"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty! Ready or not, here I come!" I crept through the old house in hopes of spotting where Jason had hid himself. "Where are you?" I cooed mischievously.

I heard a small giggle from upstairs that melted my heart. I grinned and carefully climbed the stairs as quietly as I could. As I stood at the top of the staircase, I gazed upon the many rooms and pondered which one to pick first. I decided on my room and peered though the doorway. The room was still and empty but I hiked the blanket up onto the bed anyway and checked under it.

"Found you!"

Jason giggled and crawled out from under my bed. We laughed together before he engulfed me in a hug with his head against my chest.

"You're so sweet, Jason." I placed my hand gently on his head and smiled to myself.

Mrs Voorhees came home from work shortly after our games with a small announcement for me.

"I was offered a job as the cook at Camp Crystal Lake." The older woman informed me.

"Here, sweetie. Go colour." I handed Jason a colouring book as well as coloured pencils with a kind grin. Jason beamed up at me and took the supplies from my grasp. "Can you say thank you, honey?" I tilted my head.

"Thank you...!" Jason stuttered shyly.

"Great job, buddy! Lovely manners." I proceeded to pet his head and turn my attention back to his mother as he ran off to the table.

"Thank you for being so good with him, my dear. I'm so glad you're here with us. You're a big help around the house." Pamela smiled at me sincerely.

"It's been my pleasure, Mrs Voorhees. Your son is just amazing." I smiled and looked back at the boy busily colouring at the dining table.

"Now, about the job. Mr Christy thought it would be a good idea to bring Jason along with me while I'm at camp. This means that you can finally have a well deserved break." Mrs Voorhees stroked my hair sweetly.

"Thank you so much, Mrs Voorhees! I'll be sure to keep the house clean while you're gone."

Monday morning

Jason whimpered and hugged my legs tightly. The boy looked up at me with fear in his eyes. He didn't want to go to summer camp.

I wished he didn't.

"It's okay, Jason. You'll be back before you know it and then we'll play again! Try and have fun, okay? It's only for a little while." I kneeled down to his height and hugged him.

Jason immediately wrapped his small arms around me and held on like I'd disappear. I pulled away and gripped Jason's shoulders with a motherly smile spread across my teenage features.

"I'll be waiting right here for you, okay? Have fun, Jason."

A few days later

The taxicab pulled up to the camp and I quickly handed the driver some cash before practically throwing myself out of the car.

"Pamela? Pamela?!" I jogged towards the lake that was swarmed by police.

I met the teary brown gaze of Pamela Voorhees and I felt like crying even harder than I already was. I jogged over to the woman and trapped her in a bearhug.

"Oh, god. Oh, no..." I sniffled.

Pamela gave me a squeeze before pulling away from our embrace. "My sweet Jason..." she cried.

I sobbed into my hands as a cop approached us. The policeman told us that Jason had definitely drowned, that it would be hard to find his body in the murky lake, that they were trying...

That it didn't look good.

"Jason..." I murmured tearfully under my breath before I gazed out onto the lake.

I left Crystal Lake shortly after Jason's funeral and searched for work elsewhere. After a tearful farewell with Pamela, I packed myself up and left with my bed made neatly. The pain of losing the little boy that I had created a great friendship with was far too painful for my young heart and all I wanted was to forget.

I would go on to never forget.

Somewhere in the United States, 1981

I sat down on the couch with a small huff and snatched the tv remote from the coffee table. I pointed the remote towards the small tv screen and pressed the on button. I flicked through the channels until I found what I was looking for and dropped the remote on the couch next to me. I reclined back and watched the screen during the quiet afternoon. My fingers brushed against the newspaper that sat on the armrest my arm leaned on. I swiped it off and lazily flipped through the pages. I hummed a little tune that I remembered singing one of the kids I used to babysit back in the fifties.

My heart stopped when I flipped to the next page.

It was Pamela Voorhees, my old boss and the mother of... of Jason Voorhees. The boy I babysat and the boy who drowned. Pamela had apparently gone mad over his death and killed a bunch of irresponsible camp counsellors in a feeble attempt to keep the camp closed for him. A 'final girl', if you will, managed to chop Pamela's head off with a machete. But this was all two months ago, and I couldn't believe I hadn't heard of this sooner.

There was a darker reason that it was in the paper now of all times.

The final girl, Alice Hardy, was missing. They found her blood on her kitchen floor that her starving cat was desperately lapping up. There was blood in the fridge too for some reason.

"Oh, my god." I whispered.

Crystal Lake, New Jersey, 1957

Jason giggled as I sat down next to him on the floor of the living room.

"Alright, so!" I started. I pulled the box I had set on the coffee table in front of us closer. "I thought this might be fun for us!" I opened the box to reveal beads and string. "We could make fun friendship bracelets! You could even make one to give to mummy, huh?" I showed Jason the colourful beads and he smiled up at me.

We both had made each other a bracelet to give each other made of our favourite colours. I even carved our names into the beads with a pocketknife. The one I made for the boy read JASON, and the one he made for me read my own name as well. Jason and I never took those bracelets off.

He even died with it still wrapped around his wrist.

I was broken out of my trance when a teardrop hit the newspaper and soaked into the gruesome article. I gasped and wiped my tears with my arm furiously. It was so long ago and I didn't think about it as much but when I did it hurt so bad. The bracelet Jason had made me with my name carved into it sat in my drawer. I didn't wear it anymore as I was afraid it would wear out and break. And then the last piece I had of the child would be gone forever.

I slapped the newspaper onto the coffee table and stood abruptly from the couch and stormed to my room. I tugged open my drawer and paused when I saw the old colourful beads. I gently picked up the bracelet as if it would shatter at the slightest touch. My finger traced over the grooves where I had crudely carved my name into the beads and a stray tear ran down my cheek.

I stared out of my bedroom window and pondered. I had to go—I had to go there again. I needed to get closure, see Jason's grave again. See Pamela's grave.

I had a free weekend. So I slipped on the worn bracelet, and began packing.