Aaagh Thanks for the reviews! I want to just share this little insight I have about each of the characters; it might make this chapter more understandable.
Both Lisa and Jackson are fighting for control. Lisa feels she has to protect herself inwardly after her rape, and Jackson has become numb to all feeling. Both also only think of how their feelings can hurt themselves, never of how they hurt each other, and a battle for pride and protection begins, for each brings out a weakness in the other.
Alright, I'll shut up now. On with the chapter.
Chapter 5
Jackson's house could basically be described as big and… wooden. There was not one carpeted surface in the entire building, as every single floor was covered in smooth hardwood. There were also some thirty-something rooms, including a card room, dining room, den, five or six bedrooms, and a library. The house was decorated tastefully and impeccably. Needless to say, Jackson was very proud of his home.
Lisa sat upside-down in one of the big burgundy armchairs in the library. Her wet hair hung down and dripped on the floor, and she thought in a satisfied way that it would probably leave a stain. She studied her toes from her odd position, as her feet were up where her head should've been. Jackson had, of course, provided her with all the essential toiletries she would need, and she had been greatly disturbed to even find her favorite shaving cream in the shower. Why did Jackson have to be so… efficient?
That was all he was, she thought bitterly, and wondered at the incredible ache that accompanied those words. He even kissed efficiently. Efficient enough to force out those awesomely powerful words, I love you… Knowing Jackson, that kiss had probably just been part of his job.
Lisa wanted to scream. She didn't think she could bear it if she found that he had only kissed her to make his job easier. For after that kiss, she had definitely lost a bit of her defiance. It had been a very meek Lisa Reisart that allowed Jackson to carry her up the smooth stairs and into a huge bedroom, where she promptly fell asleep. But nine sufficient hours of sleep and one long shower later, Lisa was back to being defiant. Defiant and desperate. Now she was focused on developing a plan. For what, she wasn't exactly sure.
She had been allowed to wander the house at length, as Jackson had assured her that very morning that she "Had no way of making an escape, because even if you manage to get out of the house, you'll still have to run down the three-mile driveway, and I'll be damned if I don't catch up with you in my car." Lisa was well and truly trapped. This idea was somehow horrible and exciting at the same time.
Finally, she ended up in the library. After spending a considerable amount of time sliding along the floor in her socks, Lisa had collapsed in the chair in which she now hung upside down. And so that was how Lisa Reisart's first morning in Mr. Montgomery's house had gone.
Jackson felt a grin growing on his lips as he stood outside the library and simply watched Lisa, her toes in the air and her wet hair creating puddles on the floor. He had felt her lips against his the entire night, and he had dreamt of her. The way she had felt so willing in his arms had more than surprised him, it had intoxicated him, and at this moment Jackson was completely prepared to say, "Screw revenge, I'm keeping Lisa here until the day I die."
But he didn't say that. Instead, he yelled, "Breakfast's ready!" He turned away andheard a loud gasp and a following thump, for Lisa had tried to sit up in the chair and instead fell out of it. He chuckled and tried to ignore the memory of their kiss that swam up in his head.
Lisa rubbed her back and padded down the stairs and towards the strains of Frank Sinatra that were coming from the kitchen. She half expected to see servants working in there, but instead found Jackson sitting on a stool at the counter, a half eaten plate of eggs and toast in front of him. The stool next to him had a plate of food in front of it. Lisa fought down the unnatural cry of her brain, which was, "I can't sit next to him and eat!"
Frank Sinatra crooned louder from the stereo, proclaiming what a beautiful day it was, and as Lisa made the long journey across the kitchen, she unplugged it. Jackson's head jerked up from the newspaper in front of him.
"What did you do that for?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as Lisa snatched her plate from the counter next to him and hopped up on the counter opposite. She proceeded to eat calmly and didn't look at him.
"I couldn't find the 'off' switch," she answered.
Jackson finished his breakfast and moved over to the sink, which was unfortunately right next to Lisa. "So I take it you don't like Frank Sinatra?"
She shook her head, and tried desperately to hold her ground. She couldn't scoot away from Jackson now… Just keep eating, just keep eating… He can't read your thoughts, she told herself firmly. He doesn't know that just being this close is making it hard to breathe...
"So…" he continued washing his dish. "Who do you like, then?"
Frustrated with herself and her body's incredibly odd and disturbing reaction to Jackson's nearness, Lisa burst out, "God, Jack! What are you doing, trying to make small talk? You kidnapped me, remember?"
He looked annoyed and set the plate down in the dish rack a little harder than was necessary. "And you kissed me, remember?"
"I did not kiss you!" Lisa spluttered. "You kissed me!"
"Oh, I did, did I?" said Jackson in a voice that clearly indicated otherwise.
Lisa blushed and slammed her empty plate down on the counter. "Yes," she spat, "You did." She hopped off of the counter and began to walk away, tossing over her shoulder for good measure, "I would never kiss you." She huffed her way out of the large kitchen, completely unaware of Jackson's infuriated presence behind her. Lisa was halfway up the large staircase when she stopped, and he ran smack into her.
"Why, Lisa," Jackson hissed into her ear. "You didn't need to stop; it was very entertaining following you." He wrapped his arms around her waist. Lisa weakly tried to pry them off. "Leese…" he breathed into her neck. "You really don't struggle like you used to. But that's alright. It generally makes it easier…"
"Makes what easier?" Lisa's voice shook.
"Revenge," Jackson said simply. As soon as he said the word, he regretted it. But how else could he end this? He had to win this time. He couldn't lose. Not again. He must hang onto his goal.
"So that is what this is about!" she cried. Jackson nestled his face in her neck and she could feel him nod. Disappointment and hopelessness welled up in Lisa and she longed to escape. She had become Jackson's toy, to be used until he became tired of her. A single, solitary tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek.
Jackson finally pulled away from her and stared at the desolate face in front of him. This was beginning to grow old. Lisa surely had something up her sleeve. Jackson pushedher from him and stumbled away, up the remaining stairs and down the hallway opposite the library. It was as he finally reached his office at the end of the hall that he remembered Lisa had said she loved him. An odd glow began to fill Jackson inside, and he tried to believe that it was simply because he had already accomplished his revenge... Because he had, hadn't he? Lisa loved him, and you could say that she had just been scorned, right? Right?
Truthfully, Jackson was beginning to regret this whole 'revenge' plan, and was finding the idea of Lisa loving him much more attractive. Jackson forgot that he didn't believe in love.
Lisa watched Jackson's retreating back, and then she fled down the same hall and into her bedroom. She flopped down on the bed and tried to ignore the wave of pure grief that was crashing down on her. She was just a pawn. She meant nothing.
But why, oh why, did she have to be in love with, of all people, Jackson Rippner? Or, as I must now call him, Jackson Montgomery, she thought wryly. Lisa rubbed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She was in love with him. That was that. It's bad enough that I don't even trust my own emotions, she told herself firmly. Now, I have a problem, and I need to fix it. If I can, her brain added silently.
She crawled off the bed and walked over to where her suitcase sat on the bureau. She absently thumbed through the many articles of clothing that still lay inside, and that was when she found it. Her finger brushed a thin piece of wire, and Lisa pulled out Jackson's notebook. Why had he packed it? Maybe he wanted her to find it! Maybe he wanted her to know that he—that he—did she dare to even think it?
Lisa held the slightly-tattered book in her hands and stared at it for awhile before finally opening the door to her bedroom and stepping out into the hall. In a dream, she moved down the corridor and towards Jackson's office. A low rumble of thunder drowned out the sound of her footsteps, and the first drops of rain began to hit the windows.
And then suddenly, she was there, and her hand was on the doorknob. What was she thinking? What was she going to say? A brief flash of lighting filled the room, followed by a loud crash of thunder. Lisa's grip on the notebook had become painfully tight. With a slam, the door wrenched open. Lisa stepped in as calmly and boldly as she could, holding the book to her chest like protection. Jackson looked up from his desk in amusement and surprise. Finally, his gaze fell on the book, and his eyes narrowed.
"Where did you get that?" He had thought Lisa would've thrown the stupid thing away by now.
"You packed it," Lisa said, her voice trembling. This was not a good sign.
"I did not!" A huge crash of thunder filled the room, adding punctuation to his statement. The thunder was like a weight falling on top of Lisa and crushing her.
Miserably, she remembered that she had hidden the notebook from herself by folding it inside an old sweater. Jackson hadn't meant to pack it at all. He had simply grabbed that damn sweater. A flare of lighting lit the room and flashed across Lisa's stricken face. There was a loud crack, and then the house was plunged into darkness. Jackson and Lisa both waited with bated breath to see if the power would come back, but nothing happened. Rain lashed and pounded harder against the windows.
Laughing uncomfortably, Lisa said, "I can't see a thing…" Run! Her brain screamed. Run! Run! Escape! But she couldn't move. She was frozen.
From somewhere in the darkness Jackson's voice replied sarcastically, "Well, yes, that happens when the power goes out." He paused. "But tell me, Leese, why do you still have that notebook? I'm surprised you would want to keep it, I seem to remember describing your death in vibrant detail in that stupid thing…"
Lisa slowly sunk to her knees on the wooden floor. Jackson didn't even seem to care. How could something that had meant so much to her mean so little to him?
"You didn't just describe my death…" she whispered.
"I didn't?" Jackson feigned ignorance. Lisa was almost acting as though she cared about what was written in that cursed thing, he thought, and didn't know what to do. Finally, he decided it would be best to be blunt.
Jackson sunk down on his knees and scooted towards where he thought Lisa was. "Why do you still have my notebook, Leese?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know," she replied. He moved closer to the sound of her voice.
"I think you do know," he murmured, and he was right in front of her now. Lightning briefly lit up the office, alerting Lisa to Jackson's nearness, and he grabbed her arms to keep her from scooting away. Thunder crashed overhead and drowned out Lisa's protesting squeak.
"Why did you kiss me?" she asked, successfully changing the subject.
Jackson was startled into an answer. "I—I kissed you because--" his voice faltered, and then he began to laugh. "You just keep on asking me that, don't you? Well, I guess I'd better hurry up and answer, since it's such a burning question. I suppose I rather like kissing you, and… hmm… I don't know, I--"
Lisa interrupted him. "Yesterday," she whispered heatedly. "Why did you kiss me yesterday? I had just--"
"—Kicked me in the balls, yeah, I know. I guess I just—oh, I don't know." Jackson's voice broke off frustratedly. "Why am I telling you all this damn stuff? So far you've told me absolutely nothing!" Lighting lit the room once more, followed by the loudest crack of thunder yet. Lisa jumped.
The rain drummed louder and more insistently on the windows.
She wanted to say something. She wanted to just say anything. But her voice seemed to be trapped behind the lump growing in her throat. The silence stretched on and on.
Maybe they didn't need to say anything. The air was filled with memories, memories that really just needed to be buried six feet under. Both were thinking of the events of that Red Eye flight, and both felt a certain sense of regret. Things were oddly simpler back then.
"Oh, Leese," Jackson finally muttered huskily. "I don't know what's wrong with me. For that matter, I don't really know what's wrong with you, either, but all I do know is that since I've met you, you've messed up every plan I've ever made." Another flash of lighting. Lisa could see Jackson's face leaning in towards hers before everything was plunged into darkness.
" Jackson," she said desperately. "Do you remember what I--"
He interrupted her. "It's very annoying," he murmured, and Lisa could feel his breath and cheek. She was petrified and couldn't move. "You are, I mean. Well, actually, you're not, but I—Oh, Lisa…"
The air in the room cracked and sparkled with tension. Jackson was so very close, Lisa thought helplessly. She felt an alarming mixture of embarrassment and confusion. Why couldn't things just be simple? Why was she even here? She should've been at home right now, reading a book and eating leftover spaghetti for lunch. Not here in this huge house with a man who had nearly murdered her, and now seemed to be content to kiss her to death.
And for God sakes, why wouldn't Jackson just lean in and flipping kiss her? Was it really that difficult?
Suddenly, Jackson rocked back on his heels, and spoke in a firmer voice. "…But you won't mess up this plan." His voice grew stronger, and Lisa had the sudden sense that he was talking to himself, and trying to convince himself of something.
"Do you have any idea how much time I spent in that damn hospital?" he asked her, his voice menacing. "I spent three months there! Three fucking months! And do you know whose fault it was?"
Jackson's grip had become painfully tight on Lisa's shoulder. Whereas he had been close before, he was now not only physically far away, but seemed to be mentally distant, too.
"It was my fault," he finally said. "My fault, but yours as well." Jackson jerked Lisa's arm towards him, and her knees burned painfully on the smooth floor.
"Let go of me," she said firmly, trying to keep the fear from her voice.
Jackson seemed to snap out of his reverie and jumped when lightning lit the room once more. When he spoke, his voice was clear and cold, missing the emotion it had held seconds ago. "But that doesn't matter anymore. Just like you said. The flight is behind us, isn't it? Isn't it? And so now we're free to move on."
Lisa was shaking. Jackson Montgomery was crazy. He was going to kill her. His fingers dug deeply into her arm, seeming to pierce her heart.
"And moving on means kidnapping me, and bringing me to your house, so you can get your revenge? Is that what moving on means?" Lisa choked back a sob.
"Moving on means living in the present, Leese. You seem to be having a bit of trouble with that concept. I said that the flight was behind us, remember? Whatever happens now has nothing to do with it.
"Maybe I just don't like you. Ever thought of that, Leese?"
Jackson was getting a thrill out this moment. If only these words held this much feeling in his mind. Then Revenge would be accomplished and over… But what will happen when it is over? He thought. I'll just drive Lisa back to her home like nothing ever happened? I can't kill her, I just--can't. So what, exactly, the hell was I thinking?
And, more importantly, what if I have already accomplished what I set out to do? Lisa did say that… Jackson blinked. But what if it was just some escape plan? Some excuse…?
Lisa couldn't take it anymore. She leapt to her feet, wrenching her arm out of Jackson's grip, stumbling slightly on her cramped legs, running from the room. The notebook lay on the ground where she had been sitting. Jackson heard her footsteps retreat down the hall and into the library in a kind of fog. The bright flash of lighting, followed quickly by a loud boom of thunder, finally startled him from his thoughts.
He ran his hands through his hair. "Damn."
