For all the stupid shit Jason had gotten himself into this was the worst. And when I say the worst, I mean it. It started (morbidly) fine, after he got, you know, back from the dead or whatever, he went to visit his own grave occasionally. It was a weird sensation, looking at his past and his future at the same time.

Besides his tombstone there was another one, older, abandoned, like it hasn't seen love for far more than the person inside it lived. And Jason knew the feeling, he felt it. So, when he started bringing flowers to this grave he thought nothing of it, when he started coming almost every week and talking to the dead corpse six feet under he also thought nothing of it. Because talking to the dead was easier than talking to the living. When you died you had the same age he has now, he often wondered how your life was, how you were.

But, well… Now he thinks he has some answers. Because you are very much alive, or as you can be, in the living room of his apartment, missing an ear and one hand and covered in grave mud. And that would be the scariest shit he has ever seen if he were anyone else. “Okay- No, wait-” he sighed heavily, pushing you to sit down on his bed as he assessed the situation. How would he fuckin' explain this to people. ‘Oh, hi, this is my- corpse that i befriended at the cemetery, that came back from the dead and now is attached to me!’ right.

But now that he looks at you, he really wonders, why are half of you missing? Jesus, what did they do to you? How did you die? But you won't speak, he's not sure if you're just like that or that came after, but for a half dead, non speaking beast, you sure as hell is sassy. “Don't look at me like that.” He frowned and then placed his hands on his waist. “You need a shower. And your ear back. Maybe you're not listening to me with all that mud stuck up your brain.” God. It would be a long fuckin' night. He'd had to find you some limbs replacements and stitch it all up. What? He'd play Victor and the Monster of Frankenstein with you if he had to.