A/N: TWs for the last two chapters still apply, just to be safe,

Slowly matching this up to the timeline of the old fic, thanks for beating with me!

Chapter 3

Normal POV

October 31st, 1963

Michael bid Lynn goodbye on the street corner of Lamkin Lane and Chesnut Street, lingering a moment to watch as some of the houses began to turn their porch lights off, some only lit by the orange gleam of a jack o lantern on the porch or windowsill. Music from a few of the houses where adults were hosting parties still drifted over the neighborhood, but overall the sleepy town of Haddonfeild was showing the signs of winding down from Halloween night.

During the night of fun with Lynn, Michael had felt increasingly distracted , a burning pain in his chest, all of his feelings seemed to fade away, there were whispers in his ears he couldn't quite understand…it only seemed to ease was when Lynn was at his side. He let himself focus on her wide eyes taking in all the costumes and some of the tricks the older kids played as they ran from house to house, Lynn grinning widely when he was willing to trade some of her candy corn for a cherry flavored lollipop, her favorite.

But when it was time to say goodnight, when Lynn started walking back down her street, all the feelings rushed back to Michael, the deadpan washing over the smile his lips held seconds before, the clarity and joy of a normal six year old on Halloween seemed to drain away, the burning feeling, it was so much stronger now. Michael turned to go back home; he would go sort and eat his candy, but then he had something important to do.

— —

November 13th, 1963

Michael was gone. That was the extent of it that Lynn could understand. Sometimes the news would mention the words "psychologically disturbed" or "senselessly brutal" but at six, the words were mostly just words.

She vaguely remembered gazing at the red and blue flashing lights and wailing of sirens outside her bedroom window as police cars and ambulances sped through the little neighborhood from every which direction. She hadn't thought there was any reason they'd be at Michael's house— she'd briefly hoped they were going to come to her house while she watched a patrol car roll past her house.

Lynn's father had come home earlier than expected and had not taken kindly to her decision to go trick or treating with the neighborhood kids, especially after the talk he'd given her earlier in the evening.

She couldn't remember much after that, beyond seeing the lights as she lay in bed, trying to sleep despite the 'punishment' her father had given her, she missed the following three days of school following that night.

But without Michael, things started seeming to matter much less to Lynn, the bullies were more relentless than ever; it wasn't just her tiny stature or shy demeanor that fueled them anymore — she was friends with "the freak". Lynn didn't even know what Michael had done to be sent away, the older boys claimed he was a murderer, who stabbed his older sister over and over. But was it true? She had seemed so nice while they were carving pumpkins, why would Michael want to do that?

She tried to plead his case. Maybe it was an accident somehow— maybe the story was as fake as the ones about the Boogeyman coming out at night to get you.

Or the one she kept to herself— maybe Judith was like her Father, the closest thing Lynn considered to be a scary real-life boogeyman in her life.

But despite all the extra teasing and being pushed around by the older boys, despite all the concerned looks Mrs. Malardy would give the little girl over the top of the book she was reading aloud to the class, despite John's absence and being "too busy" to even call home and even fathers temper— it just seemed like it didn't matter as much to the girl anymore. Lynn stopped reacting; she stopped shrinking away from the bullies, stopped using books to brighten her days, she even stopped being afraid of her father, despite that she was still sore all over when she moved and some of the bruises had not yet started to yellow and she had an angry red circle on her shoulder from a cigarette burn.

Lynn was too tired. Her grey eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare at nothing in particular.

'It's your fault.' That inner voice would creep in. 'Whatever happened to Michael. Why John won't come home— he doesn't want to come home.'

Her bedroom door swung open with a BANG! Her father swaggered in, breathing heavily. "Your teacher called again. I thought we agreed this wouldn't happen again." He loomed closer, circling the child. Lynn didn't look at him, she kept gazing out the window at nothing in particular. She bit her lip, the words she wanted to say would most certainly get her in trouble. That inner voice was relentless

'Do it. Say it. It will happen either way…'

"I didn't say anything. She can still see me. Maybe she can guess." Her voice was hoarse from barely saying a word, when her tears from losing her friend had dried up, so had the need to talk.

Lynn POV

Father yanked me to my feet by my sore shoulder and shook me hard.

"You are not going to talk to me that way! You disrespectful little—."

'Run.' The inside voice said to me. I knew if I ran from him, the punishment would only get worse. I wasn't sure how much worse it could be than what I can remember of the one for Halloween.

'Let it. Do you want it to stay this way? Let's make it stop.' My arms and legs seemed to move on their own, without me deciding what to do, my arms thrashed at yanked out of the sleeves of my jacket that he held, I ran out of the room before he could grab me again, knocking over whatever was behind me to get in his way, but he thundered after me, reaching for me. I felt myself duck and jump out of his way.

I scrambled into the far corner of the hallway, father blocked my way down the stairs. He stood over me, breathing heavily, his face red. "When I get my hands on you…" he growled. My body moved on its own, I heard a scream in my throat and my body crunched low, I threw my whole body into one big shove at his stomach and dropped to the floor.

Father made an "ooohf" sound. He swayed and grabbed for me, but his arm swung over my head. He tipped backwards and fell down the stairs with a loud series of thumps, yells, and a big crash and cracking sound when he landed at the bottom. I peeked over the banister, his leg was bent outward and didn't look normal and his head was twisted to the side. He made a strange gurgling sound and wheezed.

"F-father?" I didn't dare go down the stairs. He didn't respond. The wheezing stopped. He didn't move. I crept down the stairs, his eyes were open and blank and he didn't react to seeing me, his mouth hung open while his neck stayed twisted. I nudged him with my foot, he didn't move.

'It's over. It's over, you killed him!' The inner voice cheered. My hands felt cold and clammy. 'Now they're gonna call you a monster too and send you away!'

No. I didn't want to go to jail. It looked so scary in the movies! But he was too big to move. I went upstairs to his room and pulled the blanket off the bed, wend back down and covered him up, then I at least didn't have to look at his creepy empty eyes and twisted body.

"Okay…" I said to myself. "We just…won't tell anyone…then when John comes home for the holidays…." What then….what would I do? Would John call me a monster and send me away like Michael did? Did his parents call him a monster? Or would he think it was an accident— That's what it was, wasn't it? I didn't know he'd die if he fell down the stairs.

He fell. I couldn't tell anyone, in case they wouldn't believe it. John would believe me. He had to, right? I'd wait until he was coming home, and then I'd take the blanket off and he'd think father just…fell down while I was at school. He'd know what to do.

I went into the kitchen and made a peanut butter sandwich for dinner. It was a school night, and I needed to get to bed soon.

Normal POV

November 16, 1963

Lynn had gotten pretty used to avoiding the blanket covered heap at the bottom of the stairs, she shivered at the cold November air coming through the windows. It was cold, but that morning the body started to smell bad. She stepped over the heap and sat on the couch with her cereal bowl to watch Saturday morning cartoons.

—

Officer Raymond Fowler stopped in front of the house on Chesnut Street, responding to the order of a wellness check.

Apparently, Frank Brenson hadn't shown up to work for the past few days, and even for a known drunkard in Haddonfield, he never missed a day at work. He would always call in to his boss when his bender the night before went particularly heavy and he was going to be late, and when they called the house the line was busy. Apparently his girlfriend had not been able to call either.

Fowler knew the reputation of the man and nearly rolled his eyes at the assignment, the last way he wanted to spend his Saturday morning was to get yelled at by a nasty drunk, but something about it felt off and Fowler knew Brenson had a little girl, the wellness check was more to make sure the kid was okay, in his mind. He could hear the sound of the Saturday morning cartoons from where he stood on the porch. A good sign, he thought. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

Officer Fowler notices the open windows, and when he peered in, he saw a blanket covered heap on the floor, a ghostly pale, rigid arm sticking out of one side. He pounded harder on the door. "Police! Open up!" He drew his gun.

He was ready to kick the door in when he heard the locks click and the door opened, and to his surprise a little six year old girl stared up at him with doe-like grey eyes, clutching a stuffed rabbit.