Chapter 2
The next morning, she watched him go to work. When he stepped out of the door, she felt a certain sense of loneliness wash over her again. Truth was, she didn't want him to go. But if he didn't, what would she do? She was too scared to go up to him (in case he decided to try and kill her again), there was no way that she was going for option two, and as for the third, well, it was her house after all, wasn't it? She couldn't even go back to the bar. It wasn't open yet. So she spent the day doing stuff. Tiny things such as trying to watch TV, and reading books. Well, she would have done, if the damn things had stayed in her hands. They, like all others, just simply forgot she was there. They didn't bother letting her pick them up. She had to resort to daydreaming and relaxing.
It was late again before he came home. The first thing that he did was head to the bathroom. Curious as to why he had that look on his face (the type that an injured person has), she followed. The thought of him just having a shower had never occurred to her. Luckily, he wasn't going to. He just looked in the mirror at his throat. He was looking for a fresh wound, not the one that that Reisert bitch gave him. As she looked the reflection of his injury, she was worried about him.
'Stop it, Lisa!' she thought to herself, realising what she was doing. He was the one who tried to kill her, so he was the one that deserved it.
As Jackson looked up, he caught sight of her, much as he did every day. His thoughts were plagued by her and he hated her for that. She was just another one of these 'victims' that got a bit too big for their boots. Just another one, nothing more.
Between narrator and reader, why were they kidding themselves?
As he did every time, he looked back to see if she was there, you know, just to be safe. You never know, she could have got her hands on one of those bloody Frankenstein pens again. Obviously, when he turned around, he nearly had a heart attack.
They stared at each other for a moment. They both wondered what the other was going to do to them. Again, think of Lisa's options; kill him, kiss him, run away, and go to the bar.
Hang on a second. Could you imagine Jack running away screaming? I don't think so.
He grabbed her by the neck, attempting to push her to the wall (if nothing else, by defensive means).
But no, he could grab onto her. His hand just went straight through her. They both looked at her neck. What the hell was going on? They must have been having one of those dreams again. Yes, one of those dreams-that-always-end-up-with-them-both-at-each-others-throats-which-then-suddenly-turn-into-one-of-those-sort-of-fangirl-fantasies-,yes, we won't go into that, will we now? We don't want ourselves blushing at him/her.
They both turned away from each other. Jackson said the same words as Lisa; 'Wake up-Wake up-Wake up…'
No, this wasn't a dream. They turned to face each other once more, not knowing what to do or say. They just stared.
'…Sooo, why are you in my house? No, let me guess, another plot to claim revenge on the Reisert family, no doubt…' She said, just to break the ice.
He thought for a moment. Wasn't that what she was planning to do to him?
'No. But how come you're in my house?' He stuttered.
'This isn't your house, it's mine!' she shouted, breaking into tears and squatting on the floor.
Jackson hated to see a woman cry, especially if he was the cause of it. He bent down beside her. He didn't try to put an arm around her. For one, she could grab it and he would be in a position to die (again). For two, what had happened a couple of moments ago? His hand went straight through her!
'If this is my fault, I'm sorry. The house was up for sale, and I decided that I wanted a place around this area…' he said, trying to sound sympathetic.
Lisa didn't know what to say. He never lied, but that could have changed. But more importantly, why did his hand go through her neck? What was going on?
Look, tomorrow, I'll find out why this has happened…' he said.