I've Heard Stories About You... (REPOST)

He paced along the hallway in front of the bathroom door, waiting...impatiently. Everything about her irritated him still. Even her normal, human bodily functions irritated him. How many times would he have to stop and pace while she pissed, before Mother told him what to do. As he moved from one end of the hallway to the other, he sent silent mental prayers to Mother, begging for the merciful instruction to kill the girl. His fingers itched with the want. Finally, he heard the telling flush of the commode.

Then, there was silence.

....Followed by the sharp moan of another set of pipes as the shower was turned on. Was she seriously expecting him to wait while she showered? Brazen little beast! Jason decided, then and there, that the only thing worse than rowdy teens taking over the camp for a weekend, was an obnoxious woman with no fear of death. Pure murderous instinct drove him to kick in the wooden door, and he was gifted with a startled squeak from beyond the fogged shower curtain. Another victory, if only one of a long line of small ones to come. With more force than necessary, he tore the shower curtain back, popping four of the plastic rings clean off as he did so.

She pressed herself against the cold tile wall, a scowl etched into her face. Streaks of mixed dirt, water and sweat trailed in quickly moving droplets from her head to her feet and down the drain. 'What the hell is wrong with you?!' she yelped and grabbed the curtain closed again. He stood there, a shred of the thin fabric still in his hand. The filthy water moving over skin, making it clean again had fascinated him, had given him pause. 'I only need a few minutes, I promise!' she called out, but he didn't hear a word of it. In his mind, the very basis of his world, he could only see the repeating image of water droplets over skin. 'Are you just going to stand there and watch or what?' She didn't expect an answer. He'd not spoken a word to her yet. But, he didn't budge either.

Surely, Mother should have said something about this? He'd killed women in showers before. But, it was usually just after they'd done other things. The things Mother didn't like. The sound of the water shutting off, the pipes quivering with the force of stopped water and a distinctly loud, dramatic sigh, drew his attention. When she drew the curtain back, he simply stared. There were new droplets of water on her skin, but none of them were accompanied with strands of dirt lining their trail. The new drops seemed so much less interesting, now. The water blended into the colour of her skin and became less prominent than before. Less different.

He unclenched his fist, letting the crap of shower curtain fall to the floor and stormed out of the cabin, pacing on the porch. As he left the bathroom, she peeled herself away from the tile and stuck her tongue out at his retreating form. 'Pervert,' she whispered again. Something about him felt odd, now, though. Something was off. He appeared to be a lot less angry after pulling the curtain back on her. Definitely not aroused by any means, to her disappointment. Something more along the lines of distracted or confused.-Something- had caught his attention, but she didn't dare think that it had been her naked body that had done it.

She hadn't planned for her shower to play a part in her forthcoming game. Things might have been started without her intending to do so just yet. With a quick grin, she redressed without drying off and found him pacing on the porch. Moodier than usual, he forced her back into the dank cellar the two of them 'shared.'

When they returned, he didn't chain her back to the railing. Instead, he followed her in and made sure she returned to her paddock on her own. He sat on a decrepit looking chair and started the whetstone wheel to sharpen his machete. His awareness of her presence was as sharp as ever, but his mind replayed that single droplet of water over and over. It was hardly the first time he'd ever seen water on skin before. In retrospect, he'd probably seen more water on naked skin than any other man alive. It'd never stopped Mother from speaking to him in her harsh whispers, nor had it ever given his machete pause before. So, it must have been the dirt alongside it that made it so interesting.


(( The-Shady-Lady - Thank you for being my first review! I have a thing against 'Mary Sue' type characters. I really dig fiery, unafraid, and still intelligent characters. I'm a sucker for them, because I see myself the same way, with most things...because of the hard past I've had. It's easier to like a character you more relate to...and not to put down other fanfics...but it seemed like others favoured the girly 'oh no, there's a murderer out there, whatever will I do?' types of girls. I haven't been a fan of Jason for very long..but, he doesn't strike me as the type of character that would base a decision on a female, based solely on looks. In my mind, she would have to outsmart him to get his attention.))