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Object of Obsession	By : Demona_Andariel Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 1808 -:- 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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“Could you get me some camomile tea bags?” Her request as well as her name kept running through his brain. Gretchen. He never thought about her name. Why would he? He didn’t have friends, wouldn’t talk about her, wouldn’t talk to her. If she thought he’d whisper sweet words, or talk dirty to her she was delusional. And yet, he now knew her name. Not that it mattered, it didn’t change things between them.
The sensation of being watched brought him out of his musings. He followed the feeling till his focus landed on a treehouse in the backyard of the house across from where he was stalking. His breathing deepened as his eyes stared back intently at the person who was watching him.
A little boy stared back at him wide-eyed with terror “safe” in his little treehouse. Michael felt amused. Even from afar, he could feel the kid’s rightful fear. His breathing deepened in anticipation as he squeezed the handle of his knife. His brain perked up with excitement, feeding off the kid’s fear.
He wasn’t going to kill the kid. It wasn’t a moral thing. There was just no need. Their fear was easy, and they weren’t much of a chase, much of a game.
“Jeff? Jeff! Where are you?” a woman’s voice shouted.
Michael kept his eyes locked on the little boy who seemed petrified with fear. Was he holding something? Some sort of child’s weapon as comfort, perhaps? How amusing
“Jeffery Sean Amelaner!” the woman yelled as she stormed over to the treehouse.
The moment the kid broke eye contact Michael moved. He watched in fascination from another part of the property, just out of the woman’s sight, but still with a good view of the two.
“Mommy!” the boy cried out as he practically jumped from the treehouse into his mother’s arms.
“Jesus, Jeffery!” she coughed, staggering in an attempt to find her balance.
The child whispered something in her ear, making her swiftly turn around. Her eyes scanned the darkness, looking for Michael. Her arms tightly protectively over her son’s body as she took cautious steps back, making her she was on the lookout for possible danger. How amusing.
She let the boy down and opened the back sliding door. He rushed inside. She didn’t move as quickly. Scanning the darkness for the threat. A crooked smile crossed his lips. She would make an interesting target. Judging by her body language alone she was a fighter. She’d give a good chase. Perhaps another day.
He made a mental note of her house, marking it in his mind to return to before strolling away, into the darkness. He huffed.
“I hope you don’t get to kill anyone today,” her hurried last-minute statement followed by the slam of her door almost made him go to her room for an “apology”. But the killer part in him pulled him away from the house and her. Who was he to deny his other desire? She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d punish her when he got back.
Michael paused beside another house and examined his knife. There was blood on it, but not of a person. He’d killed a dog. He planned to kill the owner, and he had to get the dog out of the way. But the moment the dog was dead he heard a siren. It didn’t frighten him, he had no problem trying to deal with the police. But it made him think, which caused him to wander.
His killing spree was always cut short by meddling do-gooders. And, although it wasn’t a big deal before now he wasn’t quite yet prepared to disappear. He had no idea how things worked and he didn’t need to know. But, if he disappeared she would be “free” of him. He could already see himself returning, stalking, and finding her. Years would have passed and she’d probably be married, and have a family and she wouldn’t want him.
He licked his lips. No, he wasn’t quite yet ready for her to leave his life yet. She’d swallowed his cum without him even forcing her to. It was all on her. She could have spat his cum out to show her disgust, could have glared at him. But her eyes were bright with mischief as she swallowed before they widened in surprise. Why did she do that? It made him rather curious. And he wanted to see her do it again.
Her initiative only confirmed what his mind was suspecting. She wanted him. She kept fighting it, which amused him. But, the way she clutched onto his arm when he slipped his fingers through her labia. It wasn’t to stop him but to hold on. That look she gave him when she leaned back, pressing her body against him, it was a silent begging for him not to stop. She was so slick. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to her room so he could lick her with ease. But, that would require him taking off his mask.
He paused, bringing up his right hand. Much like his recollection of every kill he had made, he could vividly recall her inner wall feeling as he explored her with his fingers. He had been curious, testing how long would it take her to last on her tip-toes before she relented to having his finger in her. It didn’t last nearly as long as he thought it would. But then again, the way she moved and acted, the look in her eyes, it should have told him what was going to happen. And, in the back of his mind he knew. He was just mesmerized. Her muscles tensing, her pussy spasming around his fingers, he needed to know what that felt like around his cock.
There was a bit of curiosity why she wanted the lube. He did rather enjoy the feeling of her hand and how it moved with the lube clearly helping her when she stroked his shaft. He didn’t regret putting some on before fucking her again. The slide-in was amazingly easy and smooth. The unfortunate thing was he didn’t get her to spasm over his cock. But he wasn’t worried, he was able to easily reach his end, maybe next time. There was no rush.
A high pitch whistling sound interrupted his thoughts. He paused in his steps, easily spotting the annoyance. A woman picked up a teapot from a stove and set it to one side. Her movements were easy to follow from the big window she stood in front of. A man, more than likely her husband or boyfriend, snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, making her shriek and then laugh in happiness before they kissed.
He huffed, moving away from that scene. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. He cocked his head as a curious thought ran through his mind. Focus. It took him some time before he finally made it back to the original site. He stilled, pausing in the exact spot he stood in where he had spied the two in the car. There were no cars in Lover’s Lane, no lovers having sex, their lucky day to have avoided him. She probably would consider it her unlucky day.
Little did she know that her car was in his possession. He had it safely hidden away for his use. Unless she assumed since he did give her back her duffle bag that was stored in her car. He didn't need a car, it was just a convenience for him, not something he would use often. He rather liked walking.
He leisurely walked around the scene, although there were no clear markings. His brain was sufficient enough. He huffed. She had accidentally pushed her would-be-lover toward his doom. The young man had been caught unawares and didn’t really put up much of a fight. Instead of trying to fight Michael off, the young man had desperately grabbed at Gretchen as she tried to help him back into the car.
Sure, Michael had surprised the young man, but his fear was his undoing, petrifying him. Michael could still feel his knife easily slide into the man’s chest. A smaller version of the satisfying high and ecstasy that he had received from that kill coursed through his body. He wasn’t sure why. The young man didn’t put up much of a fight. His fake knight’s armor just added to the feeling of disgust at what a simple kill it was. But his enjoyment was almost extra special, extra satisfying.
And then there was Gretchen. She ran kicking in his chase instincts, she fought back despite her fear. She continued to fight back, although her fighting back now was a bit different in nature. His small smile at the enjoyment of their game slipped a little.
Unfortunately, she’d done something he hadn’t seen yet and it bothered him. After fucking her, knowing even she had thoroughly enjoyed herself, her mood had changed. She’d gone from the fighter and resister to almost a shell of her own being. He didn’t like it. And he didn’t know what had brought that on. But for the briefest of moments, his killer side perked up. His knife, so close behind her, easy to grab, easy to use. Seeing the sudden flare of anger burn in her eyes when he touched her cheeks appeased him. She was still a fighter, still a resister, and still wouldn’t make it easy for him, not the broken shell that had momentarily taken over her.
A smell caught his attention. Michael turned around and headed into the woods. He didn’t have to go very far. The strong smell of a decomposing body permeated the air. He paused then crouched, far enough away for the smell not to overpower him, but close enough to see. No one had found the young man yet. It wasn’t that Michael had hidden the body particularly well either. His goal in dumping the body into the woods was just to give him a little bit of extra time to kill people before all hell broke loose. But, he had expected the body to be found already. Did anyone even miss him? Did anyone miss her? Did she have a family? He frowned.
He didn’t care. So what if she had a family? They wouldn’t find her, and if they did he’d only get her back. He had no problem killing her family the same way he’d killed her boyfriend. She was his now.
Idiot, he thought as he stood up and left the body in the forest. How could a small thing like her put up more of a fight than her strong, fit boyfriend?
The scars on Gretchen’s-
Michael stilled as her name popped into his head. Gretchen. His breathing deepened. No. Do not think it.
The scars on her stomach, the ones not made by him, were bad but extremely attractive. It just proved that she was a fighter. She’d survived something that clearly had been traumatic. Traumatic enough to make her self-conscious about them. Sure, they weren't made by him, but he still liked them. Maybe it was because of the way she fought back when touched them. Her resistance. Yeah, he liked that about her. The little things he kept discovering while dealing with her kept adding more locks to the door that would have freed her from him.
The sun started to peak out, and his body pulled him back home. Damn, it was a long way back. The last time he'd gone home he had used her car. Oh well, she wasn't going anywhere.

Nathan paced back and forth in his apartment, the sun was barely rising but he was wide awake. What was wrong with her? It was as if she purposefully decided to leave no trace as to where she’d gone. Her bank account hadn’t been touched other than the monthly withdrawals to pay her rent and utilities to her apartment in Chicago. At least she would have been kind enough to forward her mail to her new address. Nope! She hadn’t forwarded it anywhere. She’d put a hold on her mail. Three months. Three full months had passed since she’d done it.
His eyes shifted to his cellphone. He needed to call his father. He didn’t want to. Her phone had started going to voicemail shortly after he visited her apartment. His father would soon call him because of that. He preferred the thought that she had blocked him over her being in trouble. He rubbed his left shoulder. She wasn’t dead. He knew that. She was too stubborn to die. Denial. God, she was good at that. She could probably deny her way back to life. Just refuse to believe she was dead.
He glanced at his cellphone again. It had only been two days since he’d contacted his “friends” to find her. As much as he wanted results quickly enough, he knew it took time. “Just hang on, Gretch,” he mumbled, although he wasn’t entirely sure she was in trouble. A part of him still hoped she’d found someone and just wanted to fuck him in peace or something before reappearing as if nothing had happened.
Her twenty-third birthday was coming up. And whether she liked it or not, he was going to find her before then. She had to have said something before she “disappeared”. A clue, somewhere. There were hundreds of Brandons in the world and it would take some time to find the face to match her drawing. Getting the last known location for her cellphone was still in the works. He had some strings, but not nearly as many as his father did.
“Fuck, Gretch. Where’d you go?” he growled. He shifted through her mail, tossing the spam letters onto the ground. His body grew cold when he saw a familiar package. “Shit, fuck, shit! Please, Gretch. Don’t let this be what I think it is.” He tentatively reached out and picked up the package. Tapping it with his fingers for a moment, he willed himself to open it, dumping out the contents onto the table.
“Fuck! Gretchen!” he yelled at nothing. A very familiar pill bottle landed on the table. He picked up the full three months' worth of medication with his left hand shaking his head. She had to have expected to return back home before running out. She knew how important it was for her to take them. She could get away with taking one a day for a short while, but if she quit, stopped altogether, she would lose her god-damn fucking mind.
He absentmindedly rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand as a throbbing pain pulsed through it. What if she’d already lost her mind? Bringing his right hand down, he tapped his fingers on the table.
“Fuck,” he whispered again. He needed to involve his father. He didn’t want to. He was going to be so pissed. But he had better connections than Nathan. He’d be able to find her quickly if she somehow wound up in a mental hospital for being such an idiot. She always complained about the pills, hating them, saying she didn’t feel right. But she had to take them.
Grabbing his cellphone, he dialed his father’s number and held the phone up to his ear. He steeled himself. There was no going back. His father needed to know.
“Hello, Nathan,” his father answered. Fuck! He knew. The tone of his voice already had a firmness to it.
“Hey, dad,” he replied, hating how soft his own voice was. He felt like a small child about to be reprimanded.
“Where is she?”
Despite preparing himself, Nathan still felt chills run through his body. “I… I don’t know,” he replied. “I just found out a couple days ago. I’ve been sending my guys out. But, she did a really good job of practically disappearing. Only real clue I got is this drawing she made of a guy named Brandon. I’ll send you a copy.”
“Okay,” his father replied. “Anything else?”
“It’s been three months,” Nathan said. He felt like a failure.
His father let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, well, I know I talked to her a little over a week ago, and she was alright then.”
“Same,” Nathan said in agreement.
“Anything else?”
Nathan stared at the full bottle of pills. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “I’ve got a full bottle of her pills in my hand.”
There was a long pause before his father let out a heavy sigh.
“You don’t think-” Nathan started to ask, but his father interrupted him.
“You know she’s done this once before, Nate,” his father said with another heavy sigh. “I’ll search hospitals. Do you have an idea of where she has gone?”
Nathan shook his head, even though his father couldn’t see him. “Not yet,” he said. “I’ve got my contacts on it.”
“Good.” The way he said it made Nathan frown. He wasn’t sure why.
“I’ll let you know if I find her in a hospital so you can go to her with her pills.”
“Okay,” Nathan replied. “I’ll let you know if I find her, or at least what city or town she could have gone to.”
“Alright,” his father said.
Nathan’s shoulder sagged slightly. “Sorry, dad.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“It’s alright, son,” his father replied. “Last time we were able to stop her. This time we weren’t so lucky. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
He nodded in agreement even though his father couldn’t see him.
“Check her apartment again, Nate. She’s pretty good at hiding things when she wants to.”
“Well, her apartment was pretty empty, but I’ll give it another thorough check.” He shifted uncomfortably as a small silence engulfed their conversation. “Don’t worry, dad. We’ll find her alive.”
“I know,” his father replied. “She’s too stubborn to die.”
They both let out a pained chuckle.
“I’m going to make my calls now. Goodbye, son. Love you.”
“Bye, dad. Love you, too.” Nathan set his cellphone on the table and stared at the pills again. He should have called his father the moment he found out she was missing. He had wasted two days. “We’re going to find you soon, Gretchen,” he said, clenching the bottle. “You’ll be okay.”
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Object of Obsession