Water Tainted Red

III. Him to you

Cold.

Exhausted.

Hurt.

Both physically and mentally.

These were the feelings you felt when you regained consciousness. Your memories came crashing into you after that. The lake, the feeling of drowning then not, being carried past the massacre of your best friend and her friends. You wondered if Miriam had escaped alive, but the sight of the camp left you doubtful. You didn't see any of her limbs, but there might have been some places you haven't seen yet. The possibility of your best friend being dead made you sad.

You took off your mind of the thought by taking in your surroundings. The bed you were on had a faint unpleasant smell to it, like the smell of rotten wood. The mattress was hard and uncomfortable, making you adjust your position over and over again. You laid there and wondered if maybe, just maybe, you could go get help. But then, what would the help be for? Everyone was as good as dead. Certainly, the help will be for you? No, you thought. What good will help be? I hope Miriam can get help if she is alive.

The creak of a door interrupted you from your thoughts. The door to the cabin opened, and the hockey-masked killer ducked to walk in. He saw you were awake, so he decided to check on you.

You were now face-to-face... face-to-mask with your captor. His presence was intimidating. It made you inch your way closer to the wall that the bed hugged. As you did this, you saw him tilt his head, like he was wondering what you doing.

You found your voice, although it was a bit shaky and quiet. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but you kind of killed my friends..." you thought for a moment, "my friend and her friends. Of course, I'm going to be scared of you."

He didn't reply, so you didn't know if he could even understand you.

He stepped a little closer to the bed and that was when you noticed he had something in his left hand. You realized it was an olive green blanket, probably from one of the cabins your friends and you were occupying. He offered you the blanket. You were cold, so who were you to deny something that will warm you up? You cautiously took it from him and wrapped it around yourself and kept the distance between him and you.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

He nodded in response and turned to walk away.

"Wait."

He stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice.

You wanted an answer. You wanted to know why you survived.

No.

You needed to know.

"...You... Did you mean to save me?"

He stared at you for a moment and then nodded.

You didn't understand why he saved you. He had killed the people you were with, so why were you the one who lived? It was ironic because they wanted to live while you wanted to die.

"Why...?"

The man in front of you could only stand in silence.

"Living isn't worth it." You pulled the blanket tighter around you, eyes looking down. "It'd be fine if you just killed me here." Tears started gathering at the corner of your eyes. "I don't know how to deal with the mess that's my life if I go back." You used the back of your hand in an attempt to wipe your tears away. You weren't successful as you felt the wet smudges cool on your cheeks. "I-..." Hic

Your voice was raised. "It should have been me! I should have died!" Hic "Please... please..." What were you even begging him for? What were you even alive for? Why hasn't this killer killed you yet?

You felt a weight on your head.

You sniffled as you looked up, seeing the masked man's outstretched left arm. His hand was on your head. You guessed he was trying to comfort you as best as he could. It was kind of silly looking if you were honest.

This big, scary guy was trying to comfort you.

You couldn't make his expression because of the mask, though.

You could only see his eyes, but they weren't unkind.

"Um... thanks." Your sniffles and tears had stopped, but there was this awkwardness that surfaced between the two of you. His hand was still on top of your head. You didn't know what to say or do. You just vented out your feelings and suicidal thoughts to a killer who doesn't talk. You didn't even know his name. Should you ask for his name? But he can't even respond? At least he understands you?

"I'm okay." You said softly. "You can take your hand off me now."

He did understand you because no sooner than you had said that, he removed his hand from the top of your head.

If he could understand that then... You pointed a finger towards yourself. "(Name)." Then you pointed at him. "Your name?"

He tilted his head slightly.

No answer.

Okay, now you felt stupid. He probably understood you, but it's not like he was going to respond to you.

You saw him move out of your sight for a bit.

He returned with a flimsy square paper and hesitated a little before he offered it to you.

You carefully grabbed the photo he gave you and held it in your hand.

A young, bald boy with a deformed face in a "Camp Crystal Lake" shirt was smiling while hugging a woman with short, blonde hair in a cozy sweater. She was also smiling. They looked happy together.

You turned the photo over and written in print and black ink were what you guessed to be the names of the two in the picture.

Jason & Pamela

You looked up from the photo and saw him staring intensely at you.

You pointed again at him. "Jason?"

He nodded.

You gave him back the picture, not wanting to be in possession of it any longer out of the fear of accidentally ruining something he clearly treasured so much.

Jason went to put away the picture, and you were left to recollect your thoughts.

So, you're in this situation. Hostage situation? You're in this hostage situation with this killer named Jason. But then... he's not really forcing you to stay, is he? Not a hostage situation. You'll ask when he comes back, but until then, you're in this situation. Actually, do I even want to go back? You were surprised at that thought. Like you said, your life was a mess. It was worse than staying here. No one would miss you... except for Miriam, but what are the chances she's still alive? Zero to none. You felt tears swelling up again. You're alive and Miriam isn't. Jason is to blame. You should hate him. You should really hate him. Why don't you hate him?

Was it because he went through the effort to save you? Was it because of the way he comforted you? Was it because of his refusal to kill you? What was it?

You couldn't find the answer.