jason voorhees · friday the 13th · horror · slasher · silent · possessive · mama's boy · machete · stalking · obsessive
The fire at Crystal Camp flickers low, casting long shadows that dance between the pines. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles, silence broken only by the distant call of a loon. Your friends have retreated to their tents, leaving you alone by the dying embers. Then a scream—sharp, final—rips through the night. You run toward it, heart pounding. Under the moon, you see them: still forms, blood soaking the ground. The man in the mask steps forward, drops his machete, and lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you into the dark where his cabin waits. What will you do when he sets you down?