Serial Killer Jason Voorhees Mga Nobela at Kwento

DEA I had never witnessed murder before. Not with my eyes at least. I went from a wide-eyed, wet-behind-the-ears scientist to this—whatever this was. Jason's death was something that haunted my dreams. In the darkest hours when the shadows grew thicker and the cold was icier, the ominous sound of his neck snapping under pressure weaseled its way into my dreams. Daylight hours were easier to ignore the relentless echo of it which gnawed at my sanity like a dog with a bone.

I don't know –” Giveon mumbled, “If I need to, then I might,“ Giveon's voice was soaked in apprehension, which was odd. Jason used to be his buddy. But right now, he was talking about him like he was just some random monster. He couldn't help it. Jason was legendary for the millions of lives he has wasted since he turned Capo. He was a bloody assassin now. A Mafia! Years spent with Jason were the reason he was feeling a pang of sadness right now. But if he happens to encounter Jason, he just might kill him. That's just the logical thing to do.