His Girl - Jason Voorhees x Reader {Rewrite}

✿Chapter 23: Reason and Rational✿

Your throat went dry whilst Jason dragged you back to the cabin, fighting back more tears and feeling afraid of the man in front of you. Your heart pounded with fresh panic, his anger and incredible strength giving you the sense that you were in tremendous trouble. All you'd done was touch your pyjama shirt...why had that set him off so much? And why was that shrine so special to him? At least one confusing thought had been cleared in your mind - his mother wasn't alive. Maybe that was why the shrine was so important. It...It kept everything dear to Jason safe, lit up by candles.

The killer flung open the front door; causing the door hinges to rattle as he strode in - holding you with intense power and pulling you without any resistance. He was breathing heavily, almost as if he didn't know how to control his temper. Whatever was happening, you were too frightened to speak by this point, only managing a few shaken stammers. "J-Jason, I-I...I didn't mean to... P-Please...Please don't be mad..." You whispered, staring up at him with huge, panic-stricken eyes.

He merely grunted in response, punching open your bedroom door and pushing you in. With a soft cry of alarm, you stumbled to the floor and sat up tearfully - seeing the glowering male towering over you whilst his grip on his machete tightened. W-Was he going to hurt you? Was that your punishment? Jason stared at you for a few seconds before turning on his heel and storming back out, slamming the door shut rather sulkily. Did...Did he just send you to your room? Like some twisted timeout? What kind of punishment was this?

"Jason! Let me out! I'm really sorry, but that was my pyjama top!" You climbed to your feet and tugged on the doorknob, "You can't just lock me in here! I'm not a five-year-old!" It was no use, all you received in return was another one of his riled-up growls. The door was stuck anyway. Not locked after all, but he must've wedged something underneath.

"Fine...just listen, okay? ...Please?" You hesitated, but carried on once you heard silence, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I touched the shrine. I now know how special it is to you. And I'm sorry that I-...I screamed." You apologised in a regretful-sounding tone, holding your palms against the door and leaning your head.

"Sounds like Jason Voorhees."
"What, the old legend?"
"Yeah. The story says he died, but people say he survived the drowning."

"You must've felt so lonely. So...So afraid after almost drowning. Scared of being in the forest alone...and no one ever found you." Your empathy forced your voice to become nothing more than a sorrowful, softhearted murmur - your eyes filling up with tears again. But these weren't the same tears from earlier; these were tears of sympathy. Because you...you felt bad for him. "You had to grow up alone...because people thought you had died in the water."

It felt like two invisible hands were strangling your throat, a dry lump stopping you from speaking as a slow trickle of tears leaked from the corner of your lashes. You thought back to the decapitated mother on the shrine, theorising that a counsellor must've beheaded her. It was too implausible a thought that Jason would've killed his own mother. "But once you'd finally found your mother...a counsellor murdered her in cold blood...didn't they?" A throaty, pained moan came from the other side of the door, Jason confirming it.

"So you took revenge," You mused unhappily, "You slaughtered every single one of those counsellors...and then you kept killing. You made sure this camp wouldn't reopen. You were blinded by the need for revenge." Your remarks were angering him again - you could tell by the low, venomous snarl that passed through the door. "You still are. You won't let anyone touch this place. You protect Camp Crystal Lake from teens, like the group I came with."

Another sound of rage could be heard from the opposite side of the door, a loud shredding noise reaching your ears. He must be ripping the wall with the weapon he nearly always had in his hand. You were a little frightened, but you couldn't back down now. Because inside of the man you'd only just started to understand, contained a whirlwind of fury - a raging storm chock full of clashing emotions. His mindset was still too young; too young to comprehend what he was feeling. And so, he was taking that out on everyone else. You, every new batch of counsellors or teens, and anyone else who trespassed on Camp Crystal Lake.

It was saddening to see how trapped Jason truly was here. He couldn't escape the flames of frustration, nor could he face up to his own emotions and filter them properly. The male-...no, the boy who drowned in the lake all those years ago, he was still fighting. But not with people...with himself. Because he couldn't control his childish temper tantrums, he couldn't move past his vengeance - even though justice had been served - and he couldn't distinguish innocent victims from the guilty. And he'd keep spiralling in vicious circles until someone...well, someone stopped him. Until they-

"Look, I know how you feel." You spoke desperately, feeling a wave of emotional agony wash through you. "I know how it feels to be bullied. To be...To be tormented! I've wanted revenge too. I've felt the same fury, the same frustration, and the same thirst for justice - but it's not right!" Your hands slid down the door a bit, tears streaming towards and dripping off the tip of your chin whilst you let loose all your negative feelings from the past. "It won't make you feel better. Hurting innocent people, who have things in common with the guilty...that's not revenge! That's not helping anyone!"

Jason violently roared — his angry shout bouncing off the walls as you shook, becoming extremely emotional. "Y-Your mother wouldn't want you to hurt people, would she? She loved you! What would she think if she saw you doing all these...these hurtful things?" You took the sentimental approach, hoping that the mention of his mother might snap him out of his slaughterous state of mind. Instead silence filled the air, before he grunted again.

"M...om...my...te...lls..." The killer rumbled darkly, "Mo...mm...y...te...lls... m...e... t...to..." His sinister answer sent several chills down your spine, your tears drying on your cheeks as your hands fell away from the door.

"No...No, that can't be right." You said faintly, refusing to believe the fresh information you'd just gotten. "How can she—that's not—I mean—" You were absolutely dumbfounded; a thunderstruck expression flashing across your face faster than the speed of light. "That's not possible." You weakly whispered at last, finding your voice a few minutes later.

"M...om...my...sai...d... y...ou... ne...ed...ti...me...ou...t..." The child-minded man informed you moodily, acting as though part of him didn't want you to be in timeout at all. "S...he...sai...d...ba...d... gi...rl..." He was behaving exactly like a child would, calling his mother mommy and using timeouts like a suitable punishment.

"Jason, your mother is—" You couldn't even finish - not because you got interrupted, but because you had no idea how to tell him that his mother was dead, and that there was no way she was giving him orders from beyond the grave. Either way...this seemed to be helpless. You took a step back, a soft sigh slipping through your lips whilst you rubbed your arms. There was nothing more to do now, other than endure the juvenile punishment.

Unless...you sat on your bed and waited, hoping-...scratch that, praying that Jason would take a break from guarding the door. Eventually, you couldn't hear his heavy breathing or occasional, bulky footsteps; so you put your plan into action. Stealthily sneaking to the window, you undid the latch and pushed it up, pausing in order to hear any noise. Once you'd deemed it safe, you slipped through the window and planted both feet on the grassy ground - trying to make as little noise as possible. Your plan wasn't to make a run for it, or anything like that. Far from it, in fact.

You were running towards the forest. It was a reckless and ridiculous idea, but you'd just thought of a way you could make it up to Jason. Hopefully, Lady Luck would be on your side and you'd have enough time before he realised you were gone. Quickening your pace, your eyes flickered around the forest, searching for nice-looking wildflowers and other scented plants to take to the shrine. Maybe if Jason saw how much you were sorry, and how seriously you were taking his super-special shrine, he might stop being so sullen and so... scarily mad. Your plan was to grab a bunch of flowers/plants, make a bouquet and then place them somewhere in the shrine.

With optimism, this should all work out in your favour. With pessimism, you'd probably be getting another timeout.

Thinking was overrated anyway.