Le Petite Mort- The Little Death

Note: Yay! I’m finally introducing Jason properly!

“Look at her, Jason. Look at that disgusting girl. She’s a disgrace to the world.”

Jason listened to his mother’s voice and did as asked. He narrowed his good eye to see the female better. She had just fallen headlong and cracked her knee on a sharp rock. He heard her scream out a curse word. She crawled, grunting with effort, across the muddy ground. Her skirt rode up the back of her thighs. Too far. Jason could see the smooth skin of her upper leg, bare and inviting.

Bad, dirty girl. Filthy mouth, filthy words. Too much flesh. Must stop it. Slanted eyes. Dark, angry. Soft, short hair, clean, shining. Too perfect. Should be blood. Blood to wash away the filth from the bad, bad girl. Mud on her skin. Mud on her face. She crouches. Breathes hard. She scowls. Angry. Still deserves to die...

“Yes, Jason. She does. But wait, my son. Not yet.” Jomo just knows her camping-trip is going to be hell, especially when Jason finder her…

He clenched his fist over his machete, head bowed. His mother was never wrong. Therefore, she was to be obeyed. Jason knew this instinctively and never thought to question that. His mother had always made all the right decisions for him. But she wasn’t always there to tell him what choices to make. Sometimes she’d disappear for weeks on end, leaving Jason alone in his woods. He’d learned to fend for himself, to think and survive without his mother’s voice to guide him. But when she was there, he no longer had to. She told him who to kill, where to go, and why. She was the avenging angel he was always eager to please.

So he drew still further back from the girl. She had settled in a crouch, eyes tightly shut. She was a strange looking yet vaguely attractive girl (although Jason was indifferent to that). She was Asian, and was quite a few inches shorter than average size. She was curvy to the point of chubbiness and had a sweet, childish face.

That face was scowling as she clambered onto her feet.

“Fucking Kevin Kentwood,” she said aloud. Jason jerked in surprise. “I hope a killer comes out of the woods and gets YOU. Oh, lord…”

It had begun to rain. Jason eyed the sky mistrustfully, taking shelter under a large branch. The little girl mirrored his actions by diving for cover. She slipped but managed to steady herself. She was weak and clumsy, an easy target.

Jason’s mother was silent as the grave now, making no comment as the girl tottered off towards Crystal Lake. Towards that car. Jason had seen the beaten-up vehicle trespassing on his land wondering who dared bring it here. Now he knew, he felt he had even more reason to gut this brat.

Bad girl, naughty girl. Death too good. Needs pain, punishment. Worse than death.

Jason felt the usual rush of hate inside him, but stronger than usual. This was odd because the girl had done very little to upset his mother. She hadn’t made love, taken drugs or done much more than flash her bare legs. He wanted her to prove her evil rather than feigning innocence. Ofcourse, he would kill her anyway for simply being here. But still…

“Just wait, my special boy,” his mother purred soothingly. “Be patient. This girl will soon be just as wicked as all the others. She’s no innocent.”

Soon. Jason tilted his head and watched as the tiny figure dwindled away into the distance. Yes. Soon he would make the girl suffer beyond imagining. And she would deserve it.

* * *

Jomo was soaked to the skin and ready to kill somebody by the time she reached Kevin’s car. She was muddy and practically frozen. Teeth chattering, she flipped open the trunk and eyed the array of suitcases inside critically. There was no way of knowing which were hers. In the end she made a rough guess and yanked one out. She opened it and pulled out a clean outfit. Shielding it under her arms from the rain, she kicked the suitcase beneath the car and glanced around the area. Jomo wasn’t the kind of girl to change outside where the whole world could see her. She needed some kind of shelter to change inside. An old shower cubicle, for example, or a disused tool shed.

Then her eyes fell upon a derelict wooden cabin. It looked so rotten with age it was a wonder the thing was still standing, yet as it still offered some meagre shelter from the weather Jomo didn’t complain. She ran towards it, hair whipping around her head, and squeezed inside before the rain developed into something worse.

Inside the cabin it looked as if a bomb had been dropped. Upturned tables were strewn all over and newspapers littered the floor. Jomo chose to use a copy as a makeshift towel. There was no way she was going back outside to fetch a real one. Quickly she tore of her dripping, defiled clothes and threw them at the nearest wall. She was never going to wear them again; they were too stained and filthy to ever get clean. It was lucky she had brought several pairs of clothing with her to replace them.

Before redressing Jomo briskly dried herself off with the paper. It was only when she reached the little dome of her belly she stopped. With both hands she cupped her stomach, smiling thinly down at it. She had lost so much weight in the past year. Last Christmas a much loved cousin of hers had died and she had spent months comfort eating. This had resulted in her becoming literally obese.

Once she realised this, she had become frantic to lose all the weight. She had tried every diet under the sun. When that didn’t work she starved herself, which made her both look and feel like a living corpse. Her parents had been going insane with worry, and even Jomo could see that she was killing herself, slowly but surely. So in one desperate attempt to lose weight without endangering her health Jomo had grimly banned herself from touching any chocolate or fatty foods for the rest of her life.

She’ d even minimized her meals, making them small enough to satisfy an infant, but it had been worth it. She’d finally reached her target weight. The battle wasn’t over; she had to fight she keep it stable, but that was hardly a problem anymore.

Now as Jomo brushed her stomach with her fingertips, she allowed herself a tired smile of ancient triumph…

Suddenly she heard a clicking sound and looked up, alarmed. The door was still hanging half open. Jomo shook herself. Anybody could have walked in and seen her. It was good she had noticed the door now, and not later when Kevin or Bobby would undoubtedly burst in to explore. She dressed hurriedly and, with a blush glowing in her cheeks, cocked her head to listen to the rain. It had stopped completely.

“Jomo! Are you in there?” somebody bawled from outside the cabin. Jomo plastered a grin on her face and yelled a speedy ‘yes’ back. Just before she left, she randomly picked up a dry newspaper from the floor. She instinctively knew the following night was going to be as awkward as hell. Having something to read would be a welcome distraction.

Then she flung the door wide open and stepped out into the outside world.

To her disbelief her friends were crowded around three perfectly assembled tents. How they had managed to get them up in such a short space of time she’d never know. They were standing on a plastic sheet somebody had spread across the ground with most of the day’s photographs piled at their feet. As soon as Kevin spotted Jomo, he snatched up a bunch of them and sprinted off into the woods as if Satan himself was after him.

She wondered what was wrong with him. Perhaps he was afraid of getting another dunk in the dirt. Jomo found herself smiling proudly when she saw that his entire back was plastered in mud from their little tussle. Grinning wickedly Jomo joined the others, clutching her newspaper to her chest.

“How’s it going?” she asked, voice effortlessly cheery. Liz smiled and linked arms with her in a friendly manner. It was something she hadn’t done in a long time.

“It’s all good so far,” she said serenely, tapping one of the tent pegs with her foot. “They haven’t collapsed yet. Your bags are in this one, by the way. I took ‘em in for you.”

Jomo nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”

Then she added as an afterthought, “I guess Kevin wasn’t happy a killer didn’t ‘get me’ by the way he ran off just then.”

She watched in satisfaction as Liz and Becky shuffled uncomfortably.

Serves them right for laughing at me, she thought a little unfairly.

“Oh, don’t take him seriously,” said Liz. “You know what he’s like. Plus his dad’s been giving him a hard time lately. He needs to take out his stress somehow.”

“What, on me? Oh, I feel sooo privileged,” Jomo said sarcastically, her hands on her hips. She couldn’t help feeling slightly sympathetic for Kevin though, despite her loathing of him. She knew how it felt to be hassled by parents. “What really gets is the way he picks on me ‘cause I’m small. He sees me as an easy target. And face it, I’m not that little! You guys are just super giants. You dwarf me.”

Bobby glanced up from the tent peg he was working on and laughed at her.

“Dream on, Jomo. You’re abnormally tiny and you know it.”

Jomo punched him in the arm, pouting.

“Least I’m not useless! I’m smart, see, and that makes up for my size. And my wonderful brain is saying…”

Jomo paused, pretending to think thoroughly.

“Aha, it’s saying it’s getting dark and we need a fire. Also, a message from the stomach says I need feeding.”

“You’re insane,” Bobby said, shaking his head at her despairingly. Jomo reached up and pulled him into a boyish hug, slapping him on the back with more force than was necessary.

“That’s why you love me, right?” she said sweetly. She released the boy and promptly sat down on the plastic sheet, beaming at the ring of bemused faces above her. “So, whatcha waiting for? Let’s get this fire started!”

* * *

(Many hours later)

The fire had been made using precious few try twigs and Kevin’s lighter. Kevin had returned with a charming smile and wild flowers, which he cast at Jomo’s feet. She wasn’t impressed. If anything she had been suspicious. She wasn’t alone in this. Becky was giving Jomo so many jealous glances it was a wonder her eyes didn’t rot in their sockets. Jomo didn’t mind though. It was well into the night now and even she was happy. It helped that Bobby had found a few cans of beer in Kevin’s rucksack. The alcohol eased their nerves, making them all giggly. Jomo had only had a few sips of hers but still found it easy to relax.

She was now sorting through a bag of food, trying to find something they could all eat. She tried to fool her friends into believing it was empty but their wits weren’t quite dulled enough by the drink to fall for her feeble lies just yet. But by Jomo’s reckoning they weren’t far off. Becky, for one, was sharing Kevin’s cigarette although she’d once said she hated the taste. She was also actually talking to Jomo for once.

“So what actually is in there, Jo?” she asked in a slur. Jomo decided to tease her a little.

“Well, we have three choices,” she answered earnestly. “There’s soup, um, soup and, as a special treat, soup.”

She leaned forward, winking conspiratorially.

“I recommend the third option. There’s extra sweet corn in it.”

“Fuck that!” Bobby yelled, losing patience. He grabbed the bag right out of her hands. Upon peering the bag his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Soup my ass! We have candy!”

The word ‘candy’ piqued Liz’s interest. “Any marshmallows?”

Bobby clutched the bag to his chest as if he’d given birth to it.

“Hands off, Liz, this is mine now! Get your own food.”

“You jerk! Gimme that!” Liz had launched herself at Bobby and began wrestling with him. Jomo giggled, enjoying the chaos her gentle teasing had created. She allowed the pair to squabble while she simply sat and looked at the campfire, eyes lost in the centre of the flames. She wasn’t hungry any more, just tired. Her exhaustion went further than simply bodily weakness. She was tired of faking happiness; of the endless jokes she had to spew. She was cheery by nature, but sometimes it was nice to just let go of herself. She glanced up at her friends. Kevin and Becky had abandoned their cigarette and were locked in a passionate kiss. They probably thought themselves very romantic, making out under the stars and the full moon. Personally Jomo found it very cliché. Even Bobby and Liz had stopped their insane battle and were feeding each other marshmallows sweetly. The perfect couple.

Well, Juno thought, what better time to let my sanity slowly unravel whilst reading the newspaper? I might as well just unwind for a little while…

Sighing with relief, Jomo let her smile fade into a relaxed line. Sure that she now had all the time in the world she put her head down and began to read the front page.

And the headline said in hysterical block letters- “CRYSTAL LAKE KILLER SLAUGHTERS TEENS!”