A/N The beginning of this is mostly based off of Rob Zombie's remake while the rest is based off of the original! I'll try to update once a week on average, but it may be longer or shorter. Review for longer (and more awesome!) updates!
The beginning of this will be a little sweet and is mostly to introduce you to the situation and how Tamara meets Michael. It will be more of a horror story as time goes on. But, again, this is a little mushy. Enjoy!
Part One: Masks on the Wall
Chapter 1: Innocence Cloaked in Blood
She was a very pretty girl. Long legs, slender build, fair skin, shiny red-brown hair, and the most beautiful, bright, sapphire eyes anyone had ever seen. Now, as she sat alone in the corner reading a book, you may think that she was a shy girl, but she wasn't. In high school, she had been in all the school plays, been part of the debate team, and had beat up her friend's abusive boyfriend. She had been suspended for that and had to miss senior prom. But no one would ever guess that.
They also wouldn't guess that she had killed her own cheating boyfriend and her uncle who had almost raped her little sister. That's why she had to leave her home in Rhode Island and change her name. She soon got a job as an aid at Smith's Grove Sanitarium. She started out by helping the little kids get to sleep at night. When everyone trusted her enough, they moved her up to helping with the older inmates.
She became a sort of comforting presence to most of the inmates. It was a good deal for her. She was what many called a "Midnight Mother." She was allowed to live at the asylum as long as she was there to help anyone at night. If one of the children (or adults, as it were) had a nightmare or any trouble sleeping, she would be there, sometimes sitting by their bed, holding their hand all night. They seemed to love her. And she loved being there. It was a way she could forget her past.
But she never thought much about her future.
Until that day…
"Hello? Is anyone there?" someone said knocking on the girl's head. She groaned and opened her eye to find the amused face of her older coworker. He smiled down at her with yellow teeth. He was not attractive, but he was a kind old man. His name was Frederick, but he was known as "Ol' Fred."
"What? What time is it?" she asked.
"Tami, it's noon," he said with a slight laugh.
"Can I sleep in?" she asked pulling the blanket up over her head.
"Tamara Séraphina Savannah Marietta Crimson! You get up right now! I will go get the nurses to drag you out of bed! Besides, one of the doctors needs your help," he said.
Tamara groaned. "Fine, I'll get up!" she rolled (quite literally) out of bed and got dressed. She wore a simple white dress, white headband, white shoes, and white blazer. It was a sort of uniform for her. She was forced to wear some ridiculous outfit all the time. She couldn't count the number of time one of the patients spilled food, paint, or some other dye on her.
Still, she loved all of them.
Ol' Fred led her to a wing of the sanitarium she had never been in before. "Tamara, this is Dr. Sam Loomis. Dr. Loomis, this is the aid you requested, Tamara Crimson,"
"Tamara, wonderful to meet you," Dr. Loomis, a white haired man, extended his hand.
Tamara shook it. "Tami, if you don't mind," she said with a kind smile.
"Tami, then, would you like to meet our patient?"
This block of the institution wasn't for those harmless, schizophrenic or severely bipolar patients who have suicidal thoughts or may be deathly afraid of grass or something. This was for the murderers. People who wanted to kill and harm others.
"So what did…Michael?" she asked. Loomis nodded. "Michael…What did he do?"
"Well…" Loomis began, "Maybe we shouldn't talk about that now, okay?"
She looked at him strangely, but nodded anyways.
"Oh, here we are," Loomis said. One of the guards who were with us unlocked the door. The first thing she noticed was the large collection of masks hanging on the wall. All were made out of paper-mâché. In the corner was a man wearing one of the masks and also making another. It reminded her of when her father would make piñatas out of it just for the purpose of her or her sister's birthdays or just because he was home.
That was before he was killed in a car crash.
But the masks brought her home, in a way. And she was enjoying herself here.
"Michael," Dr. Loomis addressed the man, "this is Tamara. She's the aid I sent for,"
Michael didn't even look over at me. He simply continued to make another mask.
"Alright, Mikey, stand up," the guard said with the chains in his hands. 'Mikey' did as he was told. Tamara now realized how huge he really was. A good 7 or 8 inches past 6 feet. He would tower over Tami. If he wanted to, he could easily kill her or detach a limb. She almost began to have second thoughts.
What made her stop were his eyes. She could barely see them under his long, dark blond-brown locks of hair. But they were there and they were beautiful to her.
"Michael's not much of a talker," the guard said as he put the chains on him, "but he's never hurt anyone to my knowledge. Well, I mean in here. Except…but let's not talk about that now,"
"If it's alright then, we'll all leave you two alone," Loomis said. He, Ol' Fred, and the guards left the two. Michael stared at her for a long time and then sat down again. Tami didn't know what to do. Normally, the doctors gave her special instructions like go play with a child or read a book out loud or silently do something in a separate corner and wait for them to come to her. But she was alone on this one.
She took a deep breath and made her way over to the table where Michael was making the mask. She timidly slunk into the chair across from him. He looked up at her. She shivered at it. It wasn't something she really felt comfortable with. He didn't like her there that close to her. And he wanted to show it. He had the urge to push her away. But she was so fragile and…different. What made her different? He could hurt her now; cut her open and see if she bleeds red.
Oh, no, mustn't do that, Michael. That would be naughty. Very naughty.
"Michael, don't…you don't have to be afraid of me," Tami said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to let anything hurt you," she had the instinctive reaction to touch his hand. The second she did though, she pulled away, "Oh, I'm…" Sorry. Say sorry. But she couldn't. Her cheeks were red and she was very uncomfortable. Not because she had just broken about seven of the asylum's rules as well as several of her own, but because he didn't like her. She was used to being adored and admired by everyone she worked with, but now the friendly atmosphere was replaced by a cold one. If she was one to cry, she might have then and there. But she didn't cry. Not ever. She knew that she was strong inside. Her ambition drove her to stay.
She was different. Michael didn't know why, yet. She wasn't anything unusual. Sure she was pretty, but so were most of the nurses in the asylum. Like all the nurses, she was pretty, frail, and way too fake. There was no way she could possibly be so innocent. Still, it seemed as though she was hiding something. Some dark little secret. She wasn't what she appeared to be. Innocent? He didn't think so.
"Michael, do you mind if I help you?" she asked. She looked into his eyes and practically forced him to look into hers. He tilted his head as he gazed into her deep blue and sparkling eyes. They were like pools. Like the ocean. Vast and full of mystery. And his, Tami thought, were so intriguing. They were almost black. She saw the night sky in those two orbs. They were intimidating, but held the promise of excitement. Unpredictability.
That was the first time she wanted to kiss him. She wondered if he felt the same.
Breaking eye contact with him was the most natural and the hardest thing she'd ever done.
To her shock (and Dr. Loomis' for that matter) Michael pushed the mask over to her for her to work on. A slight smiled passed over her lips. She took off the blazer she was wearing because she knew how messy this could get.
Tami went to sleep that night with a huge smile on her face. It had been a good day. She got a new room, too. It was right down the hall from Michael's. She was now the aid for him alone. And, so far, things were looking good.
Michael was happy, too. He had decided he liked Tamara. She could live. He would allow her to live. He didn't mind her presence. Maybe he could grow to love her. One day…
The Next Day
Tami woke up to someone shaking her arm. She wasn't used to this new schedule yet. She didn't bother doing her hair nice and just pulled it back in a bun.
Michael still had to be chained up. He wasn't trust enough yet to be left alone with her unrestrained. She sat down with him at the little table. Michael had finished making another mask and was in the middle of painting it. When she entered, he pushed the mask that she had been working on the previous day towards her. She began painting it with him. For the longest while, they sat in silence.
Finally, she took a breath. She knew she had to say what was on her mind. She would go insane if she didn't tell him what she was thinking. She had been trying to remember something since she saw him. She just didn't know how to say it.
"It's weird you, know?" she said casually.
Michael looked up a bit annoyed. No, he didn't know. What was weird?
"It's just, I have that strange feeling we've met," she continued.
Oh really? That clears it all up. What on earth was she talking about?
"I mean, I feel like I know you. That somehow we met a long time ago. I'm sorry, that doesn't make any sense, does it?"
He tilted his head. She had been thinking it, too. He had felt that way. He knew her, maybe, or knew someone like her. He just couldn't remember when they met. But they couldn't really know each other. He knew her story. She had come from Texas to become a nurse. Her parents were divorced and she never visited them and she had no other family besides a sister whom she never talked to. She couldn't afford to go to college, but was happy as an aid. No more, no less. Very average for people up here. Besides the poor family life, she seemed to be generally happy. There was no way they could know each other. That was that.
"Michael, Tamara, lunch time!" one of the nurses said as he made his way in with a large tray with two plates on it.
"Tami," Tami muttered. Her name was so dark. She hated being called Tamara. It sounded like Samara which was that creepy girl from The Ring. She wasn't that creepy girl and never would be. Never again…
The nurse didn't hear her remark. Actually, he chose to ignore it. She was a pretty thing, and every man knew she was. Every one of the male nurses also thought about her at night, even if they were lying next to their girlfriends, they were thinking of her. He, too, thought of her and what Tami didn't know was that they had arm wrestled in the kitchen to decide who would get to bring them their lunch. He, Liam O'Conner, the red haired Irish nurse was the biggest and strongest of them. Still, his size was small compared to Michael. Michael glared at him as he came in. Liam had gotten drunk once and began using his "Irish charm" on one of the young female nurses. He had kept Michael up all night with his curses and cheesy pickup lines. Michael knew that if he ever got the chance, he'd kill him. But not in front Tami. No, no, she was much too delicate for that. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't protect her.
If Tami knew what was going through either man's mind, she would have probably slapped Liam and quit being Michael's aid. She wasn't ready to trust another man after what happened to her and her friend. This is why Tami was oblivious to the fact that she was desired by most men under the age of thirty and several over it. She wasn't aware that she was pretty. Her own fears forced her not to believe that she was worthy of admiration. She was afraid to love and afraid to be loved.
That didn't matter now, though. In fact, that thought never crossed her mind as the tray was set down in front of her.
"Is there anything else I can get for you, lass?" Liam asked with a thick Irish brogue that was faked. Liam was born and raised in America by American parents and had American grandparents. He had only been to Ireland once when he was a kid.
"No, I think I'm good," Tami said. She recognized his fake accent, but smiled politely to him.
"Alright, lass. Me name's Liam if ye need anything," he said flashing her a bright smile.
The second he left, Tami rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What was that about? He was so weird," She took a bite of her food.
Michael didn't look at her, but he was confused. How could she not know she was beautiful? Was she just trying to be modest? He liked modest. Judith had been anything but. She had flaunted her looks and bragged about her perfection all the time. She had also told him how imperfect he was. And she had hit him…
Tami had the beauty of Judith, but didn't seem to know that she could use her looks to get whatever she wanted. He liked that. Innocence, maybe. Or maybe she was just naïve.
All Michael knew was that, for the first time, he didn't want to kill someone. He liked to be around the girl. She was so…something.
Tami was happy, too. Michael brought a sort of calmness to her. Peace. Just being around him made her feel…what was it?