Day-to-Day

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!

Chapter Eleven

Fresh bruises and wounds littered their bodies as they lay in each other's arms. Jackson stroked her hair as she rested upon his chest. The apartment was in shambles once more as evidence of their activities. At some point, Jackson had brought her into the bedroom, where they were now recovering.

"Jackson… Jackson…" she whispered.

"Yeah, Leese?"

"I…I love you."

"Lisa look at me," he ordered, lifting her chin and forcing her to face him. "Look at me."

She obeyed. Why, she knew not. Likely she was too tired to resist him now or she no longer cared. She had given in too many times. She belonged to him now and vice versa.

"Good. You don't need to be ashamed of me. I'm not a killer okay? I won't ever hurt you. I love you, Lisa." His tone altered from demanding and harsh to soft and caring.

"I know… I know…" Lisa sighed.

"Then what's wrong, huh?"

"It's just—what kind of future do we have? My dad would kill you on sight. My friends won't except you. I'm sick of being alone, Jackson."

"Are you have regrets now?"

"No, I just…"

"No regrets, Lisa. Ever."

"What the fuck do you want?" Kyra hissed, despite the light-headed feeling that she was experiencing.

"What? A father can't visit his daughter anymore?" Jackson chuckled lightly, still pressing her into the lockers.

"You're not my father—fathers actually care about their children. You ignored me for fifteen years."

"That was never my choice, Jack," he said sadly. "Lisa begged me. I wasn't going to break my promise."

"What promise?" Damn, she should have skipped farther ahead in the journal to find out what happened to her parents. She knew that the answers concerning her mother's death were buried deep inside her memory. Sometimes, stressful situations reminded her of that terrible evening.

Dark…everything was dark. She could hear Lisa's screams and crying. Her mother was begging.

"No, no! I'll do whatever you want! Just don't hurt her! Leave Jack alone!" Lisa's voice begged.

A gruff voice questioned her harshly. "Where is Jackson Rippner?"

Kyra shook her head. She had to keep her head. One of the world's foremost assassination managers was merely inches away and he held her life in the palm of his hand. Blood meant nothing to him. He had ruthlessly murdered his own parents at a young age—when his mental illness first became noticeable. She remembered reading about it in the journal. He had come clean about the incident to her mother.

If he wanted to, Jackson Rippner would have no qualms about ending her life. He was a killer; just like her.

"I swore that I'd protected you. I don't break promises," Jackson explained solemnly.

"I hate to break it to you—but you kill people for a living. You're a liar. How many times have you lied in order to kill someone? How many times did you lie to mom?"

"Give me one good reason to spare your life! One good reason!" Jackson's unrelenting grip was tightening in his fury. He was quickly spiraling out of control as she often had.

She was really getting sick of this. She hated have to play these games with him.

"I'm your daughter!" she gasped, choking. She had just played right into his hands.

"Now, you're suddenly my daughter? Is your parentage only important when your life's in danger, Jack?" Jackson questioned with a smile. He was pleased with her response.

"Stop calling me! The name's Kyra!"

"No, the name's Jack. Lisa named you Jack." His tone was insistent. Why the hell did he care? How did he know what her mother called her? He had never given a shit about her before—he never even bothered to meet her before. How would he have any clue? He had to be lying.

"No, you're lying."

"Hate to break it to you, but I never lie. Never."

With that, he threw her to the ground. Kyra slid into a bank of lockers with a groan. She saw him look towards the knife. No, this was not going to happen. She was not going to let him kill her. When he went to move, she knocked his feet out from under him with a well-aimed swipe of her legs. He laughed as he landed on the floor—a harsh, cold sound.

"You are just like her," he remarked with a smirk.

"No, I'm just like you!" she spat angrily, before sliding across the floor to reclaim her dropped knife. This had to end.

There was no love lost between her and her father. They never got a chance to bond. Now, it was too late. She was not going to let him kill her.

Her dying words had told me to protect Jack. I never even knew that Jack existed until I visited her the day before. Someone must have seen me then. To this day, even after several weeks of searching, I still don't know who her killer is. I can't protect Jack until I find the bastard who did this to Lisa.

My lovely Leese is dead. Her death is my fault. Her blood stains my hands. It's a stain that won't come off—ever.

What if I had gone to Lisa's aid first? Could I have saved her life if I had not been so focused on Jack?

Lisa would have killed me if I let Jack die. Our daughter; our baby. It's because of me that she'll grow up without a mother. I should have believed them. I should be the one who died.

Not Lisa; never her.

I'm the one who deserves to die.

Kyra crouched down beside her father. Jackson was smirked—daring her to do it. He remained motionless as she rested the blade upon his throat, just above a round, red scar. The scar that her mother had given him on the red-eye all those years ago.

"Go ahead," he teased her. "Do it. You have no idea what a relief it would be."

She glared at him. She wanted to do it; kill him for all the pain that he had inflicted upon her. He deserved to die. She had every right to kill him and earn her revenge.

Kyra flipped the knife around and poised it above her left wrist, amidst a myriad of self-inflicted scars. The smirk fell from his face.

"Jack, what are you doing?" he asked her, his tone worried.

Yeah, now he cared if she lived or died. She personally did not care anymore. She was going to die soon, whether he killed her or not. Lisa's killer would find her and her death would be far worse than whatever she could come up with. If she killed herself now, at least she could control her end and stop the pain and the memories.

"Something I should have done a hell of a long time ago," she snarled, dragging the blade across her skin, drawing dark red blood.

Author's Notes:

Hopefully this chapter isn't too unbelievable. Kyra's been through a lot and her mind is crumbling away, as is Jackson's. The journal entry is indeed written by Jackson, following Lisa's death. Enjoy! Next chapter soon!