This is not particularly scary, just pretty intense :) I have a good idea for a Jai Brooks horror so, any Jai girls out there, speak up and the imagine could be yours! :D Hope you enjoy this as it is my first horror imagine ;) x
You warily step over the threshold, gun loaded and positioned at the ready. The desolate house is dark and appears empty but you know it is not. Three murderers are now roaming about this place and you, as a police officer, had been sent here with a few others to track them and take them down.
"Come on." Jack whispered, jerking his head towards the living room. You nod and silently trail behind. You come to an abrupt halt at the door, Jack counts you in and you burst through before hastily aligning and raising your pistols with tense anticipation. Your eyes survey the vicinity - no one is there.
Outside of the window, you see that a jagged streak of lightning pierces the sky before plunging the room into sudden darkness. You hear a muffled cry and the sound of an apparent struggle to your left.
"Damon!" You are about to attempt to shoot at the attacker but then think: No, what if I hit Damon? and you lower your weapons.
"Someone get the fucking lights on!" Jack shouted, thrusting his arms out in front of him in order to locate a wall.
You hear Damon's screams and the deafening sounds of a gun being fired before you hear a crack and his pleas for help are suddenly cut off. Tears pool in your eyes and spill down your cheeks upon the realisation that your good friend is now dead. Another streak of lightning lights up the room long enough for you to see Damon's limp body falling out of the grip of a topless and muscular young man at the far end of the room. His lip ring gleams in the light and his cold stare rivets to your tear filled eyes. Just like that, the lightening vanishes and so does he. The brief illumination aided Jack in managing to stumble towards a light switch and the lights fixed to the ceiling flicker on.
"He's dead." Georgia whimpers, about to make her way to his body.
"No!" You hiss, violently jerking her backwards without meaning to.
"We've just lost a good friend, I know but be professional! He could still be in the room right now!" Jack speaks with haste and for a while, the room is filled with uneasy consternation.
"I don't think he's in here anymore, Jack..." You whisper, not tearing your eyes away from your allocated area of the commodious room. Just then, you all hear the clanging of pans in the kitchen and, once again, Jack leads the way and motions for the remainder of you to follow him.
Your watchful eyes roam the capacious kitchen the moment you enter it.
"Spread out." Jack ordered, cautiously beginning to circulate the island counter in the centre of the room. You walk in the other direction, assiduous in ensuring that your every football emanates no sound. You contemplate every feature of the immaculate room from the spotless granite surfaces of the worktops to the marble floor tiles, from the bamboo fibre knife block holding precisely five sharpened knives to the stainless steel kettle.
You furrowed your eyebrows, baffled by how oddly in place everything looked. Something definitely is not right, you think. Deducing from that racket we heard from the other room, there should be a load of kitchen utensils scatted all over the floor... or some form of mess, at least!
You hear some distinct shuffling from behind you and, instantaneously, you whirl around only to find no one there. Muttering some expletives and something about you being paranoid, you are about to resume your seemingly hopeless but unrelenting hunt for those irredeemable killers but then you notice, much to your aghast horror, that one of the knives from the block is missing. Your eyes widen in pure fear and your complexion takes on a sickly pale colour. You turn around to discreetly warn the others but, instead, you come face to face with the topless boy with the lip piercing and you choke on the rising scream in your throat. He shows no emotion, just holds your eyes with his and slowly places his finger on his lips, which curved slightly upwards at the side. Your lips tremble, earnestly attempting to make some sort of distressed noise so that your armed friends would immediately come rushing to your aid but only an inaudible frightened whisper could escape. You had already reached for your pistols but found that they were not in their rightful places, secure in your holster belt. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly withdraws them from his jeans menacingly biting his lip as he did so.
