Stolen Away on the Wings of Yesterday

Summary: Even the dead can steal a person's soul if allowed to.  A short look in Lisa's mind months later.

Rating: PG or K

Disclaimer: Red Eye is the property of Dreamworks Pictures. No disrespect is intended.

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He stole me away, just like he'd suggested, little by little each night until I woke and realized I was his. He ruled my dreams, my waking thoughts, my actions. He even managed to eclipse the memories of before. Jackson had become my everything.

Strange how a man months dead can have such a hold on me! The most distressing thing is that I let him, after vowing to never be a victim again. But I am still a victim, aren't I? Why? Because I gave Jackson power over me. I let myself return to thoughts of him, over and over, each time I looked in a mirror or stepped outside. I let myself fear.

I imagined his eyes staring at me, calculating and dispassionate, yet conversely filled with fiery passion. I thought on how he turned his charm on and off at whim and hate myself for ever feeling the slightest tug of attraction to him. How could I have felt that wholly sexual spark for a man such as he? How could I have even momentarily been tempted? How can I still wonder what could have happened had he not been the man he was? Would we have continued our flirtations? Would I have pursued him and let myself in return be pursued?

There is a sense of betrayal within me with the knowledge of his calculation. He watched me. He planned. He coaxed and lulled until he struck.

Jackson the thief, removing me from one life of fears and thrusting me into another.

He did his part and he moved on, just like he said, taking me with him in the process. Not in the sense he intended, I know. He never intended to get hurt, nor did he intend to develop complications from those wounds and die.

I suppose I should have been relieved, for if he'd lived, I would have been unfinished business. No relief sent giddiness through my veins. Looking back now over the past months, I realize he did finish with me. Jackson put me through the wringer both emotionally and physically and then....

He stole me away from myself.

Funny how that happened, the gradual loss of identity, of self. He took me over, snatched me away, flying us off on a fluttering wisp of memory. What must I do to rid myself of him and return to who I am? Do I even want to be that person anymore? If not, then who do I want to be?

No answers are easily forthcoming, but one thing is certain: I refuse to remain his any longer. With each day I will leave a little bit more of him in the past and one day soon perhaps I'll look in the mirror and I won't see his blue eyes staring back at me.

I look forward to that day.