A/N: Before we start, the characterization and personality of Michael Myers in this fic is basically going to be a combination of the 1978 John Carpenter Michael Myers and Rob Zombie's version of the character, so I apologize if he seems a bit OOC in the beginning as I try to blend the two very different personalities!

Also! The POV shifts of the old version are going to be included, as both a callback to the original and just personal preference for how I choose to frame the story. "Normal POV" stands for 3rd person, all other character POV segments and shifts will be labeled accordingly

Behind Blank Stares

(Normal POV)
October 18th , 1963

Normal:
[nawr-muh l]
adjective

Conforming to the standard, or common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural

By the common understanding of the word, she seemed to fit it well enough. Six year old Lynn Brenson was just "Probably just shy" whenever a substitute teacher or parent volunteer would approach her teacher about the little girl that rarely said a word and approached other children with reluctance.

After all, she came into school, sat quietly, never called out in class, always turned in her homework complete and usually most of the answers if not all of them were correct; she liked to draw kittens and had a lunchbox of a popular cartoon character. By all the means, she was the ideal definition of a normal little girl in the early 1960s. This issue appeared that it wouldn't be hard to solve, if the teacher just gave her a little nudge in the right direction.

"Alright class, for today's reading activity, you're going to work with a partner." Mrs. Malardy announced, the room full of first graders erupted briefly with excited chatter between the children, with a few questions for her shouted over the top. She gave them all a stern look and waited for them to quiet down. "You're going to both read a passage and write down what you think about it, and then talk to your partner to see what their thoughts about it are. You may pick your own partners." She smiled when the children cheered and hopped up, each trying to claim their best friend as their partner, while others had to problem solve as to what to do if their first choice was already taken.

As predicted, two children were left: the little girl and a small blonde boy named Michael.

Michael was a bright young boy, and was usually very kind whenever she spoke to him, he also on the quiet side of things, most notably over the past month it seemed he was more inclined to keep to himself at recess, even when invited by the other boys when the month before he would have gleefully joined, he'd become very hard to coax into reading aloud during whole-class activities, but above it was hard to keep his attention for very long. Mrs. Malardy didn't think much of it; it was sometimes difficult for boisterous little boys to adjust to sitting and listening to lessons rather than running around all day, and even though it was only first grade, the work could be quite challenging to someone who only had begun to learn to read and count the year before. Michael also tended to get a bit aggressive when frustrated, but plenty of little boys pushed each other on the playground from time to time, it was one of the why they were in school, to learn how to interact with others. It was concluded that perhaps pairing them off together would benefit the both of them.

She approached the little blonde boy as he glanced around the room, searching for a person to work with. "Michael, dear. Why don't you work with Lynn today? She doesn't have a partner yet." His dark eyes seemed to ponder the question for a moment before he nodded in agreement, picking up his book and pencil and approaching Lynn.

"Mrs. Malardy said we should work together." He proclaimed, taking the seat beside her. Lynn pushed her dark hair out of her face and looked up at him, just a bit startled. The boy didn't move a muscle until she sat back against her chair.

"Alright." She said, leaning over to share his book with him, the two read in silence, only speaking up when either one of them was finished to see if they could turn the page yet.

"That's not what happened in the Hansel and Gretel story my brother told me." Lynn grimaced as they finished the textbook's watered down rendition of Hansel and Gretel. When he told it to me, they pushed the witch into the oven and cooked her instead of just locking her in the cage."

"That sounds like a more fun story to read." Michael nodded in agreement. "She deserves to get eaten instead."

"If you live in a house of candy why would you bother trying to eat kids?" Lynn giggled in agreement.

"Maybe she got tired of having to make more candy to fix the holes in the walls."

"But she has magic." Lynn insisted matter-of-factly.

"Maybe she's just too lazy to do the magic." Michael decided, Lynn nodded in agreement. They glanced around the room to see that the other children were still working on their stories and instead opted to talk to each other for the remainder of reading time. The teacher watched them and smiled, they were getting on very well and perhaps the little nudge was all they needed to continue their normal social development…

October 31st, 1963

Lynn POV
(TW: Mentions of Abuse)

"John called yesterday. He said he couldn't come home to visit this weekend like he'd thought." My father said, not looking up from his newspaper while I pushed my chair over to the sink to wash out my cereal bowl. My hands got all shaky and I hurried up to make sure the leftover milk wouldn't spill on the floor.

I didn't answer. I heard the newspaper page crinkle. He was looking at me.
"...why not?" I tried to ask, my voice came out squeakier than I thought it would. When John was home, things were almost normal, but ever since father got his new girlfriend, they made John go to a boarding school a few hours away."

"Too much homework." He said, but he kept staring. I put my cereal bowl down, but I didn't look at him, he didn't tell me to. It didn't seem like a usual morning, there wasn't any yelling, but he was talking to me. My father never talked to me, unless he was yelling. "Your school also called." He added. Oh no. "What did you say to your teacher?"

"Nothing!" That was the big rule in the house. Don't tell. Telling made it worse. Father's rule was made clear as soon as John left, if someone asked about a bruise, lie. He promised that I would be in bigger trouble if I didn't lie, I got into enough trouble to begin with. "She didn't ask."

"Then this best be the last I hear of it, do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes sir." I picked my bowl back up, finished rinsing it and pushed the chair back to the table. Then I went upstairs to finish getting ready for school, taking extra-long to look in the mirror to make sure all of the big bruises would be covered by my dress and sweater before I picked up my backpack and started on my way to school. Once I was around the block I stood and waited by the Stop Sign, the little blue sign above it said Lampkin Lane, I heard other kids walking toward me and kept my head down.

"Hey there pipsqueak, you look like you wanna give me something!" An older boy, maybe a fourth grader by how big he was, pulled on the strap of my backpack, I wobbled a little and looked up at him.

"I don't." I said quietly. "Please go away."

"You know how it works munchkin, hand over the lunch money, that's all."

"I don't have any."

"You're lying." He grabbed at my strap again, trying to yank the bag away. I was about to let him, but out but he lurched forward suddenly and fell to the sidewalk, he stood up and ran away yelling for his mother, blood gushing from his nose.

"See, I told you, all you have to do is give them one good shove!" the boy from my class, Michael Myers, said; his was face blank when he handed me my backpack back. Ever since our teacher, Mrs. Malardy put us together in class, he played with me at recess, sat with me at lunch, and walked to school with me. He was never afraid of the bigger kids or anything. "Let's hurry up before his mom comes out." He almost smiled at the drops of blood left on the sidewalk while he pulled me along.

"Thanks…"

"Wanna come trick or treating tonight?"

"I'm not allowed…." I said quietly. It was kind of a lie, I never really asked, but I knew father would say no if I did, and would probably get mad at me for bothering him with the question.

"Oh…" his face went blank again for a few seconds, but his voice sounded cheerful still. "That's okay. I'll give you some of my candy."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to, what are friends for?"

Friend…that word…I saw it in the dictionary and in my books plenty to know what it meant, but I had never actually had one before…it felt nice, hearing the word, hearing it from my new friend. "Pushing bullies and bringing candy, I guess." I joked. It felt good to joke, too. I felt my shoulders feel lighter, even if John wasn't home to protect me, at least I had my friend Michael to talk to. Maybe things would be pretty okay after all

A/N: So, pretty different in pacing from the last one, but don't worry, the killing is coming soon.

I'd really like some input on how the POVs are going in these early chapters. I like the flow a bit better than the old story, but it is still hard to write from the point of view of a six year old.