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@m1chaelmyers
WHATEVER I WAS . . . independent & private, original intepretation of michael myers, also known as the shape, from the halloween franchise. mostly headcanon based, with some influence from the movies, as well as taking inspiration from fear street: 1984. written by ash, they them, 25+. must be 21+ to follow & interact. sideblog to cur4tor. intertwined forever with @c1ndyberman. THEY DIDN'T WANT ME.
cindy thought she could have been a leaver once. when she was bright and shiny, the summer just before everything went bad. in the months just before love had taken root in her heart she had dreamed of train tickets, late nights, and going where the wind took her. of the freedom she could feel outside the suffocating gaze of their hometown. of who she might be if she had an actually shot at it. cindy hoped that there was a version where that did happen. or was she always destined to grow where she was planted? she doesn't look at him but gives a nod that is so small that if you weren't looking you'd miss it. " guess not. "
it feels strange when he says her name. it doesn't come out as smoothly as it used to, instead it seemed almost hesitant to her. that hurt worse than anything else because it was evidence of how much had changed. she shrugged after a moment. " can barely feel the pain now. " she said. it had been their all along. even before the incident. in many ways it felt like it was apart of the dna of who cindy was. it informed all of her decisions - even this one. " you can't even soothe that micheal, not really. " it lived where she lived. cindy knew that she couldn't outrun the feeling so she was trying her best to figure out how to live with it. " you were one of the few to try though, but you don't have to do that anymore. "
it's a slow turn of her head to glass behind them. she doesn't trust her own reflection, micheals' face reflected just above her shoulder. it was like a funhouse mirror, not quite right, not quite there. " they told me they wouldn't. " she said quietly. " i had asked. " cindy didn't want to cause him anymore hardship. from her own stints around doctors she had grown to have a healthy distrust of their intentions. especially for the doctors who gravitated to places like this, who wanted to dissect people like him. " but they probably didn't keep to that. wanted me to ask you this questionarie too - i said no - "
she sat in the silence at his last remark. cindy could feel the scar burn beneath her blouse and it felt like being cut all over again. " where would we go ? " she finally asked. " if we could. if we could leave here," she gestured around the room, " or here. " cindy added, pointing to michael's own chest. " if things had gone different. "
‘they get off on lying,’ where someone might have stated this with a seething sort of sarcasm, michael’s words were matter of fact, dry and low in his throat. the doctors and nurses alike rarely told the whole truth, not with medications, not with procedures, not with day to day recollections of the endless time within the walls of the sanitarium. he’d experienced the whispered words the staff thought he couldn’t hear, spilling lies about michael being evil, about the look in his eyes, about how he would kill every single one of them to get out of there. perhaps the last part wasn’t a lie. though he had no intention of trying to escape, at the moment.
if things had turned out differently, she said, as if there was ever a timeline in which they could. michael had met so many people in his lifetime, yet the only person he’d ever cared about was cindy. that had to mean fate existed, at least in some aspect. and if it did exist, than that meant the narrative would always end up where it had: michael putting a blade through cindy’s chest, and her coming back to him, anyway. as little as michael ever wanted to explain himself, say why he was the way that he was, be psychoanalyzed beyond recognition, he often wondered what cindy would say if he did tell her why he’d try to kill ziggy. there was no remorse in the recesses of his mind, but he did understand why it happened. though, despite cindy wanting that explanation, he wouldn’t give it to her. not now that they were strangers, again.
he stared at the double mirror for a moment longer, knowing without knowing that he was looking directly at doctor loomis, before eyes returned to cindy. the same look she always carried was there, sad but determined, lost but stern. eyes that carried him through most nights back at camp, so long ago. ‘we talked about it, a few times,’ michael murmured after a long pause, remembering long nights of gazing at stars and mentioning places that they could go, together. away from the good or bad side of town. get jobs, rent the smallest apartment they could find, try to be normal. they would have failed, of course, but they would be together. people ran away from shadyside all the time. but again, the universe had other ideas for them. ‘do you really think we ever would have gotten that far?’
in front of him she didn't have to be perfect. it had been an image cindy projected so seamelssly that she forgot how heavy it weighed on her. the pressure she was putting on herself had caused more harm than not. so desperate to get an opportunity to do more with her life than wear in the barstool at their local pub. and when you were like her , poor, and without parental assistance, it meant you had to want it twice a bad. it had been unexpected but camp - while a job - was a reprieve from it all.
mostly thanks to micheal. cindy set her tray down next to him, throwing her napkin onto her lap. it is wordless, and almost automatic, but she find his dessert on her own tray. she smiled and bumped him lightly with her shoulder. " you have to promise to take at least a bite - i want you to enjoy it too. " she said, so softly that it almost sounded conspiratorial.
he’d thought she was the most perfect girl in the world, noticing her ironed and wrinkleless shorts, her well kempt hair, and the way she held herself with so much resolve as she paraded around the camp. but maybe michael had a way of seeing the real side of people, or maybe cindy could see that he wasn’t going to judge her for a damn thing, because she opened up to him about her life and situation before michael had said three words to her. so she wasn’t perfect - she nor her family had any money, she didn’t seem to have many real friends, and she fought with her sister more than he’d seen anyone do before - but that somehow made her more perfect to him. the only thing michael wanted was for her to stop trying so hard, but it had never been his place to say so. showing her how to might be harder, but they always said actions spoke louder than words.
‘i’ll enjoy watching you enjoy it,’ the boy murmured, pushing his fork around the bland mashed potatoes on his tray. he’d never felt that hungry, which might explain why he was rail thin, and the camp food didn’t do much to appeal to his appetite. he’d take a bite of the sweet corn then turn his face so he could see cindy, hair falling around his temples. the way she nudged his shoulder was far too friendly. he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, besides the way his stomach turned a bit. ‘i’m not hungry, anyway,'
sitting, face to face, staring, waiting for one of them blinked. neither of them did. he knew why hellboy was there. doctor loomis had tried anything and everything to get michael to talk, trying to understand why michael did every violent thing he'd ever done. he couldn't remember the last time he spoke. years, maybe. before he tried to kill his sister for the first time, to be sure. he didn't intend on speaking now, not when his doctor was watching them through the two sided mirror. he simply stared. watched hellboy watch him. never making a sound. @stonehanded.
from the deepest shadows of the street, standing half hidden by a trunk of a tree, was what the doctors and media called evil incarnate. the shape - dressed in a jumpsuit and breathing through holes in his mask, gazing out through its eyes, which landed heavily on leon, standing on the other side of the street. michael hadn't found enough information about the man. he only knew he was there to consult, or help, or trap him back into the asylum they were supposed to lock him up in for the rest of his life. regardless, the shape watched, lingering close enough to see leon, hear him, but far enough that he shouldn't be seen or heard, himself. @attckdog.
the devil, in all his glory, was just a sad little boy. older, michael may be, but the ordeals of his childhood stuck with him, no matter how many years he added onto his life. he'd grown accustomed to being alone, understanding that he'd be that way for the rest of his life. cindy coming along had been unexpected, her sticking around, even more so. the emotions she brought out in him were new, frightening enough to cause discomfort within his mind and body, though not enough to make him walk away from her. he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes as she saw down beside him, taking another moment of comfortable silence before he took the dessert form his camp tray and passed it along to hers, instead. @c1ndyberman.
starter call. like this post and i'll write you 1 - 3 paragraphs.
she couldn't imagine him dead. not even in her mind's eye. cindy felt better when she knew he was breathing. which is why the words felt so sharp. cindy lowers her gaze to avoid his. it was stupid of her to have come. a part of her knew that. knew that others were probably right about the way to move on. it was her that insisted on being stuck. and she feels the familiar ache of what once was. she didn't know why she always wanted to put the pieces of the broken parts of her life back together. she had tried it first with her parents. and then her image at school. she just couldn't stand to look at something broken if she had a modicum of power to fix it.
a hollow laugh comes from her. " i'll have to tell her you agree. " of course cindy wasn't going to do anything of the sort, because then she would have to admit that she'd seen him. that a part of her soft bruised heart wanted to repair something. " you've always done that. " she said quietly. " assume something i would have never thought. " she notices the ring on her pointer finger, nervously twisting it before looking up. " i've never not believed you. you think i ever bought into how they painted it in the media? no. because i know you micheal. " then after a moment. " or knew. " she couldn't be quite sure which one it was.
cindy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. she could feel the tiredness of the day settle into her shoulders. too exhausted to hold the tenseness. she relaxed a fraction, resigned to this being a mistake. “ know all too well what being left feels like that i guess i just don't have the heart to do it. “ it tasted bitter on her tongue. like a dig against herself for the way she let others in. cindy leaned back in her chair, wishing that there was a way she could avoid the glare from the fluorescents. it was so bright, it made her want to shrink. " we were friends once. " she said softly. more than friends but that was then. she isn't sure he cared about that anymore. perhaps the ghosts of who they were had but the mangled people who sat here now were far from that image. " it's just - are you okay - in here ? i thought if i came i might finally understand why - or how - " cindy stopped herself. in all her years in therapy it had never fully gotten through to her. understanding did always heal the wound. she shook her head slowly. " you know what - don't answer that. any of it. it's silly. " she said with a deep breath. " it was silly of me to come. i should have known better. "
@m1chealmyers / continued from here
most people wanted to live a long life, die of old age, surrounded by those who love them. family, friends, lovers, neighbors. clerks from the grocery stores they frequented, classmates they attended school with decades ago. everyone in the world wanted to be loved, remembered for the good things they did when they were alive. all normal things to wish for, all ordinary ideals to crave. from a young age, michael had been shown that he'd never have any of those things. his family had turned on him as soon as his baby sister had been born, neglect taking hold of his shoulders and leading him to a path darker than any child should walk on. no one of sane mind would approach him to become friends, and his neighbors had been scared enough of him to double check that they locked their doors at night. as for lovers, well - the only one he had ever known was sitting across from him again, and he wouldn't kid himself with thinking she'd still be there when he died. that meant, the only memories anyone would ever have of michael myers are the headlines calling him pure evil. no understanding of why he turned out this way, because he refused to tell such a drawn out story. not that anyone would believe him now, anyway.
cindy talked and he listened. it had been like that for a long time, longer than they had loved each other. she hadn't changed much, stream of consciousness leaving her with hope that any anxieties might exit with the words she spoke, though that never seemed to happen. he could answer her questions easily - there is no okay in here, there is only drifting, only silence, only feeling like a fish trapped in a too small tank while eyes stare at you from every glass corner. he blamed his family for the way that he had turned out, but no excuse was good enough for the thoughts he'd had throughout his life, gruesome and altogether violent. but she asked him not to, so he wouldn't. but he did watch her. listen to her. waited until she was done, until she decided it was a mistake to see him, and then he spoke again, voice somewhat hoarse.
'we're never the ones doing the leaving, are we,' it was less of a question, more of a statement. a fact. neglected, forgotten, used and thrown away. their lives were vastly different, neither of them were stupid enough to think otherwise, but they were fundamentally the same. michael half expected cindy to stand, to finally leave, walk away from him for the last time. when she didn't, he thought she might understand a fraction of why he'd done everything that he had thus far. 'i have answers, but not the ones you're looking for. i can't ease whatever lingering pain you still have, cindy,' name was said with hesitation, feeling somehow foreign and all too familiar on his tongue. 'i'm not the one who called. and they'll use you again and again to try to get more information out of me,' eyes glanced at the two way glass, knowing his doctor was on the other side watching them. when they landed on cindy again, they were unrecognizably soft. 'but we don't leave. even if you go now, i'll still always be there,' finger lifted to point at cindy's chest, at her heart, before he went quiet.
@mothflamed.
