Myers

by Zepphora

For the spooky bitches who always thought Michael Myers was swinging a horse cock and would fuck like a demon. He knows you can be a good girl and a dirty slut at the same time.

They say the system fails everyone in one way or another. Everyone is traumatized by people as they grow up. It’s a part of life, of being human. It’s something older generations were more accepting of and my generation is intolerant to.

Everyone makes mistakes, even when those mistakes leave them dripping in the blood of others. Blood isn’t too bad though. I’m drawn to it in an unexplainable way. The crimson hue grows in my vision with each passing day. There’s something inside me that I can’t identify, but every second, it grows.

Bellatrix Rothchild. My only guess is that her parents are huge Harry Potter fans and decided to take one of those weird names and give it to their only daughter. I call her Trixie though.

I pull down my mask over my face. It’s one of those glow in the dark masks with X’s over the eyes and a glowing stitch over the mouth. As soon as the mask settles on my face, a shift happens and it’s almost as if something is unlocked inside my soul. Something dark and unnatural.

No one has to know who I am, what I look like, and I could be anyone other than myself as long as I have this mask on. Grabbing the kitchen knife I stole from the store as a prop for my costume, I put it in my hoodie pocket.

I drop the knife next to Samantha’s lifeless body on the ground before I turn and start for the stairs. The spooky piano music plays from the stereo as I step over all the corpses on the floor. The hardwood floor is so soaked with blood I bet they’ll have to completely replace it. It even lines the floorboards.

I want a man who will stop at nothing to have me. I want a man who’s toxicity knows no bounds. He’d not only die for me. No, that’s too minimal. I want a man who would kill for me and take the life sentence with a smile on his face.

“Damien King isn’t a little boy anymore. He’s a twenty-six year old man who has lost his damn mind. You were just a kid when he went on trial for those murders. You didn’t see him. I looked into those eyes. After that night, he wasn’t an innocent little boy. There’s something dark and unnatural within his soul. He’s a machine for the devil himself. He was a scrawny pre-teen who killed sixteen people, thirteen of which were full grown adults. He did it with a kitchen knife, Aurora. Don’t take his escape lightly. It very much requires a nationwide manhunt and…he’s coming back here.”

He hasn’t spoken a word since that night. Before then, he was a normal kid. He went to and from school and spent a lot of time at home, but I saw him around town. He seemed like a good kid, but good kids don’t do what he did.”

I’m a patient man and one thing patience grants me is the ability to sit and wait for the perfect time to strike. All of my ducks need to be in a perfectly organized row before I can make my move. If I do it too soon, I’ll cut down my time to get to my end goal as quickly as possible. Everyone thinks the notorious Damien King is a mindless zombie, but it’s all an act to get their guard down. They have no clue that I cheek my meds so I’m at full strength when the right time comes. I’ve learned to drool and drop my weight on command and none are the wiser for it. No one suspects a thing. I am the lion laying in wait and the gazelles move around me with no idea that I’m ready to pounce.

I fucking remember everything,

Suddenly, a woman walks out in a black tank top and sleep shorts, holding a coffee mug between her fingers. Without thinking about it at all, I know it deep within my gut. It’s her. Her hair is dyed silver with her dark roots poking through and she’s not a little girl anymore, but I know it all the way down to my soul. It’s my girl, the one who was ripped from my arms kicking and screaming.

Please, remember me, Trixie.

The frat boy wannabe dies tonight, even if I have to scour all of Chippewa Falls for him, burning everything in my wake.

Just be patient, Damien. We’re almost there.

Clutching the strap of my backpack to my shoulder, I get the sense that someone is watching me. I just don’t know who, from where, or why they’re doing it. It doesn’t matter. I’m used to people staring. This is a very conservative area and the simple fact that my hair is a different color than everyone else’s is enough of a reason for people to gawk at me when I walk by. Add on the Day of The Dead makeup, it’s impossible to miss me.

I reach down to retrieve my bag and find it missing. What the ever loving fuck? I just had it before she pushed me. I look up and freeze for a moment when I see a hand extending out the strap of my bag, but behind that I see a man with the lightest pair of striking green eyes I have ever seen in my damn life, offering me a kind smile. He doesn’t speak though, just holds out my bag.

“I bet he fucks like a God,”

“Nope. More like a demon,”

“Stop talking about sex for five minutes.”

I want to play dead and be fucked into the mud by a man covered in blood while holding a knife to my throat. They might run for the hills if they heard about that or how horror movies really get me going during the gore-filled kill scenes. My fantasies only work with one kind of person and I have no idea where they are, but I can only hope they are out there somewhere.

I haven’t been face to face with true evil in fourteen years. I was hoping to delay that encounter, but Damien King had other plans. Maybe he planned this all along. Maybe it was that the right opportunity presented itself.

Trixie. Trixie. Trixie. Trixie. Trixie…

This solidifies everything I already knew in my gut. He’s going after her and he will stop at nothing until he has her in his grasp.

Trailing my fingers up her bare leg, I groan from how much of a relief it is to feel her in any way. My cock hardens in my pants as I smooth my fingers over the swell of her ass. Trixie softly moans in her sleep and her rump pushes back against my palm. It’s a temptation to touch her while she sleeps, to play with her, but that’s one line I’m not crossing yet. She’s the only person on this planet who is safe from my wrath.

She’s right in my grasp, lying helplessly in her bed. I could push her panties to the side and take what belongs to me. I very well could, but I bet she’s tired enough that she would keep sleeping like a baby.

“You said it yourself. Damien King is coming here. What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out that she’s here?” Plenty of things, Mrs. Sullivan. I have a very active imagination when it comes to torturing people who deserve it, like your husband.

“One hundred people.”

She’s mine. Every last inch of her untainted flesh belongs to me.

Her attention is completely on me, exactly how I like it. She’s hanging onto everything, even when I don’t say a single word.

Everyone who took her from me and tried to hide her is running scared. They know I’m coming and I’ll show no mercy. There are no second chances, no pleas that will work. When it comes to this woman, I take no hostages. The streets of Chippewa Falls will be flooded with blood and bones and the sight itself will be fantastic.

I have the irrational need to protect him and I can’t explain where it comes from. All I know is I won’t be his downfall, even if he leaves me in the next few days. I’ll stay silent and keep his identity a secret.

He thrusts all the way in, splitting me in two with the sword between his thighs, and he pins my arms above my head as he waits. I’m just waiting to die from trying to have sex and failing because of all the guys I could’ve taken to my bed, I had to choose the one swinging a damn horse cock.

That’s exactly what Damien King is for this town. He is fear. There’s something to be admired about that, how one person’s name can cause such a basic emotion in everyone who hears it.

This is what happens to those who look at what belongs to me. You have been warned. -Damien King P.S. Happy Halloween

The bathroom door flies open and I spin around in shock as a hooded figure steps inside the bathroom before pulling down their hood, revealing those captivating green eyes that have made me feel things I’ve never felt before. It’s my stranger.

Trixie

I can’t stay in Chippewa Falls and, by now, you realize why. I want you to come with me when I leave. I’ve waited so long to have you, my pretty little dead girl. I won’t leave you behind in this shithole. Yours, Damien King

My cock swells and pulses against my zipper at the thought of how tight she was and how she came all over me. It was so hot seeing her lose control with me. Last night she was in control but today, she was a wild animal begging for what she wanted. My pretty little dead girl loved being my fuck toy.

I killed three kids fourteen years ago but that was different. I was the same age as them and they fucked with Trixie.

One day, I’m going to let her read her dark, dirty book while I fuck her tight cunt.

If he really is Damien King, why the fuck am I still alive? I’ve been alone with him a few times. Hell, he nearly fucked me into a coma twice and other than my pussy being swollen and bleeding the first time, he hasn’t injured me at all. He’s been gentle and sweet, except when his cock is inside me. He becomes a wild fucking animal.

I swear, if he is trying to freak me out, I’m going to cut off his oversized penis and chuck it into the fireplace. This isn’t cool at all.

No matter how dark and twisted it is, I want him to want me. I want him to crave me like I’ve always wanted to be desired. I want to be the final girl, the one in horror movies that make it out alive and become an obsession for the killer to finally get. However, in my head, the horror movie ends differently. It ends with him taking me away from this town and being content just having me.

I nearly shit myself when a masked figure stands in the doorway, the purge LED mask is cloaked by his hoodie and his clothes are covered in blood and the knife in his hand drips it all over the white tile floor. My heart lodges in my throat as I hide behind the shower door. Like that is going to save me. He just killed someone and came straight here afterward.

Am I really destined to be like Sidney from Scream? Is the guy I gave my virginity to trying to kill me?

No one could seem to figure out why, out of everyone he encountered that night, he let her live. He didn’t even want to let her go. He was rather docile before, but when she was ripped from his arms, it took seven men to contain him.

“Bellatrix Rothchild. That’s me, isn’t it?”

“I…I didn’t know. They kept the truth from me. I…I was in that house with you.”