Hey guys I just had to write a Red Eye Fic! (wanted to for some time, so here it is By the way, just wanted to let you guys know I am not copying anyone. I had been writing this long ago and decided to publish the first chapter. So please enjoy~
(I own nothing related to the movie or characters of Red Eye-….)
By the way, if you want to make the story more touching listen to a slow song..just saying
"I do not know what the fuss is all about. I have been gone longer than this before, your acting like you are five not twelve. Get a grip. I am sure you and Lisa will get along just fine." Emma's mom finished packing up her last suitcase. Her business clothes and suits were neatly folded and organized according to occasion in one bag. Another suitcase held hundreds of hair products and accessories, while a large purse carried her makeup. Her last case which held the most, was storage for her billions of file papers and laptop. Being the vice-president of a company who delivers criminal justice can take a toll on a person. An uptight individual spoke best for her mother.
Emma sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and hands gently cradling each other. Her mother was going on a six month business trip not only across the United States but Europe as well. And yes, her mother was right she had been gone longer than this, but her father was still alive.
"Mom I-"Emma's mother slammed her hand on the hard suitcase, causing Emma to jump out of her skin. Turning around her mom's face was scrunched up with hatred.
"Do not." She paused and licked her red lip stained lips," I mean do not ever call me mother." The lady's stare burned into Emma and it was all she could do not to cry. Her stepmother never learned to accept her. No matter how much Emma tried to get close, in Emma's mind she thought she was never good enough. Why did her father ever love this women?
"Right, I-I'm sorry Renée. I just forgot." Emma got up from the bed and made her way to her bedroom. She could hear her stepmother roughly tossing her luggage around the apartment with a few curse words thrown in between. Emma could no longer hold back the tears. Running to her pillow Emma flung her limp body face first into the soft dark comfort from the outside world. She let the water drain out of her eyes and her heart sink, as she realized again how alone she really was. Between sobs Emma finally chocked out her emotions hoping to find relief,
"Dad, oh daddy-wh-why did you have to leave me? I'm so lost without you. Please, Please take me home!" Emma buried her face further into the pillow hoping Renée would not hear her whimpers. "I- I don't know what to do! Why did you leave me? Why?"
Emma wished for many things. She believed her wishes were simple. She thought that if she just kept wishing that the nightmare would go away. Her father, the only man she ever trusted and loved was dead. She and her father were close, shared everything and did everything together. He was her best man, and she was his best girl. Her closest friend.
Her only true friend.
Emma managed to control her cries. Lifting her head from the pillow she whipped her face, and cleared her damp cold cheeks. Her soft hazel eyes drifted to her dresser beside her bed. A silver picture frame held a close memory for Emma. Her real mom may have left her on purpose, but Emma knew her father fought a losing battle, having no choice. With a weak smile Emma reached for the picture and held it close to her face. Since her eyes were still teary her vision was blurred and the picture's details were gone. It did not matter to Emma she had seen the picture so much, so many times it was frozen in her mind.
She saw her father's bright smile, his thick light brown hair cut short and parted over and blown back by the wind. Emma saw her dad's once healthy eyes holding the sparkle she remembered. Her best friend gone. Emma's vision cleared and she could see the old guitar he held in his lap. Her mind traced back to that warm summer day. Emma saw her little seven year old self laughing and singing along with her dad on the wooden porch they had back in Wisconsin. Emma felt her chest kick itself. The past was not as heartwarming as she had hoped.
The heartache came again. Emma's jaw quivered and the warm tears filled her eyes once more. Emma heard her stepmom making her way around the rooms, fixing up anything that was left "unorganized". Emma knew the apartment was not allowed to have one dust ball when Renée left for trips nor even when she lived in it. So she had been told by Renée thousands of times. Emma wondered how she could even stand the presence of her. Renée must never have been a kid, thought Emma as clutched the picture in her hands.
"Emma!" The stepmother shouted to the child as if she was pest, a dirty creature that needed constant direction. Emma quickly shook off her emotions, dried her eyes and nose, fixed her pony tail and tried to look somewhat presentable. Renée walked bristly to Emma's door way and stopped and looked around Emma's room inspecting it with a critical eye. Renée was by far, the last thing from being a country girl, as Emma had hoped her dad would marry. Renée's body was the grosses to Emma her stepmom represented a walking skeleton with short guy cut and colored dark red hair. Her eyebrows were so thinned out by waxing and plucking her face looked like a manikin; lifeless and scary. But to a twelve year old, Renée's makeup made up for her bald face. Emma always thought she could take a butter knife and scrape the foundation cream off her face. Her eyes were coated with such thick smoky shadow and heavy black eyeliner; she looked like she had been punched. Her lips were plumbed red and always looked swollen. Renée was also into jewelry and decorated herself in the high fashion attire with matching earrings, necklaces, and huge rings (not including her father's).
"Well I see you have barely packed a thing." Renée snorted and walked to Emma's mirror and fixed her hair. Emma eyes never wanted to meet her cold blue stare; she looked at the ground instead.
Swallowing softly the quiet child replied, "Renée I did pack it's in my closet."
"You mean my closet dear. And you know how I feel about using conjunctions. It is not a word just because a person adds an apostrophe. I would hope your expensive education here in Florida would get rid of that country shit talk. But I guess your father's fake hillbilly blood still is in your-" Emma heard enough, she may be younger and an adopted child, but she still was human.
"Just shut up Renée! My dad was a wonderful man! And you, you just married him for money. He was nothing more to you, than a quick earn of a few green bucks to shove towards your stupid make-up!" Emma voice trembled as she yelled at her stepmom. She had only fought back at Renée one other time and ending up with a slap to a face and no food for three days. But even now Emma knew she had crossed the line. Renée's eyes pierced through Emma like darts. How could she buckle now?
Stand tall Emma. Stand up for yourself.
"You are the most ungrateful runt, of a child if I ever saw one!" Renée's voice squealed as the furry built in side her.
Just hold your ground. Remember sticks and stones…
"You think for one moment that I want you to live here? Do you think I want to give you this huge room in my apartment? You think you little shit that I want to go waste my money to buy you school clothes? I would love for you to go to an orphanage! I would hope your ass would rot there until you are eighteen!" Renée then slashed out and grabbed the picture frame Emma was holding. In agonized tears, Emma watched as Renée through the glass frame against her white walls. Seeing the glass shatter caused more pain than Renée could have wished to have caused. Emma tried to stand tall, she tried to have some power to her name, but her stepmom won again. The little girl sunk to the ground in complete misery. Why did her father have to leave?
Renée kicked the broken glass at Emma. Shouting again at the girl the screams went on, "That is right I forgot. No one would ever want you. You are a disgusting child with no looks or talent. A bag should be worn over your head just to hide your ugly face. And just forget that dumb ass singing career you are dreaming of. It is not happing." And with that Renée huffed, fixed her blouse and walked out.
Emma whimpered while grabbing through the broken glass for her favorite picture. Her fingers were scraped by the sharp points, but memories were far more important than bleeding. Sitting on her carpet floor twelve year old Emma hugged her father's picture as if he was really there. Her heart longed for him. She wanted his warm smile and eyes. She wanted his love something she hadn't left in years. The devil woman hollered from the kitchen before Emma had time to register what had happened.
"Emma, clean that god damn mess up. We are leaving now! I am not having you miss your bus to your Aunt's house."
Emma sighed, putting the past behind her. She folded her dad's photo into her pocket before running off to get a broom.
Who knew words could be more painful than sticks and stones…
Jackson Rippner sat in his car outside Renée Trevor's apartment. He had been watching the Trevor's place for quiet sometime, he guessed maybe about three weeks. The time was not nearly as long as with Lisa, but the hours seemed just as draining. Jackson sipped his coffee before looking through some photos of the mother Renée and her young daughter Emma. The older women looked to be in her thirties going of forties and just scary as hell.
"Well her daughter was at least blessed not to inherit those features." Jackson said to himself while he thumbed through more photos. The daughter in every picture walked behind the mom or was nowhere near her. Jackson pursed his lips and made a mental note. "Strange family." Then again, what did he know about family? Jackson heard the apartment door slam outside the car. Jerking his head up again, he saw Renée leave the building and looked as if she had never been in the sun nor had realized her clothes were not the colors of Florida attire.
"Again with the black and white huh Renée?" Jackson shook his head and waited for young Emma to follow. This was his third target. What a job he had gotten himself into, stalking three people at once. While he waited Jackson read the files again about the mother and daughter relationship. According to the information, Emma lost her father not too long ago and was living with her mother. Emma was closer to her father but, in the files it said her mother and her still had a pretty strong bond. Jackson raised an eyebrow, was this really true? He continued,
The father, Bryan Trevor died at age 41 due to cancer of the blood. The disease was diagnosed at age 38 and was fought for three years. Travis died at night, (stop breathing.)
Just then Jackson's eye caught the sight of young Emma exiting the apartment. Her head was low and her suitcase and bag tailed behind slowly. The girl took the end of her jacket sleeve and rubbed her nose and eyes quickly before reaching the limo. And soon the two girls were off and Jackson sighed knowing his next destination.
Jackson picked up a paper that had a photo of Emma and her descriptions gather by some other agents. Jackson hated when others collected the critical information. He had a system. He knew how to read people, their actions, face expressions, and body language. He did not need some kid doing his work for him. He wanted to get the raw material need to have a successful job.
He knew this job had to be successful.
Jackson had let the red eye task take the better of him a few months back, but now Lisa was not going to get away so easily.
"Oh Leese, the fun we are about to have. And you miss Trevor-"Jackson looked at the sandy haired child in the snap shot photo, "I will be seeing you real soon."
And with a final sip of coffee, Jackson rolled his shoulders to relieve the stiffness before throwing the car into drive. The tires screeched as he made his way across Miami in search of an old to familiar road.