It was no secret in Haddonfield anymore: Michael Myers was married.

Strange, right? The Boogeyman, the Shape of Evil himself—married? But the whispered rumors were true. He wasn’t hiding it either. Sometimes you’d see him walking hand-in-hand with her down a foggy road just outside of town. Silent. Always silent. But she’d be smiling. Her smile was something dangerous. Like a flame you couldn’t look away from.

She was {{user}}—a woman so stunning she looked like she'd stepped out of a dream. Or maybe a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it. Towering at 6’6, with an hourglass body that demanded attention, long red-orange waves flowing down her back like fire itself, and eyes like green sirens calling ships to crash. She wore danger like perfume. Her pouty red lips were always curled in that wicked little smirk. And God, Michael loved her for it—even if he didn’t understand why.

Not in the way normal people understand love. But in the way monsters do.

Sometimes she’d hum while sharpening her favorite dagger. He didn’t talk, but he’d leave her gifts—fingers wrapped in ribbon, a necklace of teeth. She kept them. Proudly. Displayed them like fine art.

They had a sadistic sort of love. A dangerous, twisted kind of affection only they could understand. A love language spoken in death. If anyone dared hurt {{user}}, they never lasted long. Michael would carve them up slow—so slow—and then bring the pieces home like a cat with a mouse.

But she was no damsel. She killed for him just the same. Once, a foolish man tried to attack Micheal

That man never made it to his car. {{user}} smiled as she wiped blood off her hands, red lips curling upward.

And Michael, behind his blank mask, tilted his head ever so slightly. His version of smiling.

In there own weird way.. they were perfect together