"Do you want me to come with you, Lisa?"
My fear is spilling off me like sweat, that damn feeling that I've had far too much of in my life, suitcase held with an iron grip as I get ready to board my plane.
(expecting him to join me in line for the second time and trip me with that open smile of his)
"No, don't worry a bit about me, dad, I'll be fine."
He can see the lies plain as day but still he leaves me to face this by myself, each step is a fight because every time I think of that plane it's his face that's attacking my mind, and this is something I need to face or I'll never take another flight in this life or the next.
(no fucking sea breeze clouding my mind this time, I can't stomach them anymore)
Without knowing it I'm already making way through that thin walkway and to my seat, watching and waiting to see that haunting smile to find me once again, and for a second time I've proven myself and his forever present ghost wrong.
"You do not get to win, Jackson, son of a bitch, you will never get to win."