ROUGH DRAFT OF Slasher Kids Volume 1

Chapter 2

This chapter is a little messed up
Just a little warning! Haha! Kill me.

The next day, my mother woke me up at the crack of dawn. As much as I hated waking up early, I was just relieved it was mom waking me up and not Dr. Fuckface.

"Good morning, my dear...I made you breakfast," said mom's quiet voice. I couldn't remember the last time I ate, the passed week was spent getting poked with needles; the only food source they gave me was injected inside me.

I sat up and stretched, then got out of bed and dragged myself to the kitchen.
I sat at the table, where a bowl of oatmeal was patiently waiting for me. I plopped a spoonful of the thick, warm liquid. It was sweet, but not too sweet, just the right amount to satisfy my tastebuds.

Mom took a seat in front of me and watched me as I ate. Most people would get uncomfortable, but I was so used to having someone watching my every move that it didn't phase me anymore. She had this saddened look on her face, something I hated to see, but every time I saw her, that was what she looked like. Sad, depressed...miserable.

It wasn't my fault. None of this was my fault. Out of all the people in the world to torture, Ralph chose me. Why? Hell if I knew. Even if mom had told me why I was treated like a monster, I probably forgot.

"Jessie. Your test is gonna be...different from the rest. I need you to now that I love you, no matter what or who you are." Mom said, her voice shook and her voice cracked as if she was going to burst into tears any minute.

She never got this worked up before a test. What was so important about this test? Usually they only took blood and...yeah- you know what? I can't remember the other tests.

After breakfast, I threw on my jacket, pulled on my boots and we left. It was still dark out, but I guess that's what Ralph wanted. Like they say at the hospital: doctor wants, doctor gets.

I stared out the window and watched the world around me pass by within a matter of seconds. I wanted to escape. I wanted to leave this place, but I'm sure if I tried, I wouldn't get too far. There was one faint memory I had of a time I did try to escape. I got pretty far, but the same truck that dragged me from my home eight years ago cut that memory short.

A bright yellow sign pulled me out of my thoughts. I perked up once we passed the sign. It read: Welcome To Camp Crystal Lake!

Shit. I knew what was going on.

We weren't supposed to be there. That was where Jason Voorhees, a young boy in 1940's, drowned. Ever since then, the camp had been cursed; once you entered, you wouldn't leave alive. Knowing Ralph, he was probably going to test that theory with me.

I checked my phone.
No Service. Even if I tried to call, I doubted anyone would come to my rescue.

Mom drove until we ended up at a peer. My heart began to pound when she shut the car off and unbuckled her seat belt.

That's when I saw it. A boy flailing around in the middle of the lake. He'd scream for his mother while desperately reaching for air, but the lake chained him down. I watched in horror as he splashed around frantically, until finally, he seemed to have given up and let the lake engulf him.

Jason Voorhees. That was him—but no one else saw him. It was just a figment of my imagination. Another way for my brain to torture me. I knew what was coming, but I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

My door opened, and I was yanked out of my seat by two people, one of them being my own mother. I began to kick and scream. Mom held me down and fought against my efforts to push her off of me while Ralph struggled to tie my legs together.

"You pieces of shit!" I screamed.
Mom clamped her hand over my mouth and stared down at me with tears rolling down her cheeks. This bitch could've prevented this, but she didn't.
Suddenly, the memories Ralph had locked away started to slowly flood back. This wasn't going to be his first time. I remember the last time he drowned me, I fought him, but he still ended up winning. How I came back was what confused me. No matter how many times he'd kill me, I always came back, clueless as ever.

Still, I fought. Part of me knew I wasn't going to win. It was a couple of adults going against a 17-year old girl. Ralph wasn't a slim adult either.

I almost broke free, that is, until a hard blow to the side of my face caused my head to spin. I felt my senses give up, one by one. First my legs fell to the ground, my fists unfolded. Everything went numb; everything but the stinging pain on my cheek. I could taste my own blood, but I didn't know where it was coming from. I looked around to see who hit me, but when I tried, I was only met with another strike, then another, and another. I couldn't feel a thing, and I'm glad I couldn't because the striker didn't stop until my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

When I came to, I was still numb. I tried to move my arms and legs, but they were restrained.

"Subject JV3. Subject still fights for their life. Let's see if it'll remember this." His evil eyes met mine. He wore a mask splattered in blood, which must've been my own blood, and even though it covered his mouth, I could still see that stupid little smirk he always gave me when he knew I couldn't escape. He won...again.
He raised his hand in the air and held up 3 fingers.
"Three!"
Silence. I looked around and met my mother's eyes. They were squeezed shut.
He lowered the third finger.
"Two!"
He lowered that finger too. Not this time. He wasn't going to get the joy of killing me again. I raised my tied up fists and flipped him off.
"Fuck you."
With that, I took one last glance at my mom. Standing from afar was a man wearing a hockey mask.
Jason.
I fell backwards and sank to the bottom of the lake, then waited for my life to slip away.