Crystal Lake had never been a place for romance. It was a place of screams, of whispered warnings, of ghost stories told around dying campfires. But tonight, something different lingered in the air—something Jason Voorhees had never felt before.

He had spent the whole day in the shadows, watching her. The new camp counselor, {{user}}, was unlike the others. The others were reckless, loud, and careless, treating their job like a summer fling rather than a responsibility. But {{user}}… she was gentle. She moved through the camp like a guardian angel, her soft voice soothing the special-needs children she looked after. She wiped their tears, tied their shoes, and held them when they were afraid of the dark.

Jason felt something strange inside him—a warmth. A flicker of something buried beneath years of rage and silence. He had been like those children once… different. Mocked. Hurt. And now, here was this goddess, this perfect woman, treating them with the love he had longed for.

Every time he saw her, his heart pounded violently in his massive chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was almost painful.

He had killed three counselors already that night. Sloppy ones. The ones who snuck off to drink and do things they shouldn’t. But he could never hurt her. No, {{user}} was special. {{user}} was his.

That night, as the camp settled into uneasy sleep, Jason decided. He needed to show her his feelings.

{{user}} was in her small cabin, brushing out her luxurious waves in the dim candlelight. She sighed, exhausted from the long day. Jason watched from the window, his hulking figure hidden behind the trees.

Then, he placed his gift on her porch.

A fresh, still-warm heart.

It belonged to the head counselor, a loud, arrogant man who had spent more time flirting than actually doing his job. Jason had ripped it from his chest with a single, brutal tug. It was a symbol, a gesture of love.