It had taken more time than she'd cared to admit to fall asleep, and staying that way was - unfortunately - something that she had very little experience in doing successfully. She stirred slightly when she felt the pressure of the bed shift and she rolled onto her side, resting an arm over her face and another up under the pillow in an attempt to get comfortable again. No good. She'd never been a heavy sleeper. She sat up slowly, one hand rubbing the first traces of sleep from her eyes before she opened them. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. Even in the pitch dark of her room, she could see the distinct shape of Jackson Rippner - and the glint of a knife in his hand.
"You're--" Lisa had to press a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as she scrambled away from him, off the other end of the bed and hitting her head against the dresser as she tumbled onto the floor. She wanted to cry, shout, plead, but she was grasping around for something - anything. This situation was all too familiar. Different
( ... )
Jackson stood as she scrambled away, calm and watchful as she grabbed the lamp. His lips curled cruelly. "No field hockey stick this time? A shame, I always preferred the classics." He said as he moved slowly, circling to the other side of the bed, eyes never leaving hers even as he kept his distance. The knife stayed a steady presence at his side.
"I've given it a lot of thought Lis', and we can't keep this up. It's not good for either of us, don't you agree." His tone was low, sharp even in it's semblance of normalcy.
Pressing herself further into the wall, Lisa fought the urge to hit her knees sobbing. He couldn't really be here. He couldn't really be doing this. Hadn't he said he couldn't? At first she missed his words entirely, distracted moreso by the knife than his words. But, after a brief pause she processed the words. No. That wasn't right. It wasn't good, but it was better than dying. Her eyes flashed, thoughts racing, blood rushing.
"No. It's not good, but. Jackson, no. Don't - You don't have to do this." But, her words were only a distraction because she had soon hurled the lamp - at his head, in fact, and moved to crawl over the bed, nearly tripping over sheets and comforters in her pursuit for the door.
"You really never understood, did you?" Jackson asked with a dry tone as her words, familiar from the plane. You don't have to do this. As though they all had such open choices.
He had been expecting something of the sort when she threw the lamp, lifting his forearm to block the head hit. He grunted as the piece cracked against his arm, shattering on the floor as he jerked his arm at the hit. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he ran for her, cutting off her escape by shoving her harshly into the wall near the door.
"It's not a matter of choice Lis', it's a matter of logic. One and one make two and that's that. I had to kill Keefe because that was my job, and I have to kill you because you've become a threat." He said, hand at her throat in the familiar old song, though the knife was held behind him still.
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"You're--" Lisa had to press a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as she scrambled away from him, off the other end of the bed and hitting her head against the dresser as she tumbled onto the floor. She wanted to cry, shout, plead, but she was grasping around for something - anything. This situation was all too familiar. Different ( ... )
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"I've given it a lot of thought Lis', and we can't keep this up. It's not good for either of us, don't you agree." His tone was low, sharp even in it's semblance of normalcy.
Reply
"No. It's not good, but. Jackson, no. Don't - You don't have to do this." But, her words were only a distraction because she had soon hurled the lamp - at his head, in fact, and moved to crawl over the bed, nearly tripping over sheets and comforters in her pursuit for the door.
Reply
He had been expecting something of the sort when she threw the lamp, lifting his forearm to block the head hit. He grunted as the piece cracked against his arm, shattering on the floor as he jerked his arm at the hit. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he ran for her, cutting off her escape by shoving her harshly into the wall near the door.
"It's not a matter of choice Lis', it's a matter of logic. One and one make two and that's that. I had to kill Keefe because that was my job, and I have to kill you because you've become a threat." He said, hand at her throat in the familiar old song, though the knife was held behind him still.
Reply
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