A low groan emanated from the killers chapped lips. His injured leg made it difficult to move. He couldn't stay near the campground. He had scavenged the food that remained after slaughtering the group. So, Michael found refuge in a cave. They had put up a fight that he wasn't expecting. Warm blood seeped from his wound. The memory of (Y/n) fixing him up flitted through his dark mind. The part of him that still clung to the final shreds of humanity within his heart yearned for their comforting care and touch. Warm sunlight dared not to touch the inside of the dark cold cave he sat in. He didn't deserve that warm sunlight, not after how he betrayed his human.
No tears fell, no sobs wracked his body. His emotions were held back by those tendrils of the Shape. It wanted full control as it had for the majority of this body's life. Michael pushed the thoughts of betrayal away as he tore open a bag of chips from the campsite. He liked the saltiness and crunch and for a moment (Y/n's) smiling face flashed in his mind. They always made sure he had food, good, delicious food. Maybe he would never taste their cooking again. Mindlessly he ate the chips, they tasted hollow compared to when he was with his human. The killer hadn't realized how much that single human had affected such small seemingly insignificant parts of life, until now.
He slammed his fist against the solid ground. The shape whispered in his mind. It whispered dark words to drag him further and further from the light that was your memory. It told him you had abandoned and forgotten him. It even conjured up a mental image of you being happy that he was gone. After all, he was a burden to their life, he thought. A killer living with a mere human. They couldn't have friends over, go out for long vacations, and had to pay for two people on a single person's income.
He continued to eat while his mind swirled. Would his human dare to go looking for him? Were they even his human anymore or had they truly abandoned him. Everyone betrayed and abandoned him. Ever since he was a young child people took his trust and threw it in the trash as if it was nothing. Memories from childhood of his parents fighting, ignoring him, pushing him to the side flooded his mind. He even tried to trust Dr. Loomis at first before realizing the man was obsessed with making his patient out to be the embodiment of evil. He was just a child, a traumatized child.
An almost growl like noise came from his throat, rage at his own thoughts ripped through his body. 'Kill, kill, kill' the Shape chants in the background of his cluttered thoughts. Without realizing it he had stood up and nearly destroyed the chip bag. He stalked out of the cave; the Shape had won again.
