A rush of water fills my mouth as I let out a defiant scream. Choking, I flail my arms to find my way up. Sunlight trickles faintly through the shadowy depths. I try to ignore the burning in my lungs as I swim for the surface, but no matter how hard I fight, the water keeps pulling me back down.
No! Bubbles stream from my lips, choking what's left of my air right out of me. Weak and helpless, I let my body go limp as the current pulls me under. I look up at the sun for one final goodbye just before the black waves swallow me whole.
Down, down, down, I go deeper into the watery rabbit hole. Finally I sink to the bottom and the world fades out of focus. With a flash, I come back to awareness and find myself face to mask with the notorious Camp Crystal Lake Killer.
I scream and try to move away from him, but he grabs my wrist and shoves me on my back. He wraps his hand around my throat, choking the life out of me as he rips off his mask. I know what he wants to do. I turn away, hoping to deter him, but he simply wrenches my head back. With a sardonic smile forming on his decayed face, he shoves the iconic goalie mask in place and disappears.
I come to back in the bedroom, sputtering a mouthful of lake water onto their beige carpet. My body is heavy, sore, desperate for dreamless sleep. There doesn't seem to be enough air in the room to soothe my ragged lungs or steady my spinning head. Collapsing on the floor, I roll on my back and give myself over to the exhaustion. If this is how I'm supposed to die, then so be it. I'm too damn tired to fight.
But it seems life has other ideas for me.
No sooner do I accept defeat, a surge of energy rushes into my veins. My eyes snap open at the rush of power blazing all throughout my body. Within seconds, the spinning in my head is clear and I feel as if I've grown ten times stronger. I test out my arms with light flexing of my fingers and hands. Adrenaline unlike anything I've ever felt before courses through me. Jesus Christ, I've never felt so alive.
I get to my feet and see I'm fully clothed. I'm wearing a black button-up shirt, baggy cargo pants over combat boots, and a heavy water-stained jacket cut and frayed in almost every place. Beside my feet are my beloved mask and machete, brand new and ready to be put to use.
Time for my welcome home party.
I take the mask first. It slips over my head with ease. The eye holes are big enough to look through without obstructing my vision. Breathing isn't as easy, but I find I don't need to breathe anymore. My heart doesn't even seem to be beating. Ironic, given that I've never felt more alive.
Bending down, I run a finger lovingly over the blade of my loyal weapon. The sharp edge cuts straight through skin, but I don't feel any pain. Blood squirts out, but in an instant the torn skin on my finger stitches itself back together, leaving just a faint scar as a reminder. Smirking, I grab the hilt and slowly get to my feet. I catch my image in the mirror above the dresser and my smile grows wider.
Goddamn, I've never looked better. Though I can't see much beneath the mask and layers, my hair is shiny and flawless, a perfect sheen of blonde falling in graceful waves below my shoulders, and I can feel my body has become completely overtaken by lean, hard muscle. I feel like the killing machine I was born to be.
I am Jessa Voorhees.
A startled scream from the doorway interrupts my thoughts. A brunette, about my age, stands in nothing but a guy's shirt and panties, and won't stop screaming in my face. "Oh my fucking god! Help! Somebody help me!"
There's no one here to help you, bitch.
In a quick swipe, I raise my machete and slice at her head. It flies off, spraying blood everywhere as it sails down the stairs. The rest of her crumbles to a pathetic heap, leaking her precious fluids all over the carpet. I smile at her beneath my mask and step around her, ready for my next victim.
I find him easily by his astonished yell. Typical frat type with surfer-boy blonde hair and wearing a douchey pink polo with tan shorts. He looks up from his girlfriend's head just as I emerge on the bottom landing. "Oh sh-"
I rear back and shove my machete into his mouth, shutting him up for good.
He gurgles once around the blade before his eyes roll back. I wait for him to go limp and then rip my machete out, making a wet sucking sound as it releases from his mouth. I know there's someone else here. Just one last insignificant fuck to deal with, and then I can make my way on home.
My senses drive me toward the bathroom. I don't bother hiding my heavy footfalls as I march over to it. The door is locked. I laugh at his stupid attempt to keep me out. Tightening my grip, I twist hard and the knob snaps. A pair of terrified whimpers sound on the other side. I kick the door open, sending a spray of splinters raining down on their terrified faces.
"Please," the guy says, pulling the blonde's head down to cover what his dropped pants can't. He's on the toilet, an obvious odor coming from it, but what I don't understand is why his dick is so damn hard. One look at the girl's lips tells me all I need to know.
Fucking perverts.
They need to die.
Filled with rage, I snatch the blonde by her head. She cries pathetically as she struggles in my grip. The guy launches himself to pull her away and I cut off his hands.
"The fuck!" he collapses at his severed stumps, blood gushing from the veins. I leave him there to bleed out and turn my attention back to the blonde, who's too in shock over the state of her boyfriend to see my blade in time. She turns just as I bring it down over her head, cleaving her skull in half. She drops like the broken doll she is beside her boyfriend, who I know is still alive by the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
I fix that with a stab to the heart. Blood erupts in my face, painting me a lovely shade of insides. Satisfied, I rip my machete out of him and exit the house.
The sun is hot. Air too warm. I need to get to the water. Need to get home. Nothing about this place feels right. But at least there's water. As long as there's water, I can always find my way back home.
My ears fill with the sound of terrified screams. Music to my ears. I can feel people running from me in terror and snapping pictures of me on their phones. Half of me yearns to kill them, but a little voice in the back of my head tells me no.
Not yet, Jessa. It's a woman's voice. Light, yet raspy. I've never heard it before, but I know it somehow. They have to know you've returned first. Forget about them and go home.
But they need to die.
They will, Jessa. They will. But first you must return home. They'll come looking for you there.
Do you promise?
Of course I do, my sweet girl. Grandma would never lie to you.
Okay, Grandma. I turn back to the water. If you promise, then I'll go home.
That's my girl. Always do as Grandma tells you. I'll never do you wrong.
Her words bring about a sense of peace. Safety. Home. Things I thought I knew before but had no fucking idea about until now. I know so long as I remain close to her, I'll always feel as though I belong. That I'm being the good girl she wants me to be.
Now it's not so hard to block out the screams. With the smell of the lake water filling my senses, I close my eyes and walk into the waves with open arms. I barely take more than three steps in when the water rises around me in tidal waves. Screams fill the air, but I pay them no mind as the water engulfs me in its liquid embrace. Within seconds I'm engulfed in its liquid embrace, but I have no fear. I know it's just taking me home.