A/N: Hey everyone, sorry again about the delay in writing - I should be able to post more frequently after this Monday.

I know some of you had some questions about other characters from the movie (won't spoil this chapter for you), so I invite you to read the newest development.

Thank you so much for all your kind reviews,

please continue to review, you can't know how much I love to read them!


Chapter 11:

Euphoria consumed her. She couldn't move, she didn't want to. Driving the car away from the camp now seemed like the worst possible idea she could have come up with. Was she dreaming?

With the ceasing of the rain, Whitney woke from what seemed like an eternity with him. With one last kiss, she rest her forehead against his chin. The car would have to go into the lake, there was no other way. She could not bare to leave the camp now.

She dug her nails into his shoulders, into his back, her eyes closed, once more leaning her head against his chest. It was a powerful thing, just to be so close. She felt as though she could not get close enough, and something quite like frustration coursed through her.

Both of them heard it. Their heads snapped in one direction, toward the woods to the left of the house. Another twig snapped, much like the one which had caught the officer's attention before he had been so brutally slaughtered. Someone was definitely out there. Whitney released her grip on Jason. He retrieved his machete, and his mask, and walked straight toward the source of the noise.

Her arms were empty again. She put her fingers delicately to her lips, and watched him move away. She truly wished every human dead who set foot upon these grounds. Once again comfort stripped away from her by some foolish intruder. Well, now was the time to deal with the last intruders. She gripped the hair of the decapitated head and carried it, dangling, blood dripping slowly from its severed neck to the cop car. She'd place it upon the passengers seat ever so delicately, like the center piece of a brilliant dinner table. How nice, she thought, cop on a silver platter. She knew she must have been losing her mind. But to lose her mind to Jason? Whitney smiled.

She peered out in his direction. He was gone. Not a noise nor movement penetrated the calm and silence. Whitney dragged the stiff bodies by their arms to the car, shoving one in the back seat and the other in the trunk. They were far heavier than she thought they'd be. The car revealed surprisingly few possesions. Just a couple of guns and ammunition for them, which she took and set to the side of the house. She drove the car down to the dock and promptly found a large enough rock to position on the gas peddle, allowing the car to speed straight down the board walk, and into the water with a magnificent splash, sending water in every direction, and the car began slowly to sink. Whitney watched its descent, until only bubbles disturbed the surface of the water, gray water, reflecting the storm still looming in the skies above her . She walked to the edge. The roof of the car was still visible, but slowly seeping into the murky water. She sighed. It was over.

She came back to the house. Jason wasn't there. If someone was in those woods, she knew he'd hunt them down, and kill them. How long did that take? She let herself into the mine, carrying those guns she had retrieved from the car. She walked slowly down the passage, which had quickly become home. Over the weeks, Whitney had begun to recognize every groove in the earthen walls, every uneven step along the mine path, every room she came upon, it was all so familiar, nothing was a surprise any more.

Everything she retrieved from the outside world went into her room, with her mattress, though she had serious doubts she'd ever sleep there again. No. She softly smiled to herself. She never sleep down here again, unless he was with her.

She rummaged through her victim's camping bag and found some warmer clothes. Surprise, she thought, the teenager actually prepared for cooler weather. She changed into them, a black sweater and blue jeans. Everything else in the bag was very light summer wear. She'd need new stuff... eventually.

Hours passed. The gray clouds parted to reveal a bright red evening sky. Jason was still not home. Whitney had spent the better part of the afternoon lying in Jason's bed, waiting for him to return. He didn't. It wasn't long before she drifted to sleep, the covers just below her shoulder, lying on her right side facing the window, the distant red sky behind softly blowing curtains.

Crickets sang. With her eyes still closed, and caught somewhere between the worlds of wake and sleep, Whitney began to feel something moving along her cheek bone. She moved slightly, though it did not stop. Was it normal? her hibernating mind tried to rationalize. When finally she awoke, it was dark, completely dark. No moon. But upon her face, a hand, moving delicately across her features, caressing her skin. She took a deep breath and exhaled, lightly smiling.

She couldn't see, though when she reached over to touch his mask, confirming his presence, she shifted herself under the covers, and in to his embrace.

Was she still sleeping? The crickets were gone. It was as though she closed her eyes and opened them, and everything was different. He wasn't holding her any more. She reached over. She felt Jason beside her. She must have been so deeply asleep she did not dream, nor notice time. Then a hand fell hard over her mouth. She tried to scream but the force of its grasp concealed any potential sound which threatened to emerge from her lips. Just a pitiful yelp emitted her throat, before she was pulled out of the bed and carried down the hall. Whitney clawed at the figure, until she knew she was drawing blood. She kicked violently, and finally on their way down the stairs she managed to break herself free by falling half a flight onto her stomach.

Getting up was painful, she was certain that she had broken something. Then, a light. Her kidnapper had a flashlight, and shot the beam directly into her face. She squinted and held her hand up before her eyes.

"We have to get out of here." Came a familiar male voice. Who was it? She knew that voice. He grabbed her by the arm and led her out the front door. He was nervous, she could feel his hand shaking as it grasped tightly to her left arm. Outside of the house, Whitney punched him in the jaw, he gasped, let go of her, and dropped his flashlight. She retrieved it immediately and pointed the light directly into his face, and was about to scream for Jason... only, she found herself unable to make a noise.

"Clay?" It was her brother.

"Whitney, we have to get you out of here."

She took slow deep breaths, and continued pointing the light into his face.

"What are you doing here?" She questioned him, "I thought you were dead."

"No, that night, I was able to escape. We don't have time for this Whitney, we have to get out of here."

"I'll sit with you in the car" she said. He took this as good enough, and took her arm, basically pulling her to his SUV.

Once in, he plunged his key into the ignition, but before he could turn the key, Whitney grabbed his wrist, digging her nails painfully into his skin.

"Wait." she said. "I have to explain something to you Clay. You might not understand, but..."

"I understand perfectly Whitney," His expression could not have been more serious. "This freak who lives here has you brainwashed. I saw the whole thing. The cops, the murders, I saw you kiss him. You need serious help, and you need it now." he said. With that he punched her in the face so hard, she fell against the window. She did not get up. Clay fired up the engine and shot out of there faster than he'd ever pushed that vehicle before. At the last moment, before leaving the path and turning onto the road, through his rear view mirror, his red tail lights revealed Jason, standing at the end of the path, his rusty machete in his right hand. "You're gonna be OK now, Whitney." Clay told her. Her head pressed against the window, her eyes shut, blood leaking from her already swollen lip. Clay must have broken the speed limit ten fold that night.