Hey guys. Looks like I'm finally breaking out of the 3-chapter rut that I've stuck myself in with all of my stories with a FOURTH CHAPTER!! Woo! Lol. I'm feeling very inspired with this story right now--hence the semi-quicker than usual update. I'll try to hurry with the next chapter, since I already kind of know what to do. This chapter is a bit longer than the rest, and I hope that you enjoy it. ^__^
Chapter Four: Motel Prisoner
Lisa wasn't sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes again. She hadn't fallen asleep, but had instead just thought and listened to Jackson's typing. He had just stopped and Lisa opened her eyes and turned her head to face him to see that he was closing his laptop and putting it back in his black bag.
Jackson looked up and met her eyes.
Lisa looked away and found a digital clock on the bedside table, its little red numbers flashing seven thirty-six.
"Hungry?" Asked Jackson like the civilized person that Lisa knew he was not.
"No," Lisa forced out, even though she was beyond starving. And then her traitorous stomach growled mutinously.
"You sure about that?" asked Jackson, his right eyebrow raised as he looked at her.
Lisa glared. "I'm sure," she said through gritted teeth, angry that her stomach had betrayed her and alerted Jackson to her hungriness.
"Alright then, you're call." He said right before there was a knock on the door to their motel room.
Jackson walked over and opened it up, positioning himself just so; so that the person at the door wouldn't see Lisa.
"Here's your order, sir." A man said from in front of Jackson. Lisa couldn't see him because Jackson was blocking the way.
Jackson took what the man was carrying—Lisa heard something that sounded like a plastic bag rustle—and said, "Thank you." He handed him some money, and the door closed. Turning around, Lisa could see that he was indeed holding a plastic bag with Chinese characters on the front.
"You ordered Chinese?" she asked, surprised.
"Obviously," he replied as he moved over to the small eating table in the room.
"When?" asked Lisa. "I didn't hear you call them."
"I have my ways."
Lisa rolled her eyes.
Jackson took out some boxes and two sets of chopsticks. He opened up one of the boxes and Lisa's mouth watered. She could smell it all the way over on the bed, and it smelled unbelievably good—especially to someone who would even eat sushi, she was so hungry.
Jackson looked over at Lisa and met her longing eyes. "Are you absolutely sure that you don't want anything?" he asked with a knowing smirk.
Lisa nodded slowly, her mouth shut tight so she wouldn't drool at the delicious smell of the Chinese food, which was surprisingly steaming.
As Jackson turned back to look at the Asian-styled boxes full of Chinese food, Lisa saw him shake his head with a small smile gracing his lips—a genuine smile. She didn't think that she was supposed to see that.
Jackson pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, opening up his chopsticks and beginning to eat out of one of the boxes.
Lisa shut her eyes tight together and bit her lip so hard that she was sure that it was bleeding. She would not think of food, she would not think of food, she would not think of—
Suddenly she felt something around her wrists—human flesh contacting with hers. And then the painful metal was gone, and her left wrist was free.
Lisa peeked through barely open eyes to see that Jackson was standing beside her and releasing her from her bonds. He leaned over her and reached for her right hand. Lisa's heart picked up speed again and her lungs froze right in the middle of a breath.
Jackson undid the handcuffs that attached Lisa's left wrist to the bed. He now held both handcuffs in his left hand. He took Lisa's left wrist in his right hand and jerked her off of the bed.
Lisa gasped in pain at his harshness and almost fell onto the floor from the force he used. She didn't have time to steady herself before he was pulling her over to the table.
Lisa looked around, memorizing everything in the room. She had to start thinking of how to escape.
Jackson pulled out a chair beside his at the table and shoved her onto it, quickly bending down and handcuffing each of her ankles to the two front legs of the chair.
Jackson stood back up again and walked over to his seat and sat down. He pushed a box of food and a pair of chopsticks over toward Lisa.
Lisa was actually too stunned to do anything. One reason why she was stunned was the improbability that the same handcuffs that had fit only slightly loosely around her wrists now fit snug around her ankles. Either that meant that she had tiny ankles, or that she had really fat wrists. She preferred the small ankles option, it sounded nicer.
Jackson glanced over at Lisa. "Aren't you going to eat? If not, I can chain you back on the bed."
Did Jackson realize how dirty that sounded? He must have, Lisa thought, because all guys took most everything in a dirty way. She remembered a week and a half ago, this one family with two teenage sons stayed at the Lux Atlantic, and one of them had said something that could have been taken nastily, and the other said, "That's what she said." And they both laughed. Lisa only slightly got it, but if she had a dirtier mind, she was sure that she would have laughed as well.
Didn't Jackson have a dirty mind, since he was a guy? But if he had, then wouldn't he have…you know…done something already?
"Leese," Jackson said, snapping her out of her consuming thoughts.
Lisa looked up at him, looking startled. "Oh," she said. She nodded and took the chopsticks and broke them apart, before opening the box and being overwhelmed by hunger. Her mouth watered and she licked her lips as she picked up a piece of chicken from inside the box with her chopsticks and plopped it in her mouth. Lisa closed her eyes in pure bliss. When Lisa was done chewing, she opened her eyes, to see that Jackson was looking at her with an amused expression.
So, she did what any respectable, professional, adult woman would do in her position: Lisa Reisert stuck her tongue out at Jackson Rippner before plopping another piece of chicken in her mouth.
Jackson chuckled. "Very mature, Leese," he said, going back to his own food, "very mature."
Lisa gave a small smile as she turned back to her box of chicken, quickly wiping it away so that he wouldn't see it.
She reached into the bag and pulled out another box, opening it to find white rice. That would go good with the chicken. Lisa silently thanked Jackson in her head for thinking to order food. She loved Chinese food. But, of course, he would know, Lisa realized with a tightening in her stomach, as if someone had squeezed it in their hand. Jackson knew everything about her—well, almost everything. He hadn't known that she had had an…unfortunate encounter two years back, but he did now, thanks to her stupid mouth. He knew every last detail about her, and she knew nothing about him. It made her feel…inadequate, almost, next to him—beneath him. Lisa didn't like the feeling, not one bit.
"Lisa, are you okay?"
Lisa turned to look at Jackson before quickly looking away.
Why do you care? She asked in her mind. Oh, that's right, you don't. You just need me to be alright for when you use me again to get what you want.
"I'm fine," Lisa murmured before going back to eating, mulling everything over in her mind. She just had to find a way to escape and get to the nearest police station—then, and only then, would she be safe.
She'd be able to attack Jackson—maybe poke out an eye with one of her chopsticks—from here, but then what? She was attached to the chair—she wasn't going anywhere, not without the key, at least. But she hadn't looked to see where Jackson had placed the key after he had unlocked her. Lisa mentally kicked herself. How could she have been so stupid as to not have looked to see where he placed the darn key? And she didn't know where she was, or where the nearest police station was.
If only she could get hold of a gun—she was a much better shot than Jackson. She could get him to let her go if she held a gun in his face. But her spirits deflated. Where on Earth would she get a gun, without Jackson noticing or stopping her?
This seemed even more hopeless than on the plane.
She'd just have to wait until an opportunity presented itself, Lisa decided. And until then, she'd just have to play along—but nobody ever said anything about being a good little girl about it.
As soon as both Jackson and Lisa were done eating, Jackson stood up and undid the handcuffs around her ankles, before taking the handcuffs in his right hand and yanking her up by his left hand, dragging her toward the bed again.
"Wait," Lisa said, dragging her heels and pulling Jackson to a stop. "I have to go to the restroom."
Jackson turned around and looked at her from head to toe and back again. He wondered what she was playing at as his eyes narrowed.
"Fine," he said through tight lips, "but there's no way you can escape. There are no windows in the bathroom, nothing that can be used as a potentially harmful weapon, and if you write something on the mirror again, I'm the only one who's going to see it. Still want to go?"
Lisa nodded her head weakly, her muscles clenched.
Jackson pulled Lisa over to the bathroom harshly and threw her in, closing the door. "You have ten minutes." He told her as he stood on the other side of the door.
Lisa took a deep breath. After doing the necessary business and washing her hands, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were crusted over with smudged make-up that she had put on before she had been kidnapped, dry mascara and eye-liner lines ran down her face from when she had cried. Her hair was in knots and disarray and she had dried blood on her lips from more than one occasion.
She sighed as she turned the faucet on and leaned over the sink, splashing water on her face and scrubbing away at the make-up with her hands. When she was done and had dried her face with a towel she had found hanging in front of the shower—obliviously forgetting that it was the one that Jackson had used to dry off with after his shower earlier—she inspected herself in the mirror again. Her face was red and raw, her eyes puffy from both the crying she had done a little while ago and how hard she had scrubbed to get the eye-make-up off.
Lisa didn't have a brush, so she used her fingers, running them through her hair like a comb. The end result was nearly as good as it would be if she had used a brush, but at least it was better than it had been before.
She heard a banging at the door as she splashed cold water on her face again, trying to liven herself up. Sure, it was only Jackson, and she shouldn't care what he thought of her appearance—and no one could be expected to look good after what she had been through recently—but he was still a guy, and an extremely attractive guy at that. It was her natural instinct to try and make herself look good, even if it was Jackson.
"Time's up." Lisa heard Jackson say from the other side of the door.
Lisa looked at herself in the mirror one last time before opening the door and nearly walking right into Jackson, he was standing so close.
Lisa took a step back and looked up at him. "Ever heard of personal space?"
Jackson didn't answer her and instead looked around the bathroom, making sure that everything was where it should be. Once he had decided that it was; he grabbed her by the wrist and drug her over to the bed, flinging her onto it.
Lisa bounced a little on the bed, her butt still sore from when she had been flung harshly into the back of the car some time ago.
"Jeeze," Lisa said, wincing. "You could be a little gentler, you know. I'm not indestructible."
Jackson ignored her again and got to work handcuffing her to the bed.
"Ouch," Lisa said as the handcuffs scraped against her right wrist as he was putting it on. "You know, I know that I'm only another job to you again, but you could at least try and not hurt me so much. I know that it would be difficult for someone like you, but if you keep this up, I'm not going to be much use to you for whatever you want me for."
"Stop complaining," he said shortly as he finished up.
Lisa glared at him as he walked over to the eating table and cleared it off, throwing the empty take-out boxes in the trash can. He brushed his hands together afterwards and turned back to look at Lisa, who quickly looked away so that he wouldn't know that she had been watching him. She had a feeling though that he knew anyways, though. Because, really, he was a trained assassin—or assassin manager, same thing, basically—so she would be surprised if he didn't have highly trained senses. She was pretty sure that he was a light sleeper, as well.
Lisa saw the digital clock again when she turned her head. Eight twenty-six the blinking red numbers read. Wow. She was surprised by how quickly time had gone by.
A shift in the bed caught Lisa's attention and her head whipped to her right to see that Jackson was lying down beside her, his hands placed comfortably behind his head as he half-sat up with his legs stretched out in front of him, his shoes off and his toes wiggling in freedom, a small TV on the other side of the room on and the remote sitting on the bed in between Jackson and her.
Lisa swore that her jaw was hitting the bed to her right when she saw him. He just looked so…comfortable, so…not Jackson Rippner like, so unguarded and normal.
But, as Lisa chastised herself, he was a really good actor, after all. Either that; or he was just a regular normal guy outside of work. She wanted to believe the latter of the two more than the first one, even though that one seemed the most reasonable and logical explanation for why he was lying beside her so relaxed and watching the television.
Jackson took one hand from behind his head and grabbed the remote, changing the channel. He flipped through a few, before finally finding something that he was interested in watching. Lisa turned back to look at the TV to see that it was the news.
A woman in a navy blue skirt-suit sitting behind a desk with a white blouse on underneath the blazer was talking about George Foreman, a picture of the recently deceased businessman next to her on the screen. Lisa snuck a glance at Jackson from the corner of her eye to see that he had a small smirk on his face. So he had had something to do with the young and rich bachelor's death, just as Detective Forbes had suspected. Jackson seemed rather proud as he watched the news woman continue to talk about what a tragedy that the death was, and how much he would be missed, and how, although the culprit had yet to be caught, the police were working diligently on the case.
Lisa looked back at the screen before saying, "I thought that you only did government overthrows and political assassinations." She had recalled him saying that on the flight two months ago, back when she still thought that he was kidding about his profession.
Jackson seemed hesitant in answering, because he was silent for a little bit, and Lisa turned her head to look at him. Either he was hesitant, or he was deciding on the right way to word what he was going to say.
"I do those, but I do other things as well." He said slowly, still watching the screen, both of his hands still separating his head from the metal headboard's bars—two of which were helping trap her on the bed. "It really depends on who the client wants to have…dealt with. It just so happens that George Foreman had many enemies, one in particular that would go so far as to hire assassins to give Foreman what he probably had coming to him for a good while."
"So what professions of people that have been killed by you or your company have there been so far, other than businessmen and political figures?" Lisa asked, trying to hide the curiosity from her voice, but not being very effective in the act.
Jackson looked over at Lisa sharply out of the corner of his eye before turning to look back at the screen. "You know that that's none of your business, Leese."
"What?" Lisa asked with a snort. "You think I'm going to go running and telling people? I'm not stupid." She paused here. "I know that after the job this time, you won't repeat the same mistake you made last time. I know that I won't be walking away from this at the end if things go the way you want them to."
Jackson looked over at her, slightly speechless, his lips parted a little. He inspected her with his eyes a little bit before they settled on her face, staring at her eyes and every little detail on her face—including her plump lips—although she didn't notice.
"I'm right, aren't I, Jack?"
Jackson saw her lips move as she spoke. His eyes darted back up to her eyes—she was still watching the TV, and her eyes were blank. He could tell that she was trying very hard to keep all emotion out of her voice and face. Jackson's mouth closed into a firm line and he turned back to face the television, not answering. In all honesty, he wasn't really sure yet what he was going to do once the job was over.
Lisa took his silence as a yes.
Her head jerked sharply to her left so that Jackson wouldn't see the tears building up behind her eyes and her bottom lip tremble slightly. He had already seen her in too many weak moments—she wasn't about to go and give him another just like that, when he hadn't even used physical force or hurtful or threatening words.
She had been afraid that, if all things went according to Jackson's plans, then she wouldn't be alive after everything was done. He was an intelligent man—he wasn't about to let something like what happened after the Red Eye flight happen again. And Lisa wasn't dumb enough or hopeful or naïve enough to falsely think that he would let her live, and that she would walk away unscathed.
Lisa knew that last time she had been lucky—extremely lucky—and she doubted that she would have such good luck again this time as to get away alive. After all, being in the profession that Jackson was, one had to be unforgiving and cruel—how else would they get the job of someone who helps kill people or does actually physically kill people. There were no wimps in the mafia, or wussies in gangs. You had to have real guts—and a lack of compassion and most emotion—to kill or deal with the killing of people.
Jackson's behavior since she had first known of his true intentions had proven that. And it kept on proving that, even up to that very moment.
And that was why Lisa had to find a way to escape. She had to find the opportune moment to get away, sometime before the job reached its end, preferably. However, Lisa wouldn't be picky. If she had the chance, she would take it, no matter what. At least this time Jackson didn't have a man with a twelve-inch K-Bar outside her dad's house—mainly because there were probably police officers there with her dad to make sure that no harm came to him. Lisa imagined that there would be police officers searching for her by now as well, seeing as how she was the object of Jackson's job last time as well, so why wouldn't she be again? Not to mention that he'd most undoubtedly want revenge.
"And now, to wrap up the nightly news, we leave you with a missing person report. Lisa Reisert—" Lisa snapped her head forward so fast that she felt a warm pain in her neck, but what the woman on the news was saying was too shocking that she didn't even notice the pain as her eyes widened and her lips parted, "—is the hotel manager of the Miami Lux Atlantic, the same hotel that just two months earlier was attacked with the intentions of Charles Keefe—the Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security—to be assassinated. Joe Reisert, Lisa Reisert's father, suspects that it may be a mysterious man named Jared Rider, who had blackmailed Lisa two months ago to try and help him assassinate Charles Keefe, who has kidnapped Lisa this time. Stay tuned for more information on tomorrow's segment."
Jackson turned the TV off with the remote. Lisa was still dumbstruck at her photo being up on the television screen, and at being talked about on the news. But she wasn't dumbstruck enough to miss the name change.
Lisa's jaw clenched. She turned to Jackson and glared at him. "Jared Rider?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Jackson looked at her and smirked. "You didn't actually think that any person of the media would seriously get a hold of my real name, did you?"
"But how did you—"
"Scrambler," Jackson replied before turning to look ahead of him. "They intercept the real message and 'scramble' it so that a member of the company doesn't get their real information on the media. It's saved quite a lot of necks before, because it has the public and the police looking for the wrong guy."
"My dad will correct that as soon as he sees it." Lisa told him confidently.
Jackson looked at Lisa sharply and spat, "You didn't tell your precious daddy enough about me for him to remember my exact name. All he knows for absolute certain is that my initials are the same as his. You're doing exactly what you did after that parking lot incident," here Lisa visibly flinched and Jackson's voice, having seen this, lessened in venom when he continued, "you're locking it all up inside, not letting anybody really know every last detail. And those are the important details that could have helped to catch the criminal."
"You've forgotten about Detective Forbes." I told him. "And the people at the police department, and the lawyers, you're leaving out a lot of people who know your name." Lisa told him pointedly. "And my dad wouldn't have begun to forget your name—not in a million years, no matter how little I told him about the event."
"All those people have been dealt with accordingly. As memory erasing is yet to be perfected, I can't do anything about your dad, since he's being swarmed by police officers, but everyone else won't be saying a word." Jackson said carelessly, no sorrow or guilt or resent marring his face or voice.
Lisa's eyes widened. Detective Forbes, who she had just seen not all that long ago—she couldn't imagine him dead, just like that.
"You'll be caught, Jack." Lisa told him matter-of-factly. "You won't get away with all this."
Jackson glanced at her sharply before standing up and stretching. "Watch me."
"Oh, I'll be watching alright." Lisa said. "I'll be watching you as you fail."
Jackson pierced her with a cold glare briefly before pulling back the covers to Lisa's right.
Her eyes widened accordingly. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" he asked, annoyance evident in his voice.
He walked over to his bag and took out what looked like a wad of clothing and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. He was out in what didn't even seem like a minute to Lisa. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head as she saw what he was wearing. Jackson was dressed in a long black T-shirt that fell down to his waist, and a pair of black and white striped boxers. He flicked off the light switch, which made the room dark except for the small lamp that was turned on beside the bed on the little nightstand.
"You can't be serious." Lisa said incredulously, her mouth suddenly dry and her hands getting clammy.
"Do I seem like someone who would kid around with you, Leese?" Jackson asked as he walked over to the bed. He climbed under the covers and puffed up his pillow before setting it behind his head.
"But you can't sleep here!" She protested.
"Oh?" he turned to her face her curiously, "And why not?"
"Because I'm here!" she said, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world as to why he should not be settling down.
"Your point?" asked Jackson, not really caring.
"It's improper!" she practically shrieked.
Jackson rolled his eyes. "Well I'm not about to go sleeping on the floor—and who knows what's been on that couch before we got this room. Just suck it up. I'm sleeping in this bed whether you like it or not."
After getting comfortable, Jackson reached over and turned off the light, basking the entire room in utter darkness.
"Jackson," Lisa murmured.
"What?" his voice sounded annoyed.
"I can't sleep like this."
"Do you really think that I care?" he asked rudely. He just wanted to get to sleep and get this day done and over with.
"Fine," Lisa said quietly, glaring at the darkness ahead of her, "I'll just keep talking and keep you up all night long."
Jackson growled before reaching out to the lamp and turning it on roughly. Once light illuminated the room barely once again, he turned over on his side and glared at her, and Lisa glared right on back.
Jackson reluctantly slid out of the covers, kneeling on the bed, and crawled over, swung his leg over Lisa, and straddled her waist as he leant over and took the key out of a pocket in his boxers, unlocking her handcuffs from her wrists and the headboard. He put the key back in his pocket, and this time Lisa made sure to know where he kept it.
Although, she could barely think about where Jackson was putting some key, because, nothing in the entire world could have distracted her from having a small heart attack.
Jackson Rippner was straddling her waist and leaning over her. And Lisa felt like she might die at any given second from her lack of taking in oxygen. But, honestly, who could possibly even think of blaming her when this unbelievably gorgeous, and unbelievably bad and dangerous—not to mention completely off-limits—man was straddling them and leaning over them? He was so close that Lisa could smell his natural musky scent mixed in with a very, very light cologne.
Jackson threw both of the handcuffs onto the bed beside them and gazed down at Lisa's face, his large hands covering her small ones and trapping them on the headboard. Lisa's eyes widened in fear and anxiety as he stared down into them and she was sure that, if this continued for any longer, she was going to start hyperventilating.
Jackson's hands slid down a little until he wrapped them restricting around her wrists and swung his leg off of her, standing and pulling her to her feet. He used more force than necessary, and so Lisa went flying into his chest and stumbling back a little. Her cheeks were painted a crimson red. Jackson just chuckled lightly for a second before pulling her over to his side of the bed and—letting go of her right wrist—picking up a handcuff. He looked like he was about to put it back on her left wrist.
Lisa—seeing what he was about to do—tried to jerk her wrist out of his steel-like grip, but to no avail, of course. "Wait, what are you doing?" she asked, panic starting to seep in.
Jackson sighed in annoyance and looked at her with bored eyes. "I'm going to handcuff you to me so that way you won't be able to get away in the night, and then we are going to go to sleep."
"But—" she had to think up an excuse—anything—to prolong the inevitable. Thinking quickly, she continued, "I can't sleep in these clothes! And I haven't taken a shower since before you kidnapped me. You could at least let me take a shower and change into something else before connecting me to you."
"There are no girl clothes anywhere in this room." Jackson said suspiciously.
"They don't have to be girl clothes, just anything, really. I want to get out of these clothes." She gestured to what she was wearing with her right hand.
Jackson inspected her shortly before throwing the handcuff back down on the bed, clinging loudly as it hit the other one already on the bed. He dragged her over to his bag, where he pulled out another small bundle of clothes and thrust them into her arms before pushing her into the bathroom harshly and closing the door behind her.
Lisa sighed and looked in the mirror at her reflection before looking down at the clothes he had given her and inspected them.
If her cheeks could have been any redder, they would have been. Did Jackson realize that he had handed her a white T-shirt—exactly identical to the black one he was wearing except for the color—and ocean-blue silk boxers? No, he couldn't have. But, then again, he had said that there were no girl clothes at all anywhere in the room, and she had said she'd wear anything, as long as she could get out of what she was currently wearing.
Lisa slipped out of her clothes—after making sure to lock the door—and turned the shower on, hot water running through. She climbed in and washed herself with the soap and shampoo that were provided by the motel. The hot water was calming on her tense muscles and the feeling of getting clean was soothing. She turned off the knob reluctantly and sighed when the water disappeared, her eyes closing.
Opening them again, Lisa rung out her hair and grabbed the towel hanging outside the shower, drying her body and her hair off with it.
When she was dry, Lisa hesitantly and slowly slid on the ones that Jackson had given her. She kept her panties and bra on—for obvious reasons. When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror and decided that, against her better judgment, she actually looked decent in Jackson's…clothes.
Lisa ran her hands through her wet hair several times since she had no comb or brush. She rinsed her mouth out with water before checking herself in the mirror one more time.
She took a deep breath. Sooner or later she would have to leave this bathroom, and Jackson would be in a better mood if she left it sooner, which meant that he might not be quite as rough as he would be if she left it later.
Lisa held her breath as she turned the doorknob—the lock unlocking itself—and opened the door.
Jackson was waiting right outside the door with a pair of handcuffs ready. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed her right wrist and cuffed it to his left one. Lisa flinched as she felt the cold metal against her skin again—and also because she was now bound to Jackson, which meant that escape was less than zero percent—it was way down low in the negatives.
Jackson dragged her back to the side of the bed which he had claimed as his. On the way over, Lisa tossed her wadded-up clothes into a corner of the room.
Jackson stopped in front of the bed and turned to look at her, his eyes roaming her body. Lisa fidgeted under his gaze and muttered, "Please, don't." It made her feel unbearably uncomfortable when he would do that—especially in what little she was wearing, and considering that what she was wearing was his.
And just like that, Jackson turned back to the bed, and climbed onto it, pulling on his left hand indicating that Lisa should do the same.
Lisa complied and kneeled on the bed, crawling over to her side, pulling down the covers, and plopping down under them, her head resting comfortably on a pillow. She watched as Jackson got under the covers as well.
Jackson sighed and turned the lamp off one more time before shifting until he was comfortable.
Lisa gazed into the darkness above her head. There was complete silence for a few minutes. Lisa heard Jackson's steady breathing.
"Jackson?" she whispered quietly.
"What now?"
She paused. "Thanks," she whispered so quietly that she wasn't sure if he heard her or not. He didn't respond. She wasn't really sure quite what she was thanking him for—for letting her take a shower and wear clean clothes, even if they were his, or for allowing her to sleep semi-comfortably. Granted—although this was a lot more comfortable than the last position that she had been in for quite some time—her right hand felt restricted since it was the one chained to his left hand.
She felt doomed thinking about how she was attached to him.
Lisa squeezed her eyes shut. No, she wouldn't think about this. She was going to try and get some sleep, because tomorrow was sure to be even worse than today.
She let out a small sigh before sleep overcame her completely.
Okay, so, I want to thank all of you who have reviewed so far--your reviews mean a lot to me! No flashback dreams this chapter. Do you guys like those? (I'm just asking your opinion because, even if you don't like them, I'm still going to continue putting them. I just felt like I should ask your opinion.)
What did you guys think? I'm trying hard to keep both Jackson and Lisa in character, but I'm sure as anyone will agree, it's hard keeping ANY character from ANYTHING in character, so I'm trying my best, and if someone is a little OOC for a little bit, then cut me some slack.
What did you think of the longer chapter? I thought about stopping it LONG ago, but then I thought: "Nah, why not give them all something a little extra?" And so there ya go.
I seriously love you ALL and please don't forget to review this chapter. Hope you liked it.
Yours happily,
MidnightThief15 XD