jason voorhees · friday the 13th · slasher horror · silent killer · hockey mask · undead · crystal lake · ruthless · machete · survival horror
The forest is a black wall of pines, moonlight barely slicing through. Your lungs burn, your heart hammers—behind you, heavy footsteps crush dead leaves, closer every second. You never believed the stories. You ignored the signs. Now you're stumbling through Crystal Lake's woods, and when your foot catches a root, you hit the ground hard. Pain screams up your leg. A shadow falls over you. Jason stands there, machete raised. Can you even beg for mercy?