I do not look at his face as I begin to tell the story. I do not want to convince him to take pity on me. I tell the story simply and honestly. I do not expect him to understand, just believe. I see now that I have become my own kind of monster. I wanted a simple life… this is what I was dealt.
Fear, madness, destruction. Yes, I am a famous artist. I sell paintings about death, written with the blood of his victims. Some people pay thousands of dollars for then and think they belong in the collections of the rich and famous. I see people pay millions of dollars to watch someone who looks like him kill for pleasure and laughs… some want to be him, some even want to be me. I do not care about any of this, not anymore. I care about me, I care about keeping Lisa and her baby safe.
If I were to come out of this situation “clean”, I needed to let Fred kill me in Springwood, then I would just be another name on a list of Springwood children, murdered and discarded. He spared me for a reason, he let me go… to torture me? I want to walk this life free and I have only one solution. I will be hated for it but so be it. The only people who understand are Lisa and Mark, the actor who played me.
Mark has gone into his own hiding, he has felt the effects and the power of the lust of Fred and the people who follow him. So, I will do what I can and I will not listen to the outcry… I will simply disappear again. I expect not to be understood… but please God… not today… not with him… but I already know that answer, the outcome and so do you.
I hope he believes me, at this point that is all I am asking for. So I lay my plan, I will set the bait… Lisa and I will finish this for ourselves. I waited but it is not meant for Nancy Thompson to be my hero. I will be the hero of my own story. I will survive.
So it is done. He needs time to think. I leave and as I walk home… I think of my life after. Will anyone be there for me, when I die, will anyone mourn. Fall has come, the leaves are turning… my mother’s favorite time of the year. Browns and Blues are my colors, that is what she would always say… “Jesse don’t wear black, wear browns and blues… they make your eyes so beautiful.” She is only one of the people I have lost and can never replace.
I stop at a store and buy a beautiful blue sweater, slip it on and if by magic I am Jesse again. There is a Jesse now. I am Jesse Walsh.