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Object of Obsession	By : Demona_Andariel Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 1807 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Halloween movie series, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The wind played with Gretchen’s loose hair, tangling it more as she ran. She wrapped her arms around herself. She was wearing a much too thin dress considering the cold October weather. There had been no time to change. She had to get there! In the distance, she spotted two figures. One of them picked up the other and slammed a dagger through his chest. She screamed.
Gretchen sat up with a start. Her heart pounding in her chest. Tentatively, she placed her hand near her heart, pressing down as if that would calm her. It did for a moment. She closed her eyes and hummed softly an old tune.
Brandon! The images of him being pulled out of the car before being stabbed by Michael Myers ran through her mind. Michael had killed him. And then he had focused his attention on her and-
She straightened and felt her chest again then quickly checked her body. No stab wounds, no blood. The back of her head hurt, but she wasn’t dead. At least, she didn’t feel dead. Her eyes slowly scanned her surroundings. It was hard to see. There was barely any light
She didn’t recognize the place. She was laying in the front room of an unfamiliar house. There was a long hallway before her. Towards the back, she was sure there were stairs leading up. To her right was a living room and behind that, she wasn’t quite sure what that room was. But to her left was a dining room and back further was the kitchen. The four rooms connected into the main hall.
She slowly stood up, brushing herself as she did. Her clothes were still damp from the rain. Goosebumps popped up as a shiver ran through her. Wet, cold, a little cranky but mostly scared. Had someone rescued her before Michael could finish her off? But if they had, why put her in the front room by the door? Why not set her on the perfectly viable couch that she could easily spot in the living room?
She opened her mouth to call out to her possible rescuer. But then her senses tingled. Something was wrong. Someone was watching her. She didn’t dare turn her back to the hallway even though she didn’t see anyone as she stepped back until she felt the front door. Her right hand moved desperately searching for the door knob as her eyes darted around trying to find the reason for her panic. Finding the door knob, she turned and twisted. It didn’t move. Clearly locked. She searched for a way to unlock it but found nothing.
Turning back to face the house, her heart sank to her feet. Michael was standing in the corner of the viewable kitchen. Watching her movements. She could barely see his silhouette that was mirrored through a glass door. But he was there. Why in the world had he brought her here? Was this some sort of sick game?
He moved.
Gretchen didn’t wait as she ran into the living room, opposite Michael’s location. Her eyes searched for any kind of weapon. Shit, she thought. There was only one way out, the way she’d run in. It didn’t take long for her to realize that there was no weapon in the room. She quickly turned and ran to the dining room, running straight into Michael.
He looked down at her and she looked up at him. His knife was over his head. She pushed away from him as he slashed at her. A sharp sting ran through her arm. She stumbled and landed on the ground. Michael moved with determination, he knew he had her.
Gretchen kicked out a chair from the dining table toward Michael. He didn’t expect it. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the other side of the table to keep some distance between them. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her head. Michael moved slowly to one side, forcing her to move more into a corner.
His breathing was labored with excitement and amplified through his mask. She desperately searched for some kind of escape. The windows all had bars on them. Michael seemed to be enjoying their little game of cat and mouse. She had to find a way to get the upper hand. She couldn’t match him one on one. He was too big and strong. She had to outsmart him. Michael moved towards her around the table.
Maybe, she could escape upstairs. She threw a chair at him, momentarily distracting him. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it was enough for her to be able to run up the stairs. His silhouette was by the front entrance before she lost visual.
She threw open the first door to her left. Bathroom. Fuck! First door on her right was a room. Filled with junk, it was the perfect room to try to hide in. She closed the door and locked it. Not that it would keep him out for long. But maybe it’d exhaust him enough that she would have an advantage. She looked around, quickly trying to come up with some sort of plan. There were bars on the window. No way to escape that way.
Get the upper hand, disarm him. If I must, kill him. She ran towards the closet and slipped on a small rug. There was no traction to keep it in place.
Her body screamed in pain as she crashed to the ground. There wasn’t time for this. She mentally pushed the pain back as she limped toward the closet. Opening the door, she closed it loudly before, quietly and carefully going to the other side of the room.
Michael banged against the door. She bit her lip to keep from moaning in pain. Michael hit the door with more force, breaking it open. She wrapped her hands over her mouth to cover her breathing.
Michael walked in, taking a look around. His eyes were immediately on the closet door. She waited, tucked in a corner. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. So loud it was a wonder he didn’t hear it.
Knock him on his ass, get the knife, stab him. For a moment, she saw her hands full of blood, a knife in them, and a body by her knees.
Michael stopped near the closet. The rug at his feet! Bursting from her hiding spot, she lunged for the rug and pulled with all her strength. He spun at the noise she made, helping her get him unbalanced. He hadn’t expected it and fell back with a crash. His knife flew out of his hands and landed close to her own. She grabbed it and jumped onto his chest. She had to kill him. It was the only way. She couldn’t let him recover and kill her.
Without another thought, she brought the blade down on him. Her whole body stopped. The blade was positioned just over his heart, all she had to do was push it in. Her hand shook uncontrollably, she couldn’t do it. Something deep inside her just wouldn’t let her kill him. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was doomed. How could she not kill him to save her life?
Michael grabbed her wrist and twisted her hand, effortlessly disarming her. She cried out as he easily switched their positions. Her whole body hurt as she landed on the hard wooden floor with a thud. He was over her before she could think, both of his legs on either side of her.
“No,” she cried out, shaking her head as her fighting spirit returned. She struggled, moving her hands in front of herself and pushing his chest as if her strength could get him off her. Her eyes caught his through his mask. They were filled with mirth. He was enjoying this.
His free hand caught her wrists and he pushed them back over her head. She let out another cry as she tried to struggle. Kicking her feet out. Maybe if she kicked him in the balls she’d have another chance to escape. But he was too high up for her to hurt him. His eyes twinkled as if he were smiling. He had her. They both knew it. Why in the world was he taking so long to kill her? He lowered the knife towards her heart. She knew tears were streaming down her face from frustration. Sure, she had visions of possibly having sex, but not of her being killed to warn her? He had allowed her to live long enough to play his fucking game of cat and mouse. Why her? Was he bored the way he was killing people? It didn’t matter. Summoning her fighting spirit, she glared up at him in defiance. She was afraid, she didn’t want to die. But if she did, at least she’d die showing her contempt.
She sucked in her breath, trying to sink her chest away from the knife as he slowly tortuously lowered it. Finally, he stopped, the tip of the blade pierced her skin, making her bleed. She didn’t wiggle, too scared to harm herself more. A little line of blood seeped from her wound, trickling down her chest to her neck. For some odd reason, her breasts caught her attention. During their struggle, her strapless shirt had ridden down. At least she wasn’t completely topless, but she was close, her nipples threatening to pop out at any second. She couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of her family finding her half-naked. No underwear. In a terribly flimsy slightly slutty princess costume.
Michael's eyes followed the blood trail. His breathing, already heavy and excited from his little game, changed ever so slightly. Raising his eyes up, she watched as he slowly took in their position. He held her arms firmly over her head. She followed his eyes as he moved them down, stopping for a moment on her breasts as if he were surprised that they were there. Lifting his knife off her heart, he slowly moved it towards her throat
“Don’t,” she breathed as she started to wiggle a little bit. He tightened his hand on her wrists, shooting pain down her arms as her wrist bones rubbed each other. She let out a small cry and arched her back to try to relieve the stress and stinging feeling in her arms.
He loosened his grip and she relaxed a little. As much as she didn't want to show fear, she couldn't help it. His actions confused her. She had no idea what he wanted or what he was going to do. She searched for his eyes in his mask, but could only see a glint. What was he thinking? Slowly, and oddly, carefully he moved his knife down her bare skin till he reached her top. “No,” she whispered and let out a small cry as her sudden breath allowed the knife to nick her. She looked back at him. Terrible knowledge filled her mind. She was in charge of her own injuries. The knife was incredibly sharp, He didn't look at her, moving the blade dangerously close to her skin, but his goal was to cut her top open. She gulped trying to keep her panicked breaths under control. The knife didn’t have to go far as it cut the tight, flimsy thin fabric that made up the top of her costume. She’d chosen a costume that was just a little bit smaller to entice Brandon on purpose. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. The fabric slipped away revealing her naked breasts. The cool air caused her nipples to perk up in response. Michael moved his knife away from her. Was he ogling her? His grip on her wrists loosened as did his grip on the knife.
This is your chance! Her brain commanded. With renewed strength, she surprised him by slipping out of his grip and grabbing the knife. Cutting herself a little bit from her effort, but she didn’t care as she swung it wildly in front of her. He rolled away, watching her. Keeping his knife pointing at him with her right hand, she covered her breasts with her left arm.
“I will kill you,” she said, her voice shaking as she stood up, not daring to take her eyes off him. It was a lie. As if reading her correctly, he rushed at her, twisting her arm so that she dropped the knife. “No!” she cried out, trying in vain to keep the control on her side, but failing. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him so that her back was pressed against his chest. She felt his hardon pressed against her.
Oh shit. In a panic, she tried to push him away, careful not to grab at his crotch, but he only pulled her tighter. She gasped as his left hand cupped her breast. In slight need, her pussy tensed. She bit her lip, trying to keep her body in check. Looking straight ahead, she saw a mirror on the wall. Her top covered her middle but her breasts were completely free. His left arm crossed over to cup her right breast. And then his right hand slid down her belly, his fingers quickly dug through her skirt and underwear before she could stop him.
“Wait,” she gasped, grabbing his right arm with her two hands in a desperate attempt to stop his powerful arm from proceeding any further. To her surprise, he growled. Leaving her breast, he used his left arm to control hers so that he could continue his assault. She could only watch helplessly through the mirror.
“Please, n-” she couldn’t finish her begging. Her chest hitched as a brief electric pulse traveled through her body as two of his fingers slid through her labia and brushed her clit. Her body quivered ever so slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was fear of what was to come or anticipation.
Michael stopped. She could hear his breathing deepen. He touched her again and she whimpered. This was so wrong. She could feel a tingle between her legs as her pussy started to get wet. There was still some fight left in her. She moved back, trying to get away from his assaulting fingers as he playfully tried to figure out what kind of button he’d discovered that caused her to make different sounds. Sounds that his primal brain understood.
Her movements only caused her to rub up against his hard-on and he let out a groan. She was stuck between his fingers rubbing her clit or herself rubbing against his hard-on. There was no escaping what was going to happen. She was out of options. Wasn’t he a killer? She’d researched him before, curious about the myth of Michael Myers. He wasn’t a rapist. He’d never been one. He was always a killer. So why her?
It was almost as if he knew he’d won. He let go of her arms and returned his left hand to massage her breast. She couldn’t help but let out a little moan as his fingers grazed her skin. Her primal mind telling her this was right.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been in this same position. She was against having full-on penis in vagina sex because of her vision, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try experimenting in other ways. She closed her eyes. Her mind, trying to imagine Brandon in Michael’s stead. After all, she was supposed to lose her virginity to Brandon. But Brandon’s hands were smoother than Michael’s. And for whatever reason, the callouses on Michael’s hands just added more sensations for her.
His hand slipped a little bit further down and she felt one of his fingers enter her. She involuntarily moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Her body seemed to gain a mind of its own as she felt her legs try to close around his hand as if to keep him trapped or get him to stop? She wasn’t sure anymore. Her primal brain was ready. It wanted him. She could feel that. But why? He was a murderer, a killer! He tried to kill her. He killed Brandon in front of her. And yet, a dirty part of her mind welcomed him as if she were some primitive and he’d won her in combat like some sort of prize. What was wrong with her?
Yes , the little voice in her head that was hers and yet not hers hummed. Her left hand clasped his thigh as her right hand grabbed his arm. Not to stop him but for leverage. He was building something inside of her, a heat in her core that she wanted to explode over her. She let out a louder moan this time, slowly grinding up and down.
She heard something, a huff, a snuff, a laugh? Whatever it was, it snapped her out of her euphoria that he had started to build her towards. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she felt ashamed and disgusted. There was only one thing in her mind that she thought she could do. She went limp.
She slipped through his arms, hitting the hard floor. Not sure what he was going to do, she quickly turned to face him, scooting back till she hit the bed frame. He was staring back at her. Hands in front of him, but he didn’t move. She could see his chest heaving as he breathed heavily. Her hazel eyes met his blue ones. Abruptly, he picked up his knife and left the room.
She sat on the floor shaking as she crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself . What the fuck was that about?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael stormed down the stairs, frustrated with his own emotions. Frustrated? Emotions? Him?! He squeezed the handle of his knife for comfort. He should go back up there and kill her. Drive the knife through her heart, and watch as the life left her eyes. That would put him back to normal wouldn’t it? His hardened cock started to go down, much to his relief. He paused at the front door and looked up towards the stairs.
All he wanted was to play a little game of chase. He was going to kill her. But, he wanted to see her run around his home, desperately looking for a way out as he stalked her. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes and finally, when he had his fill of her panic and terror, he’d kill her. He liked the way she’d tried to escape him in the rain, the panic, terror, but also there was some rage in her eyes. He was curious what she’d do in his own little hell hole. The old Myers house they were in belonged to his grandfather. It had been abandoned long before he was alive. He remembered hearing his mother talking about it. Wanting to sell it, but his dad refused.
Michael wasn’t sure how things worked. All he knew was there were times he seemed to be conscious of his surroundings. His family home was far too dangerous to stay in. So he ended up in the old one. No one seemed to know about it, and it helped that his grandfather hated visitors. The old man had bars installed in all the windows and doors. With an extra layer of protection, he put boards over all the windows. It made the house extra dark, which Michael didn’t mind. It was rather soothing. He had imagined bringing one of his would-be victims to the place. See how he liked chasing them in a more controlled space. There was no escaping him. He had the only key to the outside.
Michael felt his knife tap his leg. An unnecessary movement as were his thoughts. His resolve to kill her began to strengthen as he took one step towards the stairs.
His mind recalled the image of her blood dripping down her chest to her neck. The smell of it was enticing, but something about their position had changed his little game of cat and mouse to something else. Seeing her breasts rise up and down, feeling her body pressed against her, and her rubbing against him to try and get away, only to excite him more. Eve the sounds she involuntarily made when his other mind started to explore her. He felt another kind of ecstasy. He’d seen people having sex before, even killed some before they did the deed, while and after. But sex never interested him. He got his euphoria from stalking and killing people.
His body tensed as he felt her phantom body quivering in his arms. For the first time in his life, his mind started to send him dirty images. Daring him to do things he’d never bothered to dream of before. She was a slut after all, wasn’t she? Why else was she dressed the way she was? Why else? He did find her fucking that guy in her car.
Far back in his mind, something taunted him to kill her already. Was sex better than seeing her blood on his knife? Hearing her last breath? Feeling his knife enter her body as smoothly as his cock could. Watch her face change from living to dead. But then another part of his brain wondered what it would be like to fuck her. Both. He could do both. Walk up there, fuck her then kill her.
He looked down at his knife and his hand. It was still wet from fingering her. For once, he didn't want to do something he'd regret. Did he feel regret? No, he was too confused right now to deal with her. Making up his mind, he opened the front door and locked it behind him. He had the only key. She wouldn’t be able to escape. He’d deal with her when he got back.
As he moved away from the house, his mind began to focus on one thing. The emotions he’d felt moments ago evaporated as if they never existed. He had heard some people say he was on a mission, for Satan or some evil being. But really, he just enjoyed killing people.
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Object of Obsession