do you think?" she snapped.
He snorted, shaking his head. Without warning, he grabbed her and pushed her against the elevator wall again. Her head slammed hard against the siding, making her groan as pain shot through her. Michael never did that. For some reason, her mind immediately thought of the first time Michael pushed her up against the wall. But his hand had gone to the back of her head to protect her from getting too hurt. A strange softness in him that had surprised her at the time. It probably surprised him too. It was unexpected. That was probably the first time he tried protecting someone from getting too hurt.
Brandon's hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed, shortening the air she could take.
"I make one tiny little mistake and you hold it against me. Meanwhile," Brandon nodded down to her fresh wound. "Michael cuts you up real good and you'll still fall into his arms."
Yeah… she wasn't too happy about that cut.
"I will admit," he said. His mouth twitched in annoyance. "I went about things between you and I all wrong. In death, of course. Had I lived, you would have been none-the-wiser. But you don't understand how maddening it is, watching you go to him. Time and time again. And I know why. I've told you why. See, I remember. That's the funny thing about being dead. You get to remember things about your past lives."
She couldn't help but glare at him. Her hands went to his as she tried to get him to loosen his grip.
"I don't blame you. See, in the past, you had to do it. Michael, always the killer, took you. You and I were going to marry. We were meant to be. We loved each other. Yet, he took you, raped you. He was going to kill you. But, you saved yourself. You used the old magic taught to you by your grandmother to take a part of his soul so that he would never want to harm you. It sort of worked. But, when I came to rescue you. Michael lost it. He killed you and himself so that we couldn't be together."
She frowned. There was an air of truth. She felt it, deep in her soul. Events of the past that had happened. But, he was also lying, or perhaps misrepresenting things. Twisting them, knowing she'd feel the familiarity, but she wouldn't know what exactly was true.
"Ever since then it's been a thing. You're born. We come for you. If your powers don't kill you then he does. Unable to accept it when he loses. Because he always loses when I show up."
She shook her head. "You're lying," she said. Michael was many things. A murderer most of all. She knew that. But, she had a feeling that he'd kill the entire world if he had to just to keep her. He'd go down fighting. But he wouldn't kill her.
Brandon's mouth twitched in anger. "He's the murderer, Gretchen. In this life. The one before that and the one that's to come. He'll never not be what he is. Why can't you see that? He's the bad guy! Look, he even cut you. Any deeper, any harder, he could have pierced your heart. He could have killed you."
Gretchen's heart pounded in her chest. Michael's anger had gotten the best of him. It was a horrible excuse. His anger. And she could see it in his eyes that he immediately regretted it. It wasn't the first time he'd cut her. Hurt her. And she wasn't about to let him get away with it if they both lived past the night.
Michael was the bad guy. She knew that. How odd. The absolute and firm understanding that he was who he was and there was no changing him. But, she never once thought to herself that she could change him. It did suck, to say the least, knowing that he would be responsible for the deaths of more innocent people. He might even add a scar on her body.
But my heart is bound to him.
"If he can't have you, he'll kill you, Gretchen," Brandon reiterated.
That's where you're wrong.
"The only person who has really tried to kill me is you," she said, glaring at him.
Brandon rolled his eyes as if his attempt to get her to commit suicide wasn't a big deal. "I've been trying to save you, love. Yes, I have tried to get you to kill yourself. But, I had two very good reasons. One, your family never tried to help you with your powers. They always let them destroy you. I knew what kind of pain you were in for. Or at least, I thought I did. Imagine my surprise that they didn't overwhelm you like they have before. That they didn't give you the painful death that I expected and wanted to save you from. But, I also wanted us to start over again. No point in you living in sadness and pain without me."
Brandon's eyes searched her face. "You're not convinced," he said.
Half truth, half lie. She couldn't help but feel that he was twisting things somehow. Manipulating the knowledge he had to suit his own narrative. He knew he could do that. It might have worked. If she trusted him. If she still believed he was her soulmate. His desperation to have her believe him, and the feeling that he was trying to manipulate her worked against him.
"You've lied to me from the start, Brandon," she said. "Maybe not when you were alive, but ever since you died. You put thoughts into my head, trying to convince me that they were my own. You tried to make me go crazy. You keep changing your-"
He squeezed her throat, cutting off her words and air.
"I'm done, Gretchen. Let's start over," he said, giving her a smirk. "I won't fuck up next time."
Panic coursed through her as she grabbed his fingers and tried to loosen his grip. His hand was like a vice around her throat. He used his other hand to pull her fingers away. Her eyes darted to the elevator buttons. She just needed to get it moving, get the door open. Michael was out there. He had to be. She just needed to let him in.
"It'll be okay," he said as he hushed her. Blackness started to invade her vision. Her lungs burned, demanding air.
It's never Michael who kills us in the end. It's him.
Her strength quickly waned. She'd fucked up. She should have known he was going to eventually try and kill her.
I don't want to die this time. If only there was some way to give her uncle just a little bit more strength so he could regain control of his body.
Brandon released her, allowing her to take in a deep breath of air. She gasped and coughed. She placed her knees on his chest and pushed him back. He stumbled.
"Hurry. I don't know, how long I can keep control," Jethro said. He cried out, clutching his head as he dropped to his knees.
Gretchen staggered to the panel and hit the emergency stop button again. The elevator came back to life, jumping slightly before it resumed its next descent. Gretchen wrapped her hand around her throat protectively while she caught her breath. In the far corner, Jethro groaned.
Brandon let out a frustrated cry. "I am trying to help your family here," he yelled, clearly at Jethro. "Help the fucking world."
The door dinged and then opened. Gretchen scrambled to her feet, throwing herself out of the enclosed space. Brandon lunged at her, grabbing her ankles. She dropped to the ground, letting out a choked cry.
"You're done," he snapped as he scrambled on top of her. She screamed, scratching at his face to get him off her. A body rammed into him. Gretchen rolled away as Nathan rose up and punched his father's face.
"Get out of my dad!" he screamed.
Brandon punched him back, before kicking him in the stomach. Nathan gasped for breath, doubling over in pain. Gretchen scrambled to Nathan, who pushed her back.
"Gretchen, get back," he commanded as he staggered to his feet.
Brandon stumbled onto his feet. Anger. There was so much of it enveloping the room.
"Hitting your own father?" Brandon said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Fuck you, ghost piece of shit. We'll figure out a way to get rid of you," Nathan snapped. His arm went out to protectively keep her behind him.
Brandon smiled, revealing bloody teeth. "I'm never going to stop, Gretchen. I can switch between them. Left my mark on their souls. You try and kill me, get rid of me, I'm taking them both with me. But." He extended his hand out. "Take my hand. Save their lives. I'll let them live. I won't drag them with me if you come with me. Fuck the world, right? You don't care what happens to innocent people. But your family. Well…"
"Don't," Nathan whispered.
She didn't plan on it. Still, her heart wrenched at the thought of the final two members of her immediate family suffering because of a possessive ghost who didn't know he had lost.
A warmth pressed against her and she looked up. Michael brushed past her, putting himself between her and her uncle's possessed body.
"Not this fucking time," Brandon snapped. He turned and started to run toward the entrance of the hospital.
"Don't!" Gretchen grabbed Michael's arm as he started to stalk toward the fleeing Brandon. She would figure out a way to save her uncle and cousin. Brandon was arrogant and manipulative. He was stalling. Trying to get her to doubt herself. But, he was scared of her. They could escape for now, and she'd get stronger like her uncle wanted her to. Get that damn ghost out and force him to move on by himself.
"Gretchen!" her uncle's voice called out as a warning.
She moved her gaze ahead.
Time slowed.
Brandon hadn't been running away like she thought. He'd picked up a gun from one of the men Michael had killed earlier and raised it, aiming directly at her.
Michael pushed her back as he moved forward. Hands grabbed her. Nathan covered her body with his. Someone screamed. It was her. Nathan let out a grunt and his body jerked as the bullet hit him. Michael didn't waste any time. Just as Brandon moved the weapon to shoot him, Michael slashed at him, cutting his arm and forcing the gun to fall to the ground.
She cried out, partly begging, while also accepting her uncle's fate. She was about to watch her uncle lose his life. And it wasn't because Michael was targeting her family just because. He saw a threat and he was going to take care of it. Whether she liked it or not. It was his way now.
Nathan's body slouched on her, making her focus on him. He slumped to the ground, taking her down with him.
"Nathan?" she said in a panic.
"I'll be fine," he murmured. He wasn't wrong. The bullet had hit his shoulder. Her relief was short-lived as she looked up just in time to see Michael drop her uncle's body.
"No!" she cried out, scrambling to Jethro's side. He was alive, but barely. His pulse was slowing as the blood started to pour out of him. "Live. You need to live."
She desperately searched for something. Some spell or knowledge that'd help her keep him from dying.
"As I said, murderer," Brandon taunted her. "Think he'll kill Nathan next? Or spirit you away to kill him another day?"
A shadow loomed over her. Gretchen looked up. Michael gazed down at her. His blue eyes held determination and no sorrow for what he had done.
"Dad!" Nathan cried out as he got to his feet and then dropped down, moaning in pain. Gretchen turned her attention to her cousin. Brandon's ghostly form moved toward him.
Not him too. No. She wasn't going to allow Brandon to win. He'd tormented her for far too long. No, Brandon. You're done.
An eerie calm settled over her.
"Stop," she commanded in a low voice. She focused on Brandon. He turned to look at her. A knowing smile on his face. He thought he had her. Thought he had the upper hand in causing her emotional pain. Get her to hate Michael by forcing the man to kill her family in front of her.
"You should have stayed dead, Brandon," she said. She could give him some grand speech about his failures. How every little thing he did just pushed her further into Michael's arms. He probably thought that forcing Michael to kill her uncle would make her turn on him. If Brandon didn't kill her at least she'd hate Michael.
But, he didn't deserve to hear any speeches. He didn't deserve to know where he'd fucked up. He should have taken a hint and moved on. She could see the rips and tears that she'd made when she forced him from her home. She could see the bits that tied him to her uncle and cousin. Easy to snip and free them.
No more repeating. No more back and forth. I've made my choice. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were meant to get married. Maybe they were in love and Michael had stolen her away. He lies. But, that didn't matter this time around and she didn't want it to matter the next time either.
She stood up. Brandon's smile faded as his eyes widened in panic. He reached his hand out as if to stop her or implore her, but she didn't care. Her mind cleared. She found the words that she needed to say. Words that no one knew the meaning of. But she did. She kept her attention on the ghost. He let out a scream that only she could hear. Chills ran through her body. She wasn't just killing the man. She was obliterating him.
His ghostly image tore as if he was being clawed apart. For a moment, it seemed as if he was looking to escape. Perhaps move on. He started to sink into the ground. But, it was too late for him. She knew it. He knew it. He just didn't want to accept it. He opened his mouth but no final words came out. Lies. Truth. An attempt to make her feel for him. Didn't matter what he was going to say. She blinked and he was gone.
Gretchen could only hear her own heavy breathing as she stared at the spot where his ghost stood.
No more.
He was gone. Not just gone in that she'd see him again in the next life. She wouldn't. She'd ripped him apart in a rather painful way if ghosts felt pain. Torn him into tiny pieces. He didn't exist anymore.
Gone.
Her body felt light and she took a step back. A wave of dizziness hit her hard. An arm wrapped around her just before her legs gave out.
"I think I'm going to pass out," she managed to say. Michael lifted her up. She met Nathan's eyes for a moment. She hadn't noticed him move. He was under her, so dangerously close to the serial killer. Nathan had his hands on his father's chest, trying to control the bleeding.
Gretchen looked up at Michael.
"Don't kill him." She didn't think he would, but, she just had to ask. Her eyes grew heavy as exhaustion hit her hard. She didn't fight it, letting her body relax in his arms. Somewhere in the distance, she heard sirens. Hopefully, he'd take them somewhere safe.