A/N: Hi again. I'm really sorry for those who read both this and Love of Darkness. I write things out to organize my thoughts and those thoughts got taken so I don't know what I wrote anymore. But I'll try to come up with those thoughts again and try to type the next chapter. Enjoy this installment of An Enemy's Love.
Jesse told his sister what happened the next morning over their usual cups of Starbucks.
"Well, now maybe you can start doing research on him now," Jamie said as she took a sip of her chai.
"I have been doing research!" Jesse exclaimed. "I looked up everything I could think of about Voorhees, but I can't find anything!"
Jesse was telling the truth. There was absolutely nothing on the man that forced even the master of dreams to wait for hours before lying his head down to catch some much Zs.
"Did you try looking stuff up under Jason Voorhees?" Jamie asked. "Or even under this generation of Voorhees?" she paused. "Do you even know this guy's name?"
"Of course I do!" Jesse stated acting a little wounded that his sister would ask such a question.
The truth of the matter was that Jesse didn't know anything about the man that was in his tree last night. He wanted to learn about him, but the fear of what would happen to him was mounting against his curiosity. Jesse felt a little ashamed of his cowardice and how he couldn't admit it to the only person who he trusted his life to.
"Jesse, I know you don't know anything about Voorhees," Jamie said after taking a sip of her chai. "You really need to do some research on him. What if he killed you last night? Then what would happen? You know that Dad would have hated that."
"Along with everything else I seem to do in my life." Jesse was now falling into a vast hole of depression at the thought of his father. Things were never right between those two men and Jesse knew it. Hell, even Jamie knew it, but she and their mother tried to mend something that could never be fixed. All Jesse could do was to try and make his father happy until he, Jesse left the house to start his own life.
"Jesse I'm sorry," Jamie said moving closer to her dear brother. She hugged him gently and stroked his soft hair and whispered words of a movie score that he always fancied. She could feel the tension ease in his shoulders and she could have sworn that she felt his mind let go of all the things that were upsetting him.
He was following those rotten teenagers again. Never the same ones, but the same in actions. Always with the sex, drugs, and alcohol. Always. He knew to keep to the shadows; it was in his blood, after all. Never let yourself been seen until the end of their lives. They were so foolish to be next to the lake. His lake. Crystal Lake.
Randy was the descendent of Jason Voorhees, though he never could figure out how that worked since Jason never had sexual intercourse at all. He was just as against it as Randy was. Maybe things changed in his last hours. No one knew the truth.
Randy heard them laughing. They were flying high on dope, speed balls, smack, whatever they called, drugs were drugs. He heard all the slang for meth, weed, and speed, whatever.
He just wanted them dead.
There was always a blonde one with fake boobs, fake nose, fake everything. The only real thing about her was the addictions she had for sex and drugs. There was always a dealer in the group and they were all friends with him so they didn't have to pay as much for the goods as others did.
Randy was careful to avoid the dry twigs that littered the ground that was between him and them. He was looking for the most stoned one there and it seem to be the blonde whore who was now giving head to the dealer as her boyfriend looked on, not really there as he injected himself with a good syringe of heroin.
The dealer had his back to Randy and he wasn't that far away from him. Maybe about twenty feet away. Randy could almost taste the blood as it spread from the wound down the front of the dealer's front and possible into the hair of the fake blonde.
Randy was right behind the dealer now and he was relishing how naïve they all were. He unsheathed his titanium alloy machete which was serrated on the front and the back so he could kill with different styles. Randy jammed the blade to the original handle that was used by Jason into the dealer' chest and on the blade, beautiful crimson blood coated it and the wonderful screams of the blonde triggered the heroin user to somewhat snap out of his high and focus on the danger. The blonde ran and her boyfriend was trying to catch up.
Randy drew out his blade and sprinted after the boyfriend and caught him by the hair and shoved the blade in his stomach just above the navel and slowly pulled it up to the collarbone and watched as he screamed in pain as he bled out. Randy wanted to hang him upside down and watch the blood run out of him like a butchered pig.
This was basically Randy's entertainment.
Randy knew that the blonde bitch was gone for a while, but she was going to come back to see if anyone was alive. There was one person, but he wasn't going to be alive for long.
Randy went back to the drug circle, the dealer was trying to hold his intestines in while trying to run away and call the police for help.
Randy picked the guy up by the back of his shirt and dragged him back to his house. Despite the fact that Randy was a mass murderer, he lived in a very nice house. It was in the shell of a large cabin, perhaps it was originally a counselor's cabin or something of the sorts. He lived there with his mother's sister and his stepfather's brother, because his parents had met an unfortunate demise a while ago. Randy didn't mind that he lived with his relatives; they were unmarried and didn't have any children, so no one was going to ask them any questions.
Randy opened the front door of his home and dropped the dealer on the oak floor that lead into the living room. He sat down on the black leather sofa that faced the television and turned it on to a pornography channel.
Then he waited.
The dealer was crying as he was trying to escape from the house, but he couldn't get up from the floor to reach the doorknob. Blood was pooling underneath him and was staining his clothes. Randy took notice about this but wasn't totally concerned yet. He just stared at the TV and the fake girls on the screen.
"Please," the dealer pleaded. "Let me live."
Randy couldn't stand when they begged. It meant that they had no respect for their life and would do anything to survive. Randy just waited.
The drug dealer was now trying to stand up but he didn't get very far. He only got to his hands and knees. That was when Randy took the opportunity to quietly get up and unsheathe his machete again and with a strong downward swing, severed the guy's head.
Randy watched as it rolled to the door.
'Another one bites the dust.' Randy thought because he couldn't do much of anything else.
He sat back down on the sofa and stared at the screen in front of him. He never paid any attention to what was on it anymore. It was all the same. So he let his mind wander into the deep recesses of his mind and it came across his childhood.
The Randy now always wore a collar around his neck to hide a nasty scar that was bestowed to him from his stepfather. This happened after he found out that Randy had the blood of Jason Voorhees in his veins instead of being normal, though normalcy is what one perceives it to be. Harry was his name, the stepfather. He was a nice guy, but had an alcohol habit whenever he had a bad day at the office. The cabin house that Randy lived in now was actually the Voorhees' summer house. One day, Harry had a very bad day at the office and drank himself mad. He went off on his wife, went off on her son as well. But he never laid a hand on his wife, only on the poor boy that sat silently in the corner of his room.
The boy never really conveyed emotion well. He was basically a soundboard all the time. Harry got a hold of some kind of acid; Randy didn't know what it was. It was pointless to ask. The memory was too repressed for him to care. The only thing that he has of that memory is the acid scar on the left side of his face and the wide scar of when the ass of a stepfather had his throat cut.
All Randy remembers of that memory is that there was a lot of blood. He wasn't sure if he died, but he pushed it from his mind because his heart was beating and he was breathing so he couldn't be dead.
Randy got up and stepped over the body and kicked the head with more force than necessary. He stared down at the now cracked skull and felt hate pour out of his heart and onto the world. His life mission was to kill and never feel the love of anyone. Never to have anyone close to him.
He was now depressed.
'I hate memories,' he thought as he went back out to find the blonde bitch that managed to escape. She had no sense of direction, so she must have been back to the lake by now or running around in circles.
Randy was going to kill her good. Or maybe he would chase her, wound her and break every bone in her body, then kill her.
'Yeah, that sounds like a plan,' Randy thought as he stalked off into the woods to find his prey.
Jesse was sitting in the library reading some of the obituaries of his kills. He was bored of reading them, but they boosted his self-esteem. He left the computer area and began to browse through the old newspapers, trying to find a birth announcement about Voorhees, but couldn't find anything.
Jesse sighed. The only way he was ever going to find out anything about Voorhees was to go to Crystal Lake and do his own research on the behemoth. He really didn't want to, but then he was weighing the options of going to Crystal Lake for the weekend. On the plus side, he was going to be away from his father for the weekend and not having to worry about getting his approval for every little thing.
On the minus side, he was going to be hiding from his enemy for the weekend and there were most likely going to be fresh prey for the both of them over the two days. Even though Jesse didn't want to be within several kilometers of the old camp, he thought that the benefits of being away from his father for the weekend was outweighing the risks of being killed by the one person he really didn't want to be around.
Jesse pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Jamie asking her if she could give him a ride to the old camp. Then, trying to clear his mind to terrorize some of the people that used the library as a safe haven from the noisy streets, Jesse slipped into the Dream World and settled in his old armchair with a dozen or so TV screens surrounding him.
No one was dreaming and he wasn't going to exert himself. He was only 18 after all, and it was Friday.
"Well, at least I'll have Jamie for company for most of the day tomorrow," he said under his breath as he pulled himself out of his dream state and rose from his spot at the library table. He wasn't looking forward to this at all. Call him a coward, but he didn't want to fight Voorhees at all. Yet he went home and started to pack things for his recon trip.