𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 • MICHAEL MYERS

016

×~I'm so sorry~×
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I recommend listening to slow sad songs for this chapter, it really sets the mood.
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"You're not about to die." Cathy said plainly. She sounded too calm for someone bleeding out. She was clutching her wound with an indiscernible expression. She winced through a smile. "Can't make any promises about me, though."

Logan felt tears spring in her eyes. She wasn't about to sit here and do nothing. Hoisting herself to her feet, she rushed to her old, broken down car. She slammed the keys in and opened the passenger door. "Like it or not you're getting through this." Logan said as she fell back beside Cathy. She helped her to her feet and they staggered to the car.

The cool air on the hot autumn afternoon would have felt refreshing if it weren't for the fact they were probably about to be murdered.

Logan took her own place in the driver's seat, forcing her foot down as hard as she could on the gas. The car lurched, breaking away from the dry ground. It shook as it attempted to make it's way back into town. But they were making little ground. And from her rearview mirror, Logan could see Michael, watching them from the porch. As if he was amused by her attempt to flee.

...

He was, in fact, amused. He wasnt worried about their possible escape, for any tires they may have found in the garage had, too, been slashed. They had no hope of escaping without help, and no one knew they were here. It was almost perfect. Nightfall would be upon them before they even got halfway to town. Where he would stop them. They were miles away from any civilization, stranded from the world in the home her parents had created for her. Oh how cruel the world was.

He enjoyed to watch her struggle. He could see every ounce of terror in her eyes as she sped away as fast as she could. (Mind you, it was about 4 miles per hour.) Running would not suffice, especially considering the weight of her friend. She wouldn't make it half a mile before being unable to continue.

He felt joy, knowing he had caused so much distress with such little effort. Oh how she tormented him.

...

Logan had nothing to say but encouraging words any time Cathy got close to closing her eyes for what felt like her last. She held her hand, squeezing it as if that would pump the life back into her.

"The worst day of my life..." Cathy said longingly. "I think this officially takes the cake. But if you want to know the story so bad..."

Logan felt herself crying again. No matter what was going to happen, she would forever blame herself. For dragging Cathy here, for insisting on hunting down Michael.  She's thought about it before, again and again, blaming herself for getting Cathy into this mess. She deserved it this time, because now both of their lives were on the line.

"I'd say it was when my dog died. I had just turned 17. I had a dog named Georgia. She was a pretty little thing, I've shown you a few pictures of her." Logan remembered Georgia. She had been a lovely Shetland sheepdog. Right on her back she had a patch that looked remarkably like Georgia state, hence her name. "I came home from school one day and went to get the mail with her, like usual... And she ran across the street without me and got hit."

Logan had heard this story but made no attempt to stop her. She began to shake violently, trying her hardest to stop her tears. She wouldn't let the last moments of her best friends life be of her crying.

"Don't get me wrong, she was an old dog, but I really didn't think it was her time to go. We put her down the same afternoon. The dude that hit her didn't even apologize." Cathy trailed off, her head slowly falling to her shoulder. "I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to her..." She mourned tearlessly.

"Keep your eyes open." Logan said warningly. But when Logan glanced at her, Cathy's eyes had done the opposite. Panic set in. She did the last thing she could think of; she shoved a water bottle on the gas and jumped out of the car. She pushed with every ounce of strength she had on the back of the car. It was going faster, but not nearly as fast as she had hoped. She couldn't give up, not yet. She could still save her. She could fix everything.

But her friend was dead. Blood still warm as the last of it seeped into her clothes. But Logan pushed on, past her muscles tearing, past every pain, every plea her body made.

He watched her struggle from the treeline. Oh how he loved how hardworking she was, how hard she struggled at the roadblocks he threw at her.

Watching her tear herself apart for him was a treat that Halloween could never give him again.

🖤

Logan wasn't sure how long she had been out there, pushing her broken down car. It had ran out of gas somewhere along the trek and the sun had finally begun to set. Only when a lone police cruiser barreled down the street did she finally stop pushing. The car halted right before hers. Dr. Loomis bounced out of the car, along with Judith and Angel. The two women rushed to her side, quickly surrounding her as she collapsed. Logan could no longer feel her legs.

Dr. Loomis had been staring at Cathy's pale face, which shown through the broken front windshield. He was glaring at her, as if hoping her ghost would explain it all. But she was not coming back.

"We need to get her back, now." Dr. Loomis said finally. He hadn't the energy to berate her, and he knew she didn't have the energy to take it. Angel looked over at him for an explanation, but kept her mouth shut as he shot her a crude look. "Get her in the car."

Logan didn't remember much after that. But she felt weightless as she was lifted up by Judith and Angel. She was carefully set down across the back seat, with Angel crouched on the floor by her head, Judith in the passenger seat, and Loomis in the driver's seat.

...

Michael watched them drive away, his latest victim left behind in Logan's car. It was a shame she couldn't admire his work, a shame she couldn't see more. But he knew she'd see it soon enough. When he was certain they would not be returning, he made his way towards the car. The dead body of Logan's best friend sat. Although it wasn't his best, he was mighty proud of it. He imagined it had been slow and painful, even worse for her to die right in front of her best friend.

He hoisted her body from the car and flung her over his shoulder. Her blood soaked clothes clung to his dirty overalls. He carried her back to the house, which, despite the walk, only took what felt like a few minutes. He set her body on the couch and after an indecisive moment, decided that would be the place she'd stay.

A trophy of his torment.

×~end~×

A/N
it had to be done.
Cathy's ceremony will be held never. But I love her, RIP Cathy.