Chapter Text
If one could actually pinpoint to Michael why he had ultimately spared Judith instead of killing her, he had no idea. He wished he knew. But he, instead of going into her room that night, decided to do nothing more than pass her by. It was in that moment, that very moment, that the knife in Michael’s hand was put on his dresser drawer instead. It was strange, now that he thought about it. What had just happened? He knew that he and Mrs. Blankenship were talking, and then…
Nothing really made any sense at all. Not really. Except Laurie —
Had he left Laurie there? Oh God, Mom and Dad were going to kill him when they got home. And somehow, they didn’t seem like the scariest people right now…
***
”Michael, what are you doing?” Judith’s voice was gentle, and she was mercifully in a bathrobe. Michael didn’t need to think too hard about her and Dan doing — unless Judy just really, really had to take a shower. He could believe it. They seemed to be getting pretty sweaty with all that weird kissing stuff. “You could hurt yourself with that thing.”
”We carve pumpkins with ‘that thing’, Judy.”
Judith sighed. “Don’t be a smart-mouth, Michael. You could have bled to death where you stood. Come on now. Really. I’m just going to put this away, and then I’ll just come back and check on you.”
”You won’t bleed to death?”
Judith shook her head. “It’s different when people who are…older than you do it.”
”Hey, Judy. I’m older.”
”No, you’re not,” Judith said, but she looked like she was about to start laughing.
***
Judith had no idea, honestly, why Michael had that knife in his room. It wasn’t like there wasn’t room for non-horrifying answers, she thought, but she kept going to the worst case scenario. Was Michael being bullied at school and she didn’t know about it?
Don’t be absurd, she thought. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. And he’s too young to want to hurt himself — no, she wouldn’t even entertain that notion. She felt disgusting for even thinking about it. He was only six.
But the voices that tell him to hate people — no, no, she thought. There was nothing wrong with him. He was just a kid. And even if there was…
God, if only there was an option outside of “lock up the elementary school single digits child". Michael was a good boy; he deserved better than the voices that even hurt little boys. Even as Judith put the knife in and closed the drawer, she finally allowed herself to burst into tears.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. The voices in Michael’s head — they had to be evil. Just plain evil. Why the hell would they be so awful to a six year old boy? He was just a kid, just a baby…
”God, please,” she muttered. “Just leave him alone. Leave me alone. Leave us alone, dear God. Put me in his place if it’ll stop the voices, I’ll do anything, I’ll take his place…”
”Judy?”
Mom was here. Oh, thank God. Judith told her, just then.
She didn’t miss the horror that came over Mom’s face, the only sign of dissolution from somebody wearing pearls and a pretty dress and a bob not out of place in the 1920s instead of the ‘60s. "Thorn,” she muttered. “Why can’t Wynn just leave us alone, dear God?”
”Who’s ‘Thorn’, Mom? Who’s Wynn?”
***
As Edith Myers brushed her daughter’s hair before bed, she explained everything. “Wynn…you could say he pursued me,” she said. “Not consensually, like your father. Then again, I don’t think romantic interest would be a factor at all. Wynn doesn’t have human attachments. We’re all just his chess pieces.”
”Like a sociopath, Mom?”
”Basically,” Edith said. “Just not the obvious sort. More like…do you remember that Hitchcock movie about Uncle Charlie?”
”I do remember that,” Judith said. "Thank God nobody in our family’s like that!”
A faint laugh from Edith. “Nobody who didn’t die before you were born, at least, darling." Then, “But Wynn was like that. Graceful, charming. Good at feigning compassion, whether or not he actually felt it. Beautiful, too. Looked quite like that Barnabas fellow in Dark Shadows, just…unfortunately, the monster was buried. Deep inside. And I did find it. Wynn and I were never romantically involved, but nonetheless, he was dedicated to making me join him. Like it was fate that I join him.”
”Not the romantic sort?”
”More like the religious sort. Not that all religious types are like that, Judy. After all, there’s no atheists in Springwood, but Lieutenant Thompson, for example…he’s a good man. Duty and honor. It’s fundamentalism you have to beware of, Judy. Wynn was a fundamentalist. Just…not in the way you think. Thorn was just where he directed said fundamentalism.”
”Can you even worship a thorn patch without even some roses?”
”Not that,” Edith said, though she was clearly amused. “The Druidic symbol. Some said it was meant to symbolize good triumphing over evil, some said it brought disease and that one sacrificing their whole family meant saving the community, but…it doesn’t matter. Wynn gave me a crisis of faith. I got away from him…”
”And he targeted Michael just because you said ‘no’?” Judith exclaimed. “How…how obsessive and creepy can you get?!”
”It’s in his nature,” Edith said.
”Is there any way to stop him?” Judith said. “Anything?”
Edith nodded. “Just…you should get some sleep, Judy. You should. I can handle this.”
***
It was that night, unbeknownst to the Myers family, that Wynn focused on his back-up. That being Loomis.
He almost felt a stab of regret, seeing Loomis’ horrified, betrayed expression melt away into the familiar black eyes of those touched by Thorn. But it was all part of the plan. Wynn would do his duty, as would Loomis.