Innocent People's Lives
Chapter Fourteen
Ten Years Ago
She jumped at every little sound.
Lisa knew in her heart that he was dead. Jackson Rippner was no longer a threat to her or anyone else. But what her rational mind knew wasn't enough to convince her fragile nerves to stop reacting. The therapist and doctor both referred to it as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They promised it would go away in time and lessen.
It felt like she'd die before she was normal again. She couldn't sleep at night and barely ate. She was falling apart at the seams, but still did her best to put on her people-pleasing face and attitude at work, while inwardly she flinched at sudden movements, unexpected noises, and certain smells. Her triggers made working with the public unpleasant.
She did her best to play people pleaser during the day, but at night, she let down her guard. At night, she stopped hiding behind a mask.
At night, she slept with a knife either in her hand or under her pillow. At night, she jumped at every sound. At night, she cried in her sleep or in the shower. At night, she screamed and raged, punched pillows and drywall alike. She broke dishes a few times.
One night, one really bad night, she nearly stabbed her dad. He'd come to check on her and she hadn't heard him enter the apartment. She'd lunged at him with the knife and he barely escaped injury. After that incident, he talked her into therapy.
Shortly after that, Lisa quit her job at the hotel. She couldn't take the stress.
Then, Charles Keefe offered her a job. And the rest was history.
Present Day
She turned on the new burner and waited for it to start up. They were a few miles away from her apartment. It had only about an hour since they were attacked.
Once the phone was activated, she dialed the cell number. It was one of the few numbers she bothered to memorize. It was protocol to know how to reach the security team in the event of an incident. Should her cell be comprised or unreachable, she had to know who to call.
Being one of the leads for his security, Mark had been one of the numbers she learned. If they'd just been a regular boyfriend and girlfriend, she might not have bothered to learn his phone number.
Two rings and she heard him answer.
"It's me," she breathed. "We need to meet."
"Where are you? Are you safe? Has he hurt you?"
"I'm fine. Most of my injuries are from the bombing. I don't have much time, Mark. I need to meet with you somewhere safe."
"Of course, Lisa," he said. "Just tell me where and when."
"I can't just yet. I need you to be ready when I call."
"Why can't you tell me? You don't trust me anymore?"
"It's not you... your phone could be taped. I just... I can't trust anyone right now. You understand. I just watched Sarah die."
"I know, I know, but you can trust me. Really."
"Just be ready for my call. Please, Mark?"
"Sure. I'll be ready."
"Thank you. I'll be in touch."
She snapped the flip phone shut and handed it over to Jackson. He was already dismantling the phone and pulling out the SIM card and battery. This time he didn't toss them from the car. She looked at him, puzzled.
"What? I can't keep buying new ones. They already know that an unidentified number call his cell is you. They're already tracking us. I might as well save some money."
"I thought you were the paranoid one," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Practical, not paranoid."
"Same difference," she said with a sigh.
"Not even close."
An hour later, she called Mark back with a time and place just a few minutes from now.
Jackson switched cars in the meantime while she took deep breaths and mentally prepared to see him again.
They were in a small motel just off a main highway. Lisa had changed into her own jeans and a t-shirt plus clean underwear as soon as they arrived. It felt good to be back in her old clothes. Normal. A normal she had been searching for since everything started on the plane.
"You ready for this, Leese?"
She nodded. "Think so."
"Not too late to leave."
She rolled his eyes at him as someone knocked on the door. "Play nice, Jack."
Jackson watched her open the door for Mark. She almost ran into his arms and it stung.
Sure, they were dating. Sure, he was the good guy. But he hadn't been there to protect Lisa from his boss. He wasn't the one watching over her in the hospital. He never even showed his face.
Jackson had many reasons to hate the interloper, the least of all being that after everything, she didn't trust him. She couldn't.
But she'd outsmarted him. They needed access and records. As a member of Keefe's security team, Mark Abbott was in a unique position to help them. He wouldn't allow his personal dislike for the man fucking Lisa to color his investigation.
At least that's what he told himself.
She all but melted in his arms. Sappy, romantic nonsense.
"We don't have long," Jackson said, one hand in his pocket. His free hand stayed close to a gun, just in case. He didn't trust the son of a bitch.
"I know, I still don't know what I can do for you," Mark said. "But you can't keep hiding like this. Come with me, Lisa. I'll protect you."
"No, you'll get her killed. Tell us about your boss."
"Stop fighting, both of you!" Lisa snapped, standing between them with one hand on Mark's chest and the other arm outstretched to touch his.
Jackson lifted his hands up in a motion of surrender and took a step back. Lisa lowered her arms with a sigh.
"Look, she's safer with me," he said. "But we still need your help."
Mark scoffed. "My help? Why should I help you?"
"You help Lisa by helping me. What I need is schedules for your boss. Security rotations, etc. Nothing in the future, just ones that have already passed."
"That's never going to happen."
"Your boss wants Lisa dead. He hired me to do the job. The only way to protect her is to stop him. That's where you come in."
"That's never going to happen."
Jackson heard a gun cock before he saw it pointing at Lisa. He pulled his own gun and aimed it at Mark. "You don't want to hurt her, Abbott…"
"Mark!" Lisa protested as he pulled her arm, the gun aimed at her.
"No, Rippner, that's where you're wrong. If she won't come with me willingly, she dies. And you… you die either way."
"No!" she protested, struggling.
Mark backhanded her with the gun and she screamed in pain.
He couldn't take it any longer. He charged the other man. No one else hurt Lisa. Not his Lisa. Not while he was alive.
She watched in slow motion as Jackson charged Mark. It was a surreal reality, an alternate universe, one where the man she trusted became her greatest enemy. Jackson had suspected Mark and his motives from the outset, but she hadn't. She'd never once thought he would hurt her.
Now she could taste her own blood from where he'd hit her.
A gun went off, but neither man seemed fazed. They were both fairly evenly matched. She pulled herself up from the floor, watching a gun slid across the motel floor. She picked it up out of instinct.
Jackson got a few good hits in, but so did Mark. And finally, Lisa watched the tables turn.
Mark had Jackson pinned and in a choke hold. Both men were battered and bleeding.
"Let him go!" Lisa screamed, pointing the gun at Mark.
He sneered up at her. "You won't pull the trigger. You won't shoot me."
Jackson was slowly, still fighting, but losing his grip. He was running out of air.
Then Mark pulled out a knife and aimed it at Jackson's heart. It was too late.
Lisa pulled the trigger and the gun fired, kicking back in her hand as the bullet shot forward. Warm, wet blood splattered across her hands and face as it burrowed into Mark's back.
She shot again, this time striking him in the head.
He dropped like a rock, releasing Jackson. He pulled himself away from the fallen man, gasping for air.
"Leese…" he wheezed. "We need to go…"
She looked down at her hands. At the blood staining her skin. Mark's blood.
She'd killed him. She'd killed a man in cold blood.
If she'd hesitated longer, Jackson would be dead and Mark would be alive. For ten years, she'd wanted Jackson dead. She didn't even have to kill him. All she had to do was let Mark finish him and she'd have been free.
Except, what if Jackson were right? What if Keefe couldn't be trusted? What if Mark had been sent to kill her? What if it had all been a lie? She didn't have a choice. Not really.
She trusted Jackson. He'd protected her so far. She didn't have a choice. She had to kill him. Right?
Jackson pulled the gun from her hand. "C'mon, Leese. Time to go."
She let him lead her away from the body of a man she'd once cared for. Where exactly had she lost her way? How did they get here? Why now?
She followed Jackson into the car. Her entire body was cold; numb. She barely registered where they were, where they were going, what they were doing. It was as if she were floating along, not tethered to any one thing.
Then reality hit.
Mark Abbott was dead. And she was the one who had pulled the trigger.
She had murdered her boyfriend.
Author's Notes:
Having PTSD and working in customer service is one of the hardest things you can do. I'm speaking from experience here. It takes a lot of willpower not to have a breakdown each time someone comes up and inadvertently triggers you. It's all very sensory and often has little to do with the person in front of you and more to do with the memory that they or the sight or smell or feeling triggers.
Lisa, having been shown to be essentially a pushover in the film, would likely react in a similar manner. She does her best to look and act normal, but inside, she's struggling. And eventually, because we are human, she gets overwhelmed.
Now, the fight between Mark and Jackson is one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. I've been holding back on it for a long time. It also shows the evolution of Jackson and Lisa's relationship as it is.
Next chapter deals with the immediate aftermath. It's already written and I'll probably post it in a few days. I'm already into writing/editing chapter sixteen. Since we got our first snow of the season today, I thought it was about time to let chapter fourteen out into the wild to blow your minds. :)
Thanks for reading and please review!