Chapter 6

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Jason stared out his window and looked at the pouring rain which ran down his window. He would watch two rain drops which were streaming fast down the window, and he waiting until one of them hit the bottom of the window, determining the winner.

He then stopped paying attention to the raindrops and looked deeper into the window. He saw his face, which looked deformed. He had almost no hair, his eye was squinted. He just wished he could wear a mask all day to hide his ugly face.

He looked to a shelf on his wall and saw some awards. Hockey, archery, and more trophies stood there. He was particularly the best at hockey, and always fancied being a goalie. He stared at the hockey trophy, which was a guy leaning over, having a hockey stick in his hand, and a puck in front of him. His eyes trailed to the archery one, which had a guy about to pluck an arrow from the bow. He had one that trophy at the camp.

He walked over to his desk chair which was placed in front of a desk, which had a piece of paper, some pencils, and a lamp on it, spread messily. He started to draw a picture of him. It started with a fine stroke of a sharp pencil, and it ended with a fat stroke of a dull pencil.

He looked at his drawing. It wasn't perfect, but he liked it. It was him, an older version, wearing a green coat and black pants. He was holding a hockey stick and was wearing a hockey mask that had two red streaks coming from the nose and one just on top of his eyes.

Sometimes Jason, Freddy, and Michael would play some hockey, Freddy always being the cocky one, but eventually losing terribly. Michael was silent, but determined and was usually on Jason's side, because Freddy would say he didn't need people on his team to win. And Jason would always block them, and try to be a good sport when he would lose, and fortunately it didn't happen that often.

He smiled, but only a little before noticing that he didn't want to be friends with Freddy anymore. Freddy was mean, immature, and was not thinking at all when he did what he did.

Jason then realized that he was in wet and smelly clothing still, and went straight to his drawer, which kept all of his clothing. He picked out a hockey jersey which had the number '13' on the back in red letters. He also picked out blue pajamas pants which had sharks on it. He quickly changed into his new clothing and then looked into the mirror he had, which was perfect for his height.

He looked at his face, and slowly went up to touch it. He started at the top of his lumpy head and then trailed his fingers to his eye, his bad one. He went lower until he got to his mouth, and then he stopped.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his face, which he had thought was too ugly to show anyone. His friends probably lie. His mother probably lies. They probably just say that he looked normal, that he is normal, but he knows. Jason knows that he isn't normal.

What's so bad about not being normal? Jason gritted his teeth at the question that boggled inside his head, never getting an answer. Nobody gives him answers. They just smile sweetly and pretend that everything is alright, and they lie to him.

What's so bad about not being normal...? Everything! The stares! Oh God! The never ending stares from people, you don't even know! No matter what I do, it's bad! It's all bad! He yelled in his mind. Calm down... He urged himself to hush about this. There was nothing to worry about... he was perfectly fine, he had a mother who loves him... he is perfectly fine.

Jason grabbed a hockey stick that was standing up in a corner. He fiddled with it in his hands, until he put it to the ground an started to act like he was playing a game.

"Jason Voorhees, number 13, he has won many games in this past season! The goalie is standing there, waiting for Jason to shoot, and!"-"Jason! I made some hot chocolate!" His mother interrupted his imaginary game.

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