Chapter 51: Pictures round the neck

…

When the gates finally slid shut behind him, James Rickets found himself dangerously close to tears. Just as he'd feared Culshaw had gotten under his skin. True to his word, Peters was waiting in the car
just a few yards away.

"You alright?" He asked James as soon as he'd slammed the passenger door behind him. James couldn't answer straight away, he took a deep breath. "James?" Peters asked, looking closely at his officer's face. "What is it?"

"That fucking son of a bitch," Rickets raged, unable to stop a few tears from falling down his face. "I told you he'd get under my skin sir, and he did! He is fucking hates women! They're just toys to him, meat! I had to talk his language, calling them 'bitches' and so on and I hated it! He talked to me like I was a child, so fucking patronising! God knows what'll happen when the real Kevin Wheeler meets him again! Trying to convince him that he… I hadn't been arrested, when you and I sir both know the truth is he's in jail, was not an easy task!"

"We both know Wheeler and Culshaw are not going to meet again," Peters said quietly. "Because we won't allow that to happen."

"I feel damn sorry for Wheeler if they do," James muttered.

"James," Peters said, once again putting his hand on his officer's shoulder. "What happened son? Tell me. What's made you so angry?"

"Just listen to the fucking recording sir," James replied. "I can't go into it."

"Give me an idea," Peters encouraged. "I'm not worried about the recordings right at this moment, I'm concerned about your welfare."

"You weren't that fucking concerned when you sent me in there," James said before he could stop himself. Instantly he opened his mouth to try and apologise, but once again Peters actually put an arm around him.

"That's not true, James. Why do you think I've given you the rest of the week off to spend with Michelle and the bump? But I also knew that most unfortunately, you were the best officer for this job, and I had no choice. I tell you what? Have two weeks, ok? I'll take you home right now, but please, we'll stop and get a coffee and just talk to me?" There was a long silence, while James stared at his boss. Finally, he nodded.

"You'd better be buying sir," he managed a faint smile.

"Well of course," Peters squeezed his shoulder before pulling away. "I'll even get you a cake too."

"I… I'm sorry sir," James began. "I didn't mean to speak out of turn there, but…"

"No, it's ok. I didn't hear what you said."

James grinned faintly at the lie. "Thank you, sir."

They reached the café near the station and Peters was as good as his word. They entered and he bought his officer a large coffee and a slice of his favourite lemon drizzle cake. Once they were at a secluded table in the corner, James took a breath and prepared to speak. Peters didn't push him, just patiently waited, for which James was grateful.

"It wasn't…" he swallowed. "It wasn't necessarily how he talked to… well Wheeler which made me angry, because I knew that wasn't aimed at me. But he was just so insulting, if I was someone like Wheeler the guards would've probably had to pull me away because I'd be trying to smash that glass to punch his fucking head in."

"Yes, he's not exactly what we'd call a charmer," Peters agreed.

"It was the way he talked about women that did it. He agreed to tell me where Ashley's family were if…" he took a large sip of coffee. "If we took him a woman to fuck."

Peters sighed. "I guess we shouldn't be surprised," he said softly. "I was afraid he would do that."

"He talks about women like their animals," James continued, "said they deserve to be beaten, raped and locked up. I know he's a Misogynist, but that was… too much."

"I understand," Peters murmured. "Of course, I understand why that would get to you. It would get to any civilised man living in today's world in this country and most others."

James nodded. "So, he struck up a 'deal' with me," he wrote air quotes around the word deal. "He wants us to take him a woman to have sex with then he'll tell us. Or rather, he wants Wheeler to. He spoke with such contempt for them. 'She can be ugly as fuck I don't care, long as she has a pussy. I'm so fucking hard, I want to rape a bitch's cunt so bad.' Peters grimaced. "Exactly," James nodded. "So, this is why I'm so upset."

"But James, just remember it wasn't you he was talking to. He thought it was Wheeler. He doesn't even know your name or existence. He has no idea you are married, and you and your wife are expecting a baby. So don't let it get to you son. Please. I know that was upsetting, I'm not exactly looking forward to hearing the recording, but he didn't even know it was you he was talking to."

"Small fucking comfort," James muttered. Standing, he headed into the men's rest room and removed his shirt, unclipping the microphones and recording device from him. When he re-entered the café, he passed the equipment over to his boss. He couldn't get rid of it fast enough.

"Thank you," Peters said, putting it into his bag. "Great job James, I mean it. Thank you."

"It doesn't feel like it." James slumped back into his seat.

"Well, it should, James. Listen," Peters added as James made to speak in protest. "It should, because Culshaw didn't realise it wasn't Wheeler. That's all down to your good acting skills, your hours of preparation and disguise, they paid off. Culshaw had no idea he was actually talking to a fantastic under cover cop."

"Thanks for the praise boss," James managed a faint smile. "But…"

"Not only that," Peters raised his voice above James'. "But he agreed to give us the information, not without a price, but that's certainly more than I thought we'd get. I mean yes, the information itself would have been nice, but we're naïve if we thought Culshaw would just hand it over for free. He's a criminal, criminals don't do free."

James snorted. "So, what now?"

Peters sighed. "We may actually have to pay a prostitute to go in there."

"You…" James lowered his voice as he realised, he was dangerously close to shouting in a public place. "You are fucking kidding me sir? Please tell me you're fucking joking. There is no way we can ask a woman to do that purely for this pig's entertainment!"

"James, please listen to me. I completely, completely agree with you, I understand completely where you're coming from. But what else do you suggest?"

"That we say fuck it!" James leant close to his boss and kept his voice low. "Jesus Christ, we can't! That would be sinking just as low as those fucker's do! We can't sir, we just can't! Please don't tell me it's their job, it's only because those poor women have no God damn choice! They have to feed themselves, there is no, absolutely no way we can do that!"

"So, when you say, 'we say fuck it,' do you mean we just let it go?"

"Yes!" James exclaimed vehemently. "Damn right yes! We can't pay that price; we can't send a woman in there to be raped and possibly beaten! We can't, sir. I have to be honest; I can't believe you're even thinking this."

"James," Peters murmured. "I don't like it any more than you do, but sometimes police have to pretend to get their hands dirty to get information…"

"But this isn't worth that!" James interrupted unable to help himself. "It's not important enough to justify such a big price! Ok, if we were talking about say the location of a serial killer, then yes, I might get it a bit more! But this? Shit! It's not important enough! Make a woman do this for one man's benefit? I'm talking about the late Ashley Griffin! He's not worth that! He was a Misogynistic bastard and even Culshaw said his family probably won't give a shit! He raped his own mother for fuck's sake!"

There was silence after James finished his rant. After a moment, Peters sighed again. "Can't we just see if they contact us?" James almost begged. "I mean shit! If it is indeed true, they don't care about him, they won't! Fuck, if I was his mother and my son had fucking raped me, I wouldn't give a shit if he was dead or not."

"You may have a point there," Peters said softly. "I can't lie."

"Damn right I have a point," James insisted. "Please sir, it's not worth a woman's dignity for that small piece of info, which will probably prove pointless anyway! What if we did get the info say, and we contacted them. What are you expecting them to do? Burst into tears and arrange his funeral? Yeah right!"

Slowly, Peters nodded. James felt a surge of relief. "Did he give you a timeline for when he wanted a woman for his 'deal?'

"No. That was going to be my next request. Can't we at least leave it a while? Say two or three months? Do our own hunting for the information? Then if you really think we have to, I won't stop you this time?"

To James' surprise, Peters again put an arm around him. "I will not do anything without letting you know first and getting your opinion," he said. Rickets stared at him. "No, I'm serious. I may be your boss, but you are the officer who has helped me out with this more than I or the whole PD could tell you. So, nothing will happen in this case before you know about it."

"Well… thank you sir," James said, not quite able to believe his ears. "I… that means a lot to me. I appreciate your trust in me."

"You're welcome. Now drink that coffee and eat that cake James, then I'll get you straight home."

…

The guards were true to their word. The rest of the afternoon past in utter contentment to Danielle, she never wanted it to end. But when Michael finally pressed the call button after they'd agreed to go for dinner, Mel appeared immediately and took them into the patient's canteen. A whole table had been blocked off with privacy signs, which usually happened when a patient was refusing to eat or being abusive. The table was laid with proper China cutlery and plates. "Are you really hungry after all those chocolates?" Mel teased.

"You're joking if you think we've eaten even a tenth of them," she grinned as Michael led her by the hand to her seat, pulling it out for her. "Oh, and who said chivalry was dead," she smiled at him. "Thanks Michael."

Michael took his seat opposite her, and Mel read them the starters.

Danielle wasn't sure if they'd made a special meal just for them, but to her the food seemed nicer than anything she'd had before in the patience canteen. She hadn't asked Michael to speak again since he had and wasn't going to push him. But damn she'd found his voice so sexy, and she'd told him as much. "How can you keep that sexy voice hidden?" She whispered in his ear. "Damn, speak like that again and I may just pounce on you without your kisses!" He'd pulled her tightly into a hug and kissed her, before he'd texted her.

Well thank you. Then maybe I just might.

The fact he'd spoken however she wasn't going to tell anyone. This was purely between the two of them. He trusted her enough to speak, she wasn't going to break it by telling anyone, not even Dr Loomis.

Mel brought the second and third courses, her chicken and mushroom pie with mash potatoes was gorgeous. The desert was a white chocolate sponge cake. This made her even more certain they'd prepared the meal for them. Mel didn't confirm either way when she asked, just smiled and said, "who knows?"

They were left undisturbed as they sat there holding hands and talking. (Or in Michael's case texting.) It was a full three hours later before they finally stood up. Seeing them rise and Michael take her hand, Mel came over to take them back to their cell. "Thanks Mel."

"You're welcome," Mel said. "Oh, and by the way…" she handed Danielle her locket. "Pictures in it," she said, then did the same to Michael.

"Thank you so much," she said gratefully.

"Anytime," Mel said as she buzzed open the door for them.

Danielle took a deep breath and spoke, taking Mel's arm as she was about to leave. "Mel, can I talk to you for a sec please?"

"Of course," Mel said, following them in. her phone buzzed.

Do you want me to leave?

"No way," she said immediately, grabbing his hand too. "In truth I never want you to leave." She heard both of them chuckle as Mel sat opposite her, Michael insisted she took the chair this time.

"How can I help you?"

Danielle leant towards the guard and lowered her voice. "Mel, I'm just going to say it straight. I know who's in the MS cell. I found out completely by accident, but I know."

"I know, you told me last night."

"So, I don't believe for a single second you're there to help the other guards. You notice something? They're all men. There's no way they'd let a woman near Greggory! That's true, isn't it?"

There was a pause before Mel answered. "Yes, it's true. I'm purely here to help you two."

"I figured," Danielle reached out for the guard's hand, which Mel took, and they squeezed. "That's why you were there so fast whenever we pressed the call button. Why didn't you want to tell us that?"

"I don't know sweetie," Mel said softly. "Probably because…" Mel stopped and Danielle understood why. She wanted to stay professional. Respect rose up inside her. "Please?" She asked softly. "I promise this will go nowhere."

Mel hesitated for what must have been at least 30 seconds. She didn't push her, just waited. But if she chose not to answer, she would respect this. "Because I hate him," Mel said in just above a whisper. Danielle felt Michael squeeze past her and towards Mel. She was certain he'd put an arm around her.

"Thanks Michael," Mel said, sounding as if she was about to cry. "I'm ok, I am. I just…" She took a deep breath and Danielle could've sworn she heard him say "shh." Affection gushed up in her heart for him all over again. "He's so dangerous," Mel continued. "I'm scared shitless of him. Just as scared as I once was of you, Michael." The killer smiled at her.

"That's no crime," Danielle said adamantly. "So am I! When Michael pulled me back and I heard him speak, no shit I passed out! I fucking fainted! So, Mel that's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of! Please hear me! Nothing! He's a fucking raping cannable!"

"But that's what I'm trained for," Mel said.

"Bullshit! You're trained to protect, take care of us! Put it this way you've done a much, much better job than John fucking Baker did!"

At this, Mel gave a watery chuckle. "That's not difficult though."

"That's as maybe but I've got all the respect in the world for you Mel, and so has Michael! You care about, respect and protect us! Those are three things Baker did not do!" Danielle continued, her voice firm. "Yes, you're trained for danger, but this is a whole new type of danger. Listen I hate being singled out because I'm a woman too, God knows I've had that enough! But you know something? I wish it'd been for my protection, not out of hatred for my sex! They're trying to protect you Mel, nothing more nothing less. But believe me, I also totally understand why you don't like it, believe me I do."

There was silence apart from the soft rubbing sound of Michael stroking Mel's back. Damn, this was all because of her. Really? Sometimes Danielle still couldn't believe she'd changed Michael Myers to this extent, he was a different man from the masked killer everyone knew of. Only I and very few know this man, she thought with a smile. Everyone else sees a ruthless, emotionless serial killer. Not us, we see a man whose kind, caring and now actually loves someone, and that someone is me! I still don't believe it most of the time! What did I do that was so special? Her phone buzzed again.

Well said.

"Thanks guys," Mel said after a while. "I really appreciate this. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not near him, or I think I'd fucking kill him!"

"Oh, me too! Hell fucking yes I'd kill him! He fucking ate women! Jesus that's gruesome! Not only that, but he also raped them before he fucking ate them! What the fuck is he even doing here? Why hasn't he gone to 'old sparky' already?"

"I've actually asked Dr Loomis that question myself," Mel said quietly.

"And?"

"He says he has to try and treat him but said he will never get out of some kind of prison for the rest of his life, whether here or elsewhere."

"You can't rehabilitate someone like that!" Danielle almost shouted, banging her hand on the desk. "Jesus Christ Dr Loomis! What the fuck? I have a hell of a lot of respect for him, I know he's a world-famous psychiatrist, but is he serious? 'Try and treat him?' You can't treat a monster like that, he takes the word 'monster' to whole new heights! He eats people! There's no fucking hope of anything for him! Strap him in and pull the fucking switch already!" Her phone buzzed again.

I say again well said.

Danielle smiled at Michael. "Can't you fucking kill him for us?" She asked before she could stop herself, thinking of his words to her earlier that day. 'I need to kill someone.' "Here was his chance to kill a truly bad man, if one could even call Greggory a man that was. She heard his quiet chuckle before he replied. She'd held her phone up so Mel could see all his texts. On reading this one, both women gave watery smiles.

Um, there's one huge problem with that suggestion. He's in the Maximum-security cell, he has guards with him twenty-four hours a day and he never goes anywhere unescorted. Believe me ladies if I could, I would with no hesitation at all.

…

Thirty-six hours to execution.

Fuck, fuck! This is it; I'm getting closer to being fucking fried! What the fuck is that twat Thompson even doing? Masturbating probably!

Derek Chancer turned over on his hard bed and tried to close his eyes for about the four hundredth time that night, but nothing he did seemed to work. His thoughts were going round and round in a continuous circle, it felt like he was on a God damn merry go round or something. The Valium he'd been given hadn't worked either, every time he tried to sleep his nightmares contained electric chairs, skull caps, restraints…

Thompson had visited him that afternoon, saying the usual bullshit he'd been spouting since Derek had first arrived on Death Row. 'I'm trying everything I can, I don't hold out much hope,' blab, blab, fucking blab! That's all it was as far as Derek was concerned now, talk. Legal talk to cover the lawyer's own sorry failing ass! But as much as he didn't like it, Derek also knew he was very probably right. He was about to burn and there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing he had left to 'look forward to' was his last meal, and he didn't hold out much hope for that being grate either. Even if they did give him exactly what he'd requested it would probably be the cheapest shit they could find. Hell! Why spend a lot of money on a man who would soon be dead right? When the food he was eating was about to become text on a God damn autopsy report!

He'd made the mistake of asking some of his fellow inmates when he'd first arrived, and he soon realised his error.

"Put it this way," one snickered from his left-hand side. "You'll be wired, get a buzz and one hell of a shock in both senses of the word!"

He guessed this was Death Row's version of dark humour, in the same way men condemned to die in the gas chamber often used the statement 'take a deep breath' to one another. Their way to cope with what scared them shitless, but it didn't settle him at all.

"What are you expecting?" Another asked, a nasty inflection in his voice. "Someone to sit you down in a comfortable chair with your book and a teddy? Say 'just close your eyes little baby and go to sleep?'"

Derek flushed. "I…" he stopped himself. He had no idea what he'd been looking for. Comfort? Reassurance? How the hell could these guys tell him what it felt like? They hadn't taken their seats in 'old sparky' yet. It wasn't like someone who already had could come back and tell them what it was like!

"PUT A PLUG IN IT NEW BOY," another prisoner shouted down the corridor, to renewed guffaws of mocking laughter.

"NO," shouted another. "PULL THE PLUG ON IT!"

The laughter continued. Derek knew these guys were under just as much stress and fear as he was, and this was purely their way of coping with it. That however didn't mean he liked it. Why did it have to be at his expense?

"HE'S NOT VERY SWITCHED ON, IS HE?" Another guffawed. Derek rolled his eyes. How many electricity puns would he have to endure? Shit. He wished he hadn't even opened his mouth. Now he was facing it himself he found that for the very first time, he regretted using electricity on his female victims. He secretly feared it, which was why he'd used it. Now it didn't seem like such a good idea. Or as he'd thought previously, perhaps it was karma. Yet again he found himself thinking and rethinking his actions in Smith's Grove. God he'd been a fucking idiot! Why the hell had he got involved with Dawson in any way? He should have known and realised that if he was caught, it would lead him straight to the chair, as indeed it had.

He knew he should have pretended, played the game with that fucking shrink Loomis, put on a show of rehabilitating, getting better. That Loomis' 'therapy' was working. But no. Instead, what had he done? He'd booked his seat right into 'old sparky.' He'd let his desire for money and further rapes and kills get the better of him and it'd cost him his life.

"Fuck," Derek Chancer whispered into his thin Death Row pillow. "Fuck." He was a trapped rat, a sitting duck for the very electricity he was so afraid of, and he knew it. He had to accept defeat there was nothing Thompson would be able to do, his dislike of the lawyer aside. The pigs and quacks had way too much evidence against him. He had a clock ticking loudly over his head, ticking away the time he had left to live one tick at a time. His life was over, he was going to die in thirty-six hours' time.

…

Danielle snuggled into Michael's side, her headphones in her ears reading a book. It was one she had been dying to finish and she couldn't think of a better place to do so than in the arms of her lover. Finishing the chapter, she was currently on; however, she could not resist taking her earphones out just to lie beside him. Whether he was asleep or awake she wasn't sure. But she wasn't going to speak just in case he was asleep. Standing, she slowly walked to the desk, put her phone back down upon it and carefully poured herself some water from the jug.

Slipping into one of the chairs as she sipped it slowly, she found herself thinking about everything she'd gone through with Adam just a few days before. Or perhaps she should say the late Adam now. That thought made her smile a little. She didn't think she'd ever smile at someone's death, but his? That was a different story. Plus, she was certain he would've done a damn sight more than smile if her suicide attempt had worked. He'd locked the fucking garage door to leave her in there to die after all!

"Don't think about that," she whispered to herself in the silence of the night. "Don't."

Taking a deep breath, almost absently her hand went up to the scar on her cheek running her finger across it. Damn. She still remembered the pain of that even now. As he'd ejaculated, Adam had slashed her face with that fucking knife! All because she'd been talking to her male tutor about her assignment. When Adam had first threatened her about talking to him, she'd even gone as far as to ask college for a female replacement, but they'd apologised and said they didn't have one. To this day, she wondered why she hadn't been strong enough to tell someone there about the abuse. It wasn't like Adam had been standing behind her and she knew as much. But her fear had got the better of her. That was one mistake she kind of regretted. Although could she regret her suicide attempt completely now it'd ended up making her happier than she could remember being for many years?

She'd done the one thing against all odds because of it she thought she would never do, fallen in love. She'd vowed when she first entered Smith's Grove that wouldn't happen. Even though she'd known (or thought she had) that it wouldn't, not here, she wasn't even going to chance it. She never planned to have a man again. Now?

As she touched her scar, she realised it was starting to hurt a little. Had she rubbed it against the pillow in her sleep or without realising? She sighed, her finger now going to the ones on her shoulder, then arms. Shit! Adam had made damn sure he would never leave her alone, even in death. His marks were all over her.

Hey.

She started as Michael's hand fell on her shoulder as she read the message. "Sorry," he'd caught her looking at her scars. "I…" she stalled. What the hell could she say? But he simply filled up her glass again then his, before sitting opposite her and texting her again.

Talk to me. Are they hurting?

To her frustration, she found herself blinking back tears. Instantly he was there, pulling her into his arms as he knelt in front of her again and placed her hands on his ears.

"Shh," he whispered before for only the third time, whispering into her ear. "Shh, I'm here."

His tender actions and words tipped her over the edge and her tears finally started falling. His arms tightened around her, he pulled out a tissue from the always kept full box on the desk and started wiping her eyes.

"I'm so sorry darling," she said quietly her voice shaking. "It's just… shit! I got up to get a drink of water, sat down and found myself looking at my fucking hundreds of scars! It just made me think that in a way, Adam's got what he wanted even in death."

In what sense?

"Because I've got all these scars, his marks all over me and they will never be gone! Even from beyond the grave he's taunting me, I'll always know what he did! Please, let me say this? I know you said I shouldn't say it again and that I'm not, but these scars do make me feel ugly. Not just this one," she tapped the one on her cheek. "But also there," she said, removing her pyjamas to show her whole naked body. "These, these, and these." She gestured to her shoulders, arms, chest and legs. Hardly any of her body had been left unscarred from his vicious abuse. She felt Michael's gentle and warm finger on one on her shoulder, then her arm. She guided his hand to the huge ones on both her breasts. "You, see?" She just managed to say over the lump in her throat. "They're fucking everywhere!"

He pulled her into his arms, she was still naked. Her back was just as scarred as the rest of her was.

Listen to me. All these scars show is how brave you are, how strong you are, how determined you are. When you put that rope around your neck, you were hoping to die weren't you.

She could tell it wasn't a question. "Yes of course," she said quietly. "I'd had enough, I couldn't do it anymore. It was the only way out I could see."

But you survived.

"Only because Nigel was there, he saved my life. At first, I really wished he hadn't. When I was told, I was going to Smith's Grove, I would've tried to kill myself again had I not been under suicide watch in the hospital! I was deemed a high risk to myself, and I couldn't understand why they couldn't just leave me alone to die!"

Because you still had things to live for. Your family, your friends, your life. If you'd killed yourself, you would have had him win.

"Yes, I know, if I had ten dollars every time someone's said that…" she cuddled tightly against him, and he wiggled his ears. She couldn't stop a small chuckle. "Thanks darling. I know, but at that time I couldn't see that. You know this one here," she tapped her cheek again. "I got it because Adam said 'I told you not to talk to him you slut' regarding my male tutor, before he raped me and as he came, he slashed my face open, then my inner thigh. I even asked the college for a female replacement, but they said they didn't have one.

Did they not probe further and ask if you had a reason for it?

She laughed a little. "No, I wish they had! I'm guessing they just assumed I'm a woman, so I wanted to be helped by a woman. Before you ask me babe, I didn't tell them because I was so scared. I often wonder if I had, what would've happened? Would I have still tried to kill myself and ended up here?"

Thinking about it won't do you any good, however.

"I know," she sighed. "I've been trying as hard as I can for months not to think about it. You know, it's ironic really. I tried to kill myself, came damn close if not for Nige and now I'm here in the arms of a serial killer whom I love. I really, really wanted you to kill me, you know.

Indeed. You asked me to do that very thing.

"So why didn't you?" She asked in a whisper, the question she'd really wanted an answer to for months.

He pushed her head to his shoulder and cradled her close to him. "Please?" She breathed. "Please tell me. Tell me the truth?" Leaning in, he kissed her before he replied.

At first, it was because I didn't get the chance. There was a time I would've killed you without hesitation. But as time passed, I started to realise I couldn't. Yes ok, at first it was because I knew I'd spend a long time in isolation if I tried, whether I managed it or not. But then you started to… change me, which I still don't completely understand by the way. I know I think what you're going to ask me next, why did I hold your hand that first time? I don't know, probably… well I could tell you it was, so you knew where I was and not to come any closer, but…

She smiled at him now and kissed him back. She understood. He didn't know why he'd done it, not really.

I don't know. Maybe because even then I took note of the fact you can't see me and that made you vulnerable. It didn't mean I wouldn't kill you if I had a chance though. Then when I carried you into my cell so Joanne could treat your head after Jefferson tripped you up, I'll tell you something, I was seriously considering doing it that night.

"Really?" She asked in surprise. "Wo. That makes you really dangerous then because you hid it well. You made me feel safe and cared about. Was that a false sense of security?"

Perhaps. I was going to strangle or smother you in your sleep.

"In my sleep? That's not your usual M.O, is it?"

It isn't. So that should tell you something. Even in wanting to kill you, I was… if you like minimalizing the pain you'd feel.

"So, what happened then?" She asked. "Why didn't you if you were planning it?" She heard him sigh softly.

I don't know. You started talking to me telling me your name and other things, a bit about your life and why you were here and I… I must have changed my mind.

As she was reading this message, she was rubbing one of the scars on her left arm without realising it. She felt him lovingly remove her hand from it and put it back on his left ear.

Stop touching them, you'll make them hurt.

"Sorry S…" she said again and cursed. "Fuck!" She lightly hit the desk. "Shit! I told you Adam was having the last laugh even beyond death!"

"Shh, shh." Michael kept repeating as he pulled her to her feet by the hand and back over to the bed.

No, he is not, don't let him. Come on, try to get some sleep. I'll be right beside you. As for Adam, he can't hurt you again, I made sure of that. I promise you, he can't. As for his ghost or whatever you wish to call it, I'll keep that away too. No 'sir' from your mouth to me, try and stop it. Please?

She could only nod as he helped her back into bed. He got in beside her, pulled her back into his arms and both hands onto both his ears.

Better?

She smiled, unable to stop herself. "Thanks darling, thank you so much."

For what?

"I don't think I could do this without you," she said sincerely. "I might have tried to kill myself again. You know the water jugs? I tried to run my fingers across it on one of my very early nights here, trying to find a sharp edge to slit my wrists with.

Good luck with that, they're designed specifically to stop things like that.

"I noticed," she sighed. "Back then I was furious. Now… I'm so glad they did design them that way!"

As am I.

"Why, did you try it too?" She joked with a small laugh. He sighed again and she was certain he rolled his eyes.

Very amusing… or not.

She rested her head back on his shoulder against the pillow letting out a long breath. She knew she should do what he said and try and get some sleep, but could she when her mind was still running at one hundred kilometres per hour? Once again, she found her finger on the scar across her cheek. It was starting to twinge.

Hey stop that. What's the matter? Does it hurt?

As she read this, he firmly but lovingly pulled her hand away from it.

Any time you want to touch one of your scars just touch my ears instead.

At this, she laughed properly. "Now that sounds like an offer I can't refuse," she said. "Thanks so much, Michael. Not for that as such, but for your care and kind words.

I believe it's called love, isn't it? As for what I just said, I mean it.

"I think so," finally, she yawned. "That's what I've been told.

Well then, why don't we find out together?

"Now that's definitely an offer I can't refuse," now she kissed him. "That sounds like an amazing idea Mr. Myers."

Is your facial scar hurting?

"Yes," she admitted finally. "It is."

It's a little red. Have you rubbed it against something?

"Not that I know of the pillow perhaps?"

Do you want me to call for some cream to soothe it?

"Would you? I can do it if you want…" she leant towards the call button. Again, he pulled her lovingly back.

No, please let me do this for you. You don't have to do everything for yourself anymore. Yourself, or others. Please, let me take care of you. I know it will take you a while to get used to but please let me start here.

It was such a caring message, she once again felt tears sliding down her cheeks. He once again wiped them away as she nodded. "Thank you, Michael Myers," she sniffed. "I love you so much!"

He pressed the call button and a minute or so later, one of the guards was there. She wasn't sure who as she didn't hear their voice just the rustle of Michael passing them a piece of paper. A couple of minutes later she heard the sound of a pot being placed on her nightstand, before Michael was back in bed at her side and she felt cold, soothing cream on her cheek.

"Oh my God," she sighed with relief. "Thanks so much Michael, shit that feels good. Please don't ask me babe, please just do it? It's you, the one man I trust beyond anyone else!"

He kissed her mouth softly before he slowly started moving his hands over her body, applying cream to each of her scars. When he reached the one very close to her vaginal entrance, she smiled to herself, remembering the first time she'd let him touch it. How things had changed since then. She shivered as the cold cream made contact. "No," she said quickly. "It doesn't hurt darling, please keep going. It's just cold!" He chuckled, but continued what he was doing.

Once he was done applying it to her back, he put the pot down and pulled her back into his arms. "Careful," she warned. "You don't want to get this stuff on you."

That matters nothing to me, it's the least of my worries. Just lie still and let it do its work.

She nodded. In spite of what she'd said to him about not getting any sleep, she soon found her eyes closing. She tried to fight it off but couldn't, and before long she was dead to the world in Michael's arms.