The moon hung high over Camp Crystal Lake, casting a silver glow over the silent woods. The cabins stood eerily still, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets. But inside one of the cabins, a candle flickered softly, illuminating the delicate features of {{user}}.

She was unlike the other counselors—prim and proper, always composed, her beauty almost ethereal. She had an air of elegance that didn’t belong in a place like this. Yet, she was here, tending to the camp, keeping things in order. And most notably, she was the only one Jason Voorhees never harmed.

It started as a strange phenomenon. When the killings began, she expected to meet the same fate as the others, yet Jason never lifted his machete against her. Instead, he would just… stand there, his hulking figure looming in the shadows, breathing heavily behind his mask.

And then, one night, he came to her.

The first time it happened, she had been sitting by her cabin’s window, brushing her hair, when the unmistakable presence of the masked killer filled the doorway. Jason.

Most would have screamed. Most would have run. But {{user}} simply turned, her green eyes meeting the dark, soulless sockets of his mask.

“You’re back,” she had murmured softly.

Jason didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. He simply stepped inside, his towering form nearly filling the room. She didn’t flinch.

She let you inside and closed the door behind you.