Jason Voorhees x Male

Chapter Ten

"Blake take the pills" Dr. Jacob urged, waving the pills in front of my face. I nodded my head, those pills don't help me, they make me feel worse.

"why not?" he questioned, his voice was warm and welcoming. I knew of this trickery, try sweet talk me so I'll open up and obey, Bella used to do it at the start of our relationship. Then she got fed up, I wore her down. She yelled at me, 24/7, about every little thing I did.

"you don't have to take them now, but you'll have to take them eventually" Dr. Jacobs said moving on. I just huffed in response, I don't want to be in this darn place. I was happy in the woods.

"Blake, I've done some extensive research and I've come to the conclusion that you suffer from Peter Pan syndrome" He explained carefully as if he was treading an egg shells, and the truth was, I'm a pube hair away from launching myself at him.

"Peter pan is a fairytale, why use that terminology. What is this? Disney channel!" I laughed in his face. I wanted to grab him, violently shake him and make him snap out of this stupidity trance his in. Yet I couldn't, this jacket isn't letting me move anymore than they want me too.

Dr. Jacobs only sighed. I was already wearing him down. Not too long now before he snaps, turns into a raging monster and shoves the pills down my throat.

"Blake, it's medical terminology, it's affects adults who has overprotective parents or parents who refuse to let their child live" I tensed. We do not talk about parents, we do not talk about my childhood. That is a red area.

The punishments were resurfacing, the days I was locked behind doors, the days I was forced to put on fancy clothes and attend church. Surrounded by preachers... preaching for someone they don't know.

For all they know a man could've made this jesus guy up when he was drunk, or even better, he suffered from schizophrenia. Their preaching a man's creation that he plucked from his imagination. Its sad, that's what people have to do to keep sanity. They think there going to go to heaven, no darling... You're not going anywhere. It's you're dead decapitated body that's going to go six feet underground when I slice you into little itty bitty pieces.

The basement, the god damn basement. Pipes leaking, dirty water dripping down my neck. My nails bloody from scratching the door. Stomach rumbling louder than a war horse running. The cold concrete floor, the smell of piss. It was hell on earth, and that's not to mention the belt, or the time she threw me out my bedroom window. Bitch made it out that I was a cluts and tripped on my toy car and fell out.

"Blake we need to talk about your childhood"

"keep talking and you're going to need to take a trip to the ER" I snapped. Dr. Jacobs was taken back. He scooted his chair backwards.

"Don't worry pretty, I can't harm you, not the way I want anyway" I chuckled darkly. He stood up, speechless. He backed away to the door his eyes never leaving mine. Those eyes full of fear.

Wish I had a phone so I could Google how to get out of a straight jacket, or if I was strong enough I could rip myself out. Jason's probably already out, marching his way back to his home. Swinging his machete at anyone who gets in his way.