Here comes most of what is a conflicting scene. I tried to find a compromise with it, if one can ever do so with such sensitive material. I'm certain some people will think I could have written it differently. On the other hand, that's true for any story or movie out there.

There is no plan on Jory to prevail in going too far with her. Because even I have my limits. I have a high threshold for the goriest death scenes, and yet some things I view as worse than that.

Just throwing this idea out there while I'm at it. I'm aware fan fiction authors have asked this many times before. But I would enjoy fan art of Jason and Dawn together. Creating art on my own is far from my area of expertise. It's a suggestion for loyal readers that do well with art sites like deviantart and any others.

Dawn won't mind a picture in tribute of her friendship with Jason Voorhees :) If anybody is willing to do that, let me know. No pressure.

Granted that there's a way I can, I will return the favor for whoever is interested in displaying Jason and Dawn fan art.

The touch upon her arm way lasted too long for Dawn's comfort. Bubbly or not, caution flashed inside when strangers moved past their boundaries. This Jory was one of them. Perhaps even the introduction.

"Excuse me," the child trembled. "Can you please let go? This feels weird."

She momentarily considered jerking out of the way and backing up to put more space between them. Yet her mother had taught her to be polite. The action would be in violation of that advice. Right? Dawn didn't want that.

Jory's face gravitated, changing into well acted surprise. He hoped to give off a facade that he hadn't intended the massage from her elbow to her tiny wrist. Contrary to his character, Dawn kept pure honesty. Everybody deserved an ample chance.

Jason was occupied with hunting for food to keep her nourished. Might as well not disturb him.

Stop being a baby, she silently scolded herself. No screaming.

She had seen grown women do that in the movies her parents watched. There was no recalled time where Mr. or Mrs. Peterson had spotted her peeping through the stair railing, holding that stuffed seal. Dawn wished to be brave so as not to develop into the damsel in distress, who was stereotyped by beauty and nothing else. She didn't exactly object to Jason being her dark knight. Though she respected him a great deal to not have him come at her beck and call. That's not who Jason Voorhees was.

Reprieve washed over her when the man released his grip. The offending arm dropped to Jory's side. His sub-consciousness grumbled.

Patience was a virture. He confirmed that belief in his head. Especially with this unrequited dream.

He succeeded in a softer smile that did better at shielding his motives.

"Sorry about that. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Dawn shook her head, managing a smile back. Well, he had done just that in a strong sense. Nonetheless, outer peace was more important. She used her tolerant nature to let it slide.

"No, it's okay," she said. "I'm sure you meant well. I just wasn't prepared for the sudden grabbing."

She chipped away at the barrier of shyness to inquire about the man. He had wandered into the Crystal Lake woods, also known as the jaws of death. Dawn's natural choice was to help him out of this. She hoped her dear Jason wouldn't get mad at her.

"So what are you doing out here? This place is very scary to a lot of people."

Jory feigned a fearful interest, examining the surroundings once again. He wondered how long he could keep up this charade.

"If this area is so scary, then why are you here? You never answered me on where your parents are. Having a nice family outing out here of all places?"

Dawn's cheeks turned into the pale pinkness of a rose, replicating the color of her dress and the delicacy of her existence combined into one.

"Well, I..."

How could she ever explain her living situation with Jason to anyone? Her aunt and uncle had seen him as nothing more than a monster before they went home: Or what Dawn was lead to believe about their absence.

"It's okay," Jory interrupted. "Let's go find that kitten. She's probably way ahead of us by now."

Dawn knew she could never lose the animal. Princess was her baby as the child was Jason's. Her loyal pet found her way around effortlessly by this point and always came back to snuggle in Dawn's arms. The two had shared many a frightful moment in the past, and they both came out with scars, but still breathing. There were several accounts of them hiding under the bed after each of James Peterson's transitions into rage.

"I'm sure she went this way. She likes to hide in the cabins where they started to build something fun. A resort, I think. "

Jory moved to her side, figuring out the opportune moment. He could have told the child that that's where the kitten greeted him from his sleep. As such, why would she go back in that direction, especially when Jory's intuition told him the animal had gone another way: farther down the shore to a bank more grown with woods. Jory was more attentive to his enviroment than some gave him credit for. He had to be.

Of course he didn't state that he knew the real answer to Princess' wherabouts. Whatever function her pet played in Jory's plan was over long ago.

"Okay, you know her better than I do. Lead the way."

Jory paused in his tracks to give Dawn time to move ahead. He smiled at the outline of her brushing past him. She exemplified a drawing that had been traced with perfection. His eyes were like little knives poking through her dress and grazing her skin.

Dawn reached the predestined cabin, stretching her arm for the door, then halted. She hadn't planned this out very thoroughly. Her IQ was high for her age. But this level of thinking involved more complexity than just doing well in school. Diverting a strange man away from Jason and somehow convincing him to leave without her? Her steady connection to the minds of humanity knew that no person would let an 8-year-old fend for herself out in the woods.

"Is everything okay?"

The child could actually smell his breath. He had crept up behind her that fast. This set a quivering motion into effect throughout her whole body. Jory had officially swiped whatever little control Dawn held over things.

"Your kitten's not in there, is she?"

The taunting smile was heard in Jory's voice. He took it upon himself to open the door, giving Dawn a jolt when it banged against the cabin wall. She didn't have the chance to move. Jory placed frigid hands upon her shoulders and manuvered her inside. Or more like pushing her against a bed.

Jory cut short her piteous outcry. He acted upon his notice of a bruise halfway showing beneath the shoulder of her dress. He latched onto the strap and tore it downwards. The tearing pierced the child's eardrums, the dread sinking in that her tortured past was being revealed. Something she had thought would never come to be since these days she lived under Jason's protective watch.

Most of the injuries had nearly finished their healing process. Nearly. Dawn's poor back would suffer another setback. He pulled the dress further down until it bunched right below her ribs. The girl held onto the front part for dear life. She stood on wavering feet where she was all but hovering over the bed. She summoned all her willpower not to fall on it. Something warned her to never let that happen.

Jory examined the scars of abuse, exhibiting little concern. Or, on a more sickening note, chiefly disappointment. This child was not as perfect as he once thought, as if she was to blame for the damage done to her.

No matter. The milky white skin elsewhere was still very enticing. But in order to get to that, maybe he could alleviate any tension first. A wailing child was no fun for him. He pressed his fingers against the longest scratch on her. He began another massage along its length. Dawn shrieked feeling any part of his callous form. This time she wasn't hesitant about jerking away. She screamed again, more in agony this time. Jory's eyes moved to the scratch, now cut back open with fresh blood seeping through. Jory snapped into a primal rage. He had to retain the most necessary objective. Control.

"You shouldn't have done that. I was only trying to help. It's your own fault."

Her own fault. This was repetition of her father. Jory dug his nails deeply into more scars, slicing each one to bleed in rivulets. Dawn found herself back to that horror-ridden night where James Peterson stabbed her. Repeatedly. About a dozen times, but who had been counting?

Every fiber of Dawn's white-hot torture emitted through her vocals: not unlike a lamb bleating after its innocent blood had been shed. The very notion shook the cabin's weakened walls. Jory wrenched his hand back from the final area of infliction. The flesh from her shoulders to her torso was a meshwork of red lines, uncanny to some serial killer's artwork. In the face of this sadism, Dawn ceaselessly held onto the dress's front.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop!"

It took a lot of waning energy to speak that. She frankly didn't know what other humans were about anymore.

"You're supposed to get in trouble!"

She broke at the end of that declaration and erupted into a cascade of tears.

Jory did not believe there would ever be such consequences. He had slipped out of punishment every single time in his life, usually with money as the escape route. And here... Well, it was even easier because people blamed the Jason legend for everything. Others could act out on their own abnormal desires, and nobody would ever be the wiser.

He hardened his insults by shoving Dawn onto the bed. The child landed with her face buried in the mattress. Jory had those hands back on her to head off any movements. He leaned in closer, his lips inches from her neck. Dawn's body was layered in cold, despite the warm ribbons of blood. This iciness shot down right to the soul.

"Trouble from whom? There's nobody here but us."

Dawn could not place why those words were alcohol to her freshly opened wounds. He deeply inhaled her scent, hints of the most fragrant flowers dancing in his nostrils. He had to get bolder, little by little. All the time in the world was there for this girl to provoke his deepest appetite.

Jory circled his tongue upon the nape of her neck. He drew out each lick longer than the last, tasting her sustenance and enjoying it. Dawn cringed and lifted a hand to do something, anything, even if it meant lessening her ability to keep herself covered. The man pinned it down in less than a second. He licked along her shoulder, easing down her dress strap.

"Relax. You're just so cute. And beautiful. I love you."

What?! How this could be love? It made her want to die. There was an aspect rewinding to when her parents were alive. One night, Dawn had knocked on the door of their bedroom amidst some perplexing sounds. Daggers filled her father's voice when he responded.

"Go away, Dawn! I'm... admiring your mother's beauty! This isn't for you!"

Or maybe he had meant to say, as Jory licked her more fervently, that this wasn't for her yet. If this was love, then she wanted no part of it.

"You must not like wearing that with the blood staining it."

The child had blocked out whatever remaining time Jory had spent lapping at her shoulders. His methodical face hovered above her as he spoke. She could barely see him with a twitch of her head. Jory was not giving her any opportunity to move, except in small increments where there was no chance at fleeing. He gripped her second hand that was holding the dress.

She resisted using any more energy. The reserve was used to fuel her pounding heart. It was all in vain. He pulled away the hand and steadied his own where hers once was. Dawn squealed a more intense fear. Jory was getting too close where she was told little girls shouldn't be touched. That was it. She had no willpower left to hold her own anymore.

"Jason! Help me!"

Jory countered her cry by slapping her across the face. Another sharp wail, another red mark on her cheek to replace one of many from weeks past.

"You mean the Jason of Camp Blood? You calling for him? You must be more uncomfortable than I thought."

He lowered his speech to a taunting whisper.

"Well if he really is out there, we can keep this our little secret and shift any blame on him. Say the freak finally got fed up with being alone for so long and decided to experiment on the only available female: You."

Dawn's face contorted in a fury so new and at the same time so justified.

"Stop it..."

"It's not at all surprising. You both are technically in the same age group. That Voorhees sideshow is just a child in a man's body. I know you beat him by a landslide in intelligence though."

"Don't be mean to him! Leave us alone! Go away! I hate you!"

Jory cringed in a second's beat. Tiny teeth gnawed his finger, releasing a sharp burst of pain throughout the adjacent nerves. The brat had bitten him. A touch of red slid from the punctures and pattered onto the sheets. It mixed in with the stains of blood from Dawn. He pulled away, very much singed with anger now. Something about his comments toward that creature had pushed a button within her. So unreal.

Dawn gasped at what she had done. She was synonymous to a bunny not meant to taste blood. Drops pooled on her tongue. She spit them out into the blanket. Insulting Jason had stirred a rare stroke of violence from her. The girl couldn't let anybody speak ill of him, especially when he wasn't here to defend himself. She hadn't noticed Jory's next fleshly target until his remark.

"Wow. Purple underwear. How pretty. You must have known I was coming today."

She sobbed what she thought would be her last sorrowful melody. Dawn couldn't tell Jason the truth: that she loved him. For this Jory character established how bad it was. Must continue to cloud all this from her memory. It was the only way as the man was incessant with his special prize.

"I give up," the child whimpered.

Dawn concluded that if Jason hadn't gotten wind by now, he wasn't about to come. She never should have worn the dress. She blew it all by focusing on material appearances, even for just a day. If she ever escaped from this with her life somehow intact, she refused to wear such temptress clothing again.

Well, at least Princess had escaped. The unscathed kitten was, by Dawn's assumption, rubbing against Jason's legs right now. She thought of no other consolation.

I apologize for any grief my fans went through reading this chapter. The story can be controversial, if that's the right word for it. From the beginning, it was meant to score high in its seriousness.

I'm in the middle of my recent entry to my Jasonette story. I will finish that next and then come back to this one.