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Her knees hit the dirt first, her hands propelling forward to ease the fall but to no avail as her body rolled down the hill and into the forest. She could vaguely hear the sound of a thud on the ground behind her, most likely her backpack getting haphazardly tossed out after her. The engine of Cassandra's car revved as it started again, the tires squealing on the asphalt as the group sped away. The breath was knocked out of her as she rolled like a snowball in a cartoon, only stopping when her head smacked against the trunk of a tree.
Darkness dotted her vision, and she tried not to cry. She gripped onto the base of the tree to help push her up, only to fall back down again at the pounding in her head. Groaning, she tried again, and tried to guide herself back to the street through the fogginess of her vision. Just go back the way she fell, right? It was easy as that, she thought to herself. But she couldn’t hear any sounds of cars over the pain in her head, and her vision blurred as she swayed like someone spun her around before letting her take a whack at a piñata.
She couldn’t recall how far she got before her legs gave out from under her, her eyes fluttering close as she fell to the ground.
When she came to, her body ached, and her hands struggled to support herself as she sat upright. She blinked her vision clear, and realized, likely hours too late, that the group probably wasn't looking for her. The forest around her was dark, enveloped in shade and obscuring some of the storm overhead. Her watch, barely visible, told her it was nearing sundown. It would be fully dark soon, and she knew enough of the stories of those who were murdered in the woods of Camp Crystal Lake that whatever called the forest home, it would not be kind to those who overstayed their welcome.
She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream and throw things and watch Cassandra's stupid car and her stupid friends drive off a cliff. But mostly, she wanted them to be waiting at the forest's edge, for them to get their laughs out and take pity on her and let her back in the car, so she could go home and cry and pretend none of this ever happened. Now, all she could hope for is that Jason Voorhees, the illusive masked man who Cassandra had teased her about, didn't actually make her his next victim.
Like something from a horror movie, where your worst fears are immediately made true as soon as you think of them, a movement from the trees in front of her caused her to stiffen.
Her bottom lip trembled. “Jason?” she blinked back tears, rubbing at her eyes and straining to see further in the distance through the rain that was becoming torrential.
She heard it then, the sound of a machete being removed from its sheath, the crunching of twigs under heavy footsteps. She didn't want to think that Cassandra's nasty remark would be true, and that her cruel prank would be her undoing, but in that moment it felt all too real. She was the perfect victim, thrown to the wolves and with no one to rescue her. Her eyes widened. Terror settled in the pit of her stomach and her heart caught in her throat. She tried not to let the terror creeping up on her get the best of her, and maybe, just maybe she could find a way out of this.
Her mouth opened, and words left her lips, but she couldn't hear her anxiety-riddled spiel over the sound of her heart hammering in her ears. “I’m sorry,” she said. She wasn’t sure how well he would listen to reason, but hoped that by explaining her reason (or lack thereof) for being there would somehow get out her out of being his next victim. “I really didn’t think I’d end up here. I thought they actually wanted to hang out, you know? The popular kids actually being nice to me for the first time since 5th grade; I really fell for it!” she couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped past her lips, sounding watery and strained.
Jason paused in his tracks, and she could make out the outline of his head tilting to the side, as if encouraging her to go on, and Hell if she was going to keep someone like that waiting.
“They told me they were going on a camping trip, and wanted to know if I was interested in coming along. God, I even blabbed about it to my next door neighbor, I really thought it was my high school experience’s turning point. They were all so nice when the ride started, talking to me like I was there, as opposed to talking through me like they do. But then all of the sudden they turned onto a back road and started on a spiel about how they’d rather die before having to pretend any longer, and how Jason Voorhees was in need of a new victim. They shoved me out of the car right then and there! I rolled, and must’ve hit my head, because the next thing I know I’m here, talking to you. You might as well kill me, if just out of spite; but I doubt they’d feel guilty, people like that only feel pity for themselves.”
He walked closer, and she assumed that was her answer. At least she’d get the satisfaction of possibly making Cassandra and the rest of her stereotypical clique feel something other than disgust for everyone who wasn’t worthy in their eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting the impact of a machete to the skull. Instead of the metal, a cold palm patted against her head. Her eyes open, her head snapping up to see cloudy light blue uneven eyes staring back at her through a dirt-caked hockey mask. He removed his hand immediately, wary of her quick movement, and she almost missed the comfort of his hand on her head when it was replaced with cold rain pouring down on her again.
He stepped back, and turned his head towards the left, lifting his left hand (which was still wrapped around that trusty machete of his) and gestured in the same direction.
“Is that.. is that where I should go? Left?” She asked hesitantly. It didn’t seem like he was going to kill her in the near future, so maybe he was directing her out of the forest? She hoped that she wasn’t being too bold by assuming he was trying to help her.
He nodded, and stood there patiently as if waiting for her to stand. She did so shakily, her legs feeling like jelly from the adrenaline of nearly having died, possibly more than once, wearing off and leaving her feeling exhausted and sick to her stomach from anxiety. Ignoring the downpour of rain from above and her clothes not only being soaked, but covered in mud, she brushed off her pants, adjusted her jacket, and began to walk in the direction Jason had pointed out to her.
It was a total of five feet in when she became aware that the heavy footfalls from behind her were not fading away as Jason parted ways with her there, but following close behind, patiently guiding her way from behind.
It took everything in her power to not look behind her, and she was scared that if she did he would get annoyed, and beyond that, she was scared that if he got annoyed with her he would leave her there to travel by herself, any despite who it was just a few steps behind her, She believed that any company (that isn’t actively trying to kill you) is good company when you’re stranded in a forest that no person without a death wish has stepped in in decades.
When a hand rested against her shoulder, she jumped. Head swiveling around and almost bumping against the masked man. He was leaning forward to meet her eyes directly this time, face close enough to hers that her impulse control was doing everything in its power to get her to not instinctively boop the nose of the hockey mask with her finger.
Instead of pulling his hand away, he placed his other one on her other shoulder, and as if she was a ragdoll, moved her so that she was facing away from the direction she was walking in.
She turned her head to peek at Jason, who made no indication as to whether he was mad or not at her mistake. “I was going the wrong way, wasn’t I?” she asked sheepishly, and a small smile worked its way onto her face when he gave her a nod.
She mumbled a quick “whoopsies,” under her breath, and they continued on their way. After a few more minutes of silent walking, she could see the street through the tree line as it cleared up ahead. A wide smile appeared on her face, and she quickened her pace. “I can’t believe it- you were right! Now if I can just get to a store or something, maybe someone will take pity on me and let me use their phone. Still I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my parents…” she trailed off when she realized that Jason probably didn’t care, and wasn’t going to supply her with any indication that he was listening either.
“So, I guess that’s it. I know you didn’t uh- you didn’t have to help me out here, I mean you’re more than likely wishing you didn’t but, well, I really appreciate it. Thank you-“ she paused when she turned around to empty space. Jason was nowhere in sight. She sighed, grimacing at the feeling of being alone once more. She didn’t know if he was still watching from afar, but the lack of his presence, or any presence for that matter, made her want to get back to civilization as quickly as possible.
Before she left, she made one more glance into the depths of the forest that housed the remains of Camp Crystal Lake, and whatever was left inside the body of Jason Voorhees, the part of him that decided to help out a stranger who never met to be in his land in the first place.
“Thank you, Jason.” She left, trying hard not to turn back, and started towards the first phone she could find.
***
Jason watched her carefully each time she turned back to speak to him, his eyes followed every move she made, from her arm gestures when she spoke, to the way she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet when his lack of reaction made her uneasy. His mind was still reeling, his mother had been silent ever since he spotted the girl tucked into a ball on the forest floor, covered in mud and leaves and unbelievably non-threatening looking. He could’ve killed her right then and there, in one fail swoop her life would’ve been over. People would come looking, and those who lived in town would know better than to search those woods, his woods. She would become nothing more than a memory and food for the earth. But then she woke up. Her head lifted off the ground and he watched as she realized where she was, mumbling to herself and slowly crumbling like a dead leaf under his boot. She looked around helplessly, and when her eyes met his, he could see the gears in her head turning. She, a young girl caked in mud and tears in her eyes, spoke his name. Said it so clearly that for a moment Jason forgot it was even his own, decades of strangers who knew him as nothing more than the memory of a boy and a monster of a man left his name nothing more than an unfamiliar word on another person’s tongue.
His mother was silent, and his mind started screaming for guidance. She was never silent. Never in all his years had his mother’s voice quieted, she had guided his hands, and led him to his kills. He felt her breath where his ears once were, whispering against the skin and singing him praise. She told him of all the terrible things they had done, how disgusting they had been and how they would only continue. He had to kill them. Kill them because they were all the same. Kill them because like a plague, their virus would only spread, poisoning the remnants of Camp Crystal Lake and the forest he made his home. What made her any different? What was it about her that quieted her voice?
He should have just killed her, if only to hear his mother once more. But then the girl started talking, and the silence left by his mother was replaced with her strained voice, gentle and sad. Without his mother to guide him, as if possessed by some unknown force, he decided on his own to do something he had never done before. He decided to let the girl live.
He watched her go, now a safe distance from the road and out of view of the girl. She staggered down the empty road, her head turning to look over her shoulder every now and then, as if awaiting him to come up behind her, machete at the ready. He waited until she grew small in the distance, out of view and closer to the horrors, and supposed safety, of civilization. He waited for his mother’s voice to return. He waited, desperately, to be rid of the silence. Silence brought on by the strange girl he found on the forest floor.