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What Was Lost	By : Demonfox Category: 1 through F > Friday the 13th (All) > Friday the 13th (All) Views: 5545 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own friday the thirteenth, and make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Jason stood on that dock and waited for his mother to explain further. Nothing came. He cried out to her in his head. Where was she? He didn't know what to do. She couldn't do that to him! He was her good boy. She had to tell him what to do!
But try as he might to summon her back, she remained silent.
And the girl with the scars was moving. She stood up and started to splash toward shore. Of the group, she was the only one clothed, and was wearing a black bikini. Water ran down her in rivulets as she neared the sand.
He couldn't let her go. Mother didn't tell him what to do yet.
The hulking man moved toward her, stepping on to the sand just as she reached it. He grabbed her in his powerful grip and hoisted her over his shoulder. It only took one hand to hold her, as she was very small compared to him. With the other, he placed his machete along his leg, and grasped the ankles of his victims, dragging them along behind him in the dirt. His lumbering steps took them back toward his home. The girl in his grip struggled and squealed, but so far from life, no one would hear her, though it was certainly irritating to Jason to have her wailing in his ear. Her damp skin was slippery and the water from her bathing suit soaked into his shirt in a rather uncomfortable manner- Jason hated water. He grimaced under his mask and made a resigned growling sound deep in his throat. He hoped his mother would say something soon.
He shoved the door of his cabin open with his foot, and it slammed against the wall behind it, making the girl jump in his grasp and cry out louder. The bodies in his left hand made a shuffling sound along the floor as he took them to his mother. He stepped into the threshold to where she was and the girl he held gave a horrified scream at the sight of her, and of the bodies that lay about her. There were only a couple, all within a few days old- he always removed them before they started to rot, though he had not before- there had become more than he could deal with and they had damaged the floor above where he slept, and burned them, but it was still a terrifying place, full of candles with the shriveled head of his mommy in the very middle. Depositing the bodies before her, Jason turned away. He did not have time to tend her now. He had to figure out why she would not speak, why she wouldn't let him destroy the girl with the scars on her face. He didn't want to do the wrong thing and make mother angry. He didn't want to be Bad. He was her Good Boy.
There was a room up here that housed a bed- his old bed, but he never used it. He lived down below, so that was where he took the girl.
There was a hole in the floor near the doorway that was concealed by a trap door. He kicked this open easily by trapping the toe of his boot underneath it and flipping it upward. He dropped down, crouching as he landed, the girl squealing yet again. It took very little effort for Jason to land the 8 foot drop, but it was frightening to his prisoner. Down here, the celler was dusty and dimly lit. There were a few old, rickety pieces of furniture, scrounged from elsewhere. Two chairs, both lopsided, a table, a whetstone for his machete, and an old, stained sofa. They were things he rarely used, but he sat down when he became inactive and would rarely lie down on the sofa for a change of scenery. The furniture had been useful to him when he collected it, and he hung on to it for the same reason he kept his old bed, with his name carved into the headboard. Because it was comforting, like mother's house.
He strode to the sofa and dropped the girl upon it. Dust billowed where she landed and stuck to her wet skin and hair. She gazed at him from her pale face with blue eyes, one of which gaped from the left side, the eyelid still intact but scars crossing above and under it. "Let me go."
Jason shook his head. Mother hadn't told him what to do yet. She had to stay here.
She stood and tried to run, but a hand thrust in front of her stopped her and shoved her back onto the sofa. He shook his masked head again. No.
The behemoth of a man turned across the room and drug a rickety chair to the sofa. He sat down in it and it creaked with complaint at his weight. His good eye watched her carefully as she turned away, evidently resigned. He had expected more of a fight from her but was content to watch her until mother spoke, especially now she was not screaming. Or getting water on his clothes.
The sky outside turned dusky and grey as the pair sat and watched one another. The girl made a few further attempts to leave but each time Jason placed her back onto the sofa and shook his head. Finally, she evidently grew tired and slept. Jason stared at her.
The hours passed and he still watched, but had begun to grow bored. He traced the outline of her face with his good eye, noticing she had a few spattered freckles, and watched the rise and fall of her chest. She was interesting to him. He had not seen a woman up close before. He thought she was pretty asleep. She was very pink and looked fragile to him. Her skin looked soft, except for the scars. Her hair hung around her face, tangled because of the water, though she was now dry. He thought that interesting, too. He didn't have hair. He wanted to touch it. Why, Jason didn't know, but it looked like something to touch.
He had touched hair before, but hers was different and he was curious. So he reached out a huge hand and brushed his fingers over the strands. They were soft. And now the girl was awake. She screamed instinctively, and Jason jerked back. Why did he do that? Mother didn't tell him to touch her. He wouldn't do it again, he told himself, it might make him Bad.
Soon enough she slept again, and it grew light outside. Jason was still staring at her when she woke up, frowning.
"I need to use the bathroom."
Jason had not thought of that. He never used the bathroom. He no longer had to, he was dead, though his heart did still beat. Could he make her wait?
Of course not, he remembered before he drowned that he had to do it, too. That he couldn't stop it happening and so, though he hated the idea, Jason stood and picked her up. She didn't squeal this time, evidently having given up on being rescued.
He carried her outside, up the ladder that led through the trapdoor, and in to the woods. Old cabins stood here, with bathrooms inside, which is where he took her. The building they entered was falling apart, but the water ran still- it always had. People kept trying to fix his camp and no one ever thought to turn off the electricity to his beloved home, so the pump still ran water from a years-old well through the pipes. He placed the girl with the scars on her feet inside of the cabin's dusty bathroom, and stood there, still staring with that one eye.
She frowned. "You need to leave."
SIlence seemed to echoe through his mind. But before he tried to shake his head, he heard his mother's voice.
"Leave."
He tried to ask her what to do. He tried, really tried, but he could not form words there any better than his deformed body could, and she was gone as fast as she had come.
So he did as mother said. He turned his back on the girl, and stepped through the door, closing it behind him. The room had no windows anyway, so Jason doubted the girl would leave, and even if she did he could bring her back easily.
He could hear her urine splash into the toilet bowl and the flush as she stood, and he opened the door. She glowered at him as he attempted to grab her. "I can walk, thanks."
Jason started to shake his head no but decided to allow it. One massive hand still grasped her though, entrapping her smaller one as though to guide her. He started to the door, the girl in tow, nearly crushing her hand in his grip, when she spoke again. "I need to eat, too."
More human functions to mess with. This was incredibly annoying. He hoped mother spoke soon. He nodded. Luckily the cabin he was in had been one he used sometimes during his first few ressurections to stash things in, and there were a few cans of food in the bedroom area, sitting on a bed stand, left from when he still tried to eat.
He drug her in to the room behind him and picked up a large can of beans. He released her hand for a moment to pile the rest of the cans on top of it, then grabbed her roughly again and led her toward the door. She walked behind him, a purpetual expression of annoyance stuck there. Much to her dismay, when her bare feet touched the dirt outside, pine needles pricked painfull into the soles of her feet. "I can't walk on this. I don't have shoes."
If Jason could have, he would have sighed. As it was, he growled low in his throat, turned, and picked her up. He was slightly more gentle this time and she ended up propped over his shoulder instead of upside down, her arms around his neck in an attempt not to end up that way again.
When they were back in his cellar again without incident, the girl with the scars propped on his sofa and Jason stacking the cans on the worn old table, she spoke. "Who are you?" She had heard the stories about the monster in the woods, this had to be him. But why was she alive?
Jason rammed his machete into the top of a can without responding. The lid crumpled, and was easy to pry off from there. He took the can to her, then sat in the chair, staring and silent as ever. The beans in the can looked fine to him and he had dropped a dirty spoon into her lap as well. They must have been okay, because the girl started to eat them.
For the next few days this continued. Jason cared for her, waiting for his mother to speak, and the girl ate what he gave her and slept on the dirty old couch while he stared at her. He carried her to the bathroom, stood outside, and brought her back.
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What Was Lost