HAUNTINGLY | 18+

21 | No

I walked through the front door of my house and came to an abrupt halt. My gaze turned back to the door, with my eyes shifting down to the lock.

"I'm pretty sure I locked it before I left this morning," I thought aloud.

"Jason?" I called out, as I turned around to survey the living room, which appeared undisturbed.

"Jason, are you home?" I shouted, but received no response.

"He probably forgot to lock the door when he left the house," I muttered, quickly securing the lock.

Shaking my head at his carelessness, I dropped my bag on the floor and began walking up the stairs when the sound of glass breaking on the second floor startled me.

My heart began to race as panic surged through me. It felt like my heart was about to explode out of my chest.

I didn't know what to do.

Do I run out the house? Call 9 11? Or should I go upstairs and check who it is? Maybe it's just Jason. What if he's hurt?

Before I could decide, I felt a cold piece of metal pressed against the back of my head. Time seemed to stand still.

Slowly turning around, the gun was now pointed at the middle of my forehead. What shocked me the most was that it was Jason holding the gun.

I looked into his eyes, only to find them bloodshot red—a haunting sight that bore into my soul. They were the most vacant eyes I had ever encountered, utterly devoid of any emotions.

"Jason?" I murmured softly, my voice trembling with fear. "Wh..what are you doing?"

He just stared into my eyes, not uttering a single word. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the house once more, causing me to flinch at its deafening loudness.

Jason gradually lowered his gun, and I felt a slight wave of relief wash over me.

"Very quietly, I need you to leave this house, and once you're outside, start running. As fast as you can. Don't look back," he whispered urgently.

"Jason, tell me what's going on?" I demanded.

"Stop asking questions, we don't have time," he whispered harshly, his eyes scanning behind me every few seconds.

"Leave now!" he urged, pointing towards the door.

I took one step down the stairs before someone violently yanked me back up, their grip tightening on my shirt.

A sharp knife was pressed against my throat, the blade slowly piercing my skin.

I let out a cry, tears clouding my eyes as I looked at Jason.

"He's hurting me," I whimpered, attempting to run towards him, but it only made the situation worse.

"We have a runner on our hands," growled the man behind me, his voice deep and menacing.

"Try to run again, let's see if you'll get away this time," he taunted.

"Let her go, I promise I'll have the money. He told me I had until the end of the month," Jason pleaded, pointing his gun towards the man behind me. "I still have two weeks left."

The man gripping my shirt tightened his hold, dragging the knife along the side of my neck, cutting into my skin.

I screamed in agony, feeling the warmth of my blood trickling down my neck.