Teresa tore her perfectly manicured nails to pieces prying off the boards covering the front door to the creepy old house in the woods. She was never going to get them all off, but if she could just make a cheerleader-sized opening...just big enough to squirm through...easy does it...

Easy does it? Move, girl! A murderer's after you!

Finally she managed an opening big enough to get through, and squealed as she forced herself into it. Jagged edges of wood scraped her face. The house was pitch black and filled with ancient dust and cobwebs. Several silken strands stroked her cheeks and caught in her hair. A spider ran across her head. Tearing them from her glossy locks, she stumbled her way into the darkness, hoping against hope that there wasn't a hole in the floor. Or worse, some hungry animal that had made this place its den. Christ, if only she had grabbed Brad's flashlight from the Bronco. If only she could see.

Taking gentle but quick baby steps, Teresa felt out in front of her with both hands, just as she did whenever Brad and his buddies took her to a haunted house, with those awful narrow passageways. Now she would give anything for those claustrophobic corridors, for this front room was wide open and all she felt was thin air. She kept expecting an unseen pair of hands to grab hers and jerk her forward. If that happened, she would just give up. She couldn't run anymore. Her body was covered in sweat and she could barely breathe. She had enough strength left to hope that this black house wouldn't become her tomb.

Jason Voorhees sprinted through the forest after his nubile pray, huffing under the hood. He would get her. There was no way she could escape. The stupid bitch would trip and land on her ass, or she would get so turned around that she would end up heading directly for him. It had taken even him a few years to really get a feel for the land, the tangles, the trees. Plus there were little creeks that became bogs and tiny swamp pockets just waiting to gobble sneakers and sink a person to their knees. This girl had no hope.

As he ran he gradually became aware of something. He was headed in a direction not just familiar, but dreaded. The house. Oh God, the cursed house. The place where he had spent just a handful of years before his drowning, but those years had scalded themselves upon his mind like brands of fire. His mother had lived there. Elias had lived there. His father had not remained with them long, but Jason's memory of him seemed as talented as a white tailed deer bent on escaping his spear. There was no earthly way he could remember him as a baby, but somehow he did. He remembered Elias looming over his crib and scowling, always scowling. He remembered the horrible things he used to scream at his mother-

Did you fuck the devil?

-during their awful fights. He remembered learning to walk, and Elias had barked between shots of Whiskey that once the creature learned how to do that, it was just a matter of time before they had to enroll him in school. "What the hell is he going to learn to be? A sideshow attraction, Pamela? I don't think you can get a degree in that."

He remembered the feel of his father's callused hands as he beat him like a chicken stealing fox finally caught in a trap. They were thick and rough, like sandpaper. They didn't feel human at all. Where Jason had great love and affection for his mother, he had terrible hatred and rage for his father. Some of that rage had torn open that bastard's throat back on the road, but there was still some left. The girl would soon taste that rage. He poured on the speed, already seeing the house up ahead. Voorhees Manor. His inner radar told him the girl had taken refuge inside.

Her mistake.

Teresa had somehow found the great staircase leading upstairs. She moved quickly, no longer caring if anyone was hiding up there in the bedrooms. The killer who had murdered her boyfriend had to have found the house himself by now. It was only a matter of time before she heard his powerful hands crashing into the boards, forcing his way inside.

Moving down the second floor hall, Teresa could at least feel the walls on either side now, and picture frames. Once she bumped into a little table and an old lamp quivered, threatening to fall. Her hands pawed it, trying to find the switch. Hopefully it was not one of those you had to light with a match. She could see moonlight shining through the planks covering the window at the far end of the hall, but she wanted to see her surroundings better. She wanted to take the lamp into one of the rooms and hopefully, hide under the bed. Let that monster try and find her with his one eyehole, the bastard.

Do you really expect the bulb to still work? Do really expect it to still have a bulb?

She ignored the taunting voice of this horrible place and when her fingers found the shape of a light bulb under the shade, she yipped. Moving them down, she then found the switch. Let there be light. The bulb winked on and off for a few seconds before shining weakly. Immediately she saw the picture above the table against the wall, one of a young woman standing beside a lake. Crystal Lake.