|Someone do that to you?
Author: Miss Frangipani PM
If in the bathroom Lisa hadn't lied about her rape, would things have played out differently between her and Jackson? How much of a choice did they both have? Exploration of that theme. One shotRated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Lisa R. & Jack R. - Words: 536 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 2 - Published: 11-24-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8731929
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Someone do that to you?"
Jackson looked up from her scar, his expression suddenly void of all rage, unreadable. Still Lisa had heard, almost felt it like a physical sensation, the tint of concern in his voice.
Precarious memories of a parking lot and a man with a knife flooded back into her mind. She had sealed them off so well, pushed them into a no-go area in her brain, and there they were, plain for Jackson to see. She felt herself unravelling.
She looked away from him and focussed on a neutral spot on the floor, trying to gather strength, anything. Still her eyes welled up, tears trickling down her face and dripping from her jawline onto the expensive fabric of his jacket. She hated herself for being so weak in front of him.
"So that's what it is."
He took hold of her chin.
"Look at me." He studied her green eyes, watching the pain being slowly replaced by defiance.
With one swift movement he bent forward and kissed her. She tried to jerk her head away but he kept a tight grip on her chin, pressing her head against the wall. His kiss was intrusive, yes, but it also felt almost... tender? She stilled with surprise, letting him explore her mouth with his tongue, taste her, until he suddenly bit her lower lip, as if to leave a mark.
The sharp pain and metallic tang of blood in her mouth brought her back to her senses. She pushed him away.
"Stop that!" she hissed.
He seemed flustered. Then his face filled with the all-to-well-known derision.
"Oh really? I bet you haven't had a man that close to you in a long time." His body pressed insistently against hers, taunting her, and his left hand slid down the curve of her waist, gripping her hip hard.
She glared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and fear.
"And Lisa, you still have a phone call to make."
He slowly started to grind his body against hers, a threatening glint in his eyes. He pushed his knee between her legs and lifted her up from the ground, placing his hands around her neck and tightening them, his gaze steadily fixed on hers. Lisa felt her breathing become laboured. She wordlessly pleaded with him, trying to find hints of humanity in his eyes, fragments that had been there only a minute ago, but all she could see was an ice blue void. She finally nodded, breaking their eye contact, shame and defeat washing over her in a wave.
Jackson took a step back, leaving his hands to linger around her neck.
"Do we have an understanding here? You make the phone call and you stop these little communications. Else I will make sure that getting this scar won't be the worst experience of your life."
She nodded once more, her eyes a dull green.
He took some toilet paper and with three quick motions wiped the soap writing off the mirror. Pulling her face up to his he kissed her on the forehead, then pushed her in front of him and opened the lavatory door.