Dawn scratched her scalp unsurely; Jason was attempting to mend his hockey mask. She felt bad, she didn't know if Jason liked his hockey mask or he just wore it because he had to. Either way, he suffered the loss.
"I can always go into town and get a hockey mask." Jason turned and looked at her. He shook his head. Dawn sprawled out on the bed, blowing an unruly strand of hair out of her face.
"You sure?" She asked him, Jason didn't say anything but grunted. Dawn sighed. She hated it when he would do that, he wouldn't talk, but he wouldn't use correct English in the first place. It was annoying, Dawn was raised in a dignified southern family, and she was living with Jason Voorhees. Dawn laughed at her situation. Jason turned to her again, bewildered.
"Nothing." She told him before he even reacted. How ironic, her parents had always expected her to settle down, the American dream her reality, a husband, two children, a dog, basically the life that they led. Dawn, for a while had accepted their plans. But she began to realize, under every amazing dream, there was always a villain, waiting in the shadows. She soon realized that people are never what she expected, never perfect. She watched Jason again. He sighed heavily and threw the hockey mask down.
Jason was upset. That mask had so many memories, and that damned bastard ruined it. He sighed and threw it down on the table. He felt Dawn's hands lay on his shoulders; they travelled over his shoulders and her fingers interlocked at the base of his throat. Dawn rest her head on his shoulder. Jason looked at her, Dawn's eyes were closed and a gentle smile played on her lips. He sat there awkwardly, watching her. Dawn opened her eyes. She pulled back and left his sight. Jason looked down at his old mask. He'd have to get a new one. He looked back to Dawn, who had picked up her sketchpad and was doodling. Her blue eyes were wide with concentration; the sketchpad shook gently as she started to shade in an area to the unknown picture.
She stole a look at Jason, her unknowing subject to her picture. She saw him looking at her. His face, it was mangled, but nothing to scream and run at the sight of. The only reason why it startled people was because Jason had already scared the hell out of them. She was drawing a picture of him without his hockey mask, so when he either fixed it or got a new one, she'd remember. She knew he was too stubborn to walk around the cabin without coverage.
Dawn's eyes travelled over his face, what was she doing? He stood and went over to her; Dawn clutched the sketchpad to her chest.
"Did you have to move?" She asked him, narrowing her eyes at him. Jason grabbed his notebook and pencil and wrote a message.
Are you drawing me? Dawn read the passage and looked at him. Her eyes were wide as she showed him the picture. Jason saw himself mask less. He looked at Dawn.
He wrote down something else and gave his notebook to her.
Why are you so insistent on my face? He asked her, Dawn looked up at him.
"Because, I like you, and I don't like barriers." She replied, Jason looked down at the floor; he really wished he had the hockey mask.
Dawn giggled, Jason was blushing. He looked at her, hurt in his eyes; he stood about to walk away from her. Dawn reached out and grabbed his arm.
"I wasn't making fun of you, Jason. I just think it's cute that you're blushing. I didn't think that I affected you that way." He looked at her. She gave him a quick smile, and he sat back down. Dawn wrapped her arms around him. Jason tensed again. He wrapped an arm around her. He felt her smile. Why? He wanted to know what she saw in him. He saw everything in her, goodness, innocents, beauty. Jason was her exact negative. Mother always told him opposites attract. But did he attract her, even if he was the very opposite of what she stood for in her world? Or was she even good in her world?
Dawn sighed contently, she felt protected. She looked down at her picture of Jason, and then looked up at the actual. She could've done a better job; of course the picture was a brief sketch. She'd make a better version later. Jason took the sketchpad from her and started flipping through the pages.
He saw various pictures, a few of himself and then of a few scenes with both of them in it. Scenes that had been real, like when he was training her. The scene of the training was when he had a grip of Dawn's axe below the head right before he had dropped the axe to the ground. He flipped to the next page; the picture on that page was his bear. It was sitting up against a pillow, leaning a little to the left.
Turning the next page, it was a picture of her, sitting on the bed, her knees folded, arms hugging her knees and she was looking outside the window that sat behind them. A shadow that had never been there stood at the edge of the bed, curling over her, like it was about to pounce her, the picture Dawn was unaware. The shadow had odd jagged wings, long sharp claws. Dripping fangs and its body was just a black mass, hovering a foot off the edge. He looked at Dawn, whose eyes were closed, a small smile playing on her lips. Jason looked down at the picture, what could that shadow stand for, Mother had taught him about art, and that pictures like the one in his hands usually meant something.
Jason turned the page; it was a picture of him fighting Freddy. It wasn't an actual scene from the fight Dawn had seen; it looked more like the fight from before. The picture depicted Jason as holding Freddy's wrist back, and using his other hand to drive his machete into Freddy's chest. He looked at the back to see if there was a title.
My Protector was written in soft, feminine hand. He looked at her, was he her protector, or did Dawn just think that? He would put his life on the line for her, not that it would matter anything, he dies almost every summer, and comes back the following winter. If he did die protecting her, it wasn't a big deal. Maybe it was to her though. He studied Dawn, then her pictures. He flipped to the front. The pictures there were more innocent, like birds, and a cat. A lot of pictures of that one cat. Just about as many as there were of him in the back. Where was that cat, had it died before she came?
"Lucky, my ex-fiancé killed him in a fit of rage. I should've killed the bastard, that cat was my best friend." Dawn told him. She sat up, shaking Jason's arm off and took the notepad. She turned the page and turned the sketchpad to the side. The picture was of a withered rose on a grave.
"I found this in the cemetery down the road. I thought it was touching and wanted to capture the moment. I sat down in front of the grave and drew it." She flipped to the next page. It was a boy, a small child with a mother, holding her hand. The mother was heavy with child. Dawn blinked at the picture.
"I drew this one the day we met. I don't know why though, I didn't see them; I don't intend that to be me one day. It just felt right to draw it I guess." She told Jason. She quickly turned the page, but turned it back before Jason could see the next picture. It was a picture of him; about to kill her, an artist always drew her feelings. She didn't want him to see that. Jason looked at Dawn.
"I don't think you need to see that one. I drew it after we met, like a couple days after we met, when I wasn't exactly, uhhh. I-" Dawn gulped.
"I didn't always trust you the way I do now, Jason. That picture showed that." She ranted. Jason looked down at the floor. Dawn gently took the sketch booklet. She ripped the page out and tore it to shreds. She threw the pieces away.
"But I trust you with my life now, Jason." Dawn told him. Jason knew that from the picture he had seen. Dawn slid close to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Do you want to see the rest?" She asked him, looking up at him through her lashes. Jason looked at the booklet and took it from her. He flipped through the pages until he got to the next picture. He put the booklet back in her hands, letting her explain the picture.
They eventually got to the picture that showed Jason and Freddy fighting. Dawn blushed. Jason looked at her expectedly.
"Um, well you're fighting Freddy, defending your territory." Dawn told him, her blue eyes wide and shining. Her lips were parted slightly; her hair was tucked behind her left ear, while the hair on her right side was falling out of place and into her eye. She looked beautiful. He touched her left cheek gently. Dawn closed her eyes and leaned into his hand affectionately. He leaned forward and kissed her. Dawn sat frozen; this kiss was longer than his usual peck. Dawn wanted this suddenly, she wanted him. Dawn dropped her booklet and hooked her hands around his neck and started kissing him back. Jason's hands slid up her sides, making her moan. It was then Jason pulled away ruptly. He looked at her.
What was he doing! Bad people did that, not him! Dawn wasn't a bad person and he didn't want to make her one either. He got off the bed and left the cabin quickly.
Dawn watched him leave with nothing more than a small squeak. What did she do? She huffed and picked up her booklet, making sure that none of the pictures had been damaged. Seeing that none had been, she picked up her pencil and began to draw.
Jason didn't come back until around midnight. He entered the room and saw Dawn curled up in a ball, clutching her booklet to her chest. Jason came forth and took the notepad gently, Dawn had doodled again. A picture of them, Dawn was cradled in his arms. He looked down at her. He flipped the page to the back.
I Love Him. Jason's heart wrenched. He looked at his peacefully sleeping Dawn. He pet her hair gently, tucking a few golden hairs behind her ear. He almost felt bad.
Is it bad when I love her? He wondered. Dawn whimpered in her sleep slightly. What was she dreaming about?
"John, no." She muttered. Who was John, her ex-fiancé that she had mentioned earlier? He went down to the mineshafts and went to sharpen his machete.
Faint screeching roused her. Dawn looked up groggily, her booklet was gone. She sat up; swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she stood, looking for her booklet.
Jason took the machete away from the stone wheel, just in time to hear small footsteps above him. He looked down at Dawn's booklet; the picture of them was showing. At least she drew the hockey mask; he didn't like seeing his likeness. The picture Dawn looked up at his picture self, a look of affection in her eyes. He was amazed at how emotions could be captured so easily onto paper, with only using pencil, not even colored pencil. Just plain lead. He heard the trap door being opened with difficulty, but the thud of the door hitting the ground. Then the thud as Dawn jumped down into the mine. She would get lost if he didn't come to her.
He got up, plunging the machete into the ground and went towards Dawn. She was wandering when he found her, she was looking down an unused mine shaft as he stopped. Dawn looked back and jumped. Jason couldn't help but smile at her. He held his hand out to her. Dawn took a few steps forward and took his hand. Jason grasped her hand gently and took her to his work area.
"There it is." She muttered as she saw the booklet sitting on the ground beside the bench. Jason knelt and picked it up. He gave it to her, Dawn checked the booklet. Blushing, she looked up at him.
"Did you see the new picture?" She asked shyly, Jason nodded. Dawn blushed an even deeper red; Jason took her in his arms in a brief hug.
"I really do love you, Jason."