You Failed, Jack
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!
Chapter Eight
"So it comes down to you or my life. I think we both know what my choice is, don't we, Audra?" Jackson questioned harshly.
She just stared up at him with frightened eyes. Disgusted, he picked her up and deposited her in the bathtub.
"Did you know that the bathroom and bedroom are the two most often used places for a murder?" he said to her, smiling. "The bedroom usually signifies that the murder was related to a sexual nature—such as a cheating spouse—and bathroom is just easier to clean up."
He left her alone to gather some supplies from the kitchen. Household objects were the best murder instruments because they never led back to the murderer. After today, that's exactly what he would be—a garden-variety murderer. There was nothing special about what he was doing and the only pride that he could revel in would be getting away with it.
Murder did not require brilliance. Torture did not either. Planning did.
Scowling, he stomped back into the bathroom; knives, an iron mallet, and a telephone cord in hand. Audra was struggling to escape the tub when he re-entered. She froze when she noticed him.
He placed his make-shift weapons on the ground and ripped the duct tape from her mouth. "What did you think you were doing?" he hissed. "Did you think that you would actually sneak by me?"
"George, don't do this. You can't kill me. I love you," she pleaded, a half-choked sob following her words.
"What is love, Audra? It's only a sham—a lie. It's nothing. It means nothing."
She sobbed loudly; her breaths coming in great gasps.
"Tell you what, since I'm such a nice guy, I'll fuck you one more time before you die. How's that sound? I won't rape you— I'll just sleep with you."
Surprisingly, the sobbing stopped. "Where?"
"In the bed, in the tub, on the floor—wherever you want it."
"The tub's too cramped…" she said aloud, thinking. Jackson rolled his eyes. "How 'bout the bed?"
"Works for me," he said, scooping her up and carrying her back into the bedroom.
After dropping her on the bed, he sliced her wrists free from the duct tape and then placed them around the headboard.
"What are you doing?" Audra asked him.
"Just securing you," he replied, slapping on some duct tape from the roll that the messenger had left behind.
She nodded and smiled at him. He left the bed and returned to the bathroom.
I only have one shot at this. It's just like any other job. There's no room for error—no emotion. It doesn't matter what I think about her. It's a job.
Sighing, he gathered up a knife and the telephone cord and stuffed them into his pocket. He would end up killing her in the bedroom now. It would easier to kill her when she was in the midst of pleasure and more surprising that way.
No, I can't chance fucking her. They might be able to track me that way or link me to anything else I do. I can't do that. I'll let her think that, but I can't. I'm a liar now. I'm no better than her.
Grim, yet determined, Jackson crawled onto the bed with her. She was smiling at him.
"So is this akin to a last wish?" she asked.
"Yes, so do you have any last words?"
"Last words? George, what are you—"
He wrapped the telephone cord around her neck and choked off her sentence.
I'm not George. There is no more George. George King is dead. I'm Jackson Rippner now—I have been Jackson. Now, I'm your killer…
As she struggled and coughed, he went to work with his knife. He stabbed her in the arms, the legs, the chest, and then watched her bleed from the wounds he caused. He carefully knotted the cord around her throat.
She was suffocating because of him.
Her garbled screams grew older quickly and he slashed her throat. She choked on her own blood for a precious few seconds. He had slit her carotid artery. She was dead.
I did this. I killed her.
He stood up and then stumbled into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and furiously began scrubbing his blood-stained hands. His suit was ruined; luckily it had not been one of his favorites.
Once satisfied with the cleanliness of his hands, he stumbled back into the bedroom.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he snarled as he looked at her lifeless body. It was too hurried and there was not nearly enough rage.
He hurried back into the bathroom and grabbed the iron mallet. Like a man possessed, Jackson attacked her dead body with it, shattering bones and cracking others. He even managed to smash most of her face in. She was virtually unrecognizable once he was finished with her. Just like she should have been. That hated face was finished.
Jackson collapsed on the floor beside the bed and put his head into his hands. "What have I done?" he moaned to himself.
His head ached form the sounds of her screams. Suddenly he heard sirens and knew that he had to leave.
"I'm sorry," he whispered before disappearing out the door. The police would be by shortly and he could not risk getting caught.
I never meant to hurt anyone…
Author's Notes:
Jackson is one twisted person… woo. That's a rage the likes of which I've never seen before. He was probably mad at himself and saw himself instead of her. Plus the entire 'it's a job' thing probably helped him as well as the fact that he didn't really care for her. Poor Audra… Anyways, thanks for the reviews and we'll see what's happening with Lisa in the next chapter.
