Chapter 9: The Ninth Visit

The past

Laurie was sitting on the sofa, waiting expectantly, but all Sheriff Brackett did was look at her, his face appearing more lined and worn than she had ever seen it. A tense moment of silence followed before Laurie rolled her eyes and said, "Okay, didn't you want to tell me something?"

He nodded, a slow sigh escaping him. "Believe me, Laurie, it's not something I ever thought, or wanted, to tell you. But this son of a bitch-" he bit out the curse through clenched jaw, "-decided to publish this, with no respect for decency or privacy." He slapped the book on his thigh, gripping it so hard the cover bent. "And…" he shook his head, "the rest of town will know soon."

She was beginning to feel more and more uneasy. "Know what?"

Sheriff Brackett rubbed his face, jaw working. Then he launched into his story, speaking faster than Laurie had ever heard him. "I was a new cop on the force, nineteen years ago, when the call came in. According to the caller, she had found her boyfriend in the living room, throat slit. We came in, and…" He swallowed. "It was like nothing any of us had ever seen. We later found the woman's daughter, and her boyfriend. And there had been a kid – still in elementary school – who had gone missing for a few hours. They found him in the nearby woods. And the only one connected to all of this was this ten-year-old boy."

He looked up at Laurie. "You know who I'm talking about."

Laurie's hands were shaking, the blood pounding in her head. She squeezed her fists tight, willing herself to keep control. "Michael Myers."

"Yes." There was another long silence, longer than the first, which Laurie did not dare to interrupt. It looked like the sheriff was working himself up for the next part.

"About seventeen years ago," he finally said, "two years after all that… that mess… I get another call. I was higher up by that time… first on the scene. It was for the Myers woman's suicide. So I go there, I find this bloody scene at the house, call the ambulance over… and then I find this adorable baby girl in the other room, sitting in this mess, and I know that she has… nothing to do with this, none of whatever the hell was wrong with her brother. But she would grow up with that stigma, that shame, of the Myers name, where everyone in town would know who she was, and I couldn't imagine that happening to this little girl. So I scoop her up, omit her from the report, and drop her off in a hospital in another town. No name, no information, just a little girl found abandoned somewhere, and I think that she'll be taken in there, with no knowledge from any parties present, and just get to… grow up and live her life. And then…" He could not meet Laurie's eyes. "Then three months later, I'm talking to a friend in Haddonfield, and he tells me that he and his wife have adopted that baby.

"The couple was Mason and Cynthia Strode."

A short silence followed.

Laurie shook her head. "You mean – my parents? Adopted…"

"Michael Myers's younger sister." Sheriff Brackett nodded, watching her intently.

For one moment she was confused – she did not remember her parents adopting anybody – she was an only child, after all.

An only child…

Oh God…

"No," she whispered. "No, you don't mean-"

The sheriff nodded wearily, unable to meet her eyes now. "Yeah. Laurie… you're – you're Michael Myers's sister."

Her lips had gone numb. Images were sliding through her head – the boy on the cover of the book – the masked face looking out from a billboard – a black shape rising out of the darkness – sobbing at the bottom of a pool – and tiny puzzling pieces of information were coming together – why there were no baby pictures of her (oh, we were just so happy to have you that we didn't even think about taking photos) – why they never knew when she first talked, when she first walked (why, the normal time Laurie, same as any other baby, around seven months…) –

"You told me-" she murmured, "-you told me – you didn't know – why – why he came after me-"

"Why would I tell you that?" he said, almost plaintively. "In the hospital, barely recovering, unable to even hear his name without – why would I tell you? I thought – it would all just blow over-"

"Blow over?" She was aware of her voice rising. "I'm Michael Myers's sister."

"But you are not him-"

"He came after me because-" she almost choked on the words, "-because we're related-"

"Laurie-"

And oh God – "He killed them because of me." Her hands were raking through her hair. "He killed Lynda because of me, he was coming after me, he attacked Annie, he killed my parents because of me-"

"Christ, Laurie, of course not-"

"Don't call me Laurie!" She was out of her seat, shrieking. "Is that even my name? What the hell is my name?!"

Sheriff Brackett had seen robbers, burglars, murderers, and the mutilated body of his own daughter, but it was this that seemed to frighten him. "Angel. Angel Myers."

She gave a laugh that was almost a scream; her fingers were twisting against her cheeks. "So that's it? That's it, that's my life, my twisted fucked-up life-"

"Laurie-"

"And you didn't tell me! You didn't – fucking – tell me!"

"Because-"

"Because what?! Were you afraid I would turn out like him?"

"That's not it at all-"

"Who the fuck else knows? Lynda? Annie? My parents?! Did they know?!"

"No, they did not," said the sheriff, voice rising now. "As far as they knew, you were just their little girl, their own daughter-"

"But I'm not, I'm not their fucking daughter, I'm the fucked up younger sister of a fucking lunatic-"

"Laurie-"

She was running. Her legs were carrying her out of the room by their own volition. She didn't even grab a coat; all she knew was that she had to get out, get out of Sheriff Brackett's house with his kind, wary eyes – she was out the door, crashing into Annie, who shouted after her – then into her car and driving into the road, tears blinding her.

I'm Michael Myers's sister.

The present

The two weeks passed both faster and slower than she expected. Faster, because she was still not used to how much less time it was between visits; because she still felt tendrils of nervousness thinking about it. Slower, though, because despite her children's short attention span, they did not forget their upcoming visit and spent much of their free time bugging her about it.

Laurie wasn't sure how she felt about their own ease around their mysterious, murderous uncle. She wasn't sure how she felt about her own growing comfort: that she was actually getting used to these visits, used to sitting in a bare room holding a one-sided conversation with a giant mute killer, used to working while he watched her. Sometimes, in her room planning out next year's lessons, she almost found herself missing it…

Which was sick, she told herself, escorting the children through the sets of doors; disgusting and horrible of her, to get used to it. The two of them had wriggled out of her hands and were dashing around her, trying to take a peep at the passwords the guard was using on the door or jumping around to try and look out the window. A low scolding made them stop for all of a minute, before they were at it again. Laurie sighed and gave up. At least the guard seemed to like it; she had caught a half-hidden smile of amusement on his expression at one point.

"Mrs. Lloyd?"

She looked up. Dr. Beckett was striding towards them. He waved the guard away and smiled at her, then at the twins.

"These are your children?"

She nodded. "Jamie and John."

"Hello." The doctor held out his hand, and after a second, the twins shook it, one after the other. "I'm Dr. Beckett. I take care of your uncle here."

Jamie and John exchanged a glance. "You don't look like a doctor," said Jamie.

"Jamie-" Laurie scolded.

But Dr. Beckett just chuckled. "I am a different kind of doctor." And it was true that at the moment, he did not look like the kind of medical doctors the twins were used to. He had shed himself of his white coat and was wearing only a light sweater and slacks.

John cocked his head to one side. "Do you still give people shots?"

The doctor smiled. "Sometimes."

"See? He's a doctor," John declared to Jamie.

Laurie interrupted. "Did you want anything, Dr. Beckett?"

"Ah yes. I'll be leading you to the visiting area, so if you'll just follow me…"

She thought the entire thing a bit off – Dr. Beckett had almost never come out to meet her, let alone take her to visitor rooms – but she had little choice but to follow him. Her disquiet only grew when he led her down some unfamiliar hallways, into what seemed to be a less secure part of the hospital. After several moments of doing this with no explanation, Laurie finally spoke up.

"This doesn't seem like the usual place."

"It isn't." Dr. Beckett continued walking ahead of them, so that she could not see his expression. "I decided it might be time for a change."

He stopped and beckoned her to a window. Like the others, it was blocked over with a metal grille, but the holes were wide enough that she could see through it. They were looking into a small grassy yard, though one surrounded by stone walls several dozen feet high. A few benches and chairs were scattered around the area, as well as some playground equipment, mainly poles and bars. One area had a cover to provide some shade for those sitting underneath it. Squinting, Laurie saw a dark grey shape sitting there.

She backed away from the glass.

"You let him out?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for the bit of deception, but I thought it would help," said Dr. Beckett, not looking apologetic at all. "There have been no incidents during the visits-"

"So it's a reward?" said Laurie sarcastically.

"-and it might provide something interesting for the children if they get bored."

Laurie doubted that had ever been his intention, but Jamie, poking her head up to look, had already spotted the equipment and was whispering excitedly to John. She sighed. "Will there be guards?"

"Of course."

"Restraints?"

"None."

It was funny how unsurprised and just not frightened she was. She really had become used to this. She glanced at Jamie and John, who seemed if anything, eager to go out. For some reason, it reassured her. "All right. All right. Let's head out, then."

It had been while driving that she had felt her throat close up.

She wasn't thinking clearly after fleeing the house, had not thought about where to go or who to talk to. All she knew was she could not stay with the sheriff, could not face Annie with her scars (you did it, you did it, he went after her because of you), and had to do something, to move, to act.

But there was nowhere to go. She could not escape her own body.

The thought that she shared the same blood, the same genes, as the psycho that had come after her – that they had the same mother, the same sister, had lived and breathed in the same house – had sent hot prickles up her spine. The tires of her car screeched as she turned too sharply, skidding along the road. She wanted to rip herself out of her skin, tear out their resemblances, blot out the name Sheriff Brackett had given her – she was not Laurie Strode but Angel Myers –

And in that second, she felt her lungs stop working.

The car came to a halt and she stumbled out onto the empty street. Evening was falling, and most of the stores had closed. So there almost nobody around to see her trip into an alley and collapse, vomiting into the pavement until there was nothing but bile.

The prickles had turned to a heat beneath her skin. The blood was pounding in her temples, her heartbeat so rapid she thought it might crack against her ribs. Still on her knees, her arms gave way, no strength in them left – she couldn't breathe, was getting no air into her lungs –

"Miss, you all right?"

Her throat had narrowed to the space of a wire. A buzzing filled her brain, screeching in and out like a radio being tuned –

"Hey now, it's okay. I work in a hospital; I know how to help."

The voice penetrated her thoughts. Just barely. But she could hear it. The words flitted around her mind, incomprehensible and beyond her reach…

"Head between your legs now, and focus on your breathing…"

It sounded like something her therapist would say… She grasped onto that bit of familiarity.

"Yeah, just like that…"

Her therapist had taught her to breathe like that too. To focus. Concentrate,

"You're safe here, you know…"

She could never be safe…

"Breathe…"

In and out, in and out. The sounds of her own airways opening up, the push and contraction of her lungs, distracted her from the humming in her head.

"See, getting better?"

Her vision was clearing, growing less hazy. She could make out the cracks of the cement she was leaning over. A bit of trash was scattered close by, and her eyes went to it, held by it, fascinated by the swirls of light and color on it.

"Yeah."

There was a hand on her shoulder, she realized, and the voice was unfamiliar. But her breathing had slowed considerably, and the buzzing was almost gone. Staggering slightly, she slid back onto her knees, sitting up to look at the person who had helped her.

It was a young man with dark curly hair, wearing a blue uniform. In the growing darkness, it was hard to make out his features, especially as he was backlit by a street lamp, but his face and gestures were friendly, non-threatening.

"Still need to go to the hospital?" he asked. "I can take you there, free of charge." She must have looked quizzical, because he added, "Serious!"

Laurie shook her head, coughing. When she managed to speak, her voice was croaky. "I'm sorry, but…"

"Do you remember me?" She blinked at him. "Sorry, guess you wouldn't want to. But I'm Jimmy. Jimmy Lloyd."

"Um…" The panicked screech of her brain was gone, but she still felt woozy, like she had just woken up from a long nap. "I don't think…"

"Oh, I was in the hospital when you were taken in."

She laughed a little, the sound wobbly. "I had so many drugs in me then I don't think I remember my own doctor." She forcibly pushed away any other memories there…

The boy, Jimmy, laughed as well, though his was considerably more carefree. "No, I guess you wouldn't." He held out a hand. "Need a hand? Is that your car out there, or do you need a ride?"

"No, I'm fine," said Laurie, accepting his gesture. She stumbled, legs having gone numb against the pavement, but Jimmy did not seem to notice. "Thanks for… your help."

"Anytime." He watched her as she unlocked her car door. Now that he was under the light, Laurie could see that he was rather good-looking, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. Right then, he also looked as if he was trying to work up the nerve to say something.

She found out just what that was as she started up the car.

"Hey!" he called. "Want to – um, want to give me your number?"

Laurie turned surprised eyes on him. "Seriously?" The guy had just pulled her out of a goddamn panic attack, had no idea who she was except that her head was completely fucked up, yet he wanted a date?

But he seemed sincere. "Yeah. Maybe if you want to give me a call, or need some help…" He shrugged. "I work in a hospital, remember? I know things."

She considered him for a long moment, then shook her head. "You don't know me."

"Well, that's the point of calling," he said, grin taking away any mockery that might have been felt.

But he didn't know her background, messed up as it was, and as soon as he found out, he'd probably run the hell away. She would. She killed everyone around her. It was true, whatever the sheriff said. Because of her, Lynda had been murdered. Because of her, Annie had been brutally attacked. Because of her, her parents had died.

And what if she was like him? What if one day she woke up with blood on her hands, blood on a knife?

No, she thought. The best thing for her to do was to hide herself in some remote island, never talking or seeing anyone again.

"Trust me, you don't want to do that," she told him, pulling away from the curb. "I'm not very good company."

It was, she had to admit, nice outside. Middle of summer, sun shining down on them, the grass green and lush… it wasn't too bad.

"I haven't had a relapse of that… thing from last time," said Laurie, looking at her brother. "I don't know why I'm bringing it up." She twisted her hands. "Just… you did do something, and it stopped. I'm not sure what, but you did it."

Michael was just staring at her, as always. He, or the guards, had taken off his robe, since it was so warm, but he kept the mask. There were no restraints at all on him now, but he was just sitting on the bench, hands on his legs, not moving beyond a turn of the head or breathing. In the sunlight, it was easier to see his eyes. Laurie had expected to see the vacancy described in Dr. Loomis's books, or the empty flatness of the photos in there, but she thought that he actually looked quite aware, even observant. When the wind blew strands of her blonde hair out, she could see his eyes flick to watch them before becoming absorbed with her face once more. When the children yelped as they played, she would see him jerk his head around to watch them for a few moments, and if she was talking, see him tilt his head towards her, as if listening to her while keeping an eye on them. It was so strangely human – even paternal – that she wasn't sure what to think about it.

And it was also true – she had had no hallucinations afterwards. She had taken all her medication faithfully since then, but when she had done that in the past, she would still sometimes see things, little more than a white blur or a flicker of pale light in the corner of her eye. After her visit – nothing. Sometimes she envisioned her brother almost as a mental block in her head, pushing it back.

Which was so stupid and crazy she would immediately dismiss it. Hallucinations or not, she was still on meds for her panic attacks and PTSD. That would never go away. And there was only one person to blame for that.

She picked up the children's abandoned coloring books, idly flipping through the pages. After a mad dash run into the yard and a greeting ("Hi Uncle!"), the twins had figured out that their uncle was not going to respond to them in any meaningful way, though Laurie thought that he had, at least, looked at them with interest. They had sat down with their books for the space of five minutes before careening off to play with the equipment, leaving their mother alone with their uncle.

"Your doctor's been talking about pushing the visits to once a week," she said, watching the twins try to shimmy up a pole. Michael's head turned towards her, waiting. "I – I might do it." As if she would say anything else with him looking at her like that. "It'll be easier now, since it's summer vacation. It might harder to do it in the school year." And she would have to make sure one of them fell on Halloween. The doctor had been fairly adamant about it, going on about "prevention better than a cure" and how her brother knowing she was coming on that date would compel him to stay.

"Did he also tell you that he's still working on that good behavior bull?" she said, not caring if she insulted her brother, or that he wouldn't answer. "Because apparently he's trying that again." She didn't want it, reformed relationship or not. She only slept at night knowing that Michael was under high security and never, ever getting out. The thought of him in a minimum-security facility, or worse, freed, was nightmare-ish.

Even more so because as his closest living relative, she would be in charge of him.

"He says the timeline is still fuzzy, and it would take a while, but some of the other doctors think it's encouraging." Michael looked away from her towards the children. "If it does-"

A sudden shriek made her startle and twist around. Jamie was on the ground under a horizontal pole, clutching her head, while John hovered over her fearfully.

"Jamie!" Laurie darted from her seat and ran to her daughter, turning the small girl over. "Are you okay? Let me look… shh…"

"She fell off the pole," John informed her, face pulled in worry. "Right on her head."

Laurie laid an arm under Jamie's back and lifted her into a sitting position. There was sand all over Jamie's dark hair, but she wasn't crying, just grabbing onto her neck.

"Does it hurt?" asked Laurie. Jamie nodded, biting her lip. Laurie massaged it gently, growing less worried when Jamie did not flinch. No bones broken, obviously – and the sand was soft, so probably no concussion… "Honey, I think you just strained your neck a little when you fell, okay?" Jamie nodded again. "I think it'll be okay… just sit here, maybe lean against the pole – John, don't play near her – and it should go away, all right? Go on… I'll get your coloring book, so you won't be bored…"

She turned around to go get it and promptly walked into Michael, who had snuck up behind her.

Laurie had to bite back a scream at seeing him so suddenly behind her. He was so much bigger than her, even with her standing – over a foot taller, if she had to guess. In the back, she could see the two guards stationed at door beginning to move forward, their batons out – evidently, they were just as shocked to see him move as Laurie. But she held up a hand, waving them back, not wanting to escalate what was, so far, a harmless situation. And right then, he was looking down at Jamie, head cocked almost quizzically to one side.

"He's worried about her," John offered as way of explanation. Neither he nor Jamie looked scared to see Michael; facing the other way, they had probably seen him coming.

"Well, Jamie's fine," Laurie said a bit snappishly. "She's fine," she added to her brother. He tilted his head back, then looked over them towards the wall.

"What?" Laurie glanced over her shoulder, but saw nothing. "What is it?" He looked down at her, then back up. "Um… do you want to… walk around the yard a bit?" His head came back down to meet her eyes, which she could only suppose was a 'yes'. "I – okay. Okay, we can – we can do that."

Taking a walk around the garden was the last thing she expected or ever wanted to do with her brother, but if her role here was to keep him happy and docile, then she would do it. Picking herself up, she moved towards the wall, where there was the most space to walk around – and furthest away from her children. Michael followed, easily catching up to her side despite his shuffle. She tried to keep him towards the wall and herself on his left, thinking that if he did anything dangerous, she would at least have space to run. He accepted this passively enough, but her attempts to put more space between them was less successful. No matter how she tried to move away from him, he stuck to her side so that he was only a few inches from her.

Laurie was used to walking for long spaces of time, both with her friends and on her own – could easily get lost in her own head so long as she knew the way and had nothing to do. She would have thought that was impossible in this situation. The sheer bulk of her brother was intimidating; for the first few moments, she kept thinking that he might pick her up, squash her, toss her around, without any trouble. He kept so close that she could smell that faint, hospital-like scent on him, and hear his breathing through the mask.

But he was, in his own way, undemanding, not talking or requiring her to talk. And Jamie and John were oddly, trustingly, accepting of the situation – Jamie, having made a full recovery from her fall, had just come dashing past them, squashing her way between her uncle and mother, John hot on her heels. Michael's solid, silent presence did not seem to trouble them, and they treated him like that, like a piece of furniture. Well, no, not like that; but he had fitted himself into their life, somehow.

So Laurie soon found herself drifting off into her own thoughts as they rounded a corner, getting used to the size and the feel of him in her space. She wondered about this pattern they had. Would she be visiting him for the rest of his life? Was that how this twisted brother-sister relationship would end up being?

What would it have been like if Michael had never killed his family, if she had grown up as Angel Myers? She remembered the things Dr. Loomis had written about the Myers family ("…struggling single mother, juggling a job as a stripper with a string of neglectful boyfriends", "…one of those girls who matured early, the oldest Myers girl did not distinguish herself at school or to her friends and neighbors save for her extreme promiscuity, and would likely have found herself in an early marriage and pregnancy, living on the poverty line"). Would she have turned out like Judith Myers, flirting her way around boyfriends and then moving out to live in a rundown home of her own? Or like Deborah Myers, selling her body to make ends meet? Would she have been neglected by her mother, abused by each of her boyfriends, and ignored by her siblings?

Or maybe, as the youngest in the family, would she have been given some kind of protection? Laurie sneaked a glance at Michael, who was staring straight ahead at the wall. She thought that, maybe now, she could believe all of Dr. Beckett's theories about being Michael's beloved little sister, the only living family member he cared for and wanted to be with. Would she have gone through life in the Myers home with Michael sheltering her from their family's troubles, making sure she had enough to eat, had proper clothing, was doing well in school, was protected from the worst of the abuse, was loved? Would she have met Jimmy?

Jimmy had persisted, despite her turning him down. At first it was just meeting randomly on the streets – Laurie had spent most of her time out of the Brackett house, not wanting to face the sheriff (who she was sure blamed her for the mutilation of his daughter) or Annie (who she had no idea if she even knew). So they would run into each other as Jimmy's shifts began or ended.

Then he figured out that she was working at a local bookstore, and would drop by. The first few times, he said he was just looking for medical texts and test prep. And just happened to want her advice on them. Then he started taking lunch there, chatting her up. Laurie's coworkers had covered for her, maybe liking how pleasant the guy was, but mostly because they liked the drama.

And then Annie found out, and – whatever she knew about Laurie (and Laurie to this day did not know if she knew) – she helped. She got his number and practically forced it on Laurie. She befriended the guy and would start walking home with him, on the pretext of wanting someone to watch out for her in the evening. She threatened to send filthy, flirty emails to him using Laurie's address.

Finally, Laurie caved and gave him her number. Their first date was at the bookstore she worked at, during an unusually long break, eating sandwiches from a nearby restaurant while talking about her job, her friends, what she was doing. (Later she found out her coworkers had basically acted as guard dogs, shooing away any potential customers who might ruin their moment.) Their second date, they actually went someplace, to the only halfway-fancy restaurant in Haddonfield. They served juicy home-cooked burgers and fat fries sprinkled with cheese and salt. It lasted over three hours, the two of them talking about aspirations and dreams and the future. Laurie thought she might fall for him.

The third date, before it had even started, she told him who she was. He nodded and said he had known who she was – her face had been all over the news – and that the whole "Michael Myers is my brother" sure did explain a lot about why he came after her, and how about that fancy French restaurant for dinner? And don't worry, everyone has felons in their family bloodline; hers just happened to be a lot closer than usual.

He convinced her that it was a normal thing. Later, she told him the full extent of her trauma – not just the panic attacks, but the anxiety, the PTSD, the hallucinations. He said a lot of people suffered from them, that it was perfectly normal she would be affected (scarier if she hadn't been, he said). Later, she told him she didn't want children, didn't want to pass her defective genes down to them. He convinced her that it was not just genes, but environment and treatment, that had just as powerful an effect. Later, she wondered if she would become a killer. He convinced her she wouldn't – she hadn't started now, so why would she? Later, she said he was completely nuts for wanting to be with her. He said, guess that makes two of us.

She shook her head, trying to get away from Jimmy, back to her other thoughts. If Jimmy had been her first boyfriend… how would Michael have reacted? Happy? Or as the protective big brother? She had never really thought about having an older sibling; as an only child, any sibling she would have had would have been younger than her. She had even asked that of her parents – the Strodes – when she was younger, if she could maybe for Christmas have a little sister? She had envisioned a cute baby girl she would dress up and play with when she got bored. They had laughed and said that she was enough, and did she really want to share all her toys and attention with another child?

In hindsight, she thought that their refusal was not because they didn't want another child, but because they couldn't.

Something brushed her hand, making her jump and lose her train of thought. She looked down and saw that Michael's wrist had come close enough to touch hers on accident while they walked. She frowned – was that on accident or deliberate? A glance at her brother's face (still masked) revealed nothing; he was not even looking at her.

Pushing the thought aside, she continued on their walk around the garden.

Sometime later, driving home to Haddonfield, the kids asleep (likely exhausted from playing in the garden), Laurie found herself reflecting again on the visit. After visiting hours were over, she had confirmed with the doctor (who was not quite able to hide his glee at another successful visit) that she would be back in two weeks. She had done it without even thinking about it. The visits had become, well, routine.

It would be her… she counted up in her head. Her eighth actual visit. Tenth, if she counted the two times she arrived but left before ever being with Michael. And despite everything, they had been… peaceful.

Arriving home, she let the kids trot, still sleepy-eyed, up to their room, then picked up the phone and dialed the sanitarium.

"Smith's Grove Warren County Sanitarium, receptionist's desk."

She almost regretted what she was doing before saying it – oh God, what was she doing? Resolving herself, she asked, "Yes, I was wondering, um, what items are allowed for… for gifts to patients."

"Well, we have an extensive list of things not allowed. Let me find the list…" There was shuffling in the background. Then, "Here we are. Items considered contraband include: all alcoholic beverages, all illegal drugs including marijuana, narcotics, hallucinogenic, and non-prescribed medication, all smoking and tobacco products, aluminum foil, balloons, cameras, chewing gum, cleaning chemicals, clocks including alarm clocks, combs, dental floss, electronics, flammable materials, glass, headphones, items containing metal bindings such as binders and books, keys, luggage, maps, plastic wrap, radios, rope or twine, Styrofoam, shoelaces, sunglasses, tape, tools or metal utensils, umbrellas, and of course, weapons."

Laurie's head was swimming. "I – that's a lot."

"Safety is a concern here, both for the staff and the patients." The receptionist's voice became a little gentler. "May I ask what patient you are considering bringing a gift for?"

"Um – Michael Myers."

"Myers?" The receptionist's tone changed again, more familiar. "Are you Mrs. Laurie Lloyd? You've been his only visitor the last few months."

"Er, yes."

"Hmm, well, Myers… he generally spends all his time making masks in his room. You'd probably make him quite happy just bringing him some old newspapers."

Laurie didn't really care about her brother's happiness, but such a gift still felt a bit insulting. "I was hoping for something a bit more unique, I guess."

"Well, some of the most common patient gifts are photographs. So long as it is not of the patient alone, or of another patient, they can have it in their room."

She considered it. It would be easy to do, easy to carry in. But did she want Michael having a photo of her and her children with him? They were visiting him fairly often now… but there was something permanent about giving him a photo, an acceptance of him into the family that she wasn't sure she was ready for.

And yet… he had the photo of himself and Laurie as a baby. Maybe it had kept something alive in him, a reminder of the tiny bit that still loved his sister.

She said into the phone, "I might do that."

A/N: This is the last of the "past" perspectives. I thought about adding one more of Laurie on her wedding day, but didn't write it - I figured her "journey" of discovery was done at this point.

A lot of information about visitation, restrictions on guests and patients, and most importantly, forbidden items, was taken from the California Department of State Hospitals. And yes, there is a giant list of everything you are not allowed to give to a patient, and it is actually longer than what I have in the story.

The story is wrapping up! Second-to-last, and longest, chapter is coming, which will be concluded with a short epilogue.