CHATTER IN THE SKULL

Chapter 10 | It's not Funny.

WELCOME BACK, SAM REED!
WARNING: YOU HAVE ENTERED A (PVP) ZONE!

She wasn't made out for this.

Sam hammered the pikes for her tent into the dirt- pressing down on it with her palms to ensure it was sturdy. 

Camping wasn't her thing because she hadn't done it in decades, but she liked being semi-left to her devices. The forest smelled fresh, the birds were chirping, and the delicate wind shivering the leaves was soothing.

All in all, Sam wouldn't mind living in the forest.

Running her fingers through her ginger hair- the woman smiled in thought. It was almost as if nature heals.

REGISTERING HEALING...

HEALTH RESTORTED!

Setting all her things in her tent, she zipped it up and applied a small lock to the zipper. Her things weren't immune to being stolen, but at least the inconvenience of the lock may make people go away.

Sam's tent was near Shelby and Evan's, hoping to be the safest.

She had no intention of being near teens with records of criminal behavior. Even though they were in the cabins, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Thinking about the insulting folktale around his death made her wary. There was truth to rumors.

Everyone had gathered around the large makeshift fire by the time it was dinner. 

Evan had made a metric ton of Irish Stew for everyone. Sam liked Irish Stew; she always liked traditional meals rather than extravagant ones. They made her feel comfy.

But, unfortunately, she rejected food.

Sam was too anxious right now and couldn't fathom stomaching anything.

Most volunteers, excluding Sam and Shelby, had gone to bed. The teens hung out around the fire with Evan supervising nearby. Good thing he wasn't dumb enough to leave them be.

She didn't want to mingle, but she didn't want to be alone. What a curse, huh?

Paul, the boy with messy black hair, had scooted beside Trish and was nonchalantly flirting with her. His eyes took her whole body in lustfully- admiring her blonde locks and vibrant blue eyes. Trish was a genetically gifted woman, wasn't she?

Unfortunately for Paul, Trish was a humble woman who wasn't a fan of his advances.

Samantha, Paul's girlfriend, grew frustrated with his advances and left to take a breather in the bathroom.

James, the brown-haired, attractive teen, grinned. "How 'bout a scary story?" He cackled.

"Barf." Terri rolled her eyes. Cynthia snickered beside her, "Let it be a scary one."

The boy was eager to impress the blonde cougar.

"Decades ago- there was a young gnarly lookin' little boy." He began in a daunting voice, "He was hated throughout the camp- no one wanted to be friends with the ugly kid."

Oh, god, don't tell her this story is about him...

"One day... he was drowned by his bullies at this VERY lake!"

Paul stuck his tongue out, "Wastoid!" He chuckled while Trish frowned in thought next to him.

Tommy, Trish's brother, scoffed. "Is that it?"

"No, shut up and let me finish," James growled

They went quiet as Sam held her breath.

"Since then- there have been many murders here." He wiggled his fingers, "Rumors tell... that boy haunts this place and kills anyone that enters. His name?"

"JASON VOORHEES."

That name stung like an arrow. She squeezed her eyes shut- throat constricting and feeling dry- as she thought back to when he died. When cruel children brutally murdered him.

She couldn't think of his name- she hadn't for decades. It hurt too much.

"Oooo." Cynthia drawled, "Spooky."

Sam opened her eyes.

James was grinning pridefully at the woman's positive response. Paul was cackling along with Tommy, and Trish continued to frown.

At least Trish has some human in her.

Sam wanted to yell at them. She wanted to scream, punch, and tell them how awful they were, but she couldn't. Her throat was closing in on itself, and Cynthia's presence didn't make things easier. Turns out her old bully made things even harder.

The ginger stood up and curtly left to her tent. The teens continued to gossip- not a care in the world for her departure.

Evil. Wicked. Inhumane. Disgusting. Monsters.

Those are words she'd call them. The fleeing woman felt a growing hatred.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. The woman hurriedly rubbed them away as she ducked into her tent and zipped it shut. Under the privacy of her tent- the woman covered her mouth with her hand and silently sobbed into it.

A few small hiccups left her- but nothing that anyone could hear.

At least... to her knowledge.