This is my 3rd attempt at a RE fic, so let's see how this one goes. Concrit is helpful and welcome.
Lisa screamed herself awake again. Her father was above her, stroking her hair and cheeks before she even realized where she was. It was her old bed, she recalled fondly, her fingers grazing the familiar covers. In her childhood room, with her old dolls and books littering the dressers and shelves. She felt like a child again, getting woken up for school, or church…the feeling warmed her heart and almost melted away the icy frost the dream had left behind.
"You're awake, Lees, he's gone, he's gone," her father was trying to soothe her. For his sake, she tried not to flinch at 'Lees'- but to no avail.
"I'm sorry-Lisa…I forgot-"
"Dad. It's okay. You don't have to stop calling me Lees-I've told you that," she mumbled reassuringly. He looked doubtful.
Lisa had spent the last months trying to minimize her trauma, to swallow the pain so that she and she alone would have to bare it. Her parents had been calling her 'Lees' forever. She would not ask them to stop just because now it was a stupid trigger. That would be so unfair. And it would only break her father's heart. Break him and enrage him at the same time.
Only a few weeks ago, she'd overheard him on the phone with presumably her mother.
"How dare that evil man take away the name I've been calling her since she was born and turn it into something ugly and painful. How dare he take that away from me! How dare he call her that!" His voice had been cracked and wobbly, filled with wrath and devastation.
Lisa had been shocked. Her father had never shown any emotion about the incident. He had only doted on her incessantly and been careful never to speak of it unless she brought it up-which she never did. It had been the same way before the Jackson-incident, after the man in the parking lot had assaulted her.
Never again, she had told herself then. And it had been a lie, but it had let er move on, so that is what she told herself now. Never again. That was the last time. After that- never again. Never. Again.
"I know, honey. But…well, just know that, I can stop-even if I don't have to-I can if it helps. Maybe I could work on not calling you that at least for a little while," he offered.
"Dad, I said-"
"Lisa-I just hate seeing you in pain." But it would cause you pain, she thought.
He seemed to read the unspoken words in her eyes. "Don't you worry about me. I'm fine. It's you who's important, not me. The very least that I could do would be to not call you something that bothers you. It does not hurt me at all, I promise." But it does. She could read the unspoken words in his eyes, too.
He had no idea that she had heard the phone call, and she wondered what he might say if she confronted him about it then and there, but she chose not to. She instead changed the subject.
"The least you could do? Dad, come on, you practically let me move back in with you. Don't you ever worry about not doing enough for me. You've done more than enough" She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her lips. After everything, even though her father's house encased the haunting memories of her last moments with Jackson, Lisa simply slept better at night knowing her dad was safe and sound in a room over. Not to say that there wasn't a stab in her stomach every time she ran her hands along the banister of the stairs, or reached out to close or open her bedroom door- or walked over that spot at the foot of the stairs here Jackson's lifeless eyes still seemed to stare up at her.
That was another thing that hurt her father. That the house his daughter had grown up happily and joyously in with her loving parents, the house that was filled with an infinite collection of happy memories spilling out from every room-was now tainted with Jackson's terror, each room that he stepped foot in stomping over those happy memories and replacing them with the nightmares she was greeted with every night.
On the door of her bedroom, in faint pencil markings, her mother had measured and recorded her height each year. But Lisa never thought of that, never noticed the markings, was never filled with warmth of those memories like her father was when he saw that door. Instead, all she saw was Jackson lunging at her from behind it, knife in hand. That fear, all she felt when she neared it.
It really was difficult for her being there, but it was worth the reminders of Jackson, if only to feel safe-and to feel like she could protect her father from whatever dangers may lurk nearby (never mind that her father would most likely be the one doing the protecting out of the two of them.)
Living there was just a temporary arrangement, but Lisa knew her father would allow her to stay forever if she wanted to-would love it, actually. But, touching as it was, Lisa was an adult, and soon she would have to start acting like one again. But she also knew her father would not allow her to leave until the nightmares stopped for good. Which Lisa did not expect to be anytime soon.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Her father asked softly. She knew he was referring to the dream. It had started with smiles and wine and pretty blue eyes-and ended with her body being thrust over a banister, with her stomach in knots and her cries choking on the airless freefall. And she remembered that as she fell she could see six people strewn about the floor below, their pale mangled bodies tangled together. Two men, a woman, two children and one beautiful smiling monster.
She fell awake hard, as she did every night, like she'd been dreaming six feet above her bed, her subconscious floating somewhere in the ceiling before consciousness dropped her back onto her bed.
"Talk about what? The dream? Ha, no, I hardly even remember it. How 'bout pancakes for breakfast?" She rolled out of bed and headed downstairs before he had time to respond.
Once her father had moseyed on downstairs, his fluffy robe swaying around his ankles, he stopped in front of her where she leaned against the kitchen counter and took her hand in his.
"Are you doing okay, honey?" He asked her.
"Uh-huh," she answered casually not looking up as she began to prepare the oven.
"Are you sure? Because I'm always here for you-"
"Yeah, I know, Dad," she said too quickly. "I need my other hand," she added as she gently detached it from his.
"But you are okay, really?" He pushed, his eyes gazing softly and sadly at her face, as if trying to decipher her wellbeing through her expression.
Lisa sighed, aggravated. "You gonna start triple-checking now?"
He laughed quietly. "Well, you didn't answer the second time."
"You know you could always just take my word for it the first time," she said, smiling.
"I'm your father. It's my job to double-check." He kissed her brow and sat down at the table, unfolding a newspaper.
"Shall we have a lunch date later today?" He chirped after a few minutes.
"No, sorry, Dad, I already have plans."
Her father made a phony shocked expression. "And who is it that's more important than your father?"
Lisa laughed as she debated making up a name. Her parents had been pestering her about dating for years. Her mother especially, had hoped she would be married long before her grandmother had passed away. But Lisa had long ago decided that she would put her work first in her life. After Noah…after Noah there was really no point in anything. It wasn't like anyone could ever come close to him.
Noah had been her first love. They'd met in high school, and went to the same college, graduated together…they'd even lived together for a few short months. Her parents had been obsessed with him, and they'd been positive that he and Lisa were meant for each other. So had Lisa.
But life changes, and sometimes things happen-
"Lisa?" Her mind snapped away from Noah and back to her father. His eyes were twinkling. "Are you not going to tell me?"
"Oh, sorry. Lost in thought. It just so happens that Cynthia has replaced you for lunch today." She decided not to give her father false hope, even as she watched the light in his eyes die.
"Oh, well. That should be nice." He turned his attention back to his paper.