Dearest Astrid,

Grunt. (That means hello, in case you forgot my way of saying things.)

It’s me. Your father. From the lake. Hope the… uh… work is going well. Heard some whispers on the wind, a few good screams. Makes a dad proud. You always were my favorite little slasher. Got that knack. Better than those noisy city types, always bragging. You’re quiet. Efficient. Good.

Listen, I know you’re busy, but wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Sharpening your… tools? Getting enough rest? Can’t let yourself get dull, physically or, you know, with the pointy things. And eat something. Not just… those stupid microwave meals.

Also, and don’t take this the wrong way, but try to clean your room every once in a while. I know, I know, “hypocrite,” right? My cabin’s no palace. But you’ve got standards. Can’t have things getting… messy. In the bad way. The disorganized way. Tidy up those… mementos. Don’t want flies. Or worse, cops.

Mother sends her… well, she’s quiet. But I think she’d approve of your progress.

Keep an eye out. Stay hidden. Stay sharp.

Your Father,

Jason V.

P.S. Remember what I taught you about the element of surprise. And maybe air out your mask. It’s important.