When you realize you've made a mistake, make amends immediately. It's easier to eat crow while it's still warm.--Dan Heist

xxxx

After asking for the location, Lisa first shuffled to the ladies' room inside the dank service station. It was there that she weighed her options.

Escape was possible if mapped out correctly—but only for herself. Despite her small relation and knowledge of Melanie, Lisa was entirely unwilling to leave an innocent three-year-old in the hands of a man whom she believed to be stark-raving mad. It was bad enough that she'd been forced to desert the two in the parking lot, but it was that or have Mel go hungry—and who knew how long it would be before they ate again?

There was a mirror and soap. There was a window. There was a small ray of hope that Lisa could pull this off, but she shook every inclination away. No. There would be a better opportunity later—hopefully, if she were still alive—when Jackson would be unsuspicious and Mel close by. Lisa carried about her business and washed her hands, studying herself in the mirror.

It was slightly distorted, as the mirror was dirty and smudged from lack of maintenance, but even that couldn't make Lisa neglect the fact that she looked terrible. Her hair was wild and uncombed, mussed from her brief sleep and from Jackson's manhandling. Her skin was blotchy and red from her struggles and headache, and her eyes looked watery. She'd surprised herself by not crying all that much in the past few hours. The time in the theater had been her peak—and then she was busy trying to contain herself so as not to notify Jackson of her weakness. Now, she didn't even feel the need for tears. She was just tired.

This wasn't exactly desirable or normal, Lisa realized with a sigh. Ten years ago, fresh out of high school, she never would have predicted that she'd be a hotel manager held captive by a maniacal assassin with a cranky three-year-old. It sounded like some terrible alcohol-induced nightmare after a night of barhopping. How she wished that was all it was!

But it wasn't, it was reality. And even though it was a horrible reality that she knew nobody should ever have to face, she needed to stop dwelling on how awful it was and figure a way out of it. No problems ever were solved by sulking and moping about, Lisa knew that probably greater than anybody. She took a deep, relaxing breath and stepped back outside.

"You have got to stop doing that!" Lisa yelped as Jackson blocked her exit and roughly pushed her back against the doorway. He glanced in paranoia over his shoulder at the dozing cashier and spun Lisa around, gripping her elbow and pulling her to his body. She didn't bother to futilely struggle but let out a sigh of bitter annoyance as he whispered into her ear. They awkwardly began to move to the aisles.

"She won't shut up," Jackson said. Lisa turned from the rack of snack foods to stare at him.

"What are you talki--"

"Melanie!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. Lisa rolled her eyes and grabbed a few packages of snack cakes from the shelf and studied them. "She won't stop crying!"

"You know, they really don't have anything nutritious here whatsoever," Lisa complained, pushing past Jackson to the back where a few vertical coolers stood.

"Lisa!" Jackson snatched at her sleeve, slowing her process slightly. She spun around to face him, waving her hands in the air.

"What?" she cried. "What do you possibly want me to do about it? You were probably being an asshole."

Dumbstruck, Jackson yanked the foods from Lisa's hands. "I wasn't doing anything!"

"You kidnapped her."

"Lisa…" Jackson whined. "Help me."

"Why was she crying?" Lisa submitted irritably. "What provoked it? When I came in here, she was fast asleep. Obviously something upset her, or you wouldn't be in here."

"I didn't do anything," he insisted. Lisa glared at him, propelling him forwards. "I'm serious! She was sleeping, and I started to listen to the radio and turned around and she was staring at me, Lisa! It was creepy, I was about ready to call a freaking exorcist or something. I swear that kid is possessed. She was just looking at me, so I looked back at her, and she started screaming bloody murder! I tried to comfort her, but she wouldn't--"

"You are such a fucking idiot!"

Lisa, a few bottled apple juices in hand, pushed past Jackson, wrinkling her nose in contempt. She pounded all the way to the front register, where she slammed the products down on the counter. The cashier awoke with a jolt and, blinking furiously as if to rectify her quick doze, began quickly typing into the cash register. Lisa spun back around to face Jackson, and it was obvious that her intensity frightened him, as he took a few steps backwards.

It was then that Lisa noticed how incredibly vulnerable he happened to look at the moment. His face had softened with humility, his features sagging in disappointment and worry, his eyes turned downward. Instead of the cold, hardened killer she knew he liked to think of himself as, he appeared frightened, anxious, and desperate. It almost made her not hate him as much, but only almost.

"Lisa, you have to help me!" Jackson pleaded. "She's horrible!"

"I don't have to do anything, Jackson," Lisa replied, rudely shoving the money across the counter at the cashier. Startled, the girl quickly made change. "You put yourself in this position and dragged me into it as well. I don't feel obligated to do a single thing. She's your problem."

Jackson's face crumpled as they left. "But she likes you!"

"She doesn't know me. I just don't happen to carry a loaded gun with me everywhere I go. That's typically an endearing quality."

"Please!"

Lisa turned to face him as the door swung shut behind them. His face, haloed in an orange glow from the rising sun behind them, was not only distressed but also strangely meek. "Are you seriously pleading with me to help you?"

Jackson scowled and muttered, "Yeah."

Lisa smirked. "I don't think so." Before Jackson could say another word, she was back at the car and staring into the backseat. When she peeked in and took a hesitant look at Mel, she couldn't help but explode into hysterics.

"Regular old spitfire right here, Jackson," Lisa giggled as Jackson breathlessly joined her and winced in anticipation. He opened his eyes.

"She was screaming and crying and raising hell three minutes ago," Jackson insisted dazedly. "I swear it!"

"Of course," Lisa laughed, opening the backdoor and climbing in beside an extremely placid Mel. The child looked up at her with expectant, yet calm and peaceful, coffee-colored eyes. Lisa pulled a snack cake from the bag and tore it open, handing its contents to the all-too eager three-year-old. "I'll take your word for it."

Jackson angrily slammed the door and stomped morosely around to his side of the car, where he crawled in and buckled up. "Shut up."

Lisa began to eat, her face turning red as she continued to chuckle. "You are such a moron."