This is all taking place after Halloween 6.
Disclaimer: Although I do wish I owned the Halloween franchise and its wonderful characters, I sadly own nothing. Except for my own characters, Mckenzie and Sam.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I glanced back at the sandy haired little boy through the rearview mirror. The past four and a half hours had been spent in a deadpan silence and I was aching to break the tense atmosphere. But if I were to talk, what would I say? What would I have to say to this little boy who I've only just met? I didn't even know if he liked to be called Sam, Samuel, Sammy or if he liked TV dinners or homemade meals or if he liked to stay indoors and watch TV or ride his bike around outside. What exactly did six year olds do these days anyway? The same things I did as a kid? I didn't know. Those were the key words: I didn't know. I didn't know anything about this boy. Hell, I didn't even know he existed until a few weeks ago when DSS called to inform me that his mother, my mother, was being held in custody for forging morphine prescriptions and that since the grandparents on both sides of the child were deceased it was ideal that the boy's custody laid with me. I licked my lips nervously and spared another glance in the direction of the back seat. I wondered if he even understood the situation. I figured that he must have understood something or else he wouldn't have such a solemn expression on his face. My lips pressed together firmly and I let out an indignant sigh through my nose. I turned my attention to the noisy rush hour traffic where it belonged. But every now and again I couldn't help but let my weary eyes stray back to the sad child in the backseat.
His forehead was pressed against the glass, his bangs pushed back slightly. I noticed that he had also inherited mom's prominent cheekbones as I did, but unlike me had inherited mom's coarse blonde hair. His eyes were a mystery to me. They were a cold, steely gray…or maybe that's how they appeared on his grim face. My mind pulsated trying to pull an image of Kevin, his father, from the depths of my scattered, unorganized memory. I couldn't remember for the life of me what Kevin even looked like. I was 18 and had already moved out of the house by the time he remarried my mother, Tracy. My father, Daniel, had died when I was sixteen due to unknown causes and the year and a half I spent with my mother after he died was complete turmoil. She was heading downhill at top speed and things only got worse when she met Kevin. I felt a spark of anger flare up within me as I again peered through the mirror at this poor boy. It wasn't fair that he had to live for 6 years with a drugged out mother and scumbag of a husband who felt no remorse in walking out on this unfortunate child 2 years prior to this day. I felt slightly guilty that I had grown up with the fun good-natured Tracy. The mother with the playful green eyes and the laughter that sounded like tinkling glass, while this poor boy came into the world to be raised by the insecure and reckless Tracy. I felt even more guilty that I hadn't checked up on my mother. If I had just sucked it up and visited her I would know she had a son. I would have been able to build a relationship with this boy in the backseat.
I really wasn't sure how to handle this. I was 26, single and juggling two part time jobs while trying to finish my computer sciences major at the community college. One top of that I wasn't even sure yet if this kid wanted to live with me, his estranged stepsister. Would he hold me in disdain? I kind of doubted it. I mean, he was six. I glanced back again, startled when he made eye contact with me. I gnawed my lower lip slightly and readjusted the rearview mirror. "So," I started, gripping the steering wheel tightly, "Do you go by Samuel?" He looked away, back out the window again with that glazed expression. "Sam," he muttered. "Alright. Well, Sam, how's going out to eat sound?" I asked glancing back at him again. No response. I exhaled loudly. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath. I wish I could comprehend why I was so nervous. "Well I also thought maybe we could swing by Baskin Robins. They just opened up a new one and its nearby the house." I had avoided saying "home". Sam still didn't respond. I lowered my eyes from the mirror and watched the road grimly. I guess T.V. dinners tonight. Just as well anyway. Tonight we should focus solely on getting settled in. I felt a rush of relief as I pulled into the neighborhood. "Almost there," I informed. "You'll, uh, like Haddonfield. Illinois, ya know, it's a bit different from Kentucky but it's easy to adjust to." I basically made that up, because I've never set foot in Kentucky. But I thought it sounded encouraging so I let the words flow out.
The familiar sense of foreboding washed over me as we passed "the house". It was illogical that goose bumps rise up on my arms and on the back of my neck each time I passed the place. It was no more frightening to me, than it was anyone else. "Isn't that Michael Myers' old house?" Sam inquired. I looked back at him in surprise. "Yeah. How…how do you know about Michael Myers?" "News," he answered shortly. I nodded slowly and diverted my eyes from the wretched house. "Alright here we are," I announced triumphantly pulling up into the driveway of my cozy two bedroom house. I eased out of the small car grateful to stretch and feel the warm sunshine after being cramped up in the same position for 5 hours. Sam remained in the car still staring out the window. I paused, frowning, and then started unloading things out of the trunk. After a few moments, Sam slipped out of the car carrying his backpack. He waited for me to unlock the door, which was a little difficult due to the number of things I was carrying.
Once inside I turned on the lights and opened the shades in the living room. I looked at Sam timidly, motioning with my head for him to follow me down the hall. "Ok," I breathed coming to a stop in front of an open doorway leading to a plain, fresh looking bedroom, "This is your room. These next few weeks we can work on getting it how you want it to look," I said, observing the room. Sam walked in slowly, looking around. He dumped his backpack on the plaid bedspread. "I vacuumed, dusted and washed the sheets so you're good to go," I told him, while bringing in his numerous suitcases and bags. I felt a bit ridiculous after I said that. Why should this distant, unresponsive six year old actually care that I cleaned? I lingered there awhile growing more and more uncomfortable. "Ok, well the bathroom is right around the corner. Shampoo, body wash, toothpaste, toothbrush, all that is under the sink. If you want to, ya know, talk or something you can come over to my room right down the hall or if you want to watch TV in the living room that's fine too. And please, help yourself to the kitchen." I gave him a warm smile and shut the door to give him some privacy. It astounded me how mature he was for a six year old. I sunk down into the brown leather sofa and buried my face in a throw pillow.
This was a huge deal. I would be raising a kid. Through puberty and everything. Damn Tracy. Damn her to Hell. If it weren't for her stupidity and irresponsibility I wouldn't have to do this. Thank you yet again mother for ruining my life. It wasn't that I was ungrateful. I was excited to build a relationship with this boy. But I couldn't help but look on the negative side of things .How the hell am I supposed to handle two jobs, schooling and raising a kid? Especially one with some apparent emotional damage. But all things set aside, life would be better for him here. Or at least, I hoped. I sighed deeply into the pillow and then tossed it aside. I swiped the phone from its cradle on the coffee table and called my voicemail. Two from work, and one from my close friend Derek who planned on coming by Thursday to fix my dishwasher. Eh, whatever. I placed the phone back in its holder and switched on the T.V. I was only half listening since the open Sudoku book on the coffee table caught my interest but I looked up when Michael Myers became the subject matter. The news anchor was saying something about how Myers had tracked down his niece and tried to kill her. I would have heard more but I was distracted by Sam who had quietly sat down beside me. It seemed like he had been sitting there for a few minutes already and it startled me. "Hey kiddo," I said, gingerly ruffling his hair. Would he be annoyed by that? Was he offended that I called him "kiddo"? Ok so now I was being a little ridiculous. Sam looked up at me curiously. "Where is he now?" I looked back at the television which sported a photo of Michael Myers, gleaming kitchen knife dangling from his right hand. "I don't know. They've got people out there looking for him though." Sam continued to watch the television curiously. After a few moments I cleared my throat and walked over to the kitchen. "Want anything to eat? I don't really have much at the moment. Just some TV dinners, chips, cereal and there's some stuff in here to make a salad," I muttered, rummaging through the refrigerator. Sam walked into the kitchen and opened the pantry peering around. "I think I'll just have some cereal." "Alrighty then," I smiled at him, pulling a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch from the top shelf and placing it on the table along with a bowl, spoon and a gallon of milk. I turned to the freezer and grabbed a Lean Cuisine frozen dinner and threw it in the microwave.
I leaned up against the counter and let my eyes rest on Sam awhile as he ate. He looked up and caught my eyes, smiling tentatively. I smiled back awkwardly and then turned my attention back to the microwave. I wondered if Sam hated it here. He seemed relatively comfortable right now. He was smiling a bit, looking kinda happy. I wondered if he was hurting. If he felt sadness knowing that he would no longer be with his mother. Did he even like her? Did she treat him well? She better have a voice in my mind growled. The microwave beeped, interrupting my thoughts and I sat down beside Sam. We sat in a comfortable silence, me glancing at him when he wasn't watching, and him glancing at me when I wasn't watching. Sam accidentally elbowed my arm and with a playful smile I purposely did it back. Sam smiled and continued eating his cereal. I watched him now, not caring if he noticed it. He looked up a few moments later. "So is a stepsister like an actual sister then?" I put my fork down and put an arm around the kid. "Yep. And I'm really sorry that we've only just now met." He smiled, but I could tell he thought I was being fake. "How come mom didn't tell you about me?" I sighed. "Well we just haven't talked in many years. But I'm not quite sure why she didn't tell me I had a brother." "How come you didn't talk?" Were kids always this curious? I shrugged not wanting to go into it. I guess he picked up the signal because he continued eating his cereal in silence.
After dinner I walked to Sam's room and cracked the door a bit. He was under the covers head and all. I smiled. Just like I did when I was a kid. "Sam?" I said softly. "Mhmm?" I opened the door all the way and eased into the dimly lit room. "Are you comfortable? Is there anything you need? A glass of water?" I asked sitting quietly on the edge of his bed. He looked up at me and shook his head. "O.k." I whispered. And before I could stop myself, I leaned down, pushed his bangs away from his forehead and planted a kiss there. I observed him uneasily. Had that made him uncomfortable? But he just looked up at me with tired glazed eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. I quietly exited the room and closed the door. I leaned there against the wall for a moment. No matter how hectic things got, I would love this kid with every ounce of my being.
Sooooo rate, review, drop me a message, ect. If you spotted any mistakes like grammar or spelling, be kind and inform me. I don't think I did, seeing as I read my stories several times before publishing, but I might have missed something.