Michael Myers Story Novels & Stories

She was in a lot of pain now Blake could smell that and the fear. "I thought it was...when he got up...he was back with a hammer...then heshoved it...and I think I finally passed out for a few minutes." She was sobbing pretty hard. "I came to again when Michael stepped on my ankle which was stillon the bottom stair. I heard it pop...and then he grounded down...I couldn't even

"I care about finding out what happened to Michael. Someone killed him and dumped him in the harbor like garbage. I want to know why." Raven had chosen her fictional backstory carefully. Michael Rodriguez had been a real person—a small-time dealer found floating in the harbor two years ago. His death had made the papers for exactly one day before being forgotten, dismissed as another casualty of the drug trade. Perfect cover for her fabricated grief, with just enough reality to make it believable.

“Then tell me what’s going on.” I closed my eyes briefly. “Kim, you need to trust me” I said quietly, opening my eyes again. “I do, but you’re making it impossible” she said. I paused,words forming in my head. “Michael isn’t who you think he is,” I said finally. Her expression shifted in confusion. “What does that mean?” “It means there’s more to him.” “More like what?” I exhaled loudly. “Michael has dealings with the mafia" I said.

Vivian Taylor said. Michael was stunned for a moment. He even thought of killing himself. However, he couldn’t say that he bribed Jane to poison the Fairy Doctor. After that, he ended up offering his beloved woman to another man and humiliating himself. “Take me to the hospital. Hurry up!” Michael said annoyedly. Soon, Michael was escorted to the hospital in the Flying Eagles Academy. Since students in the Flying Eagles Academy were injured frequently, the hospital also had relatively advanced medical expertise. After being checked, the results were out.

For five years, I had shared a bed with my brother’s killer and my own executioner. I looked at Mike—no, Michael—and for the first time, I didn't see the billionaire tycoon. I saw the eighteen-year-old boy who had watched his world get shattered by a truck and then buried by a conspiracy. The weight of his seven-year exile, the sheer agony of watching the girl he loved be groomed by a monster while he was branded a "violent street fighter," crushed my heart.

The walls that once held memories of my marriage now seemed like strangers. He guided me to the living room and sat me down on the couch. He took the seat across from me, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "Tell me everything," he said. "From the beginning." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, took a shaky breath, and began. I told him about Michael leaving to buy diapers. About the hours that passed with no word. About the policemen who came to my door. About the abandoned car. About the blood.

Michael turned to look at me as well, his eyes filled with expectation, waiting for me to support his story. Under the weight of countless gazes, I slowly stood and took the microphone. I didn't look at Michael. Instead, I faced the sea of dark lenses ahead of me, my expression calm and steady. "Michael Collins wasn't an innocent victim," I said. "Everything that happened was the consequence of his own actions!" The room instantly fell silent. The color drained from Michael's face as he stared at me in disbelief. I continued evenly, "Michael cheated on me during our marriage and had sexual relationships with a woman of questionable background. That's how he ended up infected with so many dis

Michael's legs went weak, yet he still remembered to straighten his clothes and posture, forcing a smile as he was about to step forward. Then a calm voice came from behind: "If Deputy Mayor Jones had not come, I would have had to call and ask them to send a different secretary-general to LA. After all, in LA, a mere police station chief was already capable of teaching me what rules meant." As soon as those words fell— Not only did Michael start shaking so badly he could barely stand. He stared at the three people he had looked down on just moments ago, his face drained of all color. In the next instant, he collapsed into the interrogation chair. "You... you all..."

I explained to Michael, my voice filled with genuine sadness. He remained silent, looking at me with a mixture of pain and shock. Without saying a word, he turned and walked away, hailing a taxi to take him back to Madonna Hospital. Left alone in the room, I couldn't help but burst into tears. It pained me to reject Michael so abruptly, especially since I had developed feelings for him. Despite not knowing if he was the CEO of Melanie Company or not, I admired his persistence and determination. However, my own health condition and the memories of my father's actions towards my mother held me back.