His head jolted to the window, a deer trapped in the hypnosis of headlights. "What the fuck?" He murmured, his mind scattered trying to figure out who it could be. He raised his body to look through the window only around 1 foot from his face, and was immediately halted in his tracks. "Stay the fuck down, Sir. You're not moving or we will take the necessary steps to ensure your body doesn't leave that bath." The voice whispered, as if answering a question but opening a flood of one thousand more.
Jim was a simple man. A life of simple pleasures is all he dreamed. No fancy sports cars, no wife with Double D tits. All he dreamed of was a peaceful life where he could come home from work, unwind in the bath and spend time with his 4 year old pride and joy Matthew (Maa-Hoo, as the boy had renamed himself after some painful teething left him unable to say anything but a mumbled rendition of his own name, and 'lasagna' because you didn't have to close your mouth to say that).
Like always though, things were never as easy as they seemed. Jim had begun to think his life was turning into one giant cliche, and he was part of some elaborate 'Truman Show' experiment of which there was no escape. After losing his second job and the love of his life leaving him after finally admitting to eight months of raucous infidelity, he began to feel the solid rock of his life begin to erode. Thankfully, this rock was on a glistening plaque known as Mathew, and as long as Mathew stood, beautiful and perfect, he knew everything was going to be alright.
Jim, pissed off at this unwelcomed interruption, began a protest using all the emotional weight a man struggling to keep the electricity paid for could muster. "I don-" "Shut the fuck up Jim Esther Fuckin' Stanson. We know every damn fuckin detail of your Goddamn existence and when I tell you to do something you better be damn sure you're gonna do it." Hissed the voice. This was a deep, intense voice of a man wishing with every ounce of himself he could scream, but has been relegated to a loud whisper for reasons unclear. "Listen to me Jim. We are members of very powerful, highly dangerous government operation and I have read every fuckin' nugget of piece o' piss information there is to know about you. I don't like insubordination and if I had mah way, you'd already be a ghost singin' hyms from the fuckin' clouds, but I don't wanna see your little boy become an orphan just yet. We have some high-tech-military-fuck-you-in-the-ass heat sensor equipment on your ass boy, you're safe. Jus don't make a fuckin' move unless I say. Are we clear?"
Holy shit, Jim thought. He began to process the voice, an American accent sitting on many layers of authority and impatience. This guy was serious. In all his years of being a little bitch for his boss to try and make it through the day without being fired, he had never felt this tiny. He hoped never to feel this tiny again. There was an internal conflict brewing in his head, like a violent dog trying to break the shackles on which it is retrained, he wanted to shout at this fucker below the window and tell him where to shove that 'high-tech... Whatever the fuck it was'. But inside, like the ferocious dogs' consciencous owner, there was an overwhelming fear that kept him from getting out of that bath. This is no ordinary situation, he thought, and I'm not gonna make it any worse. Let's just go along and see how this plays out.
"Okay," Jim whispered, his voice shaking and low, but quiet and clear. "Do what you have to do, I'll not move a muscle." "There we go Jim, your momma would be proud. Stay put and we'll have you wiping that little dick of yours dry in no time." "... Twat." "That's why the put me in charge, kid." The voice then cut away and he heard a group of men outside quietly whispering to each other. It sounds like there must've been at least 15, making plans and suiting up for an unknown skirmish into a world Jim knew nothing about.
At that moment, he realised what the men were outside for. Large, ominous creeks began to rise from downstairs, one by one with three of four second between each step. The bathroom Jim was in was on the second floor, the bath next to the window that faced West, Mathews room was across the hall. Both Mathew and Jims doors were open as to allow Jim to keep an eye on his treasure while in the bath. The landing for the stairs stood between these two rooms, giving Jim a clear view of who, or what was coming up.
"Remember Jim, no movements at all if you can. Stay as still as possible, no matter how much you may want to run, scream or cry, do not make a sound or move."
The blood in Jim's body went cold. The sweat on his brow was now covering a face of white, like a sheet of delicate paper or a white English rose. He tried to swallow out of fear, but nothing happened. He was entirely and absolutely frozen. The creaks now began to get louder as the silhouette of the beast coming up the stairs began to make its dark and unholy appearance.
The beast was an almost unimaginable shape of pure, intense terror. It's long, black and scaly arms draped down at its side, it's large, swollen head pulsates with a scarlet liquid through the translucent skin. It's eyes were vast, black holes of death, as if staring into the abyss of the embodiment of fear. It's mouth, long and smiling was shut, it's lips cracked and red with blood. It began its decent up the stairs, staring lifelessly forward until the penultimate step, when Jim truly understood what it was like to be afraid.
It's head, black and hairy, crunched in steady increments to look directly at Jim. The sound was like a bone breaking each harsh, vile movement this creature have, until it's eyes were locked on Jim's.