We’ll Meet Again
AN: This was multiple requests put into one, so if you recently requested something for Jason it should be included in some aspect into this!
You remember him—that sweet boy at Camp Crystal Lake. He was different from the other kids there, to say the least. His head was incredibly large, which, at the time, you assumed was due to some sort of disability. The kids teased him for it, and even the camp counselors made rude remarks about the physical appearance of the boy. You never did, though.
The first time you noticed him was during lunch in the cafeteria. All the kids sat together at different tables, eating and talking, except for him. He held a tray of food in his hands, and he nervously stood in the corner of the room. You saw one of the lunch workers crouch down next to him to comfort him. She seemed to be a young woman with bright, short yellow hair. She pointed to you, seemingly telling the boy to go sit next to you. You were sitting at a table all alone, and you wanted some new friends. You waved at him. He tried to hide behind the woman, but she wouldn’t let him.
The woman came up to you, gently pushing the boy in front of her. “Hello, dear. My name is Pamela. Pamela Voorhees. This is my son, Jason. Would it be okay if he sat next to you?”
You looked at him with wide eyes, not knowing any better. You took in the way he looked; it was odd to you, but you remembered that your parents told you to never judge a book by its cover. You were also desperate for some friends. So, you nodded your head. “Yeah.”
Pamela smiled. The boy, Jason, hesitantly sat down in the seat across from you. Pamela patted his back. “You two have fun now; I need to get back to work.” She leaned down and kissed Jason on the cheek before leaving.
You introduced yourself to him, and he smiled. You began to talk to him about childish things. Your favorite cartoon, your favorite color, your favorite stuffed animal—anything you could think of. He chimed in sparingly. You realized very early in your conversation that he also had a speech impediment. You didn’t mind; it just meant you got to talk more. Before you could tell him about your favorite ice cream flavor, you heard some of the other kids at camp laughing and snickering. You turned your head and saw that they all seemed to be laughing at you, or rather laughing at your new friend.
Jason noticed too. He frowned and looked away. He buried his face in his hands, trying to ignore the stares. You reached out and rubbed his arm. “Don’t worry about them. They’re jerks. I got your back since we’re friends now!”
That’s what you told him. Throughout your month with him at Camp Crystal Lake, that was what you told him every day—that you would be there for him, but you weren’t. Not on Friday, the Thirteenth of 1957.
You were sitting on a bench next to one of the cabins, waiting for Jason. You sat on the bench, reading a book to keep yourself occupied. All of a sudden, a group of kids went running towards the lake. You put your book down and followed the hoard in an attempt to see what all the fuss was about. The kids ran to the dock. You stood on your tiptoes to try and see what was happening. You sighed; it was no use. You shoved yourself through the crowd; that was when you saw him.
It all happened so quickly. You locked eyes with him for a brief moment. There were looks of terror on both of your faces. One of the boys shoved him into the water. You screamed in horror. You began to run towards the water, but you were stopped. A boy behind you yanked your arm, pulling you backward. Before you fought back, you were pushed to the ground, and your vision turned black.
It was 1985. You weren’t sure why you came back to Camp Crystal Lake after all this time. Perhaps it was the feeling of guilt that you hadn’t been able to extinguish over the years. You stared at the “Do Not Enter” sign for quite some time. The camp was closed off due to murders that had previously happened a few years ago in the area. It wasn’t safe to be here; you knew that well, but you had to go. For him, for Jason.
As you stepped foot onto the grounds of the camp, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. You began to walk around the camp, searching for that spot. It took you a while; the camp was larger than you had remembered. Soon enough, you found it. Your heart skipped a beat.
The dock. The dock that Jason was pushed off of. You carefully began to walk across it. When you reached the end, you looked out into the body of water. The body of water that Jason had drowned in. You felt tears prick your eyes. It was too much to handle. You dropped to your knees, violently sobbing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you wailed over and over again. “I tried to save you! I’m so sorry I couldn’t. Forgive me, please, forgive me.” You tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t. You screamed at the top of your lungs. A scream full of sadness, anger, and frustration. “They were so cruel. So cruel to you. I’m sorry, Jason Voorhees. You were such a sweet boy,” you said while choking on your tears. “Your mother and I wept over you every day that summer. I wish I could’ve done more for you and her,” you said with a sigh. You wiped away your tears. “The people around here tell stories about you. They say you’re some kind of monster, a freak,” you began to cry again, “but you’re not! You never were! You were my best friend. I miss you, Jason.”
Little did you know, the man you cried for on the dock was watching you. He remembered you. The girl from summer camp. You came back for him. Since his mother’s death, he has felt something in his heart, possibly a feeling of love. Jason couldn’t quite tell. That’s when he noticed you begin to stand up. He felt panic. You weren’t allowed to leave! He missed you; he needed you.
You collected yourself after an hour of mourning the loss of your friend. You wiped away your tears, fixed your hair, and drank water. After you calmed yourself down, you began to walk away from the dock. It was time for you to go home. You had paid your respects.
Suddenly, a calloused hand slammed over your mouth and another grabbed you roughly by your torso, spinning you around. Your eyes widened as you faced the figure that was towering over you. He was wearing a hockey mask. You let out a worried whimper from behind the large palm that was keeping you silent. Surprisingly, the man sensed your discomfort and shook his head. He was trying to silently communicate with you, but you didn't know what he wanted.
The masked figure took his hand off of your mouth. He held his hand up to where his mouth would be and made a shushing motion. You did not want to anger the man, so you stayed quiet. He took a deep breath. He knew this would be the only way to calm you down. He let go of your torso before reaching up to grab onto his mask. He gripped the bottom of the mask and lifted it over his face.
You let out a loud gasp of shock. “No, no, you're not him. You can’t be. This isn't funny, you know!” The man's face was deformed, just like Jason’s used to be. The same dents and lumps from his condition, hydrocephalus. “He drowned you, fucker! Jason Voorhees drowned! He was my best friend, and he drowned! If this is some kind of cruel joke, knock it off,” you yelled at the man in anger. He averted his eyes to look at the ground, feeling some type of shame. Perhaps it was because of the way you yelled at him, but you would never know.
“Oh my God,” you said in a quiet voice. “Jason? Jason, is that you?” He nodded his head. You ran into his arms, holding him tightly. “Jason! Jason! I missed you so much! I’m sorry for everything! I tried to save you! One of the boys pushed me to the ground, and when I woke up, you were… I even can’t say it. I searched for you with your mother every night, and now you’re here! In front of me!” You hadn’t noticed it, but tears began to stream down your cheeks.
Jason couldn’t stand to look at you in your depressed state any longer. He pulled you a hug. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t hugged someone since 1957. You were so warm, small, and fragile compared to him. His heart swelled when you nuzzled yourself into his shoulder. After awhile you tried to pull out of Jason’s tight hug. His grip tightened. That was when you realized, he was never going to let you go.