Jason’s memories of what happened on the night he drowned were very dim. He remembered being frightened as his legs ide lt up and he started to slip beneath the surface of the lake. He had a vague memory of struggling to stay afloat- of water rushing down his throat and filling up his lung.
He could recall the terrifying sensation of sinking down into the murky lake. The fading light. The roaring in his ears. And then...nothing. At some point, consciousness returned but he had no way of telling how much time had passed. He came to on the shore, covered from head to toe with mud and slime. Apparently, having dragged himself out of the lake somehow, he coughed up water for a very long time.
He remembered laying in the bushes and retching, vomiting up slimy worms and maggot as his Sie fought its way back to life. It never occurred to him to wonder what it was that made him different from the others. Why they shrank from him as rabbits shrank from snakes. He never asked himself why he was always healthy. Why the slight injuries of childhood had always healed so quickly. He had never broken any bones. So no one ever had the opportunity to notice the supernatural way his body could repair itself. Pamela Voorhees never questioned it. Just as she never questioned his peculiar silence. A mother loves her child. She was simply grateful for having been blessed with a healthy little boy. Like father, like son. It did not occur to Jason Voorhees to wonder just how long he had been underwater. He merely dragged himself deeper into the woods. Some primitive urge driving him to find a hole somewhere that he could crawl into- a dark place where he could rest and heal and wait until he could think of what to do.
After a while, he returned back to the camp. His simple mind telling him that perhaps it was what he was supposed to do. Only there was no longer anybody there. The season had ended and the camp was closed. He broke into several of the cabins and found some cans of food and some old clothes for himself. In the process, he happened to catch sight of himself in a mirror and he recoiled in horror from the image that confronted him. He had been at the bottom of the lake for much longer than he realized. His flesh was trying to regenerate and heal itself but decomposition had set in. The worms had eaten at his face.
He fled into the woods, terrified of his own reflection. After a while, he found a sack and cut some holes in it then put it over his head and tied it down around his neck so that he wouldn’t have to see the grotesque thing he had become if he saw his reflection in the lake.
He had no idea what to do or where to go. He wondered why his mother didn’t come for him. He was afraid to leave the vicinity of the lake, for that was where he’d seen her last and he didn’t want to miss her if she came looking for him. He didn’t want to get in trouble. He lived like an animal- hiding in the woods, avoiding people, killing small creatures for food. He was vaguely aware of time passing though his days became an endless succession of wandering in the woods and foraging. He was aware of feeling cold as winter came. He took shelter in the cabins at the camp and huddled before fires he built inside the hearths. He had learned to make fires in camp, though several times he did it wrong let the flames get out of control, burning down a couple of the cabins before he got the hang of it.
