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[slashersgirlypop]

[slashersgirlypop]

[slashersgirlypop]

As Lady Macbeth once said, “don’t be a pussy, it’s just murder,”

[slashersgirlypop]

so i am still alive

Hi All!!!

Okay, first and foremost, I would like to apologize to all of you. I underestimated my ability to juggle junior year of college, friends, work, and my story. I sorry if I disappointed any of you with my inability to keep a consistent posting schedule for the story. It's still going on, I have big plans and I needed to take a break due to a severe writer's block that came out of nowhere, along with friendships falling apart last semester and needing to maintain my grades for the sake of my scholarship. I assure you, I will be posting in the future. As for how soon, I am unsure. However, I will be posting more than just the Boogeyman of Haddonfield. I have five majorly important assignments due this week, but hopefully I will be able to update this Saturday, if not the next. I'm hoping I have your forgiveness and understanding, but I understand if you don't.

Once again, i'm sorry. Updates to story and other one shots will happen in the future!

Specifically for:

Brahms Heelshire

Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

Ghostface (Billy Loomis and/or Stu Macher)

Bye bye!!!! :)

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 13.

TW: NON-CON KISSING

(September 3rd, 1978)

            I groaned, rolling onto my side, away from the blinding ray of sunlight that shone on my eyes. My back ached from whatever the hell Michael laid me on. I knew we were no longer driving, but I didn’t know where we were.

I opened my eyes, sitting up and rubbing my neck. I was in a dirty, bare-walled room with stains on the carpet. There was a small, smashed window, the glass scattered on the ground beneath it. On the ground next to me was a shattered mirror, with bits of my reflection along the floor, a constellation of me. What was the white thing on my forehead?

I reached up and touching the side of my head where it was aching. My fingers brushed along gauze. Taking one of the pieces of glass, I investigated my reflection. There was gauze wrapped around my head clumsily, but with intent. There was a small dark stain on the side of my head, probably from where Michael smashed my head against my headboard. I gently lifted the gauze, grimacing at the wound. It didn’t look too deep, but it was a head wound so it seemed worse than it probably was.

Getting up, slightly wobbly, I made my way to the door on the other side of the room. I glanced back at the makeshift bed I was on. It seemed like a sleeping bag, well, my sleeping bag. Michael must have packed it. I noticed another sleeping bag, maybe a few feet away from mine. Maybe someone left it?

I slowly opened the door, stepping out into the next room. I think I was in some abandoned mobile home. It looked like someone was in a rush to leave, and whoever used to live here had problems. By that, I mean the various amounts of cheap beer bottles scattered along the hallway.

Stepping into the front room, I saw Michael. He was sitting on a broken sofa that was tilted on its side. 

“Hi,” I croaked out, my throat dry from lack of water.

“What time is it, Mikey?” He pointed to a clock leaning against the wall. 2:45.

“How long are we going to stay here, uh, wherever here is?” He didn’t respond, only returning his attention back to the sketch book he had in his lap.

“Okay…Do you still have whatever you wrapped my head in so I can maybe clean the wound?” I asked. He pointed to the bag on the floor.

Retrieving the first aid kit, I went to the bathroom and tried to find a reasonably clean spot on the messy and stained counter.

I hissed as I felt the alcohol sting my skin, gently cleaning the wound. I was surprised Michael had bandaged my head, although it was a sloppy job. It’s the thought that counts I suppose, though.

I gently applied fresh gauze, content with the job I did. I mean, it wasn’t nurse-level good, but when you are virtually alone most of your life, you learn how to treat a wound decently.

As I cleaned my wound on my head, I thought back on the strange and crazy turn of events that led to this moment. It’s been, what, four days since Michael has entered my life? He entered my home one night, demanded I prepare him food, choked me, spanked me, killed my assistant manager in my own fucking home, and then knocked me out and took me God knows where. To top it all off, despite my dizzy head, probably from the wound he gave me, I am relatively calm about the whole situation.

Shouldn’t I be screaming? Begging, pleading for my release? Saying I won’t tell a soul if he lets me go?

Why am I taking this whole situation so well?

“Mra?” I softly smiled as I finished the knot on the freshly applied gauze wrapped around my head, feeling Mrs. Petunia brush softly against my leg.

I guess having something that provides some sort of comfort does keep me more grounded and less likely to act irrationally. Okay, aside from my escape attempts which have ended with me being choked or spanked cruelly.

Exiting the bathroom, I walked back into the living room. Michael was in his same position, only moving to draw more to…whatever was on his sketchbook. Jesus, was that a picture of him stabbing some poor blonde girl?

“Um, so, what now?” He paused his drawing, slowly looking up at me.

“I mean, I’m surprised I’m taking this whole situation well right now, but what will happen from this point on? Stay here forever? Because if it is, I need some cleaning supplies because this looks like some, uh, drug…place,” I finished weakly, looking at the several grossly colored stains along the wall along with the cheap empty beer cans around the room. Why did it smell like…a skunky smell, I wanna say?

He said nothing, only nodded before drawing his attention back to his sketchbook. I sighed, crossing my arms. I jumped, feeling Mrs. Petunia begin to climb up my pant legs and then up my side, perching herself on my shoulders. She began to purr in my ear, content. I reached up and stroked her, my attention still on the silent masked killer who was using crayons to graphically depict the blood spilling out of whoever that poor lady was.

“Mikey, I’m going to be honest with you here. Why me? What’s so important about me that you couldn’t just, I don’t know, leave me at my house, at least tied up so I couldn’t escape to get help and you could get away?” He once again paused. He looked up at the wall, as if pondering his words, or something like that.

It’s really hard to tell what he’s thinking since he always has that damn rubber latex whatever on.

Finally, he flipped to a new page of his sketchbook and his hand flew across the page, writing something.

He got up once he was finished and made his way over to me. As he got closer, Mrs. Petunia grunted and hopped off my shoulder. Soon, he stood right in front of me, making me feeling immensely small and weak compared to his towering and built figure.

He handed me the paper, and I took it.

“Becuse you are m ine,” Is what was messily written on the paper.

“‘You are mine?’ Mikey, what does that even m-“ He grabbed the back of my throat and pulled me close, crouching slightly to my level. The nose of the mask briefly rubbed against mine before he pressed the fake lips against mine. Shock ran through my veins along with fear. It was over as soon as it started, and he walked back to his seat, plopping down on the sofa. It creaked under his form as I stood there frozen.

Well, this just got more complicated than I thought. Fuck.

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WHAT IS UP MY BITCHES????? Yeah, things are now gonna move more into the Michael being his more bad side!!! I'm sorry it took so fuckin long to update. I've had a mental breakdown, got a new job being a waitress, been sick, and am slowly losing some of my best friends. Oh yeah, and I've officially entered the stage of having alllllll level 3000 courses at uni. so yeah. next chapter might be out next weekend. Fairwell, my fellow slasher sluts ;-3

[slashersgirlypop]

NEW CHAPTER OUT THIS WEEKEND!!!

okay so, Im sick.

Pros: I dont have to go to my cousins wedding, I get to catch up with my studying, and I get to finish the next chapter

cons: my throat hurt real bad and my nose stuffy.

IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!!!!!!

[slashersgirlypop]

yall its not even been a full week and I already feel stressed by classes. oh the joy of being a psych major

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 12.

(September 3rd, 1978)

            “Mrau?” I heard before slowly opening my eyes to find light green ones looking down at me along with cat-food smelling breath.

            I pet Miss P, stroking her soft fur before wincing at the cramped and uncomfortable position I laid on across the back of the car, Then I closed my eyes and tried to readjust my position-

            Wait, back of the car?

            My eyes shot open, and I sat up, taking in my surroundings. I was across the back seat of my car, a blanket thrown over me.

 Glancing to the front, I saw a familiar masked man driving the car. I looked out the windows to try to get an idea of where we were, but only saw the forest speeding past in various shades of greens and browns. I moved to swing my legs into a seating position, but when I tried to spread them, I found I couldn’t. Throwing the blanket off, I frowned at the sight of one of my scarves tied tightly around my ankles, keeping them together.

            “Uh, Mikey? Why am I tied up? Scratch that, where are we going? Actually, no, why am I tied up, where are we going, and, pardon my French, what the fuck?” I asked blanky. The masked murderer, as usual, said nothing. The only thing he did was look in the mirror at me, his blue eye piercing into my soul- wait, did that fucker just wink at me?!

            “Don’t wink at me!” I scoffed, crossing my arms. I wanted answers, dammit.

            “Okay, are you not gonna give me answers, or am I going to have to annoy you to the point you either pull over and choke me to death or- oh!” He reached back and handed me a paper with messy handwriting.

            ‘HAD TO MOVE. MORE PEOPLE WOULD COME TO FIND YOU. DON’T WANT THEM TO TAKE AWAY WHATS MINE, LIKE YOUR FOOD TOO MUCH. AND CAT. GOING SOMEWHERE FAR AWAY. ’I read. Welp, that “what’s mine” was terrifyingly possessive, not gonna lie. Certainly sent shivers down my spine.

            “Did you at least bring food for Miss P-” He wordlessly held up one of the spare bags out cat food I had in the garage.

            “Alright then. Uh, why am I tied up?” His eyes merely glanced at me again. I swear if his looks could speak, he would be saying “why do you think?”

            “Do you at least have a set place of where we are going?” He nodded.

            “Plan on sharing that with me?” He shook his head.

            “Ah. So, you’re just gonna leave me with questions and fear of whatever the hell is going on, aside from me being forcibly taken to a new place?” He nodded. As infuriating as it was, I’m glad he’s at least communicating with me, whereas when I first met him it was very clear threats with gestures to his blade.

            “You know, I could still annoy you into giving me answers. I’m a little sister, so I am a pro at being annoying when needed.” That got me no response, except him raising his knife and locking a cold stare with me. At this point with the threats, unless he’s physically choking me or has that stupid knife to my throat, I’m not even scared. I met his stony stare with a bored one of my own.

            “Would you like me to prove how annoying I can be?” No reaction.

            “Alright. WHERE ARE WE GOING WHERE ARE WE GOING LALALALALALA WHERE ARRRREE WEEEE GOOOOINNNNNGGGG-”

He slammed on the brakes, launching me forward. My forehead slammed into the back of the chair cushion, thanks to him oh so kindly not putting the seat belt on me. Miss Petunia somehow remained on the chair, only meowing at me in a monotone mew.

            “…Okay, that’s an appropriate reaction, ow,” I groaned, pressing my hand to my forehead. He merely looked back at me, testing me to make my noises again. He and I held each other’s stares. It felt like the most serious staring contest I’ve ever been in. My eyes were starting to burn from how long they’d been open.

            Finally, I sighed, blinking as I sat back in the seat. I pulled on my seatbelt, crossing my arms and huffing. It was difficult at first since I had to maneuver myself awkwardly with my legs still tied

            He then turned back around and started to drive again. I watched the fields of trees pass by us, grumpy yet nervous of where he would be taking me.

            Miss Petunia mewed again, crawling into my lap, and beginning to purr.

            Eventually, due to the surprisingly smooth way that Michael drove, along with the purring cat in my lap, I drifted off to sleep.

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Hello! Enjoy this funny post. Next chapter will either be posted Tuesday or Thursday bc of class schedule. If not, then def by Friday. Bye Bye my fellow slasher sluts

[slashersgirlypop]

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 11

TW: FORCED THUMB-SUCKING

(September 2nd, 1978)

            “Pthu,” I spat out into the sink after brushing my teeth, being sent to bed by my captor after he choked me. It wasn’t even eight at night so that sucked.

            I sighed, entering my bedroom and getting into my bed. I grabbed the remote sitting on the bed, switching on the television. I then turned it to some rerun of some old show, nestling in my spot on the bed to get into a good position.

            After five minutes, I heard the dresser in front of my door being moved, and then the door slowly pushed open, revealing Michael. I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

            “Hi? Can I help you?” He said nothing, before walking over to me swiftly and grabbing the remote.

            “Hey!” He turned off the television, before looking back at me and pointing at the bed.

            “Are…Are you seriously making me to early bed without TV?” I asked incredulously. I know I shouldn’t be pushing his buttons considering he nearly killed me earlier via asphyxiation but this guy was starting to annoy me a lot.

            He only nodded in response before beginning to walk to the door, remote still in his hand.

            “Can I at least read?” At that, he paused, before turning his head to me slightly and nodding. With that, he walked out, closing my door and again locking me in my room. I huffed, grabbing my book on my bedside table and opening it.

I guess I was tired after such an eventful day, with cleaning up a dead body and seeing the rod of my captor, because after fifteen minutes I had turned off my light and closed my book. I proceeded to pass out as soon as my eyes closed, and my head was on my pillow.

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            I woke up with a jolt, panting lightly. I had a dream where Michael was stabbing and stabbing and stabbing Mr. Steinberg and then forcing me to clean his body, choking me every time I cried over the old man’s corpse. I sighed, pressing my hand to my heart and shuddering, reminding myself that it was just a dream, a very bad one at that.

            I glanced at the clock. Two, almost three in the morning. Sighing, I flopped back onto my bed. I guess I was more tired than I thought. Reaching up to rub the back of my neck, I whimpered, feeling sensitive from his cruel and tight grip.

            Turning on my bedside lamp, I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror, gingerly pressing my fingers to the throat.

            Jumping slightly at the light scratching sound at my door, I exhaled with relief as I heard Miss Petunia cry to be let in.

            Shortly after, I heard her quiet down, before the dresser was dragged out from in front of my door. The door proceeded to slowly open, allowing my beautiful calico kitty slip in. I cooed as she hopped on my bed, kissing her head as she purred at my loving pets.

            I glanced up, seeing Michael at the foot of my bed.

            “Hi…” He stared at me before to beginning to walk around the bed to where I sat. I tensed, bracing myself for when I saw him reach out for my throat again. I was shocked when I felt his calloused fingers grab my jaw, tilting my head up.

            I felt his other hand press gently into the marks on my throat with the same tenderness he used when he touched my butt the other night and thought I was asleep. He tilted his head, and I could feel his intense gaze turn to me.

            “Y-yeah, it hurts. A lot. But, I’ll be okay. It’ll be fine.” I said. Why did he care, though? I mean, he is the one who choked me and threw me on the ground with no hesitation.

            My breath caught in my throat as I felt him place his over the marks he made. He didn’t hold my throat as tight, but with a curiosity, as if he was taking account of how big his hand was wrapped around my throat.

            His other hand that wasn’t around my throat moved to hold the side of my head. His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, pressing lightly into the seam of my lips. What the hell was going on?

            His thumb then pressed more forcefully against my lips. I pressed my lips tighter together. Then, he squeezed my throat threateningly.

            Fighting back tears, I let him press his thumb into my mouth. I tried not to whimper as I felt his heavy finger press down onto my tongue, rubbing back and forth along the muscle. His breath grew heavier as he examined my tongue by touch, his fingers coming to hold my chin as he began to push his thumb deeper.

            Maybe if I tried to appease him, this would be over sooner? I began to lightly suck on his thumb. This seemed to be the right choice because his grip on my throat loosened slightly, allowing air to come into my lungs easier. His thumb continued to brush along the wet muscle, playing with it, allowing drool to slip out of my mouth. I choked, feeling him go deeper and activating my gag reflex. Tears threatened to spill over my eyes as he continued.

            “Mraah,” Miss Petunia lazily mewed, making Michael freeze. He let go of me, releasing his hold of my face.

I gasped, coughing lightly as I rubbed my throat, wiping the drool that spilt over my chin. Blood rushed to my cheeks. I felt ashamed of what I had just done.

I looked up, noticing the still open door. I saw luggage on the floor and I frowned. They looked packed, but one was empty and open, aside from my sewing kit and a few of my clothes, poorly folded.

“Wh-why is my luggage out there Mich-” I then gasped as I felt him grab my hair. Miss Petunia growled at him, and that was the last thing I heard before I felt him bash my head against the wall, causing me to black out.

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okie dokie, mikey boi starting to get creepy, and not in his normal ways. Heads up folks: there will be delays in chapters bc uni is starting back up and I'm venturing on to the fun and wonderful world of level three psych classes. I will still update tho! It'll just be more delayed. Alrighty, bye bye my fellow slasher sluts~

[slashersgirlypop]

lowkey realized Grilled Cheese is slowly turning from realistic to unrealistic yet funny and dark. Like yeah, Mikey boi would probably know jack shit abt romance but in my lil ol fic, he do. But he does get to discover the wonderful thing of "hey, why am I obsessed with this bitch but not wanna kill her?" Also, the story will discuss a bit about the abuse that did go on back then. So, be prepared. :P

[slashersgirlypop]

not me realizing I got the date wrong and its actually supposed to be fifteen yrs in the future for the correct date. oopsie. Standby for editing of accurate dates for grilled cheese lmfao

[slashersgirlypop]

every friend group should include… 🔪 SLASHER EDITION 🔪

[slashersgirlypop]

DEAR FANFICTION WRITERS

Thanks for existing

[slashersgirlypop]

btw this is my idea of what Miss P Looks like

LOOK AT THIS BABYYYYYY

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 10

TW: SCAR MENTION

(Sept 2nd, 1978)

            As night approached, I finishing up fixing Michael’s suit. He was still gone, which was surprising. I mean, he was somewhere, doing God knows what in my brother’s shirt and boxers.

            I had the news on and was watching the channel, to see if there have been any reports or updates on the situation. I jumped, hearing the door open and Michael walk in.

            “H-Hi! Welcome back from whatever you were doing!” I called out, briefly glancing at him. His, uh, friend was no longer eager to greet the day, but it was still prominent despite not being so “happy”.

            “Are you hungry?” I asked, working on the last stitch. It took me longer than I thought because not only were there a lot of holes, but I always accidentally cut the thread too short, not to mention how many times I accidentally prodded myself with the thing.

            I felt him behind me, so I looked up at him with a smile.

            “Hey, almost done with your suit, just need to finish this last hole,” I said, before glancing down at his chest, where I could see the bumps on his chest from where the wounds were. I wonder if he had those bullets out or at least attempted to heal his wounds. Would he give me some sort of freedom back rather than being forced to stay in the same room as him until its “time to sleep” if I helped him?

            “Alright, done. Here you go!” Holding it up to him, I watched as he took it, assessing the stitches before walking to the bathroom, closing the door.

            “You’re welcome, I guess,” I muttered to myself. I got up to feed Miss Petunia, who was crying in the kitchen to be fed.

            By the time I was done, I saw Michael, in his suit, standing in in front of the television. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew he was watching it with his odd intensity. I walked up next to him, curious at what caught his attention.

            It was still on the news channel. They were interviewing some guy named Dr. Samuel Loomis.

            “…Michael Myers is a menace and should be avoided at all costs. He’s been in my care for fifteen years, and I can tell you there is nothing but the devil in that monster’s eyes. Nothing I could do could cure the evil in him. In all my years of being a psychologist, I have never known cruelty and devastation like him. If you see him, run and hide, before he hurts you. Once you are in a safe place, please, call the police. There is no reasoning with this demon, only death.” He spoke to the press. I frowned.

            I mean, yes, Michael did hurt me and did show his cruelty when I first met him, but he also showed some form of concern, especially after he punished me. Not that I’m defending him or anything.

            I glanced down, seeing Michael’s knuckles tighten to a bony white.

            “Do you know him?’ I asked, my eyes drifting to his face. He said nothing, the only sound coming from him being his heavy breathing. He turned abruptly, stomping over to the couch and grabbing the remote, forcing it into my hands. He then pointed to the TV.

            “Um, do you want me to change the channel?” When he just pointed again, I hurriedly switched the channel, turning it to some show. It was some show with Dick van Dyke.

            “So, um, are you hungry?” I asked, and he exhaled, walking over to the kitchen table, sitting down.

            I decided to make him a nice grilled cheese sandwich. He seemed like he needed some sort of comfort. Cutting it in half, I put it on his plate, along with some fruit from the fridge.

            I placed it in front of him. Before I could walk away to make my dinner, he grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

            “Is everything alright, uh, Michael?” I tried, hoping he wouldn’t get mad at me using his name. He said nothing, before slowly letting my wrist go, shaking his head. Then, he pointed to the laundry room. I sighed.

            “I mean, can I make myself dinner first?” He shook his head, only pointing again at the laundry room. I put my hands up in defeat, walking in the room and closing the door.

            I heard him take the mask off and place it on the table, picking up his sandwich.

            I blew a raspberry. I can’t help but wonder why he refuse to share his face. And why the hell did that Dr. Loomis guy seemed to strike a chord within him?

            After he ate, he let me out of the laundry room. I was surprised when he offered me the other half of his sandwich. This really contradicts what that Loomis guy said.

            “Thank you…”

            After I ate, we sat down in front of the couch, watching the couple on the screen. Miss Petunia jumped onto the sofa at one point. She climbed on my lap, purring as she gently butted her head against my chin. I gave her a kiss on her soft little forehead, stroking her fur affectionately. She crawled across my lap into Michael’s, chirping at the man. She then rubbed her head along his chest, to which I noticed he tensed slightly.

            ‘I bet his wounds are still hurting him…’

            “I think I have a first aid kit in my room with, uh, gauze and medical shit in it. I can try to help you with your bullet holes, if you want?” He turned his head to me, slowly nodding once after a heavy pause.

            After grabbing the kit and heading back downstairs, I smiled at him kindly.

            “Alright, take off the top part of your suit.” He didn’t move. I sighed, raising my eyebrow.

            “Mikey, I can’t help you if I can’t see the wounds,” I said. After another hesitation, he unzipped the front of his suit, opening it up and leaving his lower half in the uniform.

            Okay, did they have a frickin’ gym at the penitentiary or something? His chest was muscular, riddled with muscles. He also had some scars on his chest. Aside from the bullet holes that needed serious attention, I noticed he had what looked like poorly healed wounds, from something that repeatedly hit him.

            His bullet wounds looked bad, though. Very, very bad. One of them looked like it was in the onset of becoming severely infected.

            I pulled up a chair from the kitchen and put it in the family room so he could be able to still watch the television while I worked on him. He sat down on the chair, and I got to work. I suddenly was very grateful for the first-aid class my brother forced me to take. I sterilized my tweezers, wishing I did have some better tools for this.

            “Alright, Mikey. I’m not gonna lie, this will hurt. But I promise, it will help and is much better than getting an infection, okay?” He merely nodded. I sighed, glancing at his chest. I gently and slowly pushed the tweezers into one of the holes, trying to fight off the inner nausea I felt inside me. He tensed as I managed to grab onto the bullet.

            “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how bad this hurts, I’m so sorry,” I told him, wincing in sympathy as I pulled out the bullet. As it finally pulled out with a gross squelch, he seemed to relax, letting out a breath. I quickly stuffed some gauze over the wound, stopping the blood flow.

            After that, I worked in silence, concentrating on pulling out the bullets and stopping him from dying from blood loss.

            “Um, I realized, I know your name, but you don’t know mine. I’m (Y/N), and that,” I motioned to the kitty on the couch, “is Miss Petunia. Normally she doesn’t really warm up to strangers very fast, especially if they are staying so long. I mean, it took her five days to get used to me and a week for Mr. Steinberg.”

            He said nothing, as he normally did. I sighed, refocusing my attention on his last wound. I began to work on cleaning one of the more badly infected wounds. Ten minutes later, I finished and I sat back on my heels, tilting my head at the masked shirtless man curiously.

            “How come you’re so reluctant to show your face?” Nothing.

            “Do you have like a nasty scar or something? Horribly disfigured?” Still nothing.

            “I noticed the other day that your eye looked hurt. Did you cut your eye? I can h-” as I reached up to grab his mask, he caught my wrist. I gasped in shock as he then grabbed my throat, tightening his hold.

            “Hck! I-I’m sorry! I’m so so-sorry!” I choked out, grabbing his wrist and scratching for him to let go. He said nothing, pulling my face in closer to him. He was so close, the nose of his mask practically brushed against mine. All I could see were his eyes glaring at me through his mask’s holes. Then, he let me go, letting me fall onto the carpet, gently holding my throat.

            As I knelt on the carpet, slowly regaining my breath, I couldn’t help but wonder why he refused to show his face.

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Hi Hi!!! Thank you all for your patience once again! I hope you had a wonderful new year day! I watched the second avatar today and lemme just say I am a whore for the navi. WHY ARE THE MEN AND WOMEN SO FINE??? BTW we hate hate HATE Dr. Loomis in this home. I fuckin despise him and he's a disgrace to psychology. Bye, my fellow slasher sluts~~~

[slashersgirlypop]

CHAPTER 10 DELAY :( SORRY!!!

Hi! I'm so sorry for the delay in the next chapter, it should be posted tomorrow. I had a stomach bug so I wasn't exactly feeling my best. Thank you for y'all's patience, I really appreciate it. I'm feeling much better now tho! I hope you all are doing well and are healthy and not stomach-bug-ridden! HAPPY FRICKIN NEW YEAR BTW!!!!!! Until tomorrow, my fellow slasher sluts~