Having been roughly a week since Myers outburst. You couldn’t help but wonder if the wound care nurse actually did her job and tended to the lacerations on his wrist… Dr. Loomis, having been informed of what happened, took it upon himself and instated a new rule in Myers care plan. The rule in question was that you were no longer permitted to be apart of his daily staffing or routine. Actually, you went even allowed to sit at the front counter in the nursing station anymore either.
Seeing as how you couldn’t see him you could, nonetheless, look over his charting. It appears as though this was as close as you could get in terms of caring for him. Gazing around your new cramped desk in the med room all you could do was let out a soft sigh. It’s only temporary but in all honesty, it was more than a little depressing. The desk was small, yet somehow, still tightly packed between two filing cabinets overflowing with unsorted paperwork and old shower sheets.
With time to kill, you set about organizing the disorder, and mayhem that is your desk. Whilst halfway through the first filing cabinet, you stumbled upon a horde of skin assessment sheets. This would answer your inquiry on wither or not Myers wound had been properly cared for. Having a few more minutes to spare for your lunch break you set about painstakingly scanning the dates and setting aside the ones from this week. Finally, with the papers in hand, you noticed the apparent lack of documentation.
Skin assessments were called for on a regular basis, these sheets were completed days after his self-inflicted mutilation… Enraged would be an overly generous understatement you were infuriated, they marked the skin as “clear and intact.” Reading the signature it revealed, that not only did the wound care nurse sign off on the daily evaluations, but the doctor signed a witness statement as well for their weekly assessments. This was clear proof of neglect, as you have done your job with charting the injury on your end clearly showing the injury had transpired. It’s a harsh reality but this kind of care, or lack thereof, is a continuous conflict in nursing.
The thought disgusts you, but, in the past, you have turned a blind eye. Should you report the wrong person, you could very well lose your job. Times like this you wished for a form of anonymity, but even that wouldn’t make a dent in the corrupted system. Having said this you had roughly a 24-hour window to report this to the nursing administrator. In this case however the doctor that signed the paperwork is well respected, you had no choice but to tend to his wound yourself…
Should you report this, you’d surely lose your job, maybe even your license as well? You’ll have to wait till the next shift before you attempt to sneak into his cell, you were pulling a double anyway. With your lunch break now over you clocked back in and got to work.
As the evening shift ended, the night shift began, you watched the other aids and nurse’s left to go home. The nurse you were working with tonight usually ran late, you were depending on it. A small window of opportunity opened up. Guards from this shift were still clocking in, you had a 20-minute window to get to his cell. Grabbing the supplies you had already laid out, you rushed out of the nursing station and down the hall.
Steps echoed off the walls waking some of the patients, cries of sorrow grew numerous with every footfall. It pained you every time you walked these halls, this came with the job, but that didn’t make it any easier. The corridor seemed to darken as you neared Myers door, even the fluorescent lights started to flicker. Stopping just outside his cell with your hand hovering over the handle, is this really okay? What if he attacked you, no one knew you were there, the guards couldn’t protect you.
No, you needed to do this, this was your responsibility, to care for the weak. But this man was anything but weak, you sigh, taking hold of the latch. The door made a loud groan as you unlocked it. You made up your mind and opened the door. Light from the hall poured into the dimly lit cell as you walked in and closed the door.
Perched on a chair sat Michael Myers, hunched over his table working on yet another mask. You smiled a little while gazing at his decorated walls, all adorned with hand-crafted masks. Looking back over ar Myers you had to swallow your surprise. No longer was he busy working, he was now staring directly at you. Seeing how you now had his full attention you spoke. “I apologize for disrupting you from your work."
He tilted his head to the side, his favorite orange mask concealing his expression. Nervously you cleared your throat. "I read the documentation, they didn’t treat your wound, did they?” His eyes shifted to his right hand, before hiding it behind his back. Michael was acting like a child who got caught doing something they shouldn’t have.
You sighed heavily. “Michael I’m not going to hurt you, I just really need to take care of that wound. I don’t have a lot of time, I’m not even supposed to be here.” Still seeming unsure he slowly presented his right hand never breaking eye contact. It was a little unnerving, but not wanting to back down, you cautiously approached. Gently grabbing his hand you turned it over to inspect the wound, it was clearly infected.
Promptly you got to work dabbing the antiseptic wipe to the cut and generously applying antibiotic ointment. Then you carefully bandage his wrist, looking up you freeze. You and Michale were nose to nose, his breath fanning across your face, and blue eyes half-closed. Quicky you attempted to withdraw from the closeness but were swiftly pulled back into a crushing embrace.
As he continued to tighten his hold you gasped for breath while clawing at his back, fingers digging into this shirt. He was suffocating you, it’s now you realized what a mistake you made. Colorful spots clouded your vision before it could turn a blinding white, he relaxed his arms. With a sharp gasp, you greedily gulped for air, still clinging on to him with white knuckles. Michael held you close as he gently ran his long fingers through your hair. If he didn’t just try to kill you, you’d almost call this comforting…
This was a warning it was his way of letting you know he was in control, he had every power to kill you. Settling down you rested your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. Michale’s heart rate was calm, not sporadic, this was the heart of a sociopath, a killer. This was a predator, one that can put on the charade of loving affection. But this was all a game and he used “love” as a manipulative tool to get what he wanted. Once he got what he wanted he’d grow bored and cast you aside like a discarded toy. But still… You loved him;
(A/N): Thankfully in today’s nursing you can now make anonymous reports of abuse and neglect. Since the movie took place only a year after 1977 when the “Board of Nursing” was first established. There still wasn’t a way of having complete anonymity until a few years after. I hope you all have enjoyed this two-part series I know I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you thought!
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