Author's Note: I do not own any of the characters in the story; they sprung from the brilliant minds of director Wes Craven and writer Carl Ellsworth. I also do not own the song that I have based this story on, which is 'Firefly' by Breaking Benjamin. As I didn't feel like including the lyrics in the story, the link to them can be found in my bio under Works in Progress: Firefly. This is a very twisted little piece of work that I have basically written in my head, just waiting to burst free. Please read and review; I absolutely live for feedback!
Yours truly,
Chelsey Nova
P.S. I feel obligated to warn you before you read that this story consists of strong language, violence, and a brief sexual scene.
Firefly
She was just as fucking beautiful as she had been the first time he'd laid his eyes on her.
The painful realization came hurtling at him full-force, with the power of the Floridian hurricane he had endured a few days before. Trees had been torn asunder, and unnaturally potent winds had thrust cars into the air and obliterated homes into endless masses of rubble. Jackson wasn't sure what ungodly forces had steered the hurricane in the direction of the sunshine state that day, but he was almost certain that those same strengths played some hand in what Lisa was doing to him now. She was merely padding around within the walls of her home, performing bland, everyday tasks, simply being, and yet all the while, unknowingly taking him by storm.
The months no doubt had changed her, probably just as much as they had transformed him, from the outside in. He observed how she traveled about as though she were moving underwater, a lost soul floating in a sea among those of the vibrantly living. Her exertions and movements were limited, tragically languid. They were never colored with grace or confidence, not even in the comfort she should have found in her own home. There were no tiny smiles or excited eyes, no zealous signs of life. Any source of light had fled from her long ago. Her hair no longer glimmered in intense sunlight, her eyes no longer glistened when a warm, familiar voice called her name, and rooms brightened when she left them.
Lisa had dissolved into nothing, and yet, she was everything.
Despite the fact that she appeared diminished, a mere shell of the somewhat worthy adversary she had been months ago, she was still stunning. The precise illustration of feminine perfection. Transcending mere mortal grounds and bordering on sheer goddess.
He had to have her.
He would. One way or another.
Jackson reclined back comfortably in the leather seat of his black BMW, which was parked outside of her house, in a different spot contrary to the night before. He scratched the faded red mark on his neck absentmindedly, something he did every time he watched her. He gazed out of his tinted window and into her own, contentedly absorbing the sight of her as though she were his favorite, late-night television show. Lisa was currently washing the dishes from her lonely, solo dinner, taking longer than necessary in cleaning them, scrubbing them until she could see herself in them, or rather, what was left of herself. Jackson observed that she extended every routine to much longer than they should rightfully be performed, and he surmised that she did it to fulfill her time, so she never found herself without something to do. If she didn't keep herself busy, she would probably go crazy.
Just like him. Crazy. Without something to do, without watching her, he would surely spiral headfirst into the dark clutches of insanity.
The light suddenly faded in the kitchenette. Jackson eased himself forward in the plush leather seat and his eyes skimmed the dim windows of her house. His gaze fell on one in particular, the eastward window at the end of the house, and he waited breathlessly for a sudden flash of light to overwhelm the room.
One. Two. Three.
A golden light abruptly emblazoned the room, outlining edges of living room furniture and bringing the form of Lisa to life again in Jackson's eyes.
Jackson wearily rubbed his eyes. He had become too good at this - mentally tracking Lisa's steps and mapping out her next destination well before she reached it.
It was pathetic.
An involuntary growl erupted sharply in his throat and he swallowed hard. As much as he wished he could deny that he wasn't, he was. Had been for months now. Pathetic. A waste of space. A living, breathing example of a hollow, piteous washout.
But not for long.
Jackson waited a few more moments before making the first move of many in this particular operation. He watched through alert eyes as Lisa settled herself on the overstuffed sofa in the living room, preparing to eat a spoonful of Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream. The tv was on - no doubt she was watching a string of I Love Lucy reruns before shuffling off to bed.
Jackson poured a generous amount of liquid from its amber-colored bottle, and let it soak into the gauze before silently emerging from his vehicle. He crept through her shadowed backyard and picked the lock of her backdoor with meticulous skill. The door pushed open easily and Jackson slipped inside. The annoying theme music of I Love Lucy sounded from the inner depths of her home and rang mercilessly in Jackson's ears. He fought back the urge to chuckle, gag, or both. Really, selfishly, he had thought better of her, that she would not sink to the level of watching a loud, clumsy redhead and a sputtering Cuban fall over themselves in a ridiculous attempt to evoke chuckles from the lips of others.
Jackson wove his way through her house, avoiding her easily, as he lurked through darkened hallways and corridors. He finally approached the door he was searching for. A thinner door, which swung open to reveal a tiny closet filled with coats, shoes, umbrellas, and one painfully familiar lacrosse stick. The closet was adjacent to her bedroom, which would be her last stop for the night, and it was perfect.
With some difficulty, Jackson finally maneuvered himself into the slim doorway and quietly pulled the door shut behind him. He left it open just so a sliver of light could shine through and enable him to see when Lisa would saunter past.
Jackson waited.
An hour had passed when suddenly the house was drowned in silence. Jackson came to full attention, placing his hand on the doorknob and gently pressing his body into the length of the door. A soft glow from a corner lamp was the only source of light left in the house, and the only sound was of Lisa's approaching footsteps as she made her way to her bedroom.
Jackson carefully counted her soft steps. One. Two. Three.
Liked a caged animal finally set free, Jackson sprung from the closet and leapt upon the petite frame of Lisa Reisert. She cried out once, and further sounds were muffled by the gauze Jackson forcefully clamped on her mouth. She struggled against his firm chest, clawed wildly at him, but only snatched air in her fingertips. A few minutes passed before she weakened, unwillingly surrendering to an artificial sleep. The drug had finally taken effect.
Lisa fell limp in Jackson's arms, and when he was certain that she was out, he stuffed the gauze into his pants pocket with one hand and supported Lisa with the other. He waited until his breathing had returned to normal, and then slung the flaccid body of Lisa over his right shoulder. He carried her through the house as quickly as he could without losing his balance due to the added weight, and slipped through the backdoor as stealthily as he had entered it only an hour before.
He crossed the dimly-lit street in long, cat-like strides and when he reached the car, he deposited Lisa's feeble body into the backseat. He lowered himself into the driver's seat of the car, and the door gave a satisfying slam beside him. He yanked his jacket a few times to straighten it out from the scuffle, and then peered over his shoulder at Lisa sleeping on the seat behind him.
She looked peaceful; no doubt this had been the best sleep she'd had in months, and he took a strange pride in still being able to affect her life, as subtly or as dramatically as he wished. He watched her for a moment more, studied the steady rise and fall of her chest, and then turned his attention to the car. He flung the vehicle into drive and pulled away from her street.
They were on their way.
