Bad Things Happen
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!
Chapter Two
Lisa Reisert was rather sore when she awoke the following morning. She stretched and yawned, exhausted but she could no longer sleep. She had an absolutely disastrous time trying to fall asleep the previous night, despite her desperate need for sleep. Insomnia had kicked in and she had spent the majority of the night tossing, turning and wandering her small apartment.
She had at one point begun to cook her nightly scrambled eggs before thinking better of it and dumping the half-cooked eggs into the sink and burning herself on the hot frying pan. Lisa had cursed loudly and grabbed the first aid kit, searching for the burn cream. She found it and slapped some on, glaring at her hand and the blistered skin.
Her green-eyed gaze flicked up and into the mirror then, and she took in her appearance. There was a small cut on her forehead along with various other cuts and bruises that covered her body. Red marks ringed her throat, where he had tried to strangle her. Thankfully, her old scar was covered by her tank top. She could not take the old coupled with the new. Not tonight, not after the new incident. It was more than any one person should have to endure.
But she had endured it. She had survived the impossible twice. She was a survivor.
Lisa sighed and crawled out of her bed. She glanced down at her right hand. Sure enough the burn was there, reminding her that yesterday had not been a bad dream. If only it had been…then she would not feel nearly as sick to her stomach.
Jackson Rippner—his name alone sent shivers down her spine. These shivers were not the good kind that she had received when she had originally met him in line. Instead of pleasant shivers, she had the heart-stopping, gut-wrenching, fear-inducing shivers that raised goose bumps across her wounded flesh. She wanted to run, run far away from the man who had single-handedly wrecked her life once more and shattered her fragile protections.
Allusions had surrounded her for two years. For two years she had dreamed that she was safe, that as long as she worked hard and had no time for 'fun' that it would never happen again. That no one would ever hurt her again. He had not touched her in the same way that the man in the parking lot who had left her with the scar had, but he had wounded her all the same.
After all, scars did not have to appear on the skin to hurt deeply.
Why was it always her? How had she managed to end up with such awful luck? First the rape, now the plane trip and near death experiences caused by one Jackson Rippner. The "charming" stranger that she had nearly killed. In the end, despite his control and egocentricity, Lisa had triumphed and bested him at his own game. She smiled to herself—with any luck he would die in the hospital from the wounds she had inflicted upon him with a handy pen, a high-heeled shoe, her old field hockey stick, and a silenced gun.
But knowing her luck, the bastard was still alive and he would want his revenge. And she would be waiting. Tomorrow, she would be going out to buy a gun and also register for a concealed weapons permit. She was not going to take any chances with the manager whose job she had wrecked, all to save an innocent man and his family from a fate too terrible to contemplate. The police had repeated time and time again that he was not going to get away, that the matter would thoroughly investigated, but she knew better than to listen to them. She had dealt with Jackson Rippner before and they had not. She knew him better than most people. Lisa knew that he was not going to let her go and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.
Only one person had ever beaten him before and it was none other than her.
Lisa shuffled into her living room, after turning on the coffee pot in the kitchen. She needed her coffee for sure. It was going to be a long day.
She plopped down on the plush couch, her feet on armrest as she laid back, the TV remote in her right hand as she channel surfed, looking for something to watch. She was about to change the channel when a familiar name caught her ear, causing her to stop in interest.
"…Rippner died last night. He was found on the floor of his hospital room, a needle in his arm," said the TV reporter, reading from the teleprompter, her eyes unblinking.
No, it could not be. Jackson Rippner could not be dead. Had his boss tracked him down that fast or had he commented suicide?
"No, I'm not suicidal," his voice echoed in her head.
Something was wrong. As much as she wanted the nightmare to end, this did not seem right. He would not have allowed himself to go out this way. He would want to die a flashy, high-profile death like the ones that he had orchestrated through his despicable job. It was disgusting that she knew this, but it was the truth. Jackson would have been pleased that she was admitting the truth for once.
She had to stop speaking in the past tense. Jackson Rippner was not dead. He was invincible—well, she had taken him down—but a simple needle would not have killed him. It was too implausible.
The phone rang and Lisa rolled off her couch to the wooden floor and scrambled to reach it. "Hello?" she answered.
"Is this Lisa Reisert?" questioned a bored male voice on the other end.
"Yes."
"The police were wondering if you come down to the morgue and identify the body of one Jackson Ripp..er?"
"Rippner," she automatically corrected. "Yes, I'll be there as soon as possible."
"Thank you, ma'am," the man said and the line clicked as he hung up.
Lisa replaced her phone. What was she thinking? What had she just signed herself up for? Identifying the man who had once tried to kill her? Had she really lost that much of her sanity aboard Fresh Air flight 1019?
Only time would tell.
Author's Notes:
Wow, I managed to update faster than I had originally thought. This story is really starting to flow. I just I could find more time in my day to write it. School is evil. Anyways, thanks for the reviews and enjoy the story! It's gonna be a bumpy ride!