A/N: For this portion of Michael's character I've taken some inspiration from the Rob Zombie Halloween, hopefully blending the Rob Zombie and Original Michaels together -

Chapter 4

Normal POV

November 20th, 1963

Dr. Samuel Loomis looked over a stack of intake papers in disbelief, not that he'd been assigned another, likely long-term patient— but another six year old patient, from Haddonfield Illinois, being admitted after a murder. This could not be a coincidence, could it?

Could it be related to his new patient, Michael?

The boy's moods seemed to be all over the place, he'd be chipper and willing to talk about the arts and crafts he was working on during his art therapy sessions one moment, and completely silent and stoic the next. When the doctor tried to approach the subject of Halloween night, he seemed to have no memory of it beyond proclaiming "I didn't do that."

He had to put Michael to the side of his mind for the moment though, he told himself. He was due to meet his newest patient at any minute.

The doctor looked into the file handed to him by a social worker, inside was a note that the child hadn't spoken since being discovered in the house with the body, and the coroner's initial report about the dead Frank Brenson—cause of death asphyxiation due to a broken neck, signs of blunt force trauma from a fall down the stairs. There were also intake photos of the child, documenting heavy bruising on her body and cigarette burns— but if the police and social workers were sending a child to Smith's Grove for long term inpatient care, it must be more than any accident. Days ago he wouldn't be able to fathom a small child pushing a grown man down the stairs, but after meeting a six year old boy who stabbed his sister over thirty times, a push down the stairs seemed less of a shock.

The door knob jiggled and the door creaked open to reveal a nurse leading a small child by the hand. "This is Dr. Loomis, he's going to help you get better, okay sweetie?" She said softly, nudging the girl towards the chair. Typically, a parent would be present for the initial appointment, but according to the file, Evelynn Brenson's only remaining relative was a fourteen year old brother, both a minor and away at school. He figured depending on the girl's progress, foster care may have to get involved, pending a judge's decision on whether her father's death was an accident or considered murder.

The fact this initial appointment would be a determining factor in that did not sit well, but he was a doctor, not the law.

"Hello there," he tried to muster a cheerful sounding tone. "You must be Evelynn."

Tired eyes bore into him. The child sat unnaturally still, he could see her hands flex just the slightest bit as they gripped the seat of her chair.

"Do you know why you're here, Evelynn?"

He watched her shrink at the name. "Is that not what you want me to call you?"

"Lynn." Her voice was the tiniest whisper. "Only my father called me Evelynn when I was in trouble."

"Ah, I see. Do you know why you're here Lynn?"

It came as a surprise when she nodded.

"Why don't you tell me what happened. I can't help unless you tell me everything, you're not in trouble…" Dr. Loomis tried to soothe, it was a half lie, this child was likely very much in trouble. From a legal sense, at least.

"I pushed Father down the stairs and didn't help him. He died." She said plainly, as if he'd asked her what she had done at school that morning.

"I see…" he scribbled a few notes. "Do you remember much about that? What happened? Were you very angry?"

She shook her head and gave a small shrug. "It just…happened. I couldn't stop, like my arms moved all on their own." She shrank in her chair. "But not like an accident… the other part of me kept saying to do it. And it happened."

"That must have been very scary," he tried to reason with her, but received no reaction back. "Tell me, and you don't have to lie if it's what you think you're supposed to say…are you sorry, for what happened?"

The doctor watched Lynn's face as she pondered the thought, before she timidly shook her head. "…I don't think I am." She admitted.

—-

November 23rd

An orderly lead Michael down to the lunchroom, as he did every day, even if the child never seemed to speak to the other patients. As wary as his doctors and nurses of the boy that never said a word, he showed no indications of violent behavior, and was thereby deemed "Socially Safe". In fact, it technically was supposed to be encouraged, given his young age, proper social development needed to be a consideration.

Michael took his tray and plastic fork and sat down at an empty table, he heard the scrape of the chair legs across from him and picked his head up to glare at whoever decided to sit across from him.

Until he looked up. The anger, the emptiness, and all the ravings of that horrible, angry, grown-up voice that lived within him — it all faded. He could only hear his own voice in his mind now, he felt normal.

"Lynn?" His voice was almost a croak from lack of use. He only really talked to his doctor and on occasion his mother when she visited, but even then the conversations were short and those dark feelings would find a way to creep up on him sometimes. "What are you doing here?"

Lynn looked…bad. She was paler than he remembered, her grey eyes, while wide with surprise, still looked so dull and tired. There was a raw spot on her lower lip from constantly biting it, and he could see yellowing bruises on her upper arms peeking out from beneath her short sleeves. Michael didn't like seeing her like that, not at all.

Lynn POV

"Me? What are you doing here?" I'd been so scared when they took Michael away, and then when I'd gotten in trouble at was taken to the hospital— to find Michael was right here all along! I'd missed him so much, he was my only friend—who knew after all the horrible things that happened it would bring back something so good.

"I did something bad…really bad." Michael whispered.

"Me too…"

"I killed Judith…" he looked around to make sure that nobody could hear us and then looked back down at his tray. "I was just…so angry all of a sudden, and I had all these strange dreams…and it just hurt until I did it…and this grown up part of me just kept saying kill her. Slice. Stab."

"Oh…" I felt myself say. I think he was waiting for me to say more, but I didn't know what to say, Michael was so nice, I couldn't understand what could have happened. It must have been bad, like father.

"You're not scared of me?" He asked after a moment. I shook my head.

"I think I kind of get it." I said in between spoonfuls of my applesauce, "I…kinda killed my father, I guess? My body just moved on it's own…and I pushed him…and he died." I rubbed my arms, they were shaking again.

"What happened to your arms?" Michael's hand ran down my arm, tracing my bruises.

"I got in big trouble for going trick or treating with you on Halloween…I was always in trouble…"

Michael's eyes went dark and his grip went tight on my arm. "Well he's dead now. He can't hurt you anymore. Nobody is gonna hurt you anymore, I won't let them."

Maybe, being in this place wasn't going to be so bad.

A/N: Talking in the Author's Notes beyond story stuff is hitting me right in the nostalgia right about now so, if you saw Halloween Kills yet, what did you think?

Thanks for reading!