Sometimes…
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!
Chapter Fourteen
The blaring of an alarm startled both Jackson and Amy the following morning. At first, Amy had figured it was an alarm clock, but Jackson's reaction scared her. He jumped out of the bed they shared, pulled his boxers and pants on, and grabbed two weapons from inside the nightstand. Amy gasped in shock.
"Throw something on, now," Jackson ordered, his voice sounding akin to a hiss.
Amy stumbled from the bed and buttoned up his shirt and slipped on her panties. She was not covered very well, but that did not matter at the moment. She was sacred to death.
Cool metal touched her hand and Amy yelped and jumped backwards as if she had been burned.
"Take it," he hissed, shoving the gun into her hand a second time. His blue eyes were cold, hardened steel. She trembled, her fear taking over her. What was happening?
"Jackson," she whimpered.
"Amy, take the goddamn gun!"
She nodded, shaking and closed her hand around the foreign object, which surprisingly did not feel foreign to her hand. It was reassuring.
Jackson twirled a knife in his right hand and his left hand closed around her wrist, his fingers sinking into the tender flesh. She gasped and a hurt look filled her face. He did not seem to notice as he dragged her from the bedroom and into the hallway.
"Stay close to me and be quiet," he commanded.
Something was wrong, very wrong. This was not her Jackson, not the one that she had fallen in love with. There something colder, more animalistic, more sadistic, about the man that was ordering her about than the man she had married. Why?
A flash—Jackson twirling a knife in the air as he aimed at her. Threatening her. Pissed, much like he was now.
A voice floated up from the entrance hall. The man said, "Hello, Rippner. Is that the lovely Miss Reisert that we keep hearing so much about?"
Jackson yanked Amy down the stairs and attacked the man, his knife flashing as she looked on in horror. In a matter of slashes, Jackson's bare chest was covered in the dead man's blood and Amy was screaming.
"Amy, stop screaming," he told her calmly, clamping a bloodstained hand over her mouth. Her green eyes were wide in terror.
The muffled screams ceased and Jackson withdrew his hand with a smile. "That's a good girl," he smirked, patting her cheek.
She shuddered at his touch and he seemed pissed. He shoved her into a nearby wall, his right hand tightening on her slender throat as she shivered. "No, don't hurt me," she pleaded.
"Are you afraid of me, Amy? Are you scared? Tell me!" he ordered.
"Yes, Jackson, you're scaring me!"
"Good."
She back in the confined airplane bathroom. Jackson had her beside the mirror, his hand on her throat and he was strangling her. He accused her of lying to him and seemed to enjoy her struggling. He noticed the scar, running his finger over it.
"Did someone do that to you?" he questioned.
"It was you…" she gasped.
"What are you talking about?"
"You, you hurt me…"
"Where, Amy, tell me where…" he ordered, loosening his hold slightly but using his body to keep her slight body pinned to the wall.
"Bathroom. You were choking me."
Damn, she was remembering!
"Tell me, tell me what your name is."
"Amy Alison Adams Rippner…no…"
As soon as she spoke, she realized her mistake. She was not Amy. There was no Amy. She was a fabrication created by one Jackson Rippner.
She was Lisa Reisert.
Author's Notes:
Jackson's in for it now! Enjoy! Just one more chapter left!
