Michael Myers x Reader |One-Shots|

~Alone, No More~

WARNING: it contains descriptions of self-harm.

You were in your room alone.
Your boyfriend Michael was out doing his haunting and killing things.
It was half-past midnight and you were laying in your bed, looking absentmindedly at the floor, with no sign of sleep needs. Once again insomnia hit you, it was about a month you hadn't slept well, nay, you hadn't totally slept, either an hour.
Your body was going on energy reserve.. that soon or later was going to finish.
You bet really soon. You knew the causes of it, it was because of your deep mental illness, a crippling depression that has been damaging you since the beginning of your adolescent years. It was caused by the loss of a dear friend, together with some problems of confidence and some features of your so-called "strange" nature.
You couldn't help it but live with an unceasing gloomy and burdensome sense. An aura that followed you for such a long time that you inevitably started to think you would have never been able to wipe it away. It seemed impossible to you.

All of a sudden you sensed a severe sting in your eyes, tears were starting to fill them and blur your sight.
In a moment you were sobbing loudly, tears running down your cheeks like waterfalls and all your face's muscles were tensed up for crying.
In a truce of no lucidity, you stood up and reached your bedside table, still crying. You rashly opened the first drawer and searched frantically the thing you treasured the most. You've buried it under your underpants and bras, sure that no one would have ever found it there, first of all, Michael.
Your hands moved by urgency, eventually sensed the cold metal tool and grabbed it in a hurry. The razor between your pale fingers was now shining under the white moonlight coming from the transparent glass of the large window in front of you. Your eyes sparkled looking at what was the only thing that could make you feel better.. aside from the only person that could ever make you feel better; Michael. Speaking of which, you haven't understood yet why he was in a relationship with you. You couldn't really understand the reason. How could he be with someone like you? His life was already more than problematic, so why worsening it with another person's issues? He needed a more joyous lover, capable of lightening his life and making him happier. That wasn't your case. He however never complained about your nature and always made you feel loved and protected. For a long time, you haven't felt the urge of harming yourself.. it has been the best period of your entire life, all thanks to him. But now, all the negative thoughts were starting to gather again in your head, fill it so much that you felt as if it was about to explode. You didn't know why or.. why right now! All you could think at that moment was the impelling need of using that deary tool and cut the skin of your thighs after a long time and feel again that pleasure-pain, so addicting yet so harmful for both your body and mind.

Your grip tightened around the metallic tool and you approached it to your bare thigh, barely covered by a white semi-transparent nightgown.
A first cut; the sting enough perceptible to make you stiff. One again, deeper, and then another. At every cut, the sting was less perceptible. You kept going on, harming a good part of the upper side of both your thighs. The blood was plopping out from every cut and sliding down on your skin, running through all the length of your legs. It was a satisfying feeling that you were sensing.
You were about to keep cutting what was left on your skin to harm, but you froze when you heard some steps behind you. You hadn't even the time to place back the razor in his hiding place, that you felt two strong hands grabbing tightly your wrists, blocking your every move.
It was Michael, by no doubts.
You gasped and gulped, afraid of what could have awaited you. He has never seen you doing such things in the past, yet now he caught you red-handed. He has never even seen the old scars on your thighs and stomach since your nude body was still unknown at his sight.

You felt his loud and warm breath on the back of your neck and you swallowed again, squeezing your eyes shut in fear and embarrassment.
How would he react?
That question was literally eating you alive. You hadn't the courage to turn and face him but luckily or unluckily for you, he made you turn himself, his grip on your wrists even tighter than before.
That action surprised you, and your eyes automatically looked at his face.
His gaze was already set on yours. His black irises weren't empty as usual and that left you astonished.
There was a veil of sorrow, you could say.. did your actions made him express sorrow?
You didn't only hurt yourself, but him too. That thought alone made your heartbreak in million pieces and tears started to blur again your sight.
He took in a quick move the razor from your grip and easily ripped it in two as if it was made of paper.
Your eyes widened.
He then soon regained the control on your body movements by clenching one hand around your wrist, while the other reached your jaw. He made you look up, directly in his eyes. His gaze now demanding as if he was silently asking you the reason of all that.
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. A tear lined your cheek as you opened your mouth to speak.