Okay, I've had it with the stories people write f Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees in high school, I wanted to write my own version, one where they aren't gorgeous bishies who act all OC and are just like normal teens. In my story, it's set several years after the incident at Camp Crystal Lake where Jason almost drowned. He and Freddy are around 15/16 years old.

The camp had been the last straw. Pamela could take no more.

Her son Jason, her only, her pride and joy, had almost died by the hands of those stupid bullying children. And those councillors, ignorant, so forgetful, they shouldn't have left her autistic child alone, not for even a minute!

Fury rushed through her. They all deserved to pay. But now was not the time, she had to pack the last bags into her truck; she couldn't stay here, not where her son was in so much danger. She was leaving, moving to a town named Springwood. She had found work there and it paid a good wage.

Pam hated to confuse her teenage son with such a large change in such a short time, but they desperately needed the money. She absentmindedly folded the last of her clothes, stacking them neatly into a suitcase. Her poor, disfigured baby…

Hearing a shuffling noise, she turned to see her tall son (almost 6ft! she thought proudly) standing in the doorway. "Baby! Come to mommy!" she called to him happily. She smiled as he lifted his head up a little to look at her, his face struggling to make the expression she saw as a smile. He trudged towards her, stumbling once, his arms out-stretched, ready for her to embrace him.

She stood and gently took him in her arms, feeling him go slightly limp as he always did. He did not respond very much to the embrace, he did not understand why or how he should do so, and Pamela didn't like to push him too far, too soon. He was still her baby.

She hummed the tune of a lullaby as she gently led him outside to the truck, knowing the lullaby would hopefully send the boy to asleep, or at least subdue him. Driving was hard when her boy got agitated or frightened as he would twitch and jerk and moan and distract her from driving.

Pam finished packing the truck and walked to the passenger door, buckling in her son, who sat obediently in the seat, his head lolling as sleep claimed him. Shooting him a motherly look, she kissed his cheek before getting into the driver's seat and driving off into the dusk.

…….

Pale, long fingers lazily trailed across the page of last month's 1961's playboy. Freddy Krueger licked his lips a small groan escaped him. His hips bucked and his right hand pumped roughly. The naked girl in front of him crumpled as the hand holding the magazine tightened in sensation.

"Boy! I thought I told you to clean the house! It's filthy-" Freddy looked up, shocked as his stepfather stood in the doorway, a look of disgust on his face. The man reached forwards and tore the playboy from Freddy's hand, backhanding him across the face before storming out of the room. "Sick little fuck…" the teen heard him mutter through the door.

Glaring viciously at the door, hand cupping his swelling lip, blood running down his chin, Freddy growled low in his throat. He flung himself onto the floor, cursing and hissing out profanity, imagining gruesome and gory scenarios centering around his stepfather.

He spat out some fresh blood onto the floor, exhilarated by the patterns the red liquid made with his saliva on the floorboards. His face twisted into a dark smirk, blood running thicker down his face. He cackled and imagined slicing his stepfather into shreds.

……