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Topic: Creative Writing

THE DEATH OF MICHAEL MYERS

 

This is a story based on the Halloween movies, except for the recent remake of the original.

 

 

 

Ashley Couch

Creative Writing

English

Fall 2007

 

 Image borrowed from: NT Productions (nt-productions.com/images/P9%20Myers.jpg)

 

MICHAEL’S ISOLATION

 

His history dances in a thick fog. Voices of his dead ring out. Their faces appear frozen in terror in his mind. He rests his old body, his blackened heart and soul, waiting to get stronger, in secret desolation beneath the surface of Haddonfield. He feels their presence nagging at his dormant madness. He is not ready yet, but he cannot accept that they are out there, living, breathing! The time draws nearer to the awakening, to when he begins his search again for the last in his bloodline.

 

“THEY ARE STILL OUT THERE!!!” it savagely echoed inside him, “YOUR JOB IS NOT FINISHED!!” The blood flowing through his veins boiled with hatred as his fists clutched tight. He slowly rose from his filthy bed, slowly walking through the tunnels of the sewer to reach the surface; it was night now. He leaves his home, escaping into the shadows, his favorite place.

 

JOHN + MOLLY

 

Seven years. He has tried not to think about that night. He had moved on with his life until his mother died, and then John knew then that Michael was still alive. That aching in the pit of his gut was getting stronger as if he knew there was someone watching him. His wife, Molly, from the bathroom door, had been calling to him for the past two minutes, as John stood in front of the mirror, staring into the mirror, past the mirror, almost catatonic, into the dark eyes of his uncle. When he heard her footsteps, he finally reacted.

 

“Would you like coffee with or without breakfast?” she asked, kissing the back of his shoulder.

 

“With breakfast,” he returned in a low voice, “Thank you.” Running her hand across his face, she can tell something was wrong. They have been through so much, he never kept anything from her, but lately, he had been very distant. It was October. It was coming close to that time again. Thinking back to that horrible night seemed to just flash before her eyes; she was watching it all over again in her mind. Molly tried to push it far out of her memory, but there would be some nights when John would wake her up, screaming, “NO! NO! MOM!!! Don’t go back, MOM!!! COME BACK!!!!” It was like she was living it all over again.

 

He kissed her hand, and snapped her out of her memory to assure her that everything was all right. She smiled and kissed him on the lips, and walked out of the room. He watched her leave, and then returned to the mirror. His uncle was still there. That cold, dark, figureless white mask, the blackest eyes staring back at him. Closing his eyes would not make it go away. It was almost that time for the family anniversary that he never celebrated; only mourned. Now, he felt what his mother went through all those years being stalked in her mind by her maniacal brother. Though he comforted her, John felt insensitive and selfish at the thought of the things he used to say to her.

 

“I love you, mom,” he whispered, his head down, “I miss you. I am sorry! I am sorry that I never told you that.” One tear snaked down his cheek in almost slow motion as he started to cry.  “John, telephone!!” He wiped his face with a towel, and walked over to the bed. He picked of the telephone, expecting to hear his mother on the line, but it was someone else.

 

“You do not know me,” she says, “but I live Haddonfield. I have been trying to find you for the past few months since I found out,” she continues. “My name is Kara Strode.”

The bomb was dropped. His mother had told him that name before! Strode. The past is coming back, not necessarily his past, but that past that killed his mother is now after him. “I know that this will come to you as a shock,” she said, “but I had to, at least, let you know. Your sister, Jamie, had a son shortly before she was killed.” She clears her throat. She never mentioned who killed her, but John already knew. “I have been taking care of him since her death, and I have been looking for a family member for permission to adopt.”

 

“What?!” he said, “I have a nephew? I had a sister???”

 

“Y-yes,” she replied, “Steven. He was a baby when your sister died, so I just….”

 

“I don’t believe this,” he said in shock, “my mother never told me anything about a sister or nephew. Is it possible if I could meet him?”

 

“Of course,” she said, “Steven would be very happy to know he’s not alone in this world, that he still has family.”

 

John never heard what she said, because he was still in shock. It was still registering in his mind that there was a relative out there that he did not know about. He wrote down her information, and told Kara that he would be out there sometime next week. After hanging up, he made plans to fly out, but he never told Molly. He wanted her to stay, and knew she would put up a fight, but remembered she had a major project to supervise in Los Angeles for the next two weeks. She would be safe there, so to speak, if anything should happen. He did not want to put her life in danger like before.

 

HADDONFIELD, ILLNOIS

 

He caught the red eye to Chicago, and decided to drive the rest of the way. He could use the road trip. It always soothed him, gave him an out to all the chaos. The only thing that he did not like about it was that it gave him too much time to think about a lot of things. Molly always wanted to have a child, but he had that fear that Michael would come after them, but learning that he had another relative, frightened him even more. That night, seven years ago, crept back into the front of his mind again. That white mask. That dark figure emerged from the shadows. Walking up to the gate, picking up the keys that Molly dropped because she was so scared. John and Molly started to scream for someone to open up the door, while Michael picked through keys, testing each one in the keyhole to see if one of them fits. None of them worked until….John realized that was starting to get dark. He had only been driving for a couple of hours, and Haddonfield was still three hours away, but he wasn't going to stop. He was wide awake. He had a nephew that he really wanted to see. The son of the sister he never met. Even if he was going to see him tomorrow, he just couldn't wait. John even considered adopting him, but he didn't want to disrupt Steven's life in Haddonfield. John was surprised that for as long as Steven had been living there that there haven’t been any incidents. Maybe it was finally over. He never heard anything about Michael Myers since his mother died; since all those people were killed in the Myers’ house. He had to be dead, John thought. But for some odd reason, in the deep of his mind and in his heart, he knew that it wasn't true. He didn't want to fool himself but he didn't want to be paranoid for the rest of his life of some demented relative carrying a butcher knife. The lights of a hotel caught his eye. He pulled into the lot, and parked. Sitting in his car, he let the past seven years flash through his mind, and then he got out, sullen draped over his face, slowly walking over to the office to check in.

 

The sunlight seeped through the break in the curtains. John was already up and in the shower. He phoned Kara, after breakfast, to tell her he was going to be there in an hour. It was 11am. He sat on the edge of the bed, mobile phone in hand. He never bothered to tell Molly where he was going since he would be back before her. He never lied or kept anything from her before, but he didn't want her to worry. He wanted to call her just to hear her voice. No! She would be busy, he thought. Just to hear her voice would calm his nerves; just to tell her I love you. Finally, pressing the speed dial button, Molly’s face popped on the screen. Connecting… Dialing… Ringing… Ringing… Ringing….Her voicemail picked up.

 

“Molly,” he paused just to think of how to say it, “I miss you, and I love you very much.” He hung up the phone. That was all he could do or say at this point. He slipped his coat on over his shoulders, and walked out the door, leaving Molly and his phone on the bed. She called back.

 

John reminisced about his mother, he can hear her voice, in his mind, telling him about the silent streets at 8AM, children in their costumes, laughing and eating candy, neighbors waving goodbye to their loved ones, gabbing teenagers pouring through the doors of Haddonfield High to get to class. Just like any other life in a small town, but his mother never wanted him to go there; never wanted to take him there. After what happened to her, she just left and never looked back. Driving through the neighborhood, he can see his mother walking to school with her books in her arms like any normal seventeen year old girl. His mother’s description of the town matched what he saw. It seems that nothing has changed in thirty years. Large houses with landscaped yards all lined up in a row. Brick drugstores and a silent downtown circle around the courthouse. People seemed pleasant, but worrisome as if they were on a terror alert. How can something like murder happen in a small town like this. But it was death that came to this little town.

 

John turned down a street that was loaded with thick red and orange leafs from trees that overhung by its branches. He looked at the numbers on the houses, searching, and finally he found it. It was a two story red brick house, in what seems to be the quietest part of town. No one was around, but there was a kid staring at him from a huge bay window of Kara's house. He looked just like John: same dark hair, dark eyes, just only younger. About fifteen years old. John walked up to the door, but hesitated to knock. Steven was still looking directly at him. Dark eyes surrounded by a pale face; that looked eerily familiar. He knocked softly. Steven didn't even get up to open the door, just continued to watch John’s every move, then the door finally opens.

 

"Hey, man,” the voice of a tall, slender, blonde kid, about 20 years old, boomed deeply, “Sup?”

 

"I'm John Tate," he said, "Is Kara Strode here?"

 

"Oh yeah," he replied, "Come on in. I'm Danny," holding out his hand.

 

"Nice to meet you," John shook his hand firmly, while keeping his eyes on Steven, who was now staring blankly out of the window.

 

"I guess you know that's Steven," Danny said, but Steven never reacted; he didn't even move, “MOM! John Tate is here!”

 

A young, dark-haired, slender woman walked down the stairs. She looked tired like she hasn’t seen a bed in months. Her eyes met with John’s and she made her introduction. They talked about Steven and how he was doing in school. John didn’t know how to get to know him. It had been so long since he was 15 years old, but then again, he had always been different. He was nervous, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to say anything, so he just waited until it came to him. But Steven was still staring through the window, fixed on a figure across the street amidst all the commotion that was happening behind him. It was in the shadows, and it had not moved since he found it. The Shape was a man in bloody overalls with a blank, figureless white face, and it was staring right back at him.

 

Danny walked over to Steven, breaking him from his fixation; punching him in the shoulder. “Coo….You got family, now, PSssssssUNc.” Steven, smiles, returns the punch, and they both start wrestling. Steven and Danny were very close; did everything together. Steven was too young to remember, but Danny remember that Halloween night so many years ago, when he and his mom were pursued by the Shape. Danny protected Steven as a baby, and he continued protected him now. Steven was his little brother. “Let’s go play Halo,” Danny said, pulling on Steven’s shirt. John and Kara talked about their encounters with Michael Myers. He was too intelligent for a serial killer. She thought that they were either mentally disabled or just stupid, but he was vicious and cunningly impulsive. Tommy never wanted her to see, but she saw what happened in that operating room at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. Slaughtering all those people like cows, blood on the walls; a long silver blade digging deep into flesh, carving, tearing. She was in herself, watching that bloody rampage massacre. Kara never hung on long to the memory, but sometimes it just wouldn't let go of her.

 

“The only person that knew anything about our family is gone,” he said. That snapped her out of her temporary nightmare. She shook her head, as if to respond, but then something hit her.

 

“I am sorry,” she said, still a bit dazed, “You know, my uncle knows a lot about your mother.” John perked up a bit. “Maybe he can help you find out who she was.”

 

THE FAMILY HISTORY

 

“What’s wrong?” Kara asked, concerned. John was still sitting in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel. They had just pulled up to her Uncle Morgan’s house, a large white two story, on the corner of Oxley and Fairview.

 

“If I walk through that door,” he paused, “that’s it. I will know almost everything my mother kept from me. I don’t know what that’s going to do to me.”

 

Kara bent down and rested her arms on the window, staring at his face. She was attracted to him, but she couldn’t feel anything for anyone; not since Tommy killed himself. “At least you will know,” she said, “Because if you do, you aren’t ignorant to the past. It could help you. I don’t see how it could hurt you, and it certain can’t be worse than that.”

 

She rang the bell. A wiry, middle-aged man opened the door. He looked warm and kind; he hugged Kara tightly. Her uncle Morgan introduced himself to John, and welcomed him into his home. John walked in, and felt at ease for the first time on this trip. It was almost as if he felt his mother’s innocence there; before that Halloween night. Kara and her Uncle caught up with each other as John looked around. There were pictures of his mother from when she was a young as five into her teens. She looked exactly how he pictured her in his mind: happy and sweet, not tainted with death and sorrow. He picked up the picture and stared into it. He could only run his fingers over her face. What he had so long ago is gone now. I miss you so much mom, he said inside him. He was fighting back the tears. Stop breaking, damnit, he thought. This was already too much for him. After awhile, John joined them in the living room, where they were talking.

 

“I know that this must be very difficult for you right now,” Morgan said.

 

“Yeah it is,” John said, “I can’t believe she kept it from me all these years.”

 

“Believe me when I tell you that your mother did what she thought best for you and your sister,” Morgan said, softly, “It was the only way she could protect you from him.”

 

Morgan got up and picked out a large black photo album with red stitching from the top shelf of his bookcase. He opened it up, and handed it over to John. There were more pictures of John and Jamie together when they were younger. She was just a bit older than John; he was just a baby when some of those pictures were taken. He tried to upload it back from memory but he couldn’t. He wanted to remember so badly, but that only buried it even further into his mind.

 

“Laurie separated you when you were about five, and Jamie was about eight or nine,” he said, “Jamie didn’t live to far from here. She was safe with them until she disappeared.” he stopped.

 

“Yeah, we were safe too until he found us,” John said softly, under his breath, "What about the Myers' Family? Can you tell me anything about them?"

 

“They were good people, hardworking. Michael’s parents were always happy together. I dated Judith Myers, Laurie’s sister. I was there that Halloween night in ‘63, but I left before Michael killed her,” Morgan said.  

 

Kara and John sat silently, listening to Morgan about John’s real grandparents being killed in a car accident shortly after the murder of Judith, Michael’s time at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium with Dr. Loomis, Laurie growing up with the Strode’s, that Halloween night when he came home. Morgan told John that he actually lived there in Haddonfield for a short while after he was born, but John couldn’t remember. The memories of his childhood up until five seem as if it had been non-existent. He wished so much that he could remember.

 

“I kept this so that you would know.” he said, handing him a photo album full of pictures of John as a baby, and plenty of pictures of his mother, “That’s why I finally told Kara about you. She wanted to adopt Steven, but they wouldn’t let her without a blood relative’s permission,” he continued, "Laurie told me where you were after Michael came after you in California. I didn't want to that you might be stalked, but I figure since nothing has happened to Steven, then it had to be all over." 

 

Kara and John left her uncle’s house and drove around town.

 

"Are you married, John?" She asked.

 

"Yes," he returned, "How about you?"

 

"No," she said, "Never married. The only man I did love killed himself."

 

"What?" John asked.

 

"Tommy Doyle," she continued, "He was there that night Michael came after your mother. He was a little boy then. She was babysitting him. Then Michael came after him, again, that night we were at Smith's Grove. And ever since then he just got worse," she paused,  "He would picture Michael on every corner, next to ever tree, even outside our windows. He became even more obsessed until one day he left, and never came back. They found him in the middle of a field with his head blow off."

 

"I am so sorry to hear that Kara."

 

"Don't worry," she said.  

 

They decided to stop at the Final Peace cemetery to visit with her family. The Strode family: William, Debra, and Tim. Her father, mother, and brother were killed in one day, that day. She hated to think about it, but she was there now. John decided to leave Kara to spend time with her family. Walking down the middle of the rows, he found the Myers' family headstones, but there was one missing. Kara met up with him.

 

“I can’t believe it!” she said, puzzled, “Her headstone was there a few days ago!”

 

“What are you talking about, Kara?”

 

“Judith. Her headstone is missing,” she stopped, eyes widening, “Oh my God, Steven!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE LITTLE RED HOUSE

 

“What the fuck, man!!!” He screamed at the armored soldier on the screen. Steven sat silently as he continued to beat Danny. They had been playing since John and Kara left.

 

“My controller is fucked up,” Danny threw it across the room, landing on a pillow.

 

“Yeah, Yeah…Excuses…Excuses. That’s what you said last time,” Steven said, "Why don't you try changing the fucking batteries, you dingus."

 

"Shut up, bitch!" Danny fired back, jokingly.

 

Danny sits back on the couch as Steven finishes his killing spree.  The Shape was close now; right outside the dining room window behind them. He watched them intensely. The Shape found its way inside the house from the backyard. It stood in the darkness of the laundry room, listening to the noise from the front. It moved into the bathroom at the sound of footsteps. Danny walked into the kitchen, searching through the refrigerator for a Mountain Dew. It took him a few minutes of rambling, but he finally found one. Popping the cap, he guzzled half down, walking back into the living room. The Shape followed silently behind Danny, stopping in the dining room as Danny gets settled into his place. He moved closer until he was right behind them, the shadow of the sunlight through a small window gave him cover. His eyes moved over them. The blonde boy was yelling and cussing, but the silent one was concentrated on the movements and explosions on the screen. The Shape stood there; its head bent low, reaching into its pocket, pulling out a large, sharp kitchen knife. It rested in its hand, at his side. It wasn’t time yet. WHEN?!?! It raged inside him. He has waited long enough! Danny got up. The Shape remained in its place, its eyes watching every move he made. Danny walked into the hallway into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Situated on the toilet, he opened a sports magazine and started to read.

 

“Hey man, I better go to English class and turn in my paper,” Steven yelled out, in the direction of the bathroom, “I worked my ass off for weeks for that shit,” he mumbled to himself as he walked up the stairs to grab his bag.

 

“I’ll probably be here all night on this fucking toilet.” Danny grunted and groaned. The toilet water sloshed at impact. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” He goes back to reading his magazine.

 

The door flies open, the Shape enters with its knife high above its head. It slammed the door closed. Before Danny could get a word out, the Shape stabbed him through his neck. His mouth open, gasping for air, unable to breathe, he tried to grab the knife, but his whole body started to shake. He was losing. The Shape placed his hand on the handle and rammed it deeper into his throat. Danny coughed, the last of his warm tears running down his cheeks. Wheezing his last breaths, his body falls lifelessly into the tub. The Shape slowly bends over the face of his victim. Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he slid the knife out. He stepped out of the bathroom, just as Steven was coming down the stairs, listening to Rage Against the Machine on his I-pod. The Shape felt that lava flow through this body. He moved toward his relative, but Steven moved too quickly out of the door, slamming it closed, cutting the Shape’s path short. It just stood there, looking through the glass piece in the door, watching, as Steven hopped on his skateboard, rolling down the street, off to school.

 

 

 

Two Hours Later

 

“Danny!” yelled out Kara, walking through the front door, tossing her keys into a large crystal bowl, and dropping her bag under the table. She looked around and found the X-Box was still on. That was odd; he never left it on, she thought. “Steven?!” John walked over to the TV and turned it off. Kara offered John something to eat or drink; he declined. He just stood in the foyer for her return. The Shape was at the top of the stairs, blanketed by the darkness. It watched as Kara comes back into view, and runs up the stairs. He moves into a corner niche, just as she flew right by him.

 

“Steven? Danny?” she yelled out.

 

“Maybe they went somewhere,” John said, reassuringly, walking up the stairs. Michael felt it coming. It was boiling now, he couldn’t contain it, but he just stayed in the shadows as John walked past.

 

 “Yeah,” she said, starting to calm down.

 

“What’s wrong?” John asked. He was standing in the doorway, as Kara sat down on her bed.

 

“I am just worried about Danny and Steven,” she said, her hair falling over her face; she was starting to get overwhelmed. “I know Steven is at school, and then he goes to work, but Danny. He should be here.”

 

“Are you going to be okay?” John asked.

 

“Yeah,” she responded, “I will be fine."

 

“Okay, well, I am going back to the hotel to rest,” John said, “I will be back later on tonight to check up on you guys, and maybe we can go to dinner.”

 

“Okay.”

KARA, ALONE

 

She waited for Danny all night. She sat on the couch worrying, but then realized that Danny was a man now, on his own, in college. Why was she so worried about him? Just the sensation of two relatives of Michael Myers being so close made her feel uneasy. The house was dark except for the bright glow of the television. She hated being alone at home, because she could hear the subtle creaks and groans, making the sound of fear, in her ear. She started to tense up, closing her eyes, cuddling with a thick wool blanket for her comfort. She never looked around to see the Shape standing at the end of the couch. The Shape was staring down at her, the dark enveloping his body, his mask illuminated by the television. She starts to look around because she feels as if there was a presence with here. She turned to check behind her, and no one was there. She could not help giving into her paranoia again.

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaKKkkkkkkk

CRRrrrRRAaaaAAcccccccccCcccccCCCCCCkkkkkkk

CRRrrrRRrrrrrAaaaAAcccccccccCCCCCCCkkkkkkk

Those soft groans and moans were getting louder and louder. “Geeesh was the fucking house about to fall down,” she thought. Maybe it was just loud in her ears since she had been hearing it all night. She stood up, slowly dropping her blanket. She peeked around the corners of her eyes. She took one step forward, but then he grabbed her, slamming her onto the couch, and pulling her over the back, into the darkness of her house. His grip slipped and she rolled into the dining room table. The wind was knocked out of her. She was gasping for air as Michael rose from the floor, towering above her. She slowly raised her head, looking up at that mask, blood trickling down from her nose. He grabbed her around the neck, picked her up, and slammed her ontop of the table. She tried to fist her way free, but that only made his grip tighter. Bones started to crack and pop. He squeezed tighter. She squealed. He pulled out the knife, and brought it high above his head. Her face is red and stressed, her eyes are full of tears and tiny bloody veins. The knife came down, slicing through. The Shape stood there, watching her die. Her head fell over, away from him. Pulling out the knife, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms like a child, her dark-reddish curls swaying, dancing in circles in time with each other. He carried her upstairs.

 

HALLOWEEN

 

Steven walked out of GamePlay behind a bunch of little kids in costumes. The wind blew the leaves through the air, as he made his way across the large mall parking lot. The mall was on the other side of town, but walking didn’t bother him. The sky turned dark in an instant, and the street lights came on. The only light was in the middle of the street and from the porches of houses decorated with spider webs and pumpkins, skeletons and Frankenstein. Steven like this holiday, this time of year. Bushes rustled ahead. He stopped looking cautiously, but continued on, crossing the street. The Shape stepped out, still in the shadows, its breathing filtered through the mask sounded raspy. It slowly walked along the tree line behind Steven. A car drove-by in front of the Shape and stopped right next to Steven.

 

“Hey Steven,” said John, “Need a ride? I am on my way to your house.”

 

“Sure.” Steven responded as he crossed the back of the car. He stopped again. He could feel it. It was out there. Like before. He strained to look across the street. There was a silhouette, a dark figure, but he couldn’t make it out. People just didn’t know how to stop playing pranks on Halloween. They drove off. The Shape stepped out into the street, and stalked after them. They weren’t far from home how.

 

The little red house was dark. No lights on, only from a flickering glow of a candle inside a pumpkin setting in the window. Steven opened the door. The TV was still on. John thought to himself, Déjà vu.

 

 

 

THUMP. BUMP.

 

The sound came from upstairs.

 

“Kara?” John climbed up the stairs, and walked down the hall into Kara’s room. There was blood on her night-table, all over her make-up and hairbrush.

 

"NO!!” Steven screamed from downstairs. John rushed back downstairs, running into Steven. He was out of breathe, blood on his hands. He started crying at the thought now just hitting him. John ran to the back of the house were Steven came out from. In the bathroom, he found Kara in the bathtub, eyes open; Danny was slouched over in the corner, a blood drain down the middle of his chest. The Shape came down the stairs as they ran out. They tried to get the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. They didn’t notice the Shape standing upstairs until Steven turned around. He was shocked, couldn’t speak, because the Shape he had been seeing was real. It was right in front of him. John turned around, and it was all happening all over again. The Shape grabbed John by the neck and started to squeeze it. But John punched it in the mask; its grip was released. John fought back hard. They tumbled over into the dining room, the sound of the wooden table sliding across the hardwood floor. In the darkness, the Shape broke away from John, and stabbed him in the shoulder. John struggled to get the knife out.

 

The Shape turned back to Steven, who was not there. It started up the stairs, but John pulled it down at the knees. John screamed when the Shape took out the knife, and stabbed him in the stomach. Twice. John fell. The Shape continued upstairs. Searching for Steven. It entered his room. Steven can see it standing in the door way. He wanted to get out, but he couldn’t. He was too scared. The Shape moved more into the room. Steven flew back downstairs. The Shape is right behind him. John wasn’t at the bottom of the stairs. Steven tried to open the front door again, but it wouldn’t budge. Before he could even try for the backdoor, as he turned to run, the Shape grabbed him by the neck, and lifted him into the air. Steven struggle to break free but its grip was too strong. The bones in his neck started to pop. Heat rushed up to his brain, and his throat started to swell. Gasping for air was his last. The Shape broke his neck, and Steven’s head fell back on his shoulders. The Shape dropped the body onto the floor, standing over it. John came from behind and stabbed Michael in the back. Turning around, he slams John up against the wall. John falls to the floor. Michael takes the knife out of his back, and stabs John in the stomach, waking him into a new pain. John screamed, his eyes wide open, he felt the blood drain. Michael withdrew the knife, and came down again, implanting it in his hip. John cried out, and all he heard were noises from the television, but then everything started to get quiet. Michael bent over John, face to mask. John coughed out blood into his mask.

 

"I hate you," he whispered to Michael, who returned no reaction, only his eyelids batting at every short breath John took. Michael withdrew the knife again, and brought it down on John's chest, piercing his chest. John screamed out in gurgles through blood spewing through his mouth. His eyes rolling in the back of his head. His body tenses stiff, then releases. Michael stood up, towering over John's body. It is over. Michael took his mask off. His face was scarless as if the last 30 years did not happen. Still hidden in the darkness, he drops to his knees. Hunched over, tears start to stream from his face. The force that drove him to kill was draining from his body, taking his soul with it. A soft, subtle weep of remorse. He falls back. He takes one long drawn out breath, his fists unclutch, as his anger subsides.