The rain drummed down on the roof of the rental house and the thunder cracked like a gunshot sounding off, drowning out Mrs. Jarvis's choked scream.
"I hope Samantha and Paul are alright," Sara said, looking over her shoulder out the window.
Doug wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer on the sofa.
"I'm sure they're fine," Doug said. "They probably made up and are shacked up somewhere,"
Ted had the projector and film screen set up in the living room. The reel of film he found was some kind of stag movie from the 30s. It was black and white, and grainy and out-of-focus.
The entire thing consisted mostly of a topless girl dancing around drunkenly, or sitting in a bathtub, or doing other mindless acts, but Ted found it hysterical.
Then again, he was high off of a messily rolled joint dangling from his fingertips.
Sara and Doug couldn't help but snicker as Ted leaned back in the armchair, guffawing with laughter uncontrollably, puffing on the joint.
"Is this what Ted always does?" Sara asked Doug.
"Pretty much," Doug said. "So, which bunk are you taking?"
Sara hesitated.
"Oh, it doesn't matter…actually, I was thinking you could take the bottom bunk," she said, trying to put on her best sexy face.
"Why, do you want the top bunk?" Doug asked, confused.
Sara shook her head coyly.
Doug's eyes widened with shock. Was she actually making a pass at him? Sara never wanted to do anything outside of making out, and he understood it-after all, she was a virgin and virgins were typically scared about their first time.
It had been hard the past few months though. Paul was his best friend and he'd been getting pussy ever since middle school, and Doug had only had sex once. It was embarrassing.
Paul and Sam pretty much had sex at every party they ever went to, and Sara never wanted any part of it.
What was a guy to do? He would often space out on dates with Sara, not even hearing what she was saying, just because he was imagining what sex would be like with her... He'd have to fantasize, otherwise, he'd go insane.
But now, Sara was staring at him, her eyes sexually charged, and Doug grinned from ear to ear.
"Do you mean…." Doug started to say, but Sara put her finger to his lips.
"Just give me a few minutes, ok?" she said, and stood to her feet. "Goodnight, Teddy Bear," she said as she walked past Ted towards the stairs.
Ted gave a wave and another cackle of stoned laughter, and Sara climbed the stairs to the second floor, leaving Doug in awe and disbelief.
"Watch it," Tommy cried out as the sedan hit a pothole, splattering the side of the car with mud.
"Sorry, Tommy, I can barely see in this rain," Trish said, squinting through the storm coming down.
"Just slow down, the party's going to go on all night," Tommy said, sucking on his lollipop the hairdresser had given him. "You almost made me lose my lollipop"
Trish flashed him a look.
But he was right. She had thought about sneaking out after her mother had gone to bed, and possibly going over to visit those kids and maybe have a drink, and the short, revealing blue dress that was belted at the waist, high-heeled boots, and subtle, but effective makeup she was wearing didn't hide her intentions.. She had had to wait for Mrs. Jarvis to go jogging so that she could put on the dress, otherwise she wouldn't hear the end of it. She could hear her voice...You shouldn't go over there in that dress...its way too short...that's too much makeup...
Couldn't she have some fun for once?
She hated living out here in the middle of nowhere. She didn't have anyone to talk to and it was driving her nuts. How did her mother stand it? How was she not losing her mind?
She knew what else she would have said if she would have asked her about going over to hang out at the rental house –something about how staying out late with a bunch of hooligans participating in drugs and other illicit activities just wasn't healthy for a girl like Trish.
But Trish would rather have something bad happen than just nothing at all, like usual. Isn't that how you grow as a person? How you become stronger? You have to experience tough times so you can learn and grow. So what if she went over there and got into some trouble? Did her mother not trust her to be able to get herself out of a tough situation?
But then, she thought about what her mother had told her about the murders-about that psycho that killed those people up at the old campgrounds.
She would lose her mind if she woke up in the middle of the night and discovered Trish was missing..so maybe sneaking out wasn't the best idea. Going next door just to socialize wasn't some huge deal though, why did her mother have to worry so much about every little thing? Did her mother not want her to form relationships and be a teenager for once? Wasn't she a teenager once? Didn't she ever do anything...bad? Or dangerous?
Trish highly doubted it. Trish never even heard her mother swear, except on rare occasions, and she definitely didn't drink or smoke. Trish's friends back in the city wrote to her all the time about all the parties they had gone to, and the drinking, and smoking, and late night games of Spin the Bottle, and it just killed her inside. Why couldn't she experience that stuff for once? Trish just had to break out somehow...maybe tonight was the night.
Maybe tonight she would go to that party. Maybe tonight she would get wasted, or shack up with someone. Just maybe...
Maybe she was just being dramatic again. Lots of people don't even get to go to parties, or do drugs...but then again, if you have the chance, why not take it? Life was too short. She had to go to that party. She didn't want to end up a widow in a cabin in the middle of nowhere like Mom because she was scared of the world.
Then she thought of Rob, and how mysterious but somehow still attractive to her…she couldn't pinpoint it, but something about him drove her wild.
Maybe it was his muscles or the curly black hair or his eyes ...the ruggedness…she couldn't stop thinking about him. She also couldn't stop thinking about how he had lied when he said he was hunting bear. There's no bear out here.
So what in the world was he doing out here?
She got another chill. What if….no, Trish…don't be stupid, she thought. But what if he was the guy who killed those kids? Didn't her mother say he was dead though?
Trish chuckled sheepishly to herself.
Come on, Trish. Rob, a psychopath? A bloodthirsty lunatic? Get real Trish, this isn't some cheesy horror flick that you paid a quarter to go see at the drive-in.
Rob was a little mysterious, but he couldn't hurt anyone, could he?
He did lie, however. What was he doing out here in the woods?
She didn't know, but hopefully she'd seen the last of him, even though a tiny part of her that she wished would shut up wanted to see him again.
Trish pulled into the driveway and drove down the winding path, stopping in front of the house. She glanced over and saw that the rental house lights were on.
She sighed a breath of relief. Hopefully, they'd stay up long enough for her to sneak past her mother.
Tommy and Trish huddled close and ran through the rain and the puddles that were scattered around the front yard, scrambled up the porch steps and went into the house, letting the front door close behind them.
"Mom, we're home!" Trish called.
The house was pitch black and silent. The only sounds were the thunder and the rain falling on the roof.
The living room and kitchen were empty.
"Where is she?" Trish turned back to Tommy.
Tommy shrugged cluelessly.
"I dunno," he said.
Trish walked further into the house with Tommy behind her, looking for her mother, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"Mom?" she called again.
Trish tried the light switch, but the house remained dark. Shit, she thought-it must be the storm.
Trish looked up the darkened staircase, seeing the rain pouring down through the window at the landing.
Trish and Tommy climbed the staircase and looked into Mrs. Jarvis's bedroom. Trish's heart sank as she saw the empty room.
"She's not here," she said, her eyes growing wide with concern.
Trish moved to the open bedroom window to close it, looking out at the rain, scanning for any sign for Mrs. Jarvis.
"Maybe she's jogging," Tommy said.
"She's never gone this long. And in the rain?" Trish said, brushing her wet blond hair out of her face. "I'm going to go down the path to look for her,"
"Me too," Tommy said eagerly.
'No, you stay here in case she comes back," Trish ordered adamantly, and moved for the door.
"I want to go," Tommy protested, but Trish whipped around firmly.
"Stay here and fix the lights," she snapped, and walked down the stairs into the living room.
Trish felt a knot slowly forming in her gut. Surely, there was nothing wrong, but still something told her otherwise. Her mother couldn't have gone into town if they had the only car, and she wouldn't be out jogging in the rain.
Trish made a beeline for the flashlight that they kept hanging on the kitchen wall, grabbed a raincoat, and headed out the front door into the rain.
"Mom!" she called through the whistling wind. "Mom!"
She started jogging down the trail that they always went down-the one that went around the lake.
"Mom!" she called again.
It was useless. The storm was shrieking all around her, and it was impossible to hear much of anything.
She shined the flashlight around frantically, searching for any sign of her mother.
She caught the glimmer of the lake ahead through the trees, and stopped.
Where the hell was her mother?
Trish slowed to a walk, pushing aside branches and stepping over fallen logs, the rain pelting her.
As she rounded a corner of the trail, her flashlight caught a glimpse of something else. Something yellow through the trees.
She squinted through the rain, trying to make out what it was, but realized she had to get closer.
Trish pulled aside the foliage and approached whatever it was.
It was a tent. A big, yellow tent in a small clearing.
It must be Rob's doing, she thought.
Trish curiously peeled open the flap of the tent, and ducked down to see inside.
What the hell? She thought as she saw the messy interior.
Newspaper clippings were strewn all about the floor, there was a brightly lit lantern shining in the corner, and a broken rifle was lying in front of her. It had been snapped in two like a twig.
She crawled further inside the tent and rifled through the newspaper articles.
She picked one up and read it.
The big bold headline read "CRYSTAL LAKE MASSACRE."
Just as she started to read the tiny print, Trish froze. There were footsteps outside, softly crunching over fallen leaves.
Every muscle in her body tensed and she let the newspaper fall from her hands.
The footsteps grew louder and louder, and a man's hulking shadow fell over the tent.
Trish's eyes widened as she saw the shadow of a machete rise into the air above her head.
Jimmy and Tina were wrapped in sheets, bathing in the afterglow of sex. Tina's head was lying on Jimmy's bare chest, and his hand stroked her soft hair.
Jimmy couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that he actually got laid before Ted did tonight, and by a total babe. Screw you, Ted. Screw you and your goddamned computer.
He did it, he had had sex and it had been good this time. That's what everyone was talking about? No wonder everyone was crazy about it; it was amazing. The feeling of being inside someone like that, and your body moving in rhythm with theirs- it was electrifying. It was stupendous. It was…amazing. Like nothing he had ever felt before.
The climax went even beyond that-it was if every inch of his body was being touched with some kind of elixir that brought a pleasure too intense to describe, from the nape of his neck to the tips of his toes, he had felt it course through his veins and pump through his blood.
How ironic it was, he thought as he lay there beside Tina. Ted was purportedly a 'ladies man' and was getting laid every weekend, so he would say in the locker room at Pinehurst High. And now, he was actually the one getting laid while Ted was downstairs, alone, getting high. Everybody else would be pairing off with someone at the end of this wild night, and Ted would have no-one. It almost made Jimmy feel guilty, but after all, he felt it was what Ted deserved for that whole 'dead fuck' bit and being so pretentious. Maybe that was why Ted hadn't won over either of the two twins. Maybe he just tried too hard
He probably didn't get laid nearly as often as he said he did, and of course, Jimmy understood why. The peer pressure of the other guys at school was strong. Guys were always wanting to know how far you had been with a girl, like it was a contest or something. It made it worse that it was a very rural school and there weren't exactly other options like dating someone from town or from a different district. If you hadn't banged someone from their school, it probably meant that you were a virgin.
Of course, Jimmy knew there was more to life than that. It must be just a high school thing and a coming-of-age thing. People get sexually repressed themselves and bottle up those emotions and then project them onto others, like plenty of girls did at Pinehurst. The virgin-shaming, he had heard, was even worse among the girls. Often, it was the other girls in the locker room who would boast about going down on their boyfriends and then harass the girl who had nothing to say.
It was a human thing. If you didn't follow certain social norms, you got ostracized for it. He had felt it himself in the boys locker rooms; he mostly avoided all conversation about sex but when the topic came up, he would lie and say that he had fucked some townie or something, just to get the guys off of his back. He didn't know how Ted was able to keep his reputation up when in reality, he wasn't all that charismatic and could try way too hard. He guessed it was Ted's sense of humor and laidback attitude, but even then, when Teddy was laughing, it was usually a crude joke or a joke at someone's expense. In a sense, Jimmy knew it was just his defense mechanism.
He knew it was just a way of coping with his own insecurities, but it had really started to get on his nerves tonight. But now, it didn't seem to matter because he had done it. He had actually gotten laid tonight and he knew now Ted was too stoned to care, but in the morning, he relished at rubbing it in his face a little. He pictured them all down at breakfast, and he could walk in sleepily with a half-naked Tina on his arm, their after-sex complexions radiating off of them.
But of course, what if Ted had been right? What if he was a dead fuck? He had to know. He felt awkward asking after they had just finished, but he just had to know.
Jimmy hesitated, and then spoke up.
"Hey Tina?"
"Mmmm…" she replied tiredly.
"Am I….am I a dead fuck?" Jimmy stammered awkwardly.
Tina laughed, and then brought her head up to look at Jimmy.
"You know what? I think you were incredible,"
Jimmy let out an elated sigh.
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said, laughing and kissing him passionately.
"Don't you move, I'll be right back," he said. "This calls for a celebration. How about some wine?"
Jimmy remembered seeing the wine bottles in the kitchen. If he could find that corkscrew that Paul used for the beer drinking contest, he could pop one open, have a glass, and see if Ted was still up to let him know just how 'incredible' he was. He was going to make Ted eat his words if it killed him.
"Sounds fine," she said with a sexy wink as she watched him put on his boxer shorts and his shirt. She blew him a kiss as he walked to the door, picking up her panties, and stepped out in the hallway.
Incredible…was that what she aid? He was incredible. Holy shit, he was incredible. Jimmy sprawled out, shaking his head in disbelief, unable to stop smiling.
He was 'incredible'.
Jimmy made his way to the stairs, a jubilancy glowing through him, swinging Tina's yellow lace panties on his index finger and whistling a cheerful tune. He came down the stairs into the now-darkened living room where Ted was puffing on a joint alone in an armchair and laughing at the film on the projector screen. Jimmy casually sauntered over to the armchair and sat down on the edge of it, plopping Tina's panties on Ted's lap.
"Why don't you run those through your little computer, Teddy Bear," Jimmy said proudly.
Ted was too stoned to be resentful. He laughed uncontrollably, throwing the panties up in the air.
"Hey, congratulations, Jimbo!" Ted said with a laugh, his eyes glowing red.
"Why don't we grab a bottle of wine and celebrate," Jimmy said, and then looked Ted dead in the eyes. "She said I was incredible,"
Ted laughed hysterically again.
"Way to go, Jimbo!"
Jimmy strolled into the dark kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine off the wine rack and strolled over to the sink. He began to rummage through the drawers, still whistling exuberantly. Ted's laughing and the humming from the video camera drowned out the faint sound of the back door quietly creaking open.
"Hey Ted…where's that corkscrew? That fancy corkscrew for the wine bottle?" Jimmy called into the living room.
No response, just more buzzed laughter from Ted. Jimmy was oblivious to footsteps coming, softly across the linoleum floor, towards him...
"Ted! Where the hell is the corkscrew?" Jimmy called louder.
All of a sudden, the missing corkscrew came out of the darkness at the back of the kitchen, and the blade was driven into Jimmy's hand with immense force, pinning it to the countertop.
Jimmy's mouth twisted into a silent scream of excruciating pain, his jaw agape in agony, too shocked to scream, but it didn't matter. Ted couldn't hear a thing over his own stoned laughter. Jimmy looked up from his quivering, bleeding hand to see a huge man in a hockey mask and a grungy worksuit. With his other hand, the mad killer reached into the kitchen drawer, withdrew a meat cleaver and swung it into Jimmy's head, burying it right into the middle of his face.
The cleaver sliced through Jimmy's nasal cavity and then into his skull with a sickening sound, but Jimmy felt nothing at all.
Tina came out of the bathroom, her shirt hanging open seductively, but she frowned seeing the bed was empty.
"Jimmy?" she said. No answer.
The room was empty as well.
He probably just ran to the bathroom in the hall, she thought. Tina glanced around on the floor for the rest of her clothes, seeing her panties were missing.
Jimmy probably had run off with them to mess with her or something.
God, I hate lying, Tina thought as she lay nude underneath the covers. Of course, it was his first time, and he needed encouragement. Truthfully, he had just been alright. She had slept with better guys, and much, much worse. He was just one of those guys that had it in him, that rough, raw masculinity that turned women on; it just needed some coaxing and some polishing.
She shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, but she wasn't able to say it to his face, especially after the way his eyes lit up when she had told him he was incredible in bed.
He was one of those guys that were probably pressured really hard by all the guys at school. He was likely always one of the quiet, shy guys, kinda smart, and sensitive. One of the guys on the sidelines standing up for the bullied kid. Always bagged on about how they never get laid, called gay, called homo, just totally shit all over just because they actually knew how to treat people with respect.
If you're a guy, you're either a stud who fucks every girl, or you're gay, pretty much. Tina hated the way guys pressured each other. So what if a guy wants to wait? So what if they are sensitive? She thought it was sweet when a guy was the nervous type; how awkward they could be was sometimes kind of endearing, and that's how it had been with Jimmy. To be honest, she really did like him. He was cute, and he actually respected her. He had been so gentle, and that was probably why he hadn't really turned her on, because then again, it took a lot to turn her on. It took very confident and masculine men to really turn her on. She had gone for Jimmy because at least she knew he wouldn't hurt her, or want to do anything crazy, or get upset if she couldn't get him to orgasm.
Jimmy didn't try hard; he knew how to just be his natural self and not have to put on a front. He had been terrified and hadn't tried to hide it, and that was attractive to her. It was guys like that that still managed to turn her on enough to at least sleep with them, and give them a good night once in a while, because she knew that he was one of those guys that people just love to ignore, and neglect. She had seen the longing look in his eyes when he watched Paul and Sam making out, and had been thinking about asking him to dance but not knowing how. He was so much nicer than any of her past boyfriends. She almost couldn't handle a good guy when she met one because she just wasn't used to it. It terrified her.
This time, he had been so natural and so real with her, and all of that went away. After all, she had been horny and what was the problem if she let him have his night for once? She didn't feel bad about lying to him either, because honesty was not always the best thing for some people. She had seen the way Ted had been prodding him, and belittling him all night and acting like a jerk, and it just made her feel sorry for him. After all, she'd be leaving tomorrow and they would all go back to their worlds and forget about it. He just hoped that he didn't catch feelings for her or anything.
She really wasn't feeling the group at all. She had seen the look Samantha had given her when she had danced with Paul. It was one dance; what the hell was her problem? If they both loved each other, she should trust him enough to let him have one dance. No wonder they probably had a very unhealthy relationship. She stormed out of the house off of a dance that meant nothing. Just because you dance with someone at a party doesn't mean you love them. It's a party; she didn't have to get so worked up. But then again, with a foxy guy like Paul, she didn't blame her.
Where were they? she wondered. They had probably had a fight out there in the woods and gotten lost, all because of a stupid little dance. Where was Jimmy? She glanced at the door worriedly. What was everyone doing?
Tina slid out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold, hardwood floor and she moved to the window, squinting out through the oncoming rain. There was no sign of Jimmy outside, but she saw two bicycles sitting under the tree where she and Terri had left them. Wait, she thought. Didn't Terri leave? Why was her bike still down there? Tina frowned, confused. Maybe she had hooked up with Ted after all, Tina thought. She wouldn't have walked home in this storm.
Tina turned back to the window and gasped in horror.
A hockey mask was staring right back at her. It was a man, standing outside on the ledge.
And then, two hands lunged forward, smashed through the bedroom window from outside and grabbed her. Before Tina could scream, an immense force yanked her forward and in a split second, she was thrown through the broken shards of glass and was flying through the air.
Tina plummeted through the air, landing hard on the top of the 1973 Chevy. Her head hit the roof in an impossible way, her neck snapping in two, and her lifeless body rolled off onto the muddy ground.
Trish let out a horrified scream, as the machete slashed through the wall of the tent, coming five inches away from her.
Trish crawled on her hands and knees towards the tent entrance, but stopped when two legs suddenly blocked her way out. Trish looked up in a panic at the man towering above her, and she gasped when she saw who it was.
It was Rob, soaking wet, caked with mud and blood, his eyes wide and frenzied, and brandishing the machete high above his head.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he bellowed angrily.
"What are you trying to do, kill me?" Trish shrieked, her body relaxing.
Rob lowered the machete and ducked inside the tent, suddenly becoming serious with her. "Well, somebody is trying to kill me," Rob said, looking precariously out into the darkness. He then zipped up the tent behind him and gave Trish a hard stare.
"What? Rob, what is all this?" she asked, bewildered, gesturing to the newspapers strewn about.
"Trish, listen to me, I'm not hunting for bear out here," Rob said. "I'm hunting someone,"
"What?" she asked, still not understanding.
"I'm looking for the man who killed my sister. His name is Jason Voorhees," Rob said. He held up a cut-out photograph of his sister, a young, pretty girl with blond, curly hair of about sixteen. His eyes began to well with tears. Trish furrowed her brow in confusion.
"Jason Voorhees?" she asked.
"He's the maniac who's been killing kids up at Crystal Lake," Rob said.
Trish immediately remembered what her mother had told her.
"Oh…but what about your sister?" Trish asked, staring at the photograph of the young girl.
Rob's stare became vacant as he looked to the side, reminiscing.
"My sister used to love kids; she wanted to work with them. She was up here at Crystal Lake the other night. Her name was Sandra," Rob went on, Trish listening intently. "She was one of the ones murdered when Jason Voorhees went on his killing spree."
He had remembered warning his little sister Sandra about some horrible murders that had taken place years before at Camp Crystal Lake, and she hadn't listened. She had been part of Paul Holt's counselor training center, and had insisted on going.
He thought back to the phone call that had made his blood run cold. They found Sandra, Rob...she's dead...they had said. He had almost broken down at the thought of his kid sister gone, taken from the world so violently. He had gone up to the campgrounds that night, and had identified her pale, mangled body as it lie on a steel slab at the county coroner's office. The officers had said they found her dead, stabbed with a spear, and her boyfriend Jeff, hung from bloody bedsheets and impaled on a coat hook, just casualties in a senseless bloodbath. Rob had tried to understand it, tried to put himself in the killer's mind, and tried to feel a sense of compassion, but the only thing he felt was a rage deep within him, and a voice that screamed at him, screamed at him to kill the bastard that did that to his little sister, and to seek justice for her.
He had gone into town, into Crystal Lake to ask the locals about how to get to Crystal Lake, and they hadn't been friendly. He had burst into the city hall, asking for the records for Jason Voorhees, and poring through them, searching all of the resources that he could find on his childhood, his family, and anything else that he thought was important. But still, it wasn't enough. Knowing about his sister's killer and his sick, twisted mind was only causing the flame to burn brighter, so bright that it threatened to consume him.
Jason Voorhees had to die. He had driven the four hour drive back home, and packed his things, and then to the hardware store to get several knives, a machete, a shotgun, some lanterns, and anything else that he might have needed for a weekend at Camp Blood.
The locals weren't doing anything to stop his sister's killer, that was clear, because the killings didn't stop after the training center. There had been more slaughtered bodies of innocent teenagers, just like Sandra, found on the opposite side of the lake just last night. Jason was still out there, he knew it, and the local forces didn't care. You should be out there finding this bastard, he had screamed in the sheriff's face after his sister died. He had just sat there and stared at him stubbornly. Jason Voorhees is a legend 'round here, he had said, a legend that we don't take kindly too. That camp is closed down and there is nobody out there, Mr. Dyer'.
People are dying, Rob had said. My sister is dead. And still, all he got were more excuses. The cops weren't going to do anything until half their town was dead, and not even just people from their town, but people from all over the area that come to Crystal Lake. These murders had been going on for years, ever since back in 1979 when he had read about Jason's mother's killing spree. It was as if the whole town knew what was going on but was just complacent in it happening. How many more little kids had to die? She had only been sixteen.
"Oh god, Rob, I'm so sorry," Trish said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah…she was a good kid." he said, touching And I've got to stop Jason before he kills anyone else,"
Trish reached out and touched him.
"But, isn't that man dead?"
Rob shook his head.
"No, Jason is alive. Look," Rob said, picking up one of the newspapers and flipping to the front cover.
"Jason was a young boy who drowned in Crystal Lake. His mother went psycho and killed some counselors at the camp; she was killed by a survivor. But then the killing started again, and the locals said it had to be Jason, and they were right. Jason never drowned" Rob explained. "This is Jason as a child, an artist's conception by a would-be victim,"
Rob pointed to a sketch of a young boy in a tattered shirt and cut-off jeans-he was missing his hair, and he was dirty, very physically deformed and grotesque in appearance. The caption read: "Artists depiction of young Jason Voorhees."
"But, the man who killed your sister is dead, my mom heard it on the news," Trish said.
"No, Trish, Jason's body disappeared from the morgue two days ago," Rob said, his eyes huge and foreboding.
"Maybe it was stolen," Trish said.
Rob scoffed.
"Trish, two people are missing from the morgue. Coincidence? Plus, I've seen him tonight. Someone was in my tent," Rob said. "Jason is alive, and I think you and your family are in grave danger,"
The color drained from Trish's face as she realized the horrifying truth.
'Oh god…" she muttered.
And then, she realized something else.
"Oh god, Tommy's back at the house by himself,"
They both exchanged horrified glances. Rob snatched up his machete and dashed out of the tent down the trail, Trish following close behind.
Sara stared at her body in the bathroom mirror and let out a long sigh. She was in nothing but a white bra and matching panties
She was slim enough, and her breasts were of an alright size. Certainly not the size of Sam's but decent enough, she decided.
She felt the knot twisting tighter in her stomach and her hands began to get sweaty.
Was she actually about to do this? To have sex?
She was scared out of her mind. Could Doug tell? Would he be able to tell and would it not be as great because of how scared she was? Would it hurt? What if she chickened out? Would he use a condom?
A million questions were racing through her mind.
She continued to survey herself, hoping Doug would like what he saw. She grabbed a white, fluffy robe off of the hook on the door, and slipped it on, tossing her hair behind her shoulders and giving herself another look.
You got this; she consoled herself, feeling the knot screwing even tighter.
God, this is terrifying. Even more terrifying that she thought it would be. Sam made it look so easy. But she had the looks to pull it off. Sam could have any guy she wanted.
How she wished she was Sam sometimes…to be able to manipulate any guy to do just about whatever she wanted and to be able to sexy and flirty. She just didn't have the same sexy olive complexion that Sam had or the same hourglass figure...her stomach stuck out a little bit and she was lanky and awkward...her tits weren't that big either. But she knew Doug...and he wasn't that shallow. She remembered what Sam had said about him, and braced herself.
She took one last look, checked to make sure she didn't have anything in her teeth, and strolled out into the hallway, seeing Doug coming up the stairs, his eyes lustful.
"You look amazing," Doug said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Sara felt her face growing hot as his arms caressed her, and she felt a tingling sensation rush from her head down to her toes.
"Um…thanks. Do you want to go to the bottom bunk?"
"No..I was thinking about a nice shower," Doug said.
Sara hesitated, a small panic beginning to flutter in her heart.
Sara blocked out the worried thoughts that threatened to poison her mind. Just go with it, she told herself.
'Sure," she said seductively.
They lip locked in a passionate kiss, filled with a lust that they both didn't see coming, and backed away into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.
Ted was officially starting to feel the after effects of the weed hit him. And they hit him like a truck. The THC had settled into the rest of his body, and he was thoroughly "toasted", glued to the armchair and staring with a glazed over look in his eye at the projector screen.
He couldn't actually believe Jimmy got laid before he did.
Ya blew it, Teddy bear, he thought to himself. Ya really fucking blew it. Both of the twins hated his guts, and there were no other girls left to screw around with. Paul was probably getting action from Sam out at the lake, Doug and Sara were upstairs getting it on, and Jimmy actually wasn't a dead fuck. He felt the bitter tinge of resentment towards himself...why did he have to insult people? And why a guy like Jimmy, just a nice, confused kid looking for love...and he was his friend. One of Ted's only friends. And he treated him like shit.
Jimmy had never done anything wrong to him, and still, Ted found ways to pick on his lanky gait and general awkwardness. The truth was that it was how Ted dealt with all his insecurities.
But his baked mind couldn't understand that now. All he could do was half-smile, and stare dazedly at the screen.
Maybe it was because deep down, Ted hated himself, and everyone else saw it in his overly outgoing and macho persona. From the way he would always pull the most outrageous practical jokes and come up with the best well-timed insults at parties, it was obvious that it was all a ruse designed to get him attention in the only way he knew how.
The girls at Crystal Lake high gave him the nickname Teddy Bear, and not as an affectionate pet name, but as a way to let other girls know he was coming and to get the hell out of dodge.
It was the same way at school. None of the girls actually liked him or fucked him; he just said that he got a lot of pussy to look good. Whenever he would manage to act confident enough to get a girl into his dark blue convertible, he would always jump the gun or say something that offended her. Maybe he was just too forward.
What the hell was he doing wrong? He was good-looking, had great hair, smooth-talking…he was doing everything right. He was doing every single thing right, everything that he read in all of the best dating books out there.
Charm them, romance them, tell them how beautiful they are, and nothing worked. Still, he was rejected constantly. Jimmy could at least get a girl and how? Jimmy was too much of a nice guy. Girls like total sleazes, they just do.
It's that whole reverse psychology thing, where women like being treated like shit; it was sort of like a domination thing.
If a woman feels insulted by a man, it turns her on and makes her want to please him even more-Ted read all about it in some news article about this guy who got all these chicks simply by telling them straight to their face how worthless they were.
Ted didn't take it that far, but he still followed all of the other advice he had been given, and didn't have any success with any of it.
Maybe he didn't need to try so hard. Maybe he could just give up on women. They were so emotional…so needy, and such bitches sometimes, just look at what happened to Sam and Paul tonight, wherever the hell they are. Good thing he didn't have to deal with any of that...no angry, jealous girlfriends, no birthday and anniversary presents...just me and my grass, he thought to himself.
Ted laughed as the half-naked girl on screen danced to a cheesy 30s bee-bop tune.
He got to his feet, and staggered clumsily up to the projector screen, and pretended to talk to the dancing actress.
"Hey, don't you wanna give Teddy Bear a kiss?" he said followed by another boisterous explosion of stoned laughter.
All of a sudden, the projector screen went blank and the camera stopped rolling. The music from the movie slowly died out and was replaced by a broken-up whirring sound.
Ted frowned, and he turned to face the projector, shielding his eyes from the bright white light.
It happened in a flash.
A butcher knife from the kitchen came ripping through the projector screen and plunging into the base of Ted's skull.
Blood splattered all across the blank screen, as Ted was yanked back through the rip in the screen and into the air like a fish on a hook.
Jason yanked the knife out of his head with a sickening squish, and let his body crumple to the floor in a heap.
He looked towards the stairs and started up, breathing laboriously, feeling the rage build again as he heard the running water and sounds of lovemaking….
The hot, steaming water sprayed down on the nude, lovemaking couple, ricocheting off of the glass shower walls and forming a pool at their feet.
It was happening, it was actually happening, Sara thought as Doug found his way inside of her…everything was melting inside of her and mingling together to build a huge wave of pleasure and intense ecstasy that started deep in her pelvis and diffused into the rest of her body.
She let out a deep moan of pleasure, the steaming hot water running down her back.
Doug pressed her gently against the glass shower door, moving with her.
How had she been scared of this? This was...this was fucking amazing, she thought. Just the two of them alone with the steam...it was even better than Sam had described. She understood now why Sam slept around so much, but Sara didn't want to have sex like Sam did...she was glad she waited until the time was right.
And the time had been right. Sara was so tired of being scared of saying no, of giving into her fears and not allowing herself to enjoy things in life...whether or not it was drugs or sex, she always heard her dad's voice in her mind, warning her that boys only wanted one thing.
But after all, what did he know? He didn't understand. Doug was a good guy, and waited until Sara was ready.
She felt everything relaxing inside of her finally; after all this time, being so worried about everything-it all didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for her and Doug, and the hot steam that swirled around them.
Doug moved his hips a bit faster, and began to voice his pleasure too, until they both crescendo-ed with the climax of their lovemaking coming to an end.
Doug pulled away, kissing Sara tenderly. Sara melted into him, her legs weak, still feeling him inside of her. She kissed him harder, her hands finding every nook and cranny of his body, touching him, exploring him...
Sara finally pulled away and stared up at him, mesmerized. They both stood, wrapped in each other's arms for a few minutes, feeling the heat of the water and bathing in the steady flow of spray that misted them from the showerhead.
What had she been so afraid of? They used protection. It was with someone she loved. And she couldn't wait to do it again.
Sara kissed him again, climbed out of the shower, and wrapped herself in a towel.
"Sara, I think I'm in heaven," Doug said through the running water.
Sara smiled at him, looking back over her shoulder.
"I think I'm in love,"
Doug kissed her again.
"I'll meet you in the bottom bunk," Sara said with a wink, and left the room, glowing radiantly.
Doug looked up at the stream of water flowing from the showerhead, letting it wet his hair and run down his back. He began to exuberantly sing Tangerine to himself.
"Tangerine…She is all they claim...with her eyes of night…."
He couldn't believe they actually had sex; Was he dreaming? Sara Williams actually just fucked him? Unbelievable.
He remembered in seventh grade when she was known around school as the prude.
She was quite a sight too. Glasses, acne, braces…the works. She looked like a regular geek. But when she hit ninth grade, puberty hit her full force and the boys were noticing, including himself. On the first day of ninth grade, she came to school with her mousy brown hair curled and highlighted and in heels.
Paul actually went for Sara first but when she wouldn't have sex, he went for Sam. Doug got the rebound, and sure, he was upset that she wouldn't fuck him.
But there was something about Sara that Doug really liked. Something sensitive and really special…different than the other girls. He meant what he said to her on the trail today, he really did love her. It was a deeper love than anything he'd had with other girls. Something more intimate. He could sit and have a deep conversation with Sara, just about life, family, their problems, their insecurities…it allowed for a much more intimate relationship, and it allowed for them to just have the best sex Doug had ever had.
God, he loved those types of girls, the ones that don't give into sex on the first date. The down to earth girls always end up being the best sex...probably had something to do with all that sexual frustration.
Sara was one of those girls that you had to get to know them as people first and deep down that's what most everyone wants, at least Doug thought.
Paul deep down loved those kinds of girls, but he suppressed it with this macho girl-crazy attitude that always fucked him in the end, like tonight with Sam.
Sam was that type of girl, but suppressed it with jealousy and bitchiness. They were deep down right for each other, but their egos usually led to big blowouts, like tonight.
Where the hell were those two? Hell, they were probably screwing their heads off in the woods.
God, he loved her. He really did. She was smart, and beautiful, and liked to just chill out every once in a while and enjoy the silence, and really talk about serious shit.
Damn, when he told Paul that Sara had actually let him have sex with her, imagine the look on his face!
Yeah, there was something truly special about Sara, and he was glad that he was her first time... he wanted it to be perfect and it was. Doug had even thought about marrying her, even though Paul constantly told him never to get tied down to one chick.
But Sara was the type of girl you marry, Doug had said.
After all, what was so wrong about settling down? He didn't have to ask Sara just yet. They could wait until after school was over and when they both got steady jobs and were settled down in a house somewhere. They could move off to the city, have a few kids, he could go to school and study to be a doctor like he always wanted, Sara could find her a part-time job and they'd be set for life.
Doug was snapped out of his thoughts by the bathroom door creaking open, and then closing.
"Hey, Sara, did you change your mind?"
There was no response.
A shadow fell over the glass shower door. The glass was blurred, and Doug couldn't see out of it.
"Hop back in, Sara, there's plenty of room. We could sing a duet," he joked.
Still no response. The shadow grew larger.
"Who is that, Paulie? Hey Paulie, is that you"? Doug asked. Still no answer. The shadow moved closer to the shower door.
Doug let the bar of soap slip from his hand.
"Whoops, dropped my bar of soap, Paulie, ol buddy, why don't you get in here and pick it up," Doug teased, laughing.
Then, the shadow grew even larger and Doug realized by the sheer size of whoever it was, this wasn't Paul.
Doug reached for the sliding door, when suddenly, two hands punched through the frosted glass, shattering it to bits. Doug had no time to see who it was as the huge, calloused, bloody hand clamped over his face, obscuring his sight. He slid back on the wet shower floor, trying to maintain his balance just as the other hand grabbed the other side of this head and smashed it against the tile wall of the shower.
Doug tried to scream, but it was muffled by the hand. Jason's thumbs and palm began to press down on either side of Doug's skull, as Doug screamed in agony. His skull was beginning to cave in with a sickening crunching sound, as the powerful vise-like grip of the mad killer broke through facial bones and Doug's nasal cavity. Warm blood began to cascade down his shoulders and pool at his feet.
Through the agonizing pain of his face being smashed like mush, Doug tried to swing his fists frantically, but it was no use. The hands slammed him back into the wall, put both hands on either side of Doug's head and pulled him forward, slamming his throat down on the broken edge of the shower door, the glass impaling his neck and ending his life quickly.
The blood dripped down the walls and swirled around before disappearing into the drain as Jason heard the soft humming of Sara in the other room…
Sara hit the off switch on the blowdryer, and placed it on the dresser, giving her damp hair a good tousle.
She tightened the towel around her nude body, and looked at herself proudly in the mirror. You did it, she thought. Your first time. And it went perfectly.
What had she been so scared of? Would Doug have hurt you? she thought.
Now she knew why Sam teased her all the time. That's what everyone was so scared of? It was great, it was fun, it was relaxing, and there was nothing scary about it.
Sure, it hurt a little, but after a while it wouldn't hurt at all.
Doug had been so gentle with her. He was such a great guy. He had asked her before they started doing it if she was comfortable, if she was ready, and really made sure she wanted to do it beforehand.
I'm so lucky, Sara thought. She couldn't wait to tell Sam and see the look on her face when she found out her best friend just had sex. Sam would be so proud of her, she thought.
Sara primped in the mirror, laughing out loud in jubilancy, feeling like a new person.
She started to think about a future with Doug. After all, they had just graduated and some choices were going to have to be made. Where was she going to go? Her parents had started her a college fund, but it wasn't much. She wanted to live with Doug now that they'd consummated their relationship, but she didn't think she'd be able to afford rent.
Maybe if they both got jobs and had a crappy apartment for a while, but then school was expensive too. And she didn't know what Doug was even planning after high school. He'd talked about doing construction, but she hated that it was so dangerous.
Maybe they could go to college together if they got jobs as soon as one opened up back in their town, or maybe get a scholarship. She thought about talking to Doug about it, but then again, things were great and she was totally worry free. She didn't feel like getting into a serious conversation with him.
She finished making up the bottom bunk, and walked out into the hallway, stopping outside the closed bathroom door.
"I came to hear you sing," Sara said through the door. There was no response.
She frowned.
"Doug?" she said.
She pushed open the bathroom door and froze.
Doug was slumped forward, halfway dangling out of the shower, a jagged shard of frosted glass impaling his throat.
There was so much blood. All over the shower walls, completely painting the inside of the shower, and the floor in front of the shower. It was something out of one of her worst nightmares and it was right in front of her.
Sara let out a blood-curdling scream, throwing her hands to her face as adrenaline flooded her system.
"Sam! Samantha! Oh my god!" she shrieked, hurtling herself down the hallway away from the horrible sight and careening down the stairs two at a time in a panic.
She sprinted through the living room, saw the blood-stained and ripped projector screen, and screamed.
"Oh my god! Sam! Sam! Sam, somebody help me!" Sara screamed again, throwing herself at the front door.
It wouldn't budge.
The back door was her only other option.
Just as Sara started to make a run for it, the front door imploded inwards, the wood splintering to give way for the blade of an axe as it lodged itself in Sara's chest.
Sara was thrown backwards by the force of the blow, hitting the floor, the axe protruding from her chest.
She stared incredulously at the blood blossoming, soaking the towel and pooling around her, and eventually her body stopped trembling and her panicked breathing came to a stop.
