They were back. They always came back.
He never paused to question why they did. He didn't care. He would find them all, pull them from their hiding places, screaming, and bathe in their blood. As long as they kept coming, he would kill them. Every single one.
For her.
Jason Voorhees' memories were nothing but rage and darkness. The only light was the face of his mother. And the only purpose for his existence was avenging her. All those years ago, he still remembered how warm that light had been, in such a icy and dark world.
He had known that he was different. Every time he had looked in a reflective surface, he could see his ugliness. But his mother never thought him so. She loved her son, and had done her best to protect him from the uncaring world. But she could only do so much. Pamela Voorhees had been employed as a cook for Camp Crystal Lake, and with her husband gone, she had no choice but to bring her son with her.
He remembered the taunts of all the other children. How they had driven him off the end of the camps' long dock. How he had woken to the face of his mother on a shore, far away from the camp.
She had been the only one to look. The two councilors assigned to watch the kids swimming had snuck off, far more interested with each others bodies than their duties. The children never told any of the adults, but somehow Pamela knew. She took matters into her own hands. She took him to a place in the woods, and hid her special Jason from the rest of the cold world. She promised him that he never had to go back, and they would never hurt him again.
Later, she showed him the book. The book, with it's twisted face of a cover, and brittle, stinking pages, its' name all but unpronounceable. She never told him how the book, inherited from a long dead relative, had whispered where to find her son, and what to do after. The book had scared him at first, but his mothers' happiness had a calming power over him. This book, she had told him, was the key. She would find the secrets to protect him from all those who would bring him harm, she just knew.
She had already started, she told him, and then showed him the blood stained blade.
His mother kept her promise. No one came. Jason, although mute from his experience in the lake, grew strong and large, and Pamela delved into the book. She began to speak of nothing but vengeance, and spilling blood, and atonement, and blood. Pamela was devoted in her goal of protecting her beloved son Jason, and her devotion, though well intended, became twisted through the use of the dark book, becoming something akin to fanaticism. She found, through the book, a way to protect Jason from all who would harm him.
But this protection, created and fueled with blood and anguish, had a cost, unheeded by Pamela in her growing instability. It would eventually demand to be fed more. The more it was fed, the stronger it became. The stronger it became, the more it would take a hold over it's caster's mind, using their baser emotions to drive them relentlessly to feed it. Jason knew nothing of this, or that the book's dark power had slipped it's fingers into him through his mother, and unlikely would have cared anyway.
The years passed.
They were going to reopen the camp, his mother told him, and they would pay this time. All of them. She made good on her word. Though he was forbidden, he watched her do her work, feeding the protection through blood, slaughtering the trespassers, killing in his name.
He loved his mother, and knew she loved him.
He saw her head fly through the air, a streamer of blood from the neck, and rage filled him like fire. She had only done what had to be done, and one of them had dared to fight back, had dared to escape the deserved justice his mother brought. Had dared to harm her.
But then his mother talked, told him, from the ground, to wait until the girl was gone. He did, retrieved her head, and brought her back to his sanctuary. He built a shrine devoted to her, where she spoke to him from. She told him that he must kill them all, for her, and her protection would never leave him. Her rage fed his, and when she told him to, he tracked down his mother's killer. As her blood poured over his hands, he felt strength fill him. The power and protection had been transferred to him, a curse of his mother's making. A curse that would speak to him in his mothers voice as he fed it and made it stronger and stronger. This curse, that turned a mother's love into blood thirst, would turn Jason Vorhees' rage into something much worse.
He always found them. Drinking, fucking, just like they were when he almost died. His mother had told him all about them, many times. They would try to fight back. They stabbed him, shot him, beat him. Nothing stopped him for long. His rage was far too much to be extinguished by the likes of them. As long as they ventured into his woods, they were his. One of them had a mask, and after Jason had finished with him, he took it. His mother's voice in his head told him to. To always wear it in her name. For the last thing his victims to see be this bone white face of death.
Then came the boy. Tommy Jarvis.
Of all of them, a small boy, so like Jason long ago, had been the one to stop him. To kill him.
But not for long.
The darkness empowering Jason plagued Tommy long after Jason's death. It nearly drove him insane. When Tommy became a man, the curse used his own rage to drive him back to where it had started. Used him, unwittingly, to resurrect it's true vessel. Tommy would never be able to kill Jason again, but he was able to trap him in the very lake he had almost died in.
Death had simply stripped what little humanity had been left in him. The curse, it's power now so strong, took over completely, in essence became Jason, leaving a perfect instrument of destruction slumbering in the depths of Crystal lake.
Years passed, and Jason's slumber was broken several times.
A girl with the gift of telekinesis accidentally summoned him from his imprisonment. He slaughtered many of her friends and family before she was finally able to use those same powers to banish him to the lake again.
A simple accident brought him back again, and his intended victims became trapped on a boat with him. One of them had a gift similar to the girl with telekinesis, seeing flashes of Jason as the boy he once was. This same ability somehow pulled Jason far from Crystal Lake in pursuit of her, all the way to New York City. The connection between them was finally broken underneath the city, and Jason's body, washed out of the sewers, blindly made it's way home.
Even when Jason's presence alerted higher levels of authority, they were unable to stop him. Although his body was destroyed, his accursed rage was not. It took a physical form and moved from host to host, seeking a way to recreate it's true form. Using Jason's half-sister, conceived through the late Mr. Voorhees indiscretions and raised by a foster family, Jason's body was reformed.
Higher powers finally pulled Jason to Hell shortly after, but the power that created him was of an agency that Hell had no authority over. Jason was returned back to Earth, long after nearly everyone had stopped looking for evidence of his existence.
Returned to Crystal Lake, where he waits for them to come back. With the voice of his beloved mother echoing in the burning, enduring rage that is his mind. Even sleeping, his dreams are red and screaming. With a powerful, disfigured body that feels no pain and will re-knit itself back together despite all injuries. A cursed revenant.
Proof that a mothers' love endures.
