Where in the hell is she? D.J. thought as he anxiously sat on the bed toying with his cell phone.

It had been nearly a half hour since Marissa went to check in, insisting she would only be ‘five, ten minutes at most’.

With each passing minute, the reality of the situation began to set in. D.J. was being stood up. Again. And it wasn’t the first time Marissa did that to him. Or the second.

Why do I even bother anymore? D.J. wondered, reaching for the remote and switching on the TV. As the small, wall-mounted television came to life, D.J. began to channel surf, finding nothing but a bunch of late-night infomercials on nearly every station.

He saw everything from a tall, muscle-bound jock using a Bowflex to an elderly couple watching the sunset from their own respective bath tubs, promoting some blue pill. God, I’m so sick of the dick commercials, D.J. shrugged. If Marissa would ever get her ass back here, I’ll show her what really happens in a bathtub.

With a smirk, D.J. finally found a decent channel to watch—MTV. Old reliable. Even though they barely played music videos anymore, it was better than nothing.

He knew MTV's ‘After Hours’ was on and all they played was music videos, but he was absolutely stunned that they were actually playing a song he liked, DMX's “Where the Hood At?” blasting through the speakers.

After the song was over, D.J. felt a little rejuvenated. Listening to DMX always had that affect on him. “Fuck this,” he groaned, thinking out loud. If Marissa wants to piss around again, I'm going to see what’s up with Mandy.

With that thought in mind, D.J. stepped out into the silent hallway and started to head back toward the main corridor. He took about three steps forward when he heard a loud crash come roaring from the eastern stairwell.

D.J. reacted quickly, rushing to the staircase in a couple of seconds. When he got there and passed through the doors, he found it completely empty. What the hell was that? He thought, stepping down the first couple of stairs before immediately finding the answer to his question.

Mounted on the wall was a box of broken glass, with shards of it spread across the floor. Etched across it in maroon were the words, ‘In Case Of Emergency, Break Glass’. Since the glass was broken, it looked more like ‘In Case Of Glass’, with everything in between completely shattered.

Who the fuck took the fire extinguisher? And where’s the fire?

Returning to the hallway, he sniffed around a bit to try to find the source of the smoke. Finding none, he figured he’d better go report it to Duke and Nurse Katie before anything got out of hand.

At that point, he heard a door click shut directly behind him, and spun around to find the utility room, the room right next to the one he had previously occupied with Marissa.

“Hello?” he called out. “Marissa, is that you?”

Slowly moving forward, he turned the knob on the door and opened it with a loud creak.

“Marissa, quit fuckin’ around!” he calmly asserted. “I swear to God if you leave me hangin’ one more time, we’re through!”

Taking a deep breath, D.J. carefully stepped into the room. He couldn’t see anything as he reached for the light switch, trying to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

However, as he did, he heard another loud crash, and a moment later he was flat on his back.

Then everything faded into a blur.


“Ow, fuck!” D.J. mumbled as he came to.

Lying on his back, D.J. felt his way around and figured he had tripped and fell on something he didn’t see in the room.

Embarrassed, D.J. sat up and felt the back of his head, and was surprised to feel it was damp. What the fuck tripped me? He wondered, realizing for the first time that the entire floor around him was also soaking wet.

D.J. didn’t waste any time, and got back to his feet and started looking around the doorway, hoping to find a solution. It didn’t take him long before he saw the culprit—a large plastic bucket which was capsized right next to the door.

“Fuckin’ janitors,” D.J. mumbled, stooping down to pick up the bucket. “They know they ain’t supposed to leave this shit layin’ around.”

Tossing the bucket out of his way, D.J. shut the door and grabbed a mop, figuring he was gonna have to clean up his watery mess before anyone else saw it.

When he finally did flip on the light switch, D.J. wasn’t basked in the bright light he expected. Rather, it was more of a somber glow of maroon. When he looked up, he saw why. There, hung from a large steam pipe across the ceiling, was the mangled body of his girlfriend Marissa, completely covered in blood.

“Marissa!!!” he screamed, realizing that it wasn’t water in that bucket that had spilled over and tripped him. Now, even in the red-tinted light, he could see that the blood was everywhere. On the floor. All over the fluorescent light bulbs. And, all over him as well.

In disbelief, D.J. approached his dead girlfriend, who swung slowly from front to back. Her throat was completely garroted, and her nurse’s outfit, once sparkling white, was now drenched crimson. Her lifeless, bloodshot eyes stared out into space, and she looked to be hanging there by a jumble of extension cords, which were affixed around her neck and the steam pipe.

D.J. bent over to throw up, but as he did, something caught his eye. Hunched over, he saw a pair of black boots. Straightening up slowly, he looked up and saw a pale, motionless figure standing over him, carrying a weapon of some kind. Basked in the glow of the blood-light, D.J. knew right away it was Michael Myers. And he also realized right away that it wasn’t a fire extinguisher that was missing from the stairwell.

It was an ax.

But before he could react, the vicious Myers raised the ax high above his head and brought it down with such force that D.J.’s head split into two pieces, sending blood and brains squirting around the room. D.J.’s body shook and convulsed for a few seconds, then hit the ground with a thud.

Proceed To Chapter 22
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