CAMERON MONAGHAN IMAGINES

*Cameron Monamas* Poppy. |pt.1| (Jerome)

Jerome crams a bandana in your mouth. Your wrists are on fire. The ropes bounding your hands rub their way deep in your skin. If you could see them, you'd say they were bleeding. However, they're fused behind your back, resting wooden chair you're seated on. Thank goodness you didn't have a cold, because breathing through your nose is your only source of oxygen.

He examines a knife before waving it in the air. It's intimidating. A classic kitchen knife, its large. That would slice you with little forced placed upon it.

Jerome takes long steps to reach your body. The blazing sun beats on your face. Discomfort doesn't begin to describe what you're feeling.

"I'm Jerome."

No shit. Your eyes gravitate to the weapon he's clutching.

"I don't want you doing anything...stupid. Which is why you get a mouthful." He pulls up a chair and sits in it backwards. His face is menacing. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Is this how you were going to die? What's his motive? You weren't any real threat to him. Usually Jerome kills in public. He's an attention seeker.

You can do nothing but stare at his smooth, pale face. Whatever happens is out of your control. Admitting this is the first step to ease your anxiety. With limbs bound and have one breathing route, Claustrophobia is something that edges it's way in your mind. You inhale what seems like all the air in the room.

"Scared, are we?" Jerome rests his chin on the back of the chair. Hasn't done much thus far. He's tied you up and observed your movements. Maybe he's bluffing. You'll be okay.

"Now. I have this knife here." He traces the tip along your collarbone and you hold your breath. Don't move. Your eyes are locked on the lethal weapon. The sun bounces off it on your face. More sun is really not what you needed. "If I take the bandana out, you won't scream. Because this knife goes straight through your heart. And that..." He shifts the knife perpendicular to your chest. "Why that would be a shame."

You exhale and your neck stiffens. You nod.

He plucks the bandana and tosses it over his shoulder, making a "woo.." sound. He brings the knife back in his personal bubble, plastering the infamous smile on his cheeks.

"Why." You ask. Your lungs create short breathes.

"Why what?"

"Why would that be a shame?" You question.

"Because your face is fun to look at."

You don't know how to take that. Is your face something that belongs in a circus? You thought you were average, but like...ugly? No way. Screw Jerome.

"Thanks." Your tone is cold.

"Aww no. Don't be like that." Jerome rests the knife on the ground and walks around his seat. He wipes any dust off your lap before making that his new chair, straddling you.

You must admit, the weight of his thighs is comforting, as twisted as the person attached to his legs was.

He opens his jacket and reveals a pristine, pink-red flower. It's fully bloomed and gorgeous.

"Ah." Jerome says, he pokes the stem behind your ear. The flower accessorizes your hair, adding a pop of color. "For you."

He snakes his hands around the back of your neck. Their cold temperature is shocking. You jolt up. It's like an ice pack on a blazing hot day. You know he's aware of your damp head.

"I meant you're pretty. Good arm candy to keep around."

That's sweet. You figure he's not going to kill you, yet. Dang these ropes hurt your wrists. Any movement drives the coarse fur deeper in your flesh.

You're timid when you speak. "Maybe I can get out of these ropes? I won't go anywhere, promise."

Without saying anything, Jerome slides off you, wipes his wet hands on your lap, picks up his knife and cuts the rope. It's the biggest relief since you got kidnapped. You lift your hands to your face. Your triceps are sore from the constant tugging you'd been doing, so lifting your hands to your face is painful.

Your wrists are a frightful sight. Blood stains your hands and ounces of juice oozes from the wound. The flesh is torn with a yellow-black tint.

"Tabitha will get you something for that later." Jerome seats himself back on you. You can't take your eyes off your mangled limbs. They're shaking violently. "What's your name?"

You don't look at him, or answer.

"Name." His tone is so harsh, you cringe. You snap your eyes at him, connecting them with his green-blue ones.

His gaze turns stone cold. "I said NAME!" With that, he jolts his arm, plummeting the knife to the floor. The wood catches the blade and the knife sticks handle up.

Fear enters you once more and you resist the urge to push him off you. Disastrous events would result from that.

Still, you refuse to give him what he wants.

"Fffffine." Jerome is livid. His face turns a bright red and a vein bulges from his forehead. "I'll call you Poppy." He pokes the flower that resides against your scalp. "Poppy. You'll do as I say, when I say it."

A slave.

Jerome breaks out in a sinister, boisterous laugh. It's seems like he never runs out of air in his lungs. His eyebrows are raised, giving them a violent arch and the corner of his mouth stretch from ear to ear. It's a disturbing image, but it beats being...dead.

Jerome ceases laughing and grips your jaw. Anxiety floods in and your spine tightens. His movements are too unpredictable to ever get comfortable.

"Now. What's your name." Nothing about his expression looks inviting.

Your vocal chords tremble "P-Poppy."

----------

A/N: HI COMMENT PLZ. Sorry I needed to do another Jerome. I watches all his episodes today and he was on my mind. 

THANK YOU FOR NEARLY 300 READS! Message me, I'll do requests (Not personal, but scenes you want.)

I Lava You Biiiiiee. 

-Bambi ;)