"Come on," Mel said after a while, as Danielle laid down her empty teacup. Once she was trusted, Dr Stark had allowed her to use China cups instead of plastic ones, same with plates, knives and forks. "Let's head back. You never know, Michael might be there waiting for you."
"I suppose miracles do happen.".
"Now come on," Mel chided. "That's not the attitude! Michael loves you remember. He just needed time to think, of this I'm certain. When you get in there, he'll be right there to love you tonight. Mark my words."
If you're wrong you owe me dinner," she tried to smile.
"Fine, you've got yourself a deal."
"You're really that certain?"
Mel stopped, released her arm and pulled her into a hug. "Yes. I'm that certain. Trust me. Let's call it mother's intuition."
"You have children?"
"I do, 5-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter. So, when they grow up, I will have the same things to go through. Terrible teens, girls and boys, maybe drugs…" she gave a dramatic shudder.
But once they entered the block, she pulled on Mel's arm, the signal for her to stop. "I don't think I can do this," she said, once more blinking back tears. "Not with… who's in the MS cell! If Michael isn't there, I can't face it!"
"Then what would you suggest?" Mel asked. "Moving to a whole new ward? That's what would have to happen if your only goal is to get away from them."
"Ok you've got me there. I just…"
"Now you listen," Mel said so firmly she stopped dead in surprise. "You listen to me Danielle. He'll be there, I promise you this. If he's not you can put the screen up and read a book, then you won't hear anything at all. Did you take that sleeping pill Dr Stark gave you?"
"Uh, no," she admitted. Mel sighed.
"Well, I will also make damn sure you do if I must! I'll use force if necessary."
"Dr Stark threatened me with that already," she said as they entered the corridor.
"Mine is not a threat though. It's a fact."
"The scary thing is I believe you."
They reached her cell and Mel said nothing, just buzzed open the door. She heard the door close, then the main door to the corridor. Mel was gone. She remembered how Michael had put a pill just the same as the one she was about to take on her tongue once then helped her swallow it with water, back when they'd just been friends. How things had changed since then, but how she wished he was with her right now.
She put the pill and water on her nightstand then approached the desk. She wanted to follow Mel's advice and take her book to bed until she fell asleep. She had a hope albeit thin that it would distract her at least some from the terrible pain in her heart, not to mention the anger towards her adopted brother. He sure as hell hadn't heard the last of this.
She had just reached the desk though when her uninjured arm was taken but with nowhere near as much force and she was gently but firmly pressed into the soft wall. The foam felt good against her hot skin even through her clothes. Before she could even think about what this meant, she was being kissed as she'd never been kissed before. Michael's mouth moved against hers passionately, hungrily, as if determined to claim and own every part of her with his love. She felt herself becoming weak under the intensity of his kiss, but also felt love gush up within her. Michael was desperately trying to comfort her. Talk about showing her, albeit in the romantic sense who she belonged to! She wouldn't have it any other way. As he did so, she felt him gently lift her bruised left arm, raise her shirt and she just knew he was looking to see if he'd bruised her flesh further when he'd pulled her back.
"I'm ok Sir," she said softly. "It… it was just a shock…" She was stopped as once again Michael's lips pressed against hers and for the first time, his tongue slipped into her mouth. She willingly granted him access and despite everything, she started to feel something she'd thought she never would again. Desire. Eventually she pulled back slightly, gasping for breath. Michael's arms tightened around her as though trying to stop her walking away from him. Holding back tears, she rested her head against his chest.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sir," she said finally. "I promise you I'll do my best to get some sleep and I'll talk to you only when you're ready. I'm sorry, it was just a shock. Thank you for staying to make sure I'm ok, but I promise you I'm fine. I'll take that pill right now." She made to pull away and head towards the bed, but Michael's arms tightened still further, and he pulled her back against him. Next second, his lips were back on hers as now he lowered his head, so she was touching his ears, moved them in her hands and even wiggled them as he kissed her urgently. She felt her heart speed up. He was trying as hard as he could to apologise for something he had not done. He'd had every right to be angry, was it because he felt bad for taking it out on her?
Still kissing her and wiggling his ears, the killer led her back towards the bed and passed her her pyjamas, before she heard the rustling of his clothes. A few seconds later, he carefully and lovingly lifted her into bed. Then, he got in beside her. "Don't stay if you don't want to just because of this Sir," she said, remembering how she'd said those almost exact words what felt like a lifetime ago, when Jefferson had tripped her up with his foot right after Michael had given her that letter about giving him mixed signals. God! How things had been or at least seemed simpler back then. Even if she did have no idea of the danger, she was about to be in. But she wouldn't change it for the world. "Honestly, I'm fine, I totally understand if you need some space tonight, I don't blame you either. You were kind enough to come down to Haddonfield with me the first time, then again when I was kidnapped. So, believe me Sir, I'll more than understand and don't blame you if…"
She was again stopped as pulling her tightly to him, Michael once again placed his ears in her hands before he was kissing her again. Now she understood he was telling her not to call him Sir. But after knowing he was angry and everything else, she'd been through recently; she wasn't sure she could do so just yet. That was when once again, her phone buzzed with a message from the killer.
Please don't call me, "Sir," I'm not going anywhere, I am so very sorry.
"What the hell are you sorry for?" She asked him softly. "It's Colin's fault, not yours. You've got every right to be angry."
No, I do not. Certainly not at you.
"I'm telling you he hasn't heard the last of this Sir, I'm going to t…" she was stopped by his lips pressing to hers, every kiss now long and protective. She felt tears rush to her eyes, this time of love. She held him as tightly as she could as they continued to kiss. Colin? She thought as Michael's mouth seemed to caress hers. He lost his damn chance; he was too late. My heart belongs to Mr. Michael Myers now and always will.
Hey, stop with the "Sir," please. I know it's hard, but I'm asking you please to try. I am not Sir to you, I am Michael.
She felt tears running down her cheeks again as he cuddled her close and kissed her. Right then, she'd never felt so loved and protected in her life. "Stop it," she couldn't stop the laugh as Michael again wiggled his ears. She heard his quiet chuckle in return, before she got another text from him.
Right, I believe you have a doctor's order to follow?
"No idea what you're talking about S…" she just managed to stop herself in time and hugged him again.
Do not think that went unnoticed, it did not. Well done.
She read this text twice, feeling her heart lift. Michael Myers was praising her. What were the damn odds? She would've been slashed to bits by him a year ago no questions asked. As he picked up the pill and lovingly touched her lips signalling for her to open her mouth, she felt as if she had to pinch herself. This was a dream it had to be, right? She did so and he placed the small round pill on her tongue, before holding the water glass to her lips. Once she'd swallowed the pill, he pulled her back into his arms and her hands onto his ears. "Did you know it was Greggory in there?" She asked him softly. "Dr Stark told me, not you. I don't know if he was trying to address us both, but it sounded way more directed towards me than you." Michael kissed her again, as she received his response.
No, I did not. But I am not in as much danger from him as you are.
"Yeah," she said bitterly. "Because I'm a fucking woman, spare me the script!"
"Shh," she heard him say this time, as he started kissing her again. It wasn't long before she felt the pill kicking in, and her eyes began to close in sleep. But just before the pill took her, her phone buzzed with another text. This one she had to read three times before she was certain it was there, not a drug induced dream. When she realised it was, she hugged Michael as hard as she could, and this time it was her to kiss him. The text said four simple, yet enormous words.
I love you, Danielle.
…
Illinois state prison Maximum Security Unit. WARNING: twenty-four-hour video and audio surveillance. Authorised personnel only. Unauthorised trespassers will be arrested on site, with force used if necessary. Please drive up to the first gate and stop at the red light for assistance.
James Rickets glanced out of the window of the marked police cruiser as it slowly approached the light. Reading the sign made him realise all over again what he was about to do, about to face. Peters glanced over at him from the driver's seat. "You, ok?"
Rickets felt embarrassed to admit to his boss just how nervous and unsure he was, not to mention his utter hatred and contempt for the man he was about to visit. If given his choice, he'd be running as fast as possible in the opposite direction. He glanced down at his tracksuit and hooded top with a gang members logo on the chest and felt even sicker. Could he really pull this off? Pretend to be one of Culshaw's thugs? He wasn't sure he could. He'd always been on the side of the law, even from a young age and this was pushing him beyond any boundaries he'd ever crossed before.
Peters stopped just before the light and to James' surprise, laid a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be ok," he said softly, obviously knowing what his officer had been thinking. God, was he that easy to read? Or had it simply shown on his face? Peters continued. "I wouldn't ask you to do this James if I wasn't 100% certain you could pull it off."
"You've got more faith in me than I have in myself," Rickets muttered. Peters ignored him.
"You're one of very few officers Mr. Culshaw has never met before, and you certainly don't look like one right now."
James opened his mouth in protest, but Peters spoke over him. "No don't miss understand me. That's a complement, a good thing. Mr. Culshaw will have no idea you're under cover, you read the document I gave you on how to speak, act and so on, so you'll be fine. All we need is names, James. That's it. Once that's done, you'll be straight out of there, I promise. I'll be just in this car outside the gates and as soon as you're done, I'll take you home again. Rest of the week off, remember?"
Rickets managed a small smile at his boss. He hadn't asked, Peters had obviously been able to tell how nervous he was and had offered him the rest of the week off as a thank you. After this, he'd probably need it. Rickets swallowed hard. "I don't know Sir…"
"James," Peters continued, his voice gentle just as it'd been the day, he'd asked Rickets to do this crazy assignment. "I know why you're reluctant, of course I do. If I could go in there for you I would, but unfortunately Culshaw knows me. You are the most experienced officer I have who can fit this position. No," he added as Rickets opened his mouth. "I am not just saying that to make you feel better, that's the God's truth. You are young, you don't have the look of a cop and Culshaw will believe you are trustworthy. Listen son," he squeezed his subordinate's shoulder. "I know you're worried about Michelle and the bump, but I promise you they'll be perfectly safe. They don't even know you exist, remember? AS far as Culshaw is concerned, you're a gang member visiting your boss."
At the mention of Michelle and, "the bump," Rickets felt his heart lift a little. He'd married his childhood sweetheart at 18 and now they had their first child on the way. Peters saw his fond expression and smiled. James couldn't help himself and pulled out his phone, bringing up a picture of them on their wedding day which Peters had attended, then a first picture of one of Michelle's early scans.
"Aww," Peters murmured, glancing at the screen. "Is it a boy or a girl? Or too early to tell?"
"We don't want to know; we told the doctors to keep it a secret."
"What are you hoping for?"
"A boy of course Sir," James grinned, and Peters chuckled. "No seriously? I don't care. Son or daughter, I can't wait to meet them."
"They're going to be very lucky to have you as their dad, so just keep your son/daughter in your mind when you're doing this, and you'll be just fine."
"I know, but I can't stand even the thought of Culshaw getting his misogynistic hands on them! That fucker would rape Michelle and…" he swallowed.
"But that's not going to happen," Peters said firmly and squeezed his shoulder again. "I promise you, that's never going to happen. I totally understand where you're coming from and what you're saying because of what Culshaw represents, but you have my word James, I'll die before that happens."
"Why can't we do this another way?" James burst out before he could stop himself. "Why can't we find his family some way else? Why the hell does it have to be this way? Sir," he added quickly, but Peters to his total shock now put an arm around his shoulders. James would never have believed his hard, down to business boss had such a caring side to him.
"Believe me," he said softly, "we've tried. We've tried every other way we can think of. But as you know, Ashley's family left him at a young age, which is probably what contributed to his misogyny and criminality, it is in most cases."
James blinked hard, finding himself absurdly close to tears. "Unless you're fucking name's Adam Dawson, and your father brought you up to be a misogynistic prick."
"Exactly. But we have no idea who Ashley's family even are. He wasn't born Griffin; he was born Atkins. He changed his own name and deliberately I think, made it impossible for us to track any of his relatives down. Besides that, even if we did, who's to say they'd even care? But we must try, someone's son is dead, they need to know."
"Good fucking riddance. What about Culshaw's other fucking gang members? Christ knows there's enough of them! Why do we have to talk to Culshaw himself to get the information?"
"Yes, but they're not exactly going to walk up to a uniformed police officer and say, "Oh by the way, I know where Ashley's family are if you want to tell them that our main man on the outside is deceased," are they? This man we know knows… knew Ashley very well, so will have the best chance of telling us where his family are located. Just remember, act like your grief stricken, tell him whatever you need to make him trust you."
"I only have an hour sir, no guarantees we'll get anywhere. I know you gave me that arrested gang members ID," he pulled it out of his pocket. "But that doesn't mean he'll trust me."
"Maybe not straight away, but you know something? I do. I trust you to pull this off successfully James, or I wouldn't have asked you to do it. On this at least, you need to believe me."
"Ok sir, thanks," James said after a moment's hesitation. "I appreciate your confidence and trust in me, but I still don't like it."
"Totally understandable," Peters said.
"I take it the guards are in on it?" James gestured to himself. "They'd never let me in with his ID and looking like him! They'd arrest me on site!"
Peters chuckled. "This is true. Yes, those on a need-to-know basis are aware. Come on son, the sooner we get this done the sooner we're out of here. Are you ready?"
"You mean the sooner I get this done," James muttered, regretting his words immediately. But Peters chuckled and squeezed his shoulder a final time before releasing it.
"No James, I meant, "We." Because I'm going to be here every step of the way. You have that hidden radio in your collar. You need help, use it."
James took a deep breath and finally nodded. He was also wired for sound, so everything said would be recorded and could be heard back at HQ. "Ok," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm ready sir, let's do this."
"That's my man," Peters smiled at him before driving the final few yards towards the red light, and the sensor which would alert the guards someone was at the gates.
…
The Shape held Danielle close to him, unwilling to let her go. Lately every time he was holding her in his arms, he felt his heart squeeze in a way he still didn't completely understand, but which he was fast becoming to realise was love. This morning though, the need to hold her close was even stronger. Because he was starting to feel it again, that old familiar desire and need to shed blood, to snuff out someone's life with his beloved knife. When he was holding her in his arms, that was the only time it quietened. This morning however, it was growing louder.
He held her tighter, thinking about his last few kills. Now he did so, he realised they'd all been because of the woman now lying in his arms. Right back at the start when he wasn't even sure if he considered her even a friend, he'd killed Jefferson because he'd thrown his semen in her face. Why had that made him so angry? Right then he couldn't have said for definite he wouldn't have killed her himself. Yet, that simple disgusting action had infuriated him, not once but twice. He'd attacked Jefferson two times, the first after he'd made a comment about her, "Tits." He'd been dragged away the first time which was probably lucky for Jefferson, because it had given him a few more days of life. Or perhaps not. Either way, it'd been because of her entirely. If Jefferson hadn't commented against her in that sexual way, would The Shape have attacked him? If he hadn't thrown his semen in her face, would The Shape have attacked him? He hadn't cared about her back then.
Then there had been the time Jefferson had tripped her up with his foot. He'd been angry with her then, having just given her that letter about sending him mixed signals. Even then he'd asked himself why he'd sent that many times since, why he cared so much, or at all? She was another patient, same as he was. True she was blind so was even more vulnerable, but why did that bother him? He was Michael Myers, he only existed to kill. But he'd carried her into his own damn cell while Joanne treated her head, not only that but he'd stayed with her afterwards!
Over time, they'd got closer, she'd shown him her scars, told him of her love of ears, and what had he done? He'd let her touch his damn ears! Not just once, but whenever she wanted! He wasn't killing her; he was letting her touch his ears? Even now that made no sense, The Shape didn't understand it but there it was, the simple truth. She'd told him his ears were, "sexy as all hell," the night they'd got together as a couple, yet another thing he hadn't planned whatsoever. At the beginning, there'd been a time where he would've quite easily killed her if a chance presented itself.
Yet when it had, he'd done exactly the opposite. He'd held, helped and even comforted her. She'd told him her life story and given him her complete trust. The Shape at first hadn't cared, a part of his mind still planning to see her dead, but over time she…
He tightened his arms around her again, snuggling her head against his shoulder which she'd told him was her, "Safe place." From then on, he'd made sure it was there every night. He saw her smile and his heart contracted even further. He lowered his head, so his ears were in her hands.
"Love you too, Michael," she murmured sleepily, and The Shape couldn't stop himself leaning in and kissing her lips. God! What the hell had this woman done to his heart? He was a killer, not a lover. Or at least, he had been.
This directed his thoughts to the second time he'd killed to protect her. This time they'd been a lot closer and although he didn't realise it completely at the time, he was falling fast in love with her. John Baker. The son of a bitch had been bribed by Derek Chancer to get her protected phone number for him to pass onto Adam Dawson. This second kill, there had been no doubt in his mind whatsoever. This time, he was angry.
He had felt something he'd never felt before during this kill as he'd held Baker against the wall, choking the life out of his miserable body. Pleasure. His previous kills he'd felt nothing, they were just… him. His makeup, his existence. But this one? She had been put in danger because of a supposed guard's actions, someone who was supposed to take care of and look after her. He wondered what he'd been offered in terms of money or something to do it and was just glad he'd never get his reward. His reward for endangering her was a fast, one-way ticket straight to hell.
Then… ah, third time's the charm. Adam Dawson himself. This third kills since he'd known her had been undoubtedly the best, almost orgasmic or as close to it as he'd ever been before. Because this time he loved her, and this was the man who'd tormented, bullied, controlled, raped and assaulted her for years, years too long as far as he was concerned.
He'd taken his time over this kill, slowly, slowly, making his victim scream and squirm, even beg for his life. He'd even had the audacity to beg her for her, "Man," to save him.' This angered The Shape even more. The way she had stood up to him, telling him that wasn't the woman's decision with such bitterness and sarcasm, had made The Shape even in his killing rage feel pride. Purely for his and her pleasure, he'd taken his time over this one. He could tell even Rick and Jack were rooting for him, under the pretence of trying to stop him. It'd been clear to him that this kill was his and no one quite literally, would stand in his way.
Then, there was Laurie. He still couldn't understand this. Laurie had been on his hitlist since 1978 and he'd had the perfect chance to kill her in the hospital, the guards didn't stand a chance at pulling him back. God knew they'd tried hard enough. Then Danielle had appeared from her room in her oxygen mask and covered in wires and… and something had happened. His heart had contracted at the sight of her, and he just had to help her back to bed.
Had she known what he had been about to do? His only question was how? How had the woman in his arms got into his heart so thoroughly and completely? Why hadn't he just been able to finish the killing of Laurie? But of course, he knew the answer, even as he still tried to deny it. the answer was because he loved Danielle Avery.
As if on cue, she snuggled her head against his neck, her lips lightly touching his skin. He felt his breath hitch and he held her even tighter. When she had first walked through Smith's Grove's doors, he would've killed her without a second's thought. Now… Although for him, the thrill was in the hunt and she may have been too easy, as she couldn't see him. He softly kissed her naked shoulder then stood, pulling on his clothes. He knew what he had to do, yet another thing he thought he'd never do in his life. Standing, he headed for the call button and pressed it, once.
…
When the first guard appeared to assist Rickets and Peters through the first gate, Rickets was sure the guard would refuse and arrest both, a detective for aiding and abetting a thug. But he was wrong. Clearly just as Peters had said, they knew who he really was. Almost automatically, Rickets' hand went up to the miniscule radio hidden in the collar of his t-shirt under his hoodie. All he had to do was squeeze it and speak, and Peters would contact the guards who would immediately come to his aid.
"You ready for this, James?" Peters asked.
"No," Rickets chuckled shakily. "No, if you want the truth boss."
Peters grinned. "You'll smash it," he said. Culshaw won't have a clue who you are."
"Yeah, good disguise," the guard agreed, clapping Rickets on the shoulder. "You would've had me fooled if I didn't know the truth."
"You just trying to encourage me?" Rickets grinned weakly back.
"Nope," the guard assured him. "You look just like Kevin Wheeler."
Rickets shivered. Wheeler, while not the leader of the Misogynist gang by any means, was still one of the most feared men within it. From all the research Rickets had done, Wheeler was not afraid to randomly grab a woman off the street and rape her, but he didn't resort to the kinds of violence Griffin and Culshaw did. Adam Dawson was worse than Wheeler. This last fact gave Rickets some small level of comfort, because he knew he wasn't going in disguised as one of the seriously bad guys, but that still didn't mean he wanted or was ready to do this.
"How many of you guys know the truth?" He asked the guard.
"Only me, my two colleagues working Culshaw's cell area this morning and the head of security."
"How is this going to work?" Rickets asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"Just imagine like death row," the guard said. "He'll be behind a security grill, safety glass between the two of you and he'll be handcuffed, and leg shackled. He won't be able to touch you at all, just talk."
"See?" Peters encouraged. "That's exactly what I told you too."
James swallowed and nodded, pulling out his ID to show the guard.
"Good likeness," the guard said. "That's not a compliment by the way I promise. Did you grow that beard on purpose and get that haircut?"
James winced. "No sir. My wife loves me with a beard apparently," he smiled a little. The spikey hair is also my normal style. It's just the…" he pulled off one of his fake eyebrows and then pulled out the gold tooth Wheeler had.
"Shit," the guard whistled. "That's amazing disguise work. I would never have guessed; I'd have said Wheeler has a twin or something."
"Well, I'm sure as fuck glad it ain't me," James said fervently, making both Peters and the guard chuckle.
"So, James," Peters said. "Now do you feel ready for this?"
Rickets knew he was procrastinating but couldn't help it. The last thing he wanted to do was face this evil misogynist even for five seconds. His biggest fear was what if Culshaw saw through his disguise? Or he said the wrong thing, despite all the studying he'd done about how Wheeler would talk to his boss.
"You'll be fine," Peters said, clearly reading his mind. "He won't know it's you, you look just like him, I promise. He won't have a clue."
"I agree," the guard said, clapping Rickets on the shoulder again. "Come on Mr. Wheeler, we ready to do this?"
"That's the last time anyone will call me by his name," James shuddered. "But I guess for the next hour or so I'd better get used to it." Reaching up, he squeezed the radio in his collar. "Hello?" He said, hearing his voice come back immediately over the set clipped to Peters' jacket.
"See?" Peters said. "You'll be fine, you need help just shout if this good man here or one of the others doesn't hear you. Highly unlikely as this is the Maximum-security unit, but better to be safe than sorry."
"Absolutely," the guard said. "Your ID's all good, ready to get going? I'll have to frisk you at the entrance, but I'm pretty sure you're not carrying anything?"
James shook his head, handing Peters his phone to stow in the vehicle's glove compartment.
"Good luck," Peters said, now putting his hand on his officer's shoulder. "Remember, you'll be perfectly safe, and we just need that information."
"I want a fucking pay rise boss," James said with a weak grin. Peters chuckled. "Who knows, you just might."
Under five minutes later, Rickets was being frisked by the guard at the entrance to the Maximum-security unit, and then being escorted inside. He took a deep breath and glanced one more time at his fake ID. So, this was it, he was here about to do this thing. Damn Peters and his gentle persuasion and convincing tactics! He just hoped his boss was right to have as much faith and trust in him as it seemed he did. Taking a final deep breath, he stepped into the character of Kevin Wheeler, ready to talk to his boss. There was no time to think now, no chance to turn back, it was time for action.
…
"Michael, are you ok?"
He looked up at the sound of the guard's voice, looking through the bars at William. He raised his notepad.
I need to speak to Dr Loomis.
William showed no sign of surprise at Michael's blunt message, just nodded. "I'm not sure if he's in yet, bear with me."
A few minutes later, William returned. "He'll meet you in therapy room two, come with me."
The Shape made no move to resist as William handcuffed him before opening the cell door. They were as quiet as they could be, so as not to wake Danielle. William led him down the corridors and through doors, finally reaching the therapy rooms. Dr Loomis was waiting for them just as William had said he would be.
"Thank you, William," Dr Loomis stood up. "You can remove the cuffs now please."
"Uh, sir," William hesitated. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I appreciate your concern," Dr Loomis said. "But yes, I'm sure."
"Ok," William shook his head but uncuffed the killer. Dr Loomis was his boss, and he gave the orders. William and his colleagues could only step in if things got violent or if ordered to. But to remove the chains of this silent serial killer? That was insane…
"Thank you," Dr Loomis said again once William was done. With a nod, the guard left.
Dr Loomis and his patient sat on opposite sides of the window, but Dr Loomis didn't raise the glass. He saw Michael had noticed this and chuckled. "What, do you want me to put the glass up? Not planning to try something are you, Michael?"
He shook his head once.
"Exactly," Dr Loomis smiled at him. "I sat beside you in the exercise yard remember, if I was in fear for my safety, I would never have done that. It would appear I can trust you now, Michael and we both know why that is. Or rather, who it's because of. So, tell me, how can I help you? she's still asleep I take it?"
A single nod.
"Ok, then what brings you away from her side and to speak with me so early?"
Michael hesitated, then slowly took out his notepad. Dr Loomis waited; still amazed Michael Myers was now communicating with him after so many years of cold silence.
I can hear it; I can feel it. The kill is calling me.
Dr Loomis read this message and nodded once. "Ah," he said quietly. "So does that mean she's currently in danger?"
No. Not. She is one of very few people who will never feel my rage.
"I'm glad to hear that, Michael. Really, I am. But how can I help you with this?"
I wrote, "Very few people." You, Dr Loomis, are another of them.
"Thank you, Michael," Dr Loomis nodded to his patient. "I really appreciate you telling me this. Do you feel as though you have a list of… safe people?
I do, yes.
"May I ask who they are?"
Is it not obvious? Danielle, yourself, Dr Stark, Joanne, Rick and Jack. Also, the Avery family. That is, it.
"Could you perhaps squeeze Mel in there too?"
Yes, perhaps.
"Good man. So ok, we know who are safe from your desire to kill. But you're telling me you can hear the call of the kill this morning, do you know why?"
If I did, I would tell you.
"Ok, that's fair. Are you thinking of a specific victim?"
No. But someone must die.
"Don't forget," Dr Loomis said, his voice gentle and eyes fixed on Michael's face. "You have just killed Adam within the last couple of days and had a very close shot at Laurie. Have you not considered that these facts may be a strong contributor to how you're feeling now?"
I have.
"Well good. Is there anything that quietens it? Or should I say… anyone?"
Touché. That is a rhetorical question and we both know it. You know damn well someone quietens it and who she is.
"Of course, I do," Dr Loomis murmured. Then why are you not with her right now? If she quietens it, why are you not holding her close?"
She won't always be there to help me when this happens. What then?
"Ok good point. Have you considered a picture?"
Michael shook his head.
"Do you think that would help you?"
Who knows? Maybe.
"Then why not ask her for one?"
I might.
"Are you worried you might kill again?" Dr Loomis' voice was quiet. "That someone may inadvertently become your victim as Ryan almost did?"
Ryan did not deserve that.
"Indeed not. Are you afraid it might happen again?"
This is why I am talking to you.
"Michael, have you considered telling her how you're feeling?"
Of course, I have not.
"Then let me ask you, why not? Think about it Michael. She has been told to let you in, to let you soothe her when she calls you, "sir," or when she's struggling or afraid to do something out of fear of angering you. Yes? So, tell me, what is the difference here? If she's going to trust you, you need to trust her in turn. She is not the woman who walked through our doors almost a year ago she's a lot stronger, as you and I have both witnessed recently. I think you'll be surprised at the reaction you'll get, because I believe she'll want to help you just as you do her."
Silence. The Shape and his doctor continued to gaze intently at each other.
You are seriously suggesting I should tell her I feel the desire to kill?
"I am. Trust is a two-way street, Michael. You have already made it very clear to me you would never harm her, so let her help you while knowing that knowledge. Tell her she is and forever will be safe from you, then let her help you with your feelings."
This is why you took my mask from me as soon as Dawson was dead, is it not?
"Now you and I both know the answer to that Michael, of course it is. You and I both know the mask has some kind of… hold over when you kill or not, you're safer to both you and others without it."
But why, Dr Loomis? Why does she quieten it? I was unable to sleep this morning and I was thinking about my recent kills. It is, after all, entirely because of her that I am talking to you in the first place.
Dr Loomis smiled. "Of course, it is. Well, I think you know the answer to this too. It's love, Michael. How many times have I told you love is dangerous to evil feelings? Perhaps you should have listened to me all those years ago."
I had no time for or did not believe in love. I felt nothing.
"I know. Why do you think I was working so hard to keep you locked up? I could see that what lived behind your eyes was pure evil Michael, and there was no way in hell you were getting out while I was alive."
A slight smile crossed Michael's face. That's what you thought.
Dr Loomis nodded. "Yes, I will admit I was… most unfortunately wrong in 1978 and a lot of people lost their lives because of this. But you are surely not telling me you want to repeat the 78 massacres? What would she say? Do you think she would still love someone whom she thought would never kill again if you did?"
I am asking you why she quietens it this way. I can't ask her to come to me whenever this hits, hence your suggestion of a photograph which I accept is a good one. But neither can I stop these feelings. Again, you and I both know I am purely telling you this because of her. Otherwise, I'd have very probably tried to kill you already by now.
"Yes, this is probably true," Dr Loomis agreed. "But I stand by what I just said. You should tell her, Michael. Let her in, just as she's letting you in. Her fear of you and need to call you, "sir," because of Adam is no different than your need to kill. You both have things you are struggling with, and a relationship is about helping each other through them. I will tell you now Michael, you won't get anywhere near a knife or anyone who you wish to harm/kill. Dr Stark was going to tell you both this, but you can do so for her. She was going to give you the day alone, after everything that's happened and would talk to her tomorrow, unless she wished it earlier. Mr. Winters will not be in the block as he's in an all-day session and the gentleman in the MS cell of course won't be going anywhere. So, take the chance, Michael. Tell her, that's my advice."
You are crazy if you think she will not hate it if I were to tell her this.
"She might hate what it represents, this is true. But there's a huge difference between telling her how you're feeling and killing someone as a result. Come on Michael, you and I both know this. She loves you, for no other reason than you fell in love with each other. How you are feeling now isn't going to change that, but acting on it might. This is why I say talk to her, tell her the truth just as she has been told to do for you. You say it quietens when she's in your arms, tell her that. You say she is safe forever from you, tell her that, even if you've already done so previously. Tell her what's in your mind and heart, Michael. You may be surprised. She may be able to help you in ways you never would have imagined."
Silence, but neither did Michael look away. Dr Loomis waited, a small smile on his lips.
If this goes wrong, you will know it.
"Is that a threat?" Dr Loomis asked, but there was no anger or hostility in his tone.
I hope not for your sake.
"Fair enough, but I will take that because I am so certain it won't. She will help you Michael, you just must let her."
Very slowly, Michael nodded. Dr Loomis smiled at him, then pressed the call button on his side of the glass. Within a minute, Mel was there.
"Good morning, Mel," Dr Loomis smiled at his guard. "I need to ask a favour from you. When she's awake, please could you snap a picture of her and have it developed for Michael here?"
"Of course," Mel said, not asking any questions. This was between doctor and patient. "I don't think she's awake yet. Michael, do you want anything for breakfast?"
Michael shook his head, then raised his notepad. Just a black coffee.
"Ok, done," Mel agreed.
"My advice to you?" Dr Loomis said softly. "Go back to the cell, hold her, let her help you. If holding her alone quietens your desire to kill, then do so. This gives us even more reason to leave you to it today, which we will do. Talk to her, Michael. Tell her everything. I didn't give you that phone for no reason, tell her."
Slowly, Michael nodded. I will aim to do so.
"Can't ask fairer than that," Dr Loomis extended his hand, which Michael took and shook. "Even coming to me shows you have changed enormously, Michael. Do not think I haven't noticed this, because I have."
A single nod, before Michael stood up. Mel returned and passed him his coffee. Michael gave her a nod of thanks.
"I think we're done here Mel," Dr Loomis said. "Yes Michael?"
Another nod. Dr Loomis smiled. "Michael's ready to go back to his room I think?"
Mel smiled and approached Michael. "One more thing," Dr Loomis said. "No chains please Mel."
"Ok," Mel said, as Michael followed her back down the corridors.
…
Josh Culshaw was far from impressed when the guard banged his baton against his cell door. Judging by the silence, it was still very early. "What the fuck?" He muttered.
"You have a visitor Culshaw," the guard said. "Come on."
Culshaw stared at him. "What the fuck's the time?"
"Just past 5, this visitor really needs to talk to you."
"5 fucking AM? Jesus Christ! Who the fuck is it?"
"It's Kevin Wheeler."
"Fucking what? Wheeler? I thought the fucking pigs locked him up! What the fuck is he doing here at this hour? This better be fucking good!"
"I have no idea," the guard said smoothly, as Culshaw turned his back to the door and the handcuffs were applied. Then after he stepped out of his cell, the leg shackles.
"What the fuck screw? I thought you said it was a fucking visitor, I ain't going anywhere. What the fuck's with all the chains?"
"Sorry Culshaw, it's security and you know it. Come on, this way."
Culshaw was fuming as the guard led him out of the cell block. If Wheeler didn't have something good to tell him, he would arrange for one of his many outside contacts to beat him to within an inch of his sorry life or maybe worse. Maybe he'd see his life ended if this wasn't without fucking good reason. True he couldn't deny he was curious about what the fuck Wheeler was doing here and how he'd avoided arrest, but that didn't soften his anger.
Apart from anything else, he was horny as fuck. No women around to fuck at will be had hit Culshaw, (pun not intended), hard. Those bitches deserved purely to be raped, beaten and controlled. He just hoped his men on the outside were showing bitches who was boss in the way he could not. When he got out though, ah that was another story.
Girls were always throwing themselves at him, due to his hansom, muscular body which he deliberately kept toned in the gym for precisely this reason. This meant he was never short of a woman to fuck and show who was in charge. One bitch he'd met had even liked it. That was until she'd pissed him off so badly, she'd ended up in hospital and he'd ended up here.
The sound of the security door slamming shut broke him out of his thoughts. He looked through the security grill and sure enough, there he was, Kevin Wheeler in the flesh.
"What the fuck you are doing here at this fucking hour?" He demanded. "This better be fucking good Wheeler, God help you if it ain't, I'll see you fucking killed for this! I don't get birds tweeting this morning, instead I get your stupid voice in my fucking ears! What the fuck you want?"
"I am sorry Sir," Wheeler said immediately. "I know it's early, but I had no choice. I had to see you; I have bad news."
This knowledge did not improve Culshaw's mood in the slightest. "I said this better be fucking good," he snarled. "I don't want bad news Wheeler. What the fuck is it?"
"I am so very sorry sir," Wheeler said. "It's Ashley, he's…" he swallowed. "He's dead."
"What the fuck did you just fucking say Wheeler?"
"Ashley is deceased sir. He had his throat slit."
"How the fucking hell did that happen? Talk man!"
"From what I know sir, I believe the gang had grabbed a bitch to rape and treat as she deserves and… well, it went wrong."
"I say again, how? Don't test my patience asshole!"
"Sorry sir, but we don't know. The bitch was rescued by some people we still don't know, and Ash was killed…" Wheeler blinked back tears.
"FUCK!"
Culshaw shouted the single word and slammed his hand against the glass. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"
After a moment and several deep breaths, he looked back at Wheeler. "You'd better get me more fucking information than that man, if you want to live to see next fucking month! Ashley was my side man, and you know it! You tell me he's dead, but you don't fucking know how? You were fucking there, right?"
"Yes, sir I was, I was one of the guys in that house. I managed to get away before the pigs could arrest me. They've got no proof I was even there."
"Fucking best thing you've done in your whole miserable life Wheeler. Not to mention worthless. You're a worthless piece of shit if you're just going to tell me this but nothing else. Not to mention it's 5 fucking AM! You better have more than that for me!"
"Sir, I need to ask you where Ashley's family are, I need to tell them about my bro Ash."
"How the fuck should I know where they are? If you and Ashley were so fucking close, you tell me where they are!"
"Ash told me they abandoned him sir, or he abandoned them. Something happened, I'm not exactly clear. I don't think he had much time for his family. I know he raped his mother then fucked off."
"So why in God's name do you want them to know he's dead? Why would they give a fuck Wheeler? You getting sentimental or some shit? Better not be!"
"No sir, I just think they should know. He was still their son… brother and so on."
"How the fuck am I supposed to know where they are locked up in here? Jesus Wheeler, and I thought you were intelligent! Not getting yourself arrested must've taken all the brain power your fucking small brain has in it!"
"Because I know you know where they are sir, you know where all our families are."
Culshaw snorted. How Naive was this twat? He'd taken him on as part of his gang. Talk about a momentary lapse of any sense!
"I ain't in the habit of just giving addresses out you idiot."
"I know sir, but… but Ash is dead! Adam Dawson is too."
"That fucking twat?" Culshaw guffawed. "He called himself a Misogynist. Give me a fucking break! He was a fucking cowardly wimp! Any man who was stronger than him got too close he pissed his fucking pants! Jesus Christ! Yeah, he bullied women well, but no steal at all! Fucking shit himself when I met him. Scared of Chris Leach too! Fucking cry-baby!"
"Chris Leach certainly isn't someone to mess with sir," Wheeler said softly. "I'd be scared of him too if I was his enemy."
Culshaw rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I got to tell you Wheeler, my estimations of you are dropping fast. You come in here at fucking 5 in the morning and tell me Ashley's dead, but you don't know who killed him? Then you start asking me where his fucking family are? I'll tell you straight, I very much doubt they'll give a fucking shit! Were you gay for the guy or something? Secretly wanting to fuck him? Jesus Wheeler! Don't bother trying to tell them, they won't fucking care! Don't waste my time or your breath! Why the fuck couldn't you have smuggled a piece of pussy in here? I need sex, Wheeler! I want to rape a bitch's cunt so fucking bad! I am so fucking horny and hard! You want to do something good for me? Get a whore in here next time! Fuck any woman I don't care, she could be ugly as fuck, long as she has a pussy, I don't give a fuck! She'd probably leave with a few bruises too, fuck that'd feel so good!"
…
forty-eight hours to execution.
"Chancer!"
Derek was irritated when the guard shouted his name through his cell door. He'd hardly got any sleep the night before, his thoughts now constantly of electricity, the fifty thousand vaults he was about to face. What was the last thing he'd feel? Be aware of before he died? Would it hurt or was it quick? Some part of him wished that if Thompson was going to or was unable to save him, that they'd just get on with it and pull the God damn switch tonight!
"I need your last meal request."
"Fuck's sake," Derek glared at the guard through the bars. "Jesus man, why now? I hardly got any fucking sleep last night. You want my last request? Get me some Gods damn Valium or something so I can sleep at least a little! I don't fucking want to die exhausted!"
"I can sort that out for you today," the guard said.
"You're so fucking kind," Derek sneered. "Don't suppose you could release me at the same fucking time?"
The guard ignored this of course just as Derek knew he would. "Do you know what you would like for your last meal?"
"Like I haven't had enough time to think about it," Derek glared at him. "Yeah, I want macaroni and cheese with chicken, followed by a whole fucking chocolate pie."
The guard nodded and wrote it down. "To drink?"
"A super large fucking coke."
"Thank you. I'll get you the medication in just a moment." The guard walked away. Derek glared at the cameras and gave them the finger. Fucking idiots! They'd like nothing better than to see him burn, Derek knew this. Buy your fucking tickets why don't you bitches, he thought.
It was when he was alone and at night-time it was at its worst. The constant fear, dread. He knew how close to death he was, and the questions would not leave his mind. What would it feel like? Would he know he was dying, or just be unconscious straight away after the first jolt? Would anyone care?
This last question pissed him off. He wasn't weak enough to need anyone nor stupid enough to think anyone would give a damn. He knew damn well people would cheer when he burned, just as they had with Chadwick. All fucking bitches, of course. God knew he'd raped and killed enough of them just as Chadwick had. Maybe they'd meet up in the next life and plot to kill more bitches together.
This thought made him chuckle a little. God, how he wished that were true. He wasn't a believer in any kind of afterlife at all, but if there was one where he could rape and kill women with Graham Chadwick at his side, that would be his idea of paradise.
…
Silence fell between the two of them as Culshaw glared at his subordinate. "So, what the fuck are you saying?" He asked finally. "Someone's slit Ashley's throat so what, we're dealing with Michael fucking Myers all over again? Oh but of course," he sneered. "You're too young to know who Michael Myers is ain't you?"
Wheeler made no response and Culshaw laughed mockingly in his face. "I'll tell you who he was, shall I? He was a damn masked nutter who killed his sister in 1963 at just the age of 6 while wearing a God damn clown mask! Then he killed a group of babysitters and paramedics in 1978! Just in case you didn't notice twat, I was being sarcastic. Of course, I know Michael Myers isn't involved in this that would be impossible since he's locked up in Smith's Grove! Just in case that stupid ickle brain of yours didn't understand."
Wheeler said nothing, but was that a flash of anger Culshaw had just seen cross his face? He smirked. "Save the temper tantrum until you're home to mommy.
Wheeler. I'm sure she'll change your diaper and feed you."
He saw his gang member take a deep breath. Ah, this was fun. He was getting under the other man's skin. As this was very likely to be his only entertainment for the day, he would be sure to savour every second of it.
"I need to contact his family," Wheeler said, his voice deliberately calm. "I know you know where they are sir, I need that information."
"Hot tempered this morning, aren't you? Not had your coffee yet this morning. Calm down, don't piss yourself on me. Why the fuck is this so important to you anyway? Why not tell me the truth and you might get somewhere."
Wheeler sighed. "Because someone's son and brother's deceased. You'd want to know if it was your family, sir?"
Culshaw roared with laughter. "You've got to be kidding me! My family wouldn't give a shit Wheeler. They'd probably cheer and throw a fucking party! But anyway, we're not talking about me, back to the matter in hand. I tell you what? I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you where they are if you get me a woman in here."
Wheeler appeared to be considering the deal, which made Culshaw grin to himself. Maybe he would tell the idiot what he wanted to know if he bought him a tasty enough piece. He didn't currently know where Ashley's family were, but God knew he had enough outside contacts to find that out with ease.
"That would be…" Wheeler started. "Really risky, sir."
"Indeed. So, if you want this information badly enough, you'll take said risks, will you not?"
Before Wheeler could answer, the buzzer sounded to signal their hour was up. Culshaw smirked to himself as Wheeler jumped out of his chair as though it had just been electrified.
"Itchy feet Kevin?" He said quietly, a clear warning in his voice. "If you tell anyone what I just asked you for, you will be deceased yourself by tonight."
Wheeler nodded. "Yes, sir I won't," he said, before he almost ran for the exit door. Culshaw chuckled to himself as he watched. Even as the guard re-cuffed and shackled him to take him back to his cell, he couldn't stop smiling. Well, that had sure been entertaining, if for no other reason than he'd made Wheeler squirm. Perfect. Even better if Wheeler did get him a woman to fuck. He sighed. He had perhaps for obvious reasons, been banned from having any conjugal visits. Said reasons were indeed obvious. Because if he'd had a woman there, he'd do a lot more than have sex with her, a severe beating at the very least and that's if she was lucky. None of the guys who would usually target each other for sex while in prison had dared even come near him, for which Culshaw was glad. If they'd even tried, he'd see they too were killed. Bribe a guard here, threaten an inmate there, he'd get it done one way or the other if he had to. Perhaps that was why no one had dared approach him. He knew he was one of the most feared gang members in the country, and that reputation was doubtlessly what was protecting him on the inside. But if he had to, he'd certainly show whoever was unfortunate, or stupid enough to try and approach him why he had that reputation to his name.