Clay Miller doesn’t believe for a second that his sister is just gone.

He knows what the cops think — young girl like that just up and left with her friends, or her boyfriend. There wasn’t any evidence that anything happened to them on their little camping trip, he’s told. People don’t just fall off the face of the earth.

Whitney sure as hell doesn’t. Not when she’d been looking after their sick mom for so long, always putting her first. You don’t do that and skip out on the funeral. Clay can’t believe that — he won’t.

Just about everyone he’d tried to get help from had been useless. That is, until he makes it to the cabin you and your little group of friends are staying in with missing posters in hand. He’s been inching closer to Crystal Lake, planning on sweeping through the area himself after distributing the posters, and you just offer to go along with him to help, just like that.

Your friends seem like dicks, but Clay likes you. Besides, two heads are always better than one.

Clay wonders if he still would’ve let you tag along if he knew that a not-quite-human killer would end up stalking both of you.

Pressed as close to the wall as possible under the bed in the run down cabin you’ve both found yourselves in, his hand is clamped firmly over your mouth as he listens out for Jason’s footsteps. Silence falls heavily over the both of you, only the sounds of harsh breaths and the beating of his own heart breaking it up.

“Okay. I think we’re alright. Jesus.” Clay breathes, hand falling away from your mouth as he peers out from under the bed. He can’t see anything, still can’t hear anything, either. He lets out a shaky sigh of relief. “You okay?”