CAMERON MONAGHAN IMAGINES

Poppy. |pt. 5| (Jerome)

Tossing and turning. You're sick of the same dark ceiling. Navy blue, overlaid with memories of your past. Dad, helping you with homework, easing your nerves. Sometimes, you'd get so frustrated with math that you couldn't help but ball your fists up and cry. Your father would get agitated with himself for being unable to calm you, then he'd become frantic. You miss that.

You sit up in bed.

2:47 a.m.

Could the time pass any slower?

Every waking minute is spent craving home.

Your legs curl over the covers and you stand with weary eyes.

Jerome is good to you...for a crazed killer. He's cute and has a vicious laugh. If you ever get out of this imprisonment, you might actually long for that. Longing to feel the happiness exuding through his body. Conjured from the joy he acquires when causing utter chaos.

Your cloud patterned fleece pajama pants drape do your body, like a loose curtain.

He obviously didn't know your size when choosing your new clothing.

You stroll out of the hotel bedroom, into the kitchen area. It's homey. A petite fridge, log cabin made cabinets, and a granite counter.

Making hot cocoa is the best part about the whole experience, thus far. You picture yourself at home. You make one for yourself, and one for your dad. He likes it super hot, the handle of the mug is heated. It would burn a normal persons tongue, but he can take it. You used to believe it was because he was some kind of superhero, immune to pain. Maturity let you realize, he just has an old man numb tongue.

There aren't any marshmallows.

Your dad isn't here.

You set the extra mug on the counter and plop down on the leather couch, gazing upon the lit city. Shining from it, are thousands of bulbs. You pick a few from the litter to stare at, imagining what's happening in those buildings. With how crime ridden this city is, at least one that you've chosen has danger lurking.

Danger always lurks when you're with Jerome. He is the danger.

The first sip of your hot cocoa glides down your throat, warming you. "Wanna watch Star Wars?" "No, Dad. We've seen that over 10 times. Pick another one!" You can practically feel the fireplace exuding heat onto your backside. You shouldn't have given your dad attitude in that moment. He wanted to bond with his only daughter. The least you can do before you rot in here is find a way to apologize to him.

You have to get out of here.

Jerome must be sound asleep in his bedroom.

This is only a hotel room. You can walk right out.

Why didn't you think of this before?

Your eyes pan over to the massive cream door. You let go your drink, making little noise as you place it on the coffee table.

You can't risk making any noise by packing or getting shoes on.

Creeping on the balls of your feet, the carpet captures any sounds that would have been made if you were stepping on wooden floor.

Stealthily, you twist the door handle and pull it open.

Your stomach drops and you fuel with excitement.

Freedom.

You tiptoe out the room and control your shaking hands to carefully close the door.

The hallway is lonely. There might only be two other rooms on this floor, since they're all penthouses.