Derek Chancer shook the iPod for the third time. This was so fucking frustrating and weird. Had those fucking techs broken it when they examined it? That wouldn't surprise him. The problem was, he couldn't hear a damn thing. He'd heard Hayward's phone ring, even though he couldn't see her cell from his, just the first part of the door if he looked hard enough. She'd closed her door screen, but that had never stopped him hearing her before. What the fuck was going on?
He'd also checked the headphone socket 3 times with no luck. The volume control, charge and so on. Nothing worked. He couldn't hear a damn thing. Shit. This was bad. He didn't need anyone to tell him that. He wanted that money. God, he needed it. He had a whole list of things he could purchase for his operating table when he got out of here, more creative ways to hurt and kill women. But they wouldn't buy themselves. He needed that cash!
But how would he even come close to getting it if the God damn iPod wasn't working? He made sure he was aiming it at her door yet again. Still total silence.
A few minutes later, he saw her screen lower again. She'd obviously finished her phone call. She'd stupidly thought previously the screen would protect her. Well, it seemed to have done so this time.
Chancer was furious. Damn it! The woman had taken a phone call, and he hadn't heard a word of it. He had nothing he could report back to his employers and in turn their client. Not good.
Even standing at his door with the iPod he couldn't hear anything. But he couldn't do that for too long because if a guard saw him, it would look exceptionally odd. Him standing at his door listening to music or watching something. Fuck!
The desire to kill Hayward consumed him again. God! If only he could. He'd seen her standing by Michael's cell next to his earlier and heartily wished Myers had done him a fucking favour and killed the bitch for him. But of course, he wouldn't. Myers cared about Hayward.
Although, just for a second, Chancer had reconsidered this. He'd certainly looked like he'd wanted to kill someone. There was something in his eyes, manner… Chancer felt himself shiver at the memory.
That was why Hayward had screamed. Part of him couldn't blame her. Even if he most unfortunately wasn't the cause of it. He would be if he got the chance, he was determined on that. Then there'd just be the small problem of escaping Michael Myers before he himself was killed…
But he forced himself not to think about that. Not now anyway. He heard footsteps and saw two of the guards walking past his cell. As quickly and discretely as he could, he picked up his iPod and put the earphones in his ears.
"Jesus I'm tired," he heard one of them say as clearly as if he was standing in the cell with him.
"Tell me about it," said the other. "Not long left now until 7AM."
They continued walking. Chancer removed the earphones. Ok, so he'd heard them clear as a bell. So why the fuck hadn't he been able to hear a word Hayward said? This made no sense. Perhaps she hadn't answered her phone after all? After they'd interrogated him, had those fuckers done something to Hayward's door? Cell? But he couldn't see any of it except the front of the door, so had no way of knowing.
But if his suspicions were right, that meant he was in trouble. Firstly, because he wouldn't be able to report anything to his employers which meant no money, but most concerning, it meant they were on to him and had taken measures to protect her. If the latter was indeed the case, then surely Michael Myers also knew? That part scared the shit out of him. Derek Chancer didn't like that thought. Not at all. He got no more sleep the rest of that night.
…
Eventually, Danielle broke the comfortable silence which had fallen between the two friends.
"Charlotte," she said, then paused. She wanted to ask her the exact same question she'd asked Nurse Hathaway. Have I broken everything between Michael and me? But for some reason, she didn't want to hear Charlotte's answer in case it was yes.
"Hmm?" Her friend asked, sounding as if she was getting sleepy. She wished she was but couldn't see herself getting any sleep tonight. All she wanted to do was cry.
"Don't worry, nothing. It's ok." she knew she was being a coward, but she couldn't face it.
"No come on," Charlotte said, suddenly sounding much more awake. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything."
She sighed. She knew Charlotte wouldn't leave it, at least not now. Plus, she'd told her this much, why not tell her the rest? She took a deep breath.
"Do you think what just happened tonight will have undone everything between Michael and me? Like, he hates me now?"
Charlotte made a soft noise of surprise. Whatever she'd been expecting, it clearly wasn't that. "Huh? No way! He's a man everyone fears. But you're different in his eyes. He cares about you. Why on earth would your fear, justified completely I might add change this? That sounds to me as if you're almost hoping it will. Scared of a relationship. Am I right?"
"Hell no!" she exclaimed vehemently. "No way! I want to be with him so badly. I'm just scared of his reaction. But I'll admit it, I was scared to ask you in case you said yes." She paused. "Ok, maybe a little scared of a relationship too. But you've taken the plunge, so I will too! You're right. I can't let this slip by because of him! That's what he wants after all!"
"Good for you girl! Well, done! I'm not Michael. But I am your best friend and we're honest with each other. So, my answer is not a chance in hell! Just you wait! As soon as he can be with you, he will be! I promise!"
"I hope you're right," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I really, really hope you're right."
…
Derek Chancer knew he had no choice. He'd have to text his employers and tell them about the problem with the iPod. He'd have to be honest and say he didn't know if the techs had broken it, or Hayward's cell had been modified to stop it working. Either way, this was bad. Entering the app, he started typing in the fake review box.
I've got a problem. My iPod can't hear into her cell. I can hear guards walking past outside it and every word they say as clear as a bell, but I can't hear her at all. I don't know if it's because those fucking techs broke it when they examined it, or if her cell has been modified in some way to stop the technology working. I want to continue; I need the money. Can you help? D.
The answer came back within five minutes. Anonymous of course.
We can update your software with our newest version, see if that makes the microphones any stronger. Soundproof foam exists, they may have used that to modify her cell. In which case it's unclear how well it'll work. Leave your iPod locked in the rest of the night, don't touch it and we'll update your software remotely. After 7, turn it off and on again and you'll have the update. I'm sure I don't need to add that you won't be paid tonight of course.
Fucker. Chancer thought as he locked the iPod and put it on his bedside table. He could work that much out for himself thank you very much. But they just had to rub salt in the wounds, didn't they? Assholes.
He lay back down on his hard bed, fuming. If Hayward talked to anyone else tonight, he'd be clueless. Damn Dr Loomis. Why did he have to be too clever, sharp for his own good? Well, he hadn't heard the end of this, Chancer vowed then and there. He'd get his revenge. Kill his wife? Or Dr Stark? Hmm that sounded just fabulous, but impossible. But he'd do something to get his own back on this fucking hospital if it was the last thing he did.
…
When Charlotte eventually hung up about ten minutes later, she opened the screen in her door again. The relief was indescribable. The compression on her ears instantly lifted. She took a deep breath and put her phone on her bedside table. As she did, her hand came in to contact with something cold. She reached out again and realised it was her freshly filled water jug. She'd totally forgotten about it when she'd asked Ash for the tablets.
Feeling it now brought back a clear and sudden memory of her long ago in her very early time here, touching the water jug, looking for any sharp edge to slit her wrists on. She was sure that'd been the night Michael had tapped his bars to her. God. How long ago had that been?
She then thought about the fact it'd been Michael's birthday on the nineteenth of October, and she'd asked Dr Loomis to give him a small box of chocolates bought from the gift shop when she'd been allowed through once with Joanne. She hadn't seen Michael since then and the one time she had…
She sighed. What a fuck up she'd made of that. But she hadn't exaggerated. She could almost feel the menace, rage, and desire to kill coming off him. Even without seeing him. God. She was certain now. She loved him. She must do. Or else why would this hurt so badly? Why did she want to be with him so much? Feeling something which felt almost like physical pain?
She filled up her plastic glass and took a long drink of the cold water. Her headache had started to wear off now. Too bad the tablets couldn't do the same for the pain in her heart. But there was only one man who could help that.
The emotion of it all hit her all over again at that moment. Adam hiring someone to watch, listen and report on her. Her longing for Michael, knowing in her heart of hearts she'd have to tell him the truth. Right then, she felt more alone than she ever had in her life. She lay down on her bed taking several deep breaths, trying to stop it, but she couldn't. Before she knew quite what was happening, she buried her head in her pillow and finally succumbed to the tears she'd been holding back for the last few days. She couldn't even find it in her to close the screen for privacy. She no longer cared who could hear her. All she cared about was the pain which seemed to be ripping her to pieces. If she'd not been so stupid, she could've been with Michael right now! The man who'd so easily managed to do the one thing she'd vowed no one ever would again after all Adam had done. Stolen her heart.
…
Dr Loomis would never have told Dr Martin this, but he was more troubled by what'd happened between Danielle and Michael than he was letting on. He was seriously despite his words, reconsidering trying to unite them again tonight after all. It was Dr Loomis' turn to sleep in the small staff bedroom at the back of the block. Each night, one doctor stayed over, in case they were needed. But the patients couldn't access them. Only the guards could wake them and only when it was urgent. It was where Dr Stark had fortunately been the night Adam Dawson had got her protected number due to the still unbelievable actions of the now late John Baker.
He sighed softly and walked back into the block. It was now just after 9PM and he would clock off and go to his quarters at 11PM. He was walking through to get something from his office, when he was sure he heard something. It sounded like a quiet, quickly stifled sob. He always tried to stay professional, but right then he couldn't help what happened. He felt his heart crack with sympathy. If that had been a sob, there was only one person it could've been.
As quietly as he could, he walked back through the block, having grabbed his overnight bag from his office, and stopped outside Michael's cell. As before, the killer was standing by his door, his steady, unflinching gaze fixed in the direction of her cell. Had he heard it too?
Samuel Loomis had no idea how Michael did this, hadn't in all the years he'd known him, but within a second the killer's eyes were on him. The doctor looked back and now the killer's gaze was its usual emotionless, blank self. But on this Halloween night and for the first time since meeting him, Dr Samuel Loomis saw right through it. Michael Myers could hide it all he wanted, but the doctor knew the killer was currently a hurting man. If he (Dr Loomis) had indeed heard her cry and so had the killer, he'd hate the fact he could do nothing to help her. Doctor and patient looked at each other intently for a minute, then Dr Loomis spoke softly. "Come on."
He opened the killer's cell door with the master key not the electronics, so it didn't give out its usual loud buzz. Silently, the killer stepped out and to his side. Dr Loomis didn't even consider using chains. As far as he was concerned, not only would it be cruel, but also pointless, as he'd be out of them within seconds.
…
Danielle looked up with a start as she heard someone softly tapping against her door. Now she regretted leaving the screen open as they'd immediately hear she'd been crying. AT least with it closed she could prepare herself. Yes, the guards could see through it, but they wouldn't have heard her. She wasn't embarrassed, she just didn't want to not to mention couldn't face anyone right now.
"Hey," said a soft male voice. "It's Dr Loomis. "Are you ok?"
Shit! The last person she'd wanted to see her in this state. She took a deep breath and tried to force her face to smile. She knew it wouldn't fool the Psychiatrist.
"I'm…" She started but didn't know how to finish. Heartbroken? Angry? Scared? Feel so alone?
"I know exactly what will help you," Dr Loomis said and was that a smile in his voice?
"Not sleeping pills," she pleaded. "Please. They made me so groggy last time I think I lost two days straight!"
"Don't worry, it's not sleeping pills. It's better than those.
Something in his soft, gentle voice made an unexpected gush of affection fill her heart. She walked to the door and reached out, her hand coming in to contact with his arm, feeling his suit jacket under her fingers. She was even more grateful when the Psychiatrist moved it, so he'd taken and squeezed her hand in his.
"I'm sorry Dr Loomis," she said before she could stop herself. Once again, she didn't care who heard, it just came tumbling out. "It's everything all at once. It just hit me, and I couldn't stop it. I can't believe that Adam wants to sabotage even my recovery treatment following his abuse by hiring someone to watch, listen to and report on me! I can't even get better safely! I started off scared, but now I'm so fucking angry! It's a new emotion I'm not used to. Such deep anger and hatred. But damn it I… I don't want revenge. I just want him to leave me the fuck alone! And Charlotte! He's determined to control both of us for the rest of our lives and I'll be damned if he'll do that to us! But I can't do anything and that makes me feel so damn helpless! Then there's my feelings. You know what I'm talking about. I've just completely fucked everything up tonight! I'd deserve what I got after that! How could I have been so stupid? Yes, I know everyone fears him especially tonight, but Jesus fucking hell! What have I just done? Yes, I was terrified for a second there, but…"
"Ok," Dr Loomis squeezed her hand again. "I'm going to stop you for just a second there ok. I'm more than willing to listen to you for as long as you need but let me help you first. Ok? I promise what I'm going to do will help you considerably."
She let out a soft, "huh?" She was so confused. But he was the doctor… "Ok," she said quietly, her voice cracking with emotion. "How, Dr Loomis?"
"Can you stand back from your door and lie on your bed for a moment? There's not room for me to come in otherwise."
"Yeah, of course. Sorry." She released his hand and did as he asked.
"No need for sorry. None."
The door buzzed open and then there was a second's silence. What the hell? She hoped Dr Loomis hadn't lied and it was pills after all. Well, if it was, she'd take them. She'd have to. She knew he was only trying to help.
…
Despite everything, Derek Chancer found himself grinning. He'd been right in what he'd heard. The bitch had cried. Aww, what a fucking shame! Too bad it wasn't because of him. He'd certainly report that to his employers when his iPod was done updating. Small, but something. It'd give Adam Dawson a kick at least. Then he'd heard Dr Loomis' soothing voice, but the quack had been talking too quietly for Chancer to make out what he'd been saying. Probably trying to comfort the stupid bitch.
But that was when his grin had died completely, sliding off his face like a mask. Because He'd realised Dr Loomis had opened Michael Myers' door and the silent killer must've stepped out, walking towards Hayward's cell beside the doctor. Fuck! Bad! It looked like the shrink was going to reunite them after all. Talk about the nail in Derek Chancer's coffin.
…
She made as if to sit up, reaching for her water jug. She'd need it for the pills. But that was when she was pushed back against her pillows, someone sat at her side, and she felt the arms close around her tightly. There was no way it was Dr Loomis. For a second, she genuinely didn't twig. Not until the person beside her moved and she felt her hand come in to contact with his left ear.
"M… Michael?" she could hardly speak. The killer tightened his arms around her and lay at her side, holding her as close as he could to his chest.
"Told you I could help you," Dr Loomis said, and she knew he was smiling. The door silently closed. "Or should I say, Michael can."
"I…" she tried to speak but her throat was too dry. She picked up her water glass and took a sip before she tried again. "I'm so sorry Michael! So, so sorry! I…"
If she hadn't felt what happened next, she would never have believed it possible. Touching her cheek had been one thing. But this? This was in an entirely different league. Michael placed a warm and tender finger to her lips, hushing her. That simple gesture made her blink fast with further tears, but this time of longing, shock. The killer pushed her head to his shoulder then, holding her as tightly as he could, again moving his head so she was touching his ears. Both this time.
"Good night to you both," Dr Loomis said. "You will not be separated again. You have my word on this." They heard his polished shoes on the tiles as he walked away.
…
It felt like hours before she finally slept in Michael's arms. She'd repeated to him what she'd told Dr Loomis re Adam, even though he'd obviously heard it without her knowing. Michael of course said nothing but did hold her tightly throughout and kept her hands on his ears. For the first time, she did cry in front of him. The killer moved his head, so she felt his ears move in her hands and she let out a watery laugh.
"Damn it, Michael! You know what that does to me." He chuckled and repeated the gesture.
She really wanted to tell him how she felt about him, but somehow those three little words, "I love you" wouldn't come. Adam's influence? She sincerely hopes not. But she remembered Charlotte's words, "tell him. Soon."
She would, she knew that much. Just not exactly when or how. Maybe she'd take a leaf out of his book and ask someone to write it down for her? Or was that cowardly? She told herself she'd think about it tomorrow. Right then all she wanted was to be close to him. Right now, she wanted to tell him so much, but she knew what that would mean. No way was she going to repeat this with the screen down. Dr Loomis had said they wouldn't be separated again, so presumably she was supposed to show him her new cell's workings.
"Michael," she said softly. "I'm not joking here. Watch out for your ears. This is going to feel extremely odd for a few seconds."
The killer simply held her. She reached over and closed the screen. The compression hit her immediately.
"See?" She spoke. "Compressing on the ears, isn't it? Sound proofing. It's how they've stopped whoever's watching me? That's why there's foam on the floor. No wonder I didn't hear you approach! Mind you," she took a breath. "You don't need foam to be sneaky, I know that." She tried not to shiver. None of his victims had heard him approaching at the end of their lives.
The killer's hand started stroking her back then and she couldn't help but sigh. It felt amazing.
"Hmm. Can't concentrate if you do that," she said, finally feeling sleep hit her." She was certain Michael quietly chuckled but didn't stop what he was doing. She smiled sleepily at him.
"Thank you," her voice shook slightly. "I didn't think I'd sleep tonight."
She felt her head lean against his shoulder again, but this time, another first, her face was also against his neck. She made as if to move, but Michael tightened his embrace so she couldn't.
It was strange, really. Just moment's ago, she'd felt so alone behind the soundproof screen and foam, like a tortoise in its shell. But now? Now she never wanted to move again. Alone was one thing she didn't feel. Safe, loved were the first two words which sprang to mind this time.
A few minutes later, she showed Michael the handset and what the buttons did. Somehow, she knew the killer was silently impressed by how fast the doctors had moved. She wanted to tell him what she'd planned to when she'd closed the screen. Adam, knowing she had visitors yesterday, his stalking Charlotte and her family. But for some reason, when she was in his arms like this nothing else mattered. This was only confirmed when the killer replaced the handset on its base and pulled her close once more, resuming the stroking of her back, placing her hand against his left ear. She had only intended to close her eyes for a second, to give herself the time to frame the words she wanted to say to him. She hadn't planned on not opening them again until 8 hours later, at the sound of the breakfast bell.
…
This bank account has been closed. If you are the account holder and believe this has been done in error, please contact us for further assistance.
Normally when Adam woke, the first thing to rise was his cock. He was usually in fact, woken by his own erection. Talk about rise and shine! Not today though. Today, the thing which was rising incredibly fast before he'd even got out of bed, was his temper. It was always simmering under the surface, his anger and hatred towards women, like a heavy metal soundtrack of rage and fury only he could hear.
This morning though, there were two actual reasons for his anger. The first was the message in front of him on his phone screen. How fucking dare, she. Not only had they taken Danielle's… His, physical credit card from his wallet when he'd been arrested, thanks to that grass Nigel, nosey bastard should've minded his own business. But now it seemed they'd also closed the bank account. He'd never call it hers. He couldn't access his, yes, his money. Danielle was his property, so it stood to reason that anything which came with her was also his, including any money she had. But the damn stupid authorities called it "domestic abuse against women." What a load of bullshit. Women were property to men and that was all there was to it.
When he got to her again, he'd make her suffer for this. It would be a when, he was determined on that. He was paying enough to track his property, so he should be able to use the money which came with her to pay for it. He was blaming her entirely for this. God, he wished he was in government. He'd ban women from being judges for a start, hell they wouldn't even be allowed jobs full stop. They'd stay at home while the men worked, cook their dinner and be there for their man to fuck after a long, stressful day working. That was her duty. Women belonged beneath men in every sense of the word, including in bed. He felt himself smile a little at that thought. Things would've been totally different for bitches under his regime. But unfortunately, it would never happen. Even he knew that much. So, if he couldn't make it law country wide, it would certainly be in his personal life and he'd fuck any bitch who dared challenge him for this, and physically fuck over any men who did likewise.
He'd thought it was a good thing he'd written down the bank details before his arrest. He'd hidden the piece of paper in his flat and named them as his details, obviously as they were. The pigs hadn't taken it. Now he understood why. It didn't matter. They'd fucking closed it! Probably one of those fucking quacks at Smith's Grove Nut house, or that bitch of a judge.
The second thing angering him was his man inside Smith's Grove, who was getting paid a shit load of his money to report on his belonging. But now he was claiming he couldn't hear a word she said. He believed her cell had been modified specifically to stop him doing so. Adam didn't believe it, but neither could he disprove it. Now ok. If Michael Myers had indeed been on his case, Adam would be fleeing himself. He couldn't lie about that. He remembered his words on the phone. "It could be Michael fucking Myers…" Now, he wasn't so sure. Michael Myers was indeed the one man who scared Adam shitless. If he saw that pale, deathly white mask, Adam Dawson would be running a mile. But the very thought of him caring about Danielle Hayward was fucking humorous. Hell, Hilarious. He'd kill her as soon as look at her, as he did with everyone he met. Or at least he had until he was locked up in the asylum. Adam would applaud him if he took a leaf out of Chancer's book and only killed women. It was the fact he killed anyone which scared Adam the most. Not to mention he was unstoppable, indestructible and the most dangerous killer Adam had ever known. Adam was sure there was something supernatural about him. There had to be. Surely.
Adam finally got out of bed, pulling on his work clothes of jeans and a slightly ripped shirt. They'd get dirtier anyway so there was no point wearing clean ones. He worked as a handyman, doing various jobs. For men only of course. Or on the rare occasion it was a woman, she had to be incredibly good looking and agree to pay him with sex and double the price he'd charge a man. Some of the stupid bitches were so desperate to get the work done they agreed. Despite all this though, Adam always did his best at any job, got it done properly. But this had nothing to do with her. It was purely for his reputation. That was as important to him as his cock.
Today though, he was working for a man about a half hour's drive away. Adam had worked for him before, and he was ok for a little small talk. He had a dripping tap in his bathroom along with a few other small problems. One of which was his wife. Adam smirked to himself. Now his cock did become erect. Fuck she was one gorgeous bitch. He'd fuck her any day. He didn't know her name, but he didn't need to know that to fuck her. That thought made him stop. He lay back on his sofa and wrapped his hand around his painfully hard cock, masturbating as he imagined his hand was her vagina. He just had time to grab some tissues before he ejaculated.
As he checked his work van ten minutes later making sure all his tools were present and correct, he found himself thinking back to Danielle Hayward and Michael Myers. What an unlikely pairing. He didn't even know if they were on the same ward in that loony bin or had even met. He knew Danielle had long ago Googled the masked killer and couldn't for the life of him understand why. Hoping he'd kill Adam probably. Dream on bitch, he thought, amused. He'd kill you just on principal you blind cow.
While he started the van's engine and pulled out of his driveway, he found his thoughts wandering back to his old man. During his childhood, he'd always been taught by his father to hate women. Lisa Dawson was no exception to that rule. He'd only married her to make her think she was safe. Apparently, marriage had topped her list. So stupidly easy. Adam had seen the countless times they'd had visitors round and his mother would be sitting dutifully beside his father in her best dress, Edward in his best suit and tie, nodding, laughing, and smiling on cue, speaking only when a visitor addressed her. It was clear most people thought she was just shy. This made sense considering in public her father looked like the loving husband. He'd hold her hand, pour her drinks, and act like he adored her. But behind closed doors, that was another story. She called him Sir, did exactly what he said day or night, just as Adam had tried to teach Danielle and Charlotte to do.
Living the life of a young misogynist hadn't been easy. He'd had to fight against the law several times. But Edward was his role model. He wanted his father to be proud of him. So, for this he'd do whatever he had to. His father's praise, love and attention meant everything to him. He couldn't give a fuck what his mother thought. As a woman, her thoughts and views meant nothing to him and were in fact, irrelevant.
His first most vivid memory was of him at school aged 12. Some bitch of a young girl had dared to turn her back on him when he was eyeing up her tits. This act of defiance and disobedience had infuriated Adam and he'd grabbed her by her ponytail, swinging her back around and grabbing her fits in punishment. He hadn't intended to touch, just look. But she'd pissed him off. Who did that bitch think she was?
Most unfortunately for him, two of the bitch's friends had been hiding just around the corner and had seen the whole thing. The girl hadn't stopped crying for hours. Adam found out later, from the police of course that he'd given her bruises. Her two friends had run straight to a teacher and told him what Adam had done. Adam, following his father's previous advice, "act like you know hating women is wrong and you don't know what they're talking about," had at first categorically denied it, but when they'd challenged again and again had finally snapped.
"What the fuck? She's a girl. It's my right to look at and touch her tits if I want to! She shouldn't have turned away then while I was getting my eye full! That was her fault!"
This, of course, had been the wrong answer. Within the hour, he was being driven home in the back of a police car to his parents. The stern-faced officers told Edward and Lisa what he'd done. Edward of course acted like he was very sorry, saying "Adam, son, you can't do that. That's wrong." But Adam knew him too well. He could hear the pride and glee in his old man's voice. Lisa of course was totally silent. Adam could see the police officers watching her closely. Had they twigged she was treated the same way as Adam had spoken about his victim? Shit. If so, that was bad. But they left a little later, seemingly taking no action. As soon as they were gone, his father had slapped his mother round the face for good measure and growled, "You'll get seen too later bitch." Even though she'd stayed perfectly silent throughout the police visit. Adam couldn't help himself and had laughed.
Edward had then put his son in his Jaguar and driven him to his favourite pizza restaurant. Once in the privacy of the vehicle, he'd given voice to his real, true feelings. "Well done my son! I'm so proud of you! Bitch undoubtedly deserved it! No woman turns away while we're eyeing up her tits. You were right to do what you did. This is your treat. Keep it up!"
Adam had stuffed himself silly that night and felt like his father's king. He'd hardly ever felt happier. If this was what it took to get his father's praise and love, so be it. He'd do it every day of the week; the law and pigs be damned.
That was how things went on for the next few years. But Adam was more careful. He never actually touched a girl again. Instead, he made sexist remarks and jabs, only ever picked boys to pair up with and made sure the girls came last in class activities whenever he could. The times he wouldn't be detected in fixing it by a teacher that was. Small, but it was something. He'd also make lude suggestions to girls he liked. Oh, purely sexually of course, not as people. Girls he wanted to fuck as he entered his teens. Girls often reported him to teachers for sexism, but as he hadn't assaulted any of them, there was nothing the idiot teachers could do. Adam was surprised the police weren't also told, but glad. They'd put two and two together and make four immediately given his history.
But then, Adam had finally gone too far. When he was 16 a stunning blonde had joined his class, and Adam knew no questions asked he was fucking her, end of story. He'd asked her to come with him behind the bike sheds and into the deserted woodland beyond. He'd deliberately been nothing but nice to her up to this point, so she had no reason to suspect him. Even if she had been warned about the fact, he was a blatant misogynist by the other girls, she'd clearly disbelieved or ignored it. That suited Adam just fine.
In his school bag that morning, he'd carefully packed a flick knife and a couple of condoms. He'd lost his virginity before of course, but consensually. Or at least that's what the girls had thought. In truth, things would have got very nasty for them if they'd refused him. But this? Oh no. This time, he was having her whether she wanted it or not. No pretending to ask this time. His father hadn't asked what he was planning, but Adam had seen his old man's smirk as he'd left the house. His mother was nowhere to be seen since she'd made them breakfast. Probably in bed waiting to get fucked, Adam had thought with glee.
So that day, she'd followed him into the woodland. Adam had pretended he just needed to talk to her about something up to this point. But as soon as they were alone, he'd pulled out his flick knife and put it to her throat. Fake niceties were over.
"If you scream," he'd said. "I'll slit your fucking throat, bitch. I'm going to fuck you and if you're a good little whore, I'll let you go afterwards. If you're not and you struggle, you die. Do you understand?"
He didn't give her the chance to answer. He just forced her to the damp ground, unzipped his school pants, lowered his underwear, and knelt over her, unzipping hers. He wouldn't use the knife unless he had to. As he put on his condom, climbed on top of her and rammed his rock-hard cock into her tight pussy, he could hear her trying desperately not to scream with fear and pain. But he kept the knife at her throat as he began to thrust inside her and all that came out were little whimpers of pure terror. I'll say this for her she's gorgeous, Adam thought as he ruthlessly fucked the girl beneath him. That was where women belonged. Beneath men in every sense of the word, including during sex. He grabbed and fondled her tits through her bra as he did so, not being gentle. He was sure hers would bruise too unless her clothing protected them. But as he finally felt himself come, his orgasm was so intense he bit the side of her neck, unable to stop himself. Now she did scream as he drew blood. Shit! He hadn't meant to do that.
Within hours, the police were at his house and this time there was no leniency, no slap on the wrist. His mother was once again silent and most unfortunately, this time had a black eye. Within minutes, Adam and Edward were both handcuffed and arrested, despite Lisa insisting she'd fallen over. The police, rightly, didn't buy it.
Adam sighed now as he thought of the rape trial. Juvenal court had been terrible and was somewhere he'd hoped never to go to again. So much for that. Adult court had women judges after all for fuck's sake! The male judge glaring down at him and outright calling him an "evil misogynist in the making," had got to Adam more than he cared to admit to anyone. He was sent to a young offender's detention centre for two years and his father was given twenty years in prison for a long history of so-called domestic violence against Lisa. Who, of course, fled the country as soon as they were safely locked up?
If Adam was honest, thinking about these things sixteen years later at the age of 32, he'd like nothing better than to go find his bitch of a mother and show her that men were still in charge, nothing had changed wherever she lived. He'd even fuck her if he had to, to make his point. She might think she was safe, he wanted to be the one to show her how wrong she was. Like father, like son.
He'd recently visited his old man in prison and Edward Dawson had looked tired, pale with the pallor which only comes with long incarceration. Adam had told his father about his time in detention. They'd sensibly done everything they could to keep women away from him. Just as well for them. Adam had slowly climbed up the inside ranks, until just before his eventual release eight years later, he was one of the top dogs. No one messed with him. Whereas in the beginning he'd suffered beatings. He'd soon put them to rights and showed those idiot boys why they should and did in the end, fear him.
He remembered the social worker, (male of course,) who'd spoken to him to try to understand why he felt this way about women. At least they hadn't tried to give him a female one. He'd have badly hurt the bitch if they had. Security or no security.
"Why do you hate women so much?" The man had asked. Adam couldn't remember his name now. He'd just shrugged.
"Because my father did," he'd replied. "It's the way things should be. Women are second class to us men," he'd winked at the social worker as if to say, I know you agree really. The man had shown no emotion at all. Dick. He probably had a wife, adored her, and thought Adam was an "evil little misogynist," just as the judge in court did who'd sentenced him to here in the first place. Instead, the man who'd introduced himself as a social worker, but who Adam strongly suspected was a fucking Psychologist, just looked at him in silence for a moment.
"So," he'd said eventually. "You believe that just because your father does, you need to do the same? You do realise that view is illegal? The rape you're here for aside, which of course is also illegal, treating women as second-class citizens is against the law in this country."
Thinking about it now, he believed and always had, that other countries had the right idea. The ones where women had to have a male guardian and couldn't do anything without his consent. If Adam had his way it'd be the same in America too. They wouldn't be able to open bank accounts, drive, or even marry without their male guardians say so and agreement. Those guys had it right. Damn American law!
"Women are equal to men," the Psychologist had said, and Adam had wanted to punch him. Patronising git. "We are all humans, Adam. Before you are released, your views must change, or you'll end up in prison for real before you know what's happening to you."
Adam had just smirked at the arrogant idiot. "You'll have to work fucking hard," he'd snarled. "Women exist to be fucked and to cook for men and do whatever men tell them. Change my views? When hell freezes over!"
The guy hadn't reacted, but Adam knew his reports on him weren't good and this was only proven when his early release hearing was instantly rejected, even though he of course said all the right things in front of the board. He was sorry, he'd never treat women that way again. But it did no good and his sentence was extended to five years. Adam was furious. Clearly, he'd have to lie, pretend his views had in fact changed, that women were indeed equal to men, even if the very thought made him feel sick with anger and hatred. Not in his life they are fucking weren't, and never would be for that matter!
His mother had of course as soon as they were locked up, given a full statement to the police, including the day Adam had assaulted that bitch who'd dared turn away as he was eyeing up her tits. How she strongly suspected Edward had taken him out for a meal that night, secretly very proud of his crime. She told them all about the abuse. Having to call Edward Sir, be there when he wanted sex day or night, cook, and do as she was told and so on.
She'd also much to Adam's anger, disclosed how he was turning Adam into a Misogynist just like himself. She begged the police to help him before it was too late, work with him to change his views and feelings towards women.
As Adam finally drew up outside the house he was about to work in, he laughed out loud at that memory. The pigs and quacks had told him some of what his mother had said, her number one wish was that he was helped, and she apparently loved him. Total bullshit! The bitch was probably terrified of him and was saying this to save herself from his justified anger. Well, if he ever found her again, Correction, when he found her again, he'd show her there was no chance of any of that. He'd show her just how little his feelings towards women had changed, IE not at all, and that she was as much a bitch as the rest of them. Just how much he hated her, his mother or not. He'd never love any woman for as long as he lived.
…
++When the harsh buzzing of the breakfast bell echoed through the block at 7, Derek Chancer stood up, feeling distinctly unrested. Blinking his eyes tiredly, he picked up his iPod from the bedside table, turned it off and on again as he'd been instructed. Within seconds, the music and fake workout aps reappeared on screen. Derek knew he had to be careful, but his curiosity was too much. He had to know if it would work now or not. Raising the iPod, he pointed it towards Hayward's cell. But there was only silence. Damn! It seemed he would have to wait until later in the day to see if the update had done any good. Sighing, he slowly pulled on his uniform and awaited the arrival of the guards who'd shackle and take him to breakfast.
…
Danielle stirred slowly when the breakfast bell sounded, wondering at first if she had indeed been given pills. She'd slept well enough to have done, like a log. But then she felt Michael's arms still tight around her and smiled. Who needed pills? Michael Myers helped her sleep just fine. How ironic! Seeing as he would've once put her in an everlasting sleep, death.
"Morning Michael," she gave him a tired smile. The killer then did something Danielle would never have expected. He wiggled his left ear, the one her hand had been against all night.
Danielle burst out laughing. "No way! You did not just do that. Please do it again?" The killer did so.
"Damn!" Danielle giggled. "You shouldn't have shown me you can do that; you'll never hear the end of it, pun intended. I love people who can do that! I wish I could! I find it hilarious if I'm honest!" In your case fucking sexy to boot, she didn't add. The killer softly chuckled and wiggled his ear again.
A few minutes later, one of the guards opened their hatch. Danielle didn't recognise his voice, having not heard it before. "Hi Danielle, my name is Jeff Ellis. I'm one of the new guards, so you won't have heard my voice before. I only started last week; this is my first early shift. Mel's with me, tutoring me."
"Hey Danielle, Michael," Mel said. Danielle had been told how new guards were tutored one to one for a month when they first started, then from a distance for another month. If everything was fine, Dr Loomis or one of the other senior doctors signed them off their probation period. Jeff sounded nervous. Was it of Michael? Danielle couldn't and wouldn't blame him if so. She'd feared him when they'd first met. But now…
She loved him.
"Hi Jeff," she said with a smile. "I'm not that scary I promise. Mel can vouch for that."
Mel laughed. "You are when you use that cane as a weapon," she said.
"Only if justified," Danielle grinned.
"Well," Jeff said quietly. "I'm here to tell you Dr Loomis has said you two can have breakfast in here if you want privacy. We've already got your order Danielle and Jordan's gone to get it. Mr. … Mr. Myers, what would you like?"
So, Danielle had been right in her assumption. It was the killer he was nervous of. No crime there, she thought. Everyone is.
She heard the rustle of paper and guessed the killer had been handed a piece and a pencil. A few seconds later, Ellis said "sure Mr. Myers, just a moment." Then he was gone, Mel along with him.
"I think he's scared of you Michael," Danielle said quietly. "No crime there, everybody is."
Michael pulled her into his arms and held her close tightly. Danielle smiled at him. "I know what you're asking," she said softly into his ear. "I'm… Getting to the point where I'm not."
Michael placed her hands against both his ears this time and wiggled them. Danielle genuinely giggled. God, it felt good. She couldn't remember, prior to her banter with Jack, the last time she'd really laughed properly. Shortly afterwards, the two guards returned with the food. Jack must've said something about what Danielle had said regarding it not being hot, she thought. As her scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, and hash browns were piping hot and gorgeous. So was Michael. Her desk was big enough for them both to sit side by side as they ate. The guards brought in a plastic chair which Danielle took. Sitting there made her think about what she was longing to tell Michael. This was hardly a romantic way or time to do it, but she wanted to talk to Dr Stark about it, see what could be arranged.
She knew Smith's Grove wouldn't be able to fix a romantic meal for two, probably too many security risks, but could Dr Stark perhaps do something? Even if it was them eating in her cell just as they were now?
To Danielle, the realisation that she loved Michael Myers deserved something special when she told him. After all she'd been through, she wanted it partly for herself she couldn't lie about that, but also to show him she was serious in her words. She loved him. The killer would never have felt love before either, so she wanted to prove she meant every word she said to him. So, when Scott arrived to take Danielle to her session, she knew what she was going to talk about today.
…
Once Derek Chancer returned from breakfast and was alone in his cell, he once again picked up his iPod, turned it on and pointed it in the direction of Hayward's cell, putting the earphones in his ears. This time, he heard something and listened as hard as he could. It was Hayward's voice, but it was muffled. He could only hear her voice, not her words. Shit.
He restarted the iPod again and retried. Same result. He could hear she was talking, but her actual words were indistinguishable. After an hour of fruitless trying, he texted his employers again.
The update hasn't really worked. Did it update? Because now, I can hear her voice, but I can't make out a word she's saying. It's just really muffled. Please help? D.
A few seconds later, the iPod gave out its fake alarm clock sound. Furious, Chancer answered the call.
"Relax," drawled a voice he didn't recognise, but the laid-back tone just made him angrier. "But I'm afraid in that case, you'll have to speak, to tell our client. If we say it, he'll think we're lying."
Before Chancer could text back, he'd refused to speak, he heard the ringing sound. Those fucking bastards. They'd just put him through to Dawson without any warning or waiting for his consent. Shit.
…
As Adam held a screwdriver between his teeth by the handle and started twisting the tap to find the drip, he once again thought about Danielle meeting Michael Myers. He imagined her trying to touch the killer's ears as she had his and nearly laughed out loud. The idea was so ridiculous it was funny. Myers would kill the blind bitch if she even attempted it. Sure, Adam had let her touch his ears at first, he'd had to. To convince her he loved her, false sense of security as it were. That was the reason he'd also whistled. That'd been another thing Edward had taught him. "Pretend to love her at first. Be kind, do whatever she wants, make her think you're her Mr. Perfect. Then, either once you're married or she's moved in with you, let your true self out son! Bang! She won't know, literally, what's hit her. You are probably. Especially if she disobeys you."
Privately though, Adam had absolutely detested having his ears touched and couldn't wait until he could make her stop. God help her if she tried to touch his ears now a days. Not that she would of course. She hated and feared him. Excellent. She'd told him once that he had "nice ears." What the fuck? They were ears. Plain and simple. Nothing "nice" about them. She had a pair of ears too for fuck's sake! She should just touch her own! Maybe if he got his way someday, he'd cut hers off. That'd serve her right.
When Adam had entered the house, his client's wife had been there on her own. Adam immediately felt himself become erect again. Dam it! If he knew for certain the guy wouldn't come back, he'd fuck her right now. But he couldn't take the risk. Another so-called rape on his record would not be good for him. Her husband could catch him, or she'd call the pigs herself. So instead, he simply followed her up to the bathroom, nodding as she told him about the tap and the other issues his client had asked him to fix. "Ok," Adam said in his most charming voice. "Of course, madam."
You don't know what you're talking about bitch, he thought. That's probably why your husband texted me the details. Women don't have a clue about work stuff. It's a man's territory. Women belong in food, fucking and obedience. They should just stop fucking trying to pretend otherwise and accept it! They obviously don't like the truth.
As he continued working, he did indeed hear the front door slam minutes later. Just as well he hadn't tried to fuck the guy's wife.
"Honey I'm home," he heard his client shout. He felt sick. God! So, he loved the bitch? Yuck! Why didn't most men realise women's real place? He was probably pussy whipped.
A short while later, his client came up to see how he was getting on. Adam had by now fixed the tap and was moving on to the cracked bath panel.
"You might need a plumber to look at this," he said to his client. "I can fix it, but you might want to get it checked properly by a trained plumber."
"No worries," the guy said, nodding. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"No thanks man, your wife did when I arrived." As she should, he thought. It's her duty as a woman after all. Even if you can't see that, idiot.
Adam sighed as he moved through the list of small jobs the guy had paid for him to do. He couldn't know for sure Danielle had met Michael Myers. But that was the problem. He had to be sure. But how? He knew it would take something clever, something which could not in any way shape or form be traced back to him. Ok, so this would take planning, which he knew he couldn't do while working. So, when he got home tonight, he'd have to have a good long think about it. He decided then and there that just for tonight he wouldn't order a prostitute. Instead, he'd order a nice meal and while he ate it, he'd make his plans. He had only one mission in mind. To destroy Danielle Hayward's life before he killed her. No failed attempt this time, a knife straight through her throat. He already had vague ideas forming in his head, but he needed to sit down and work on them.
He'd heard rumours in and out of detention that the girl he'd fucked at 16 had spent months in hospital, traumatised and now suffered from severe PTSD. Afraid of men and didn't trust them. Adam smirked as he thought of her. Ok he'd had to pay a heavy price for that fuck, which they called rape, fucking bullshit, but God it had been worth it! He'd done more damage to her than probably anything or anyone else could in her life. Now, a decade and a half later, it was Danielle Hayward's turn. What was more, this time she wouldn't attempt suicide, and she'd be murdered. By him if he could help it.
He'd just turned off his electric screwdriver having secured the heated towel rail back to the wall when his phone rang.