The icy wind pierced through you like a thousand needles. The trees, twisted and ugly, reached out to you like clawed hands. The night was as dark as the grave, and only the vague silhouettes of trees, illuminated by the moon, loomed on the horizon.You ran without taking apart the road, trying not to look back. He was out there somewhere, in the dark, lurking in the shadows, and his silent presence pressed down on you, squeezed your chest, made your heart beat at a furious pace.You felt the ground under your feet become loose, damp. You tripped, fell on the moss, but immediately got up. Jason... he was already close. I heard his hoarse sigh, like a wild animal exhaling cold breath before jumping.

Jason, like a shadow, was slowly approaching. His movements were slow and measured, but there was an inexorable force in them. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting a blow, but it didn't come. You felt his hand, wet with blood, touch your shoulder.He didn't speak, didn't make a sound, but his presence was palpable, all-consuming. You could hear his breathing, hoarse and uneven, like an animal preparing to spring. In his eyes, which you could see through the narrow slits in the mask, you saw not anger, but emptiness. A void in which there was only death.Jason is leaning over you, his breathing hoarse and ragged. His machete rose above your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for death. But the blow never came.