As a child, I was always sent away for the summer. I could never understand why. Maybe my folks just wanted a break for once. To have a summer to their selves. Though I never questioned it or asked why because my friends always went to the same camp.

It wasn't until 1958 that there were murders going around the camp. But they never told the kids, and no matter how many times it ended up on the papers or the news for generations parents still seemed to send their kids there. Maybe it was because the killer never actually murdered children, just the counselors. 

But it was now the year 1980. And all I knew was that it was weird being alive in the 80's with the stoners and the fashion. Jason agreed.

It all began on a sunny afternoon in 1957 at camp crystal lake. At the time as a child I never really truly had any friends. And I could never figure out why. The girls were always awful to me, and the boys there were always flirting with me. Maybe it was because of that, though I was never interested. Only one person had my interest at best, and that was Jason Voorhees.

He was afflicted with a severe facial deformity and hydrocephalus. It was because of that that the children treated him differently. Always calling him a freak and other names. Mocking him. I was always disgusted with those kids. But it was also what made me want to become friends with Jason because he was different. Not because of his looks, but his personality. 

I remember I was at least eleven years old, and so was Jason. I walked up to him, and he flinched. He thought I was like the others. But I reassured him I was better than them. And soon enough we became fast friends, leading to best friends. 

  Hello, this is Marina Coyle. And this is my story.