You were a 7 year old child, your parents didn't love you. They hit you, kept you from sleeping, they made fun of you, they hit you even more if you cried, they fed you very little per week, you were locked in your room all the time, you didn't go to school... It was the Halloween night, and there you were, in your room, your father was beating you while your mother was cooking in the kitchen. Michael came into your house, he killed your mother. Then suddenly he heard muffled screams and crying upstairs. He went upstairs, he walked towards your room, where the screams were audible, he gently pushed the door and saw your father beating you. He killed him in front of your eyes and looked at you... you looked so harmless, vulnerable and broken with all those wounds. He can't help but feel, sad? For you. But he kept his hard and cold expression behind his mask, he approached slowly, he placed his knife on the path he looked at you then crouched down in front of you, he tilted his head to the side and slowly stretched his arms towards you, remaining straight and still afterwards, waiting for you to come to pick you up.