Escaping Parker, page 17
“How did you find me?” I whisper.
“You know I have my ways, plus it wasn’t that hard. I’ve been following you for some time, waiting for the right time to surprise you. A new year and a new start sounded pretty reasonable to me.”
“I’m no longer yours to intimidate. There isn’t anything you can do that will make me come back to you. You might as well just leave.” My voice sounds harsh.
“You’ll always be mine, you know that. I told you what would happen if you ever tried to leave again,” His words bitter. “I’m still trying to decide if you’re more valuable dead or alive.”
My nerves tangle together, but I’m fighting hard to stay calm. Panicking will only make him angrier. Trying to focus on my breathing isn’t working and I feel the panic attack coming on.
His chair creaks out a warning as he lifts. I can feel him moving closer to me, so close my breath bounces off his face and back to me.
“Clarissa, Clarissa, Clarissa.” He drags the last word out. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come and collect what was mine?” He slides a finger up my arm.
I’m shaking, on the verge of throwing up or passing out, whichever one comes first. The liquor that oozes from his breath when he speaks alerts me this could go south way faster than I think.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
“Tell you what I want! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fillet you like a fish. Huh? How about if I do that, Clarissa? Or is it Parker these days?” he says it like it’s coated in acid.
Think. What can I say to him?
“You won’t get away with it. People know about you and will tell the police about what you’ve put me through. So either way, you will be digging your own grave. They’ll find you.”
“You don’t think I have an alibi? That’s the least of my worries. I’ve been practicing my little speech for the moment the cops come to me with the news of your death. Believe me, I’ve had a lot of time. It’s very boring just sitting idle, waiting for the time to come see you,” he spits. “Turn on the light,” he demands. “Have a seat in this chair I have all set up for you here.”
I turn on the light and shield my eyes till they adjust to the brightness, delaying the moment I have to see his face again. When I finally look up, it’s the same Steven I’m used to seeing—still in his suit, nothing out of place—but the anger is more apparent.
“Sit down!” One of my kitchen chairs now sits in the middle of the room, next to is a roll of duct tape. “Let me tell you all about my little trip across the fucking country.”
Once I sit, he bends down and starts to tape my legs to the chair.
“This isn’t necessary, I’m not going anywhere,” I say, voice shaky, but trying to not sound as scared as I am. Steven builds on weakness.
My heart pumps faster than any other time in my life. Prior horrid events flash before my eyes.
“It’s necessary. I’m really helping you out, making it impossible for you to run any longer.” He tapes my hands behind my back around the wooden slats of the chair.
“I see you still don’t know how to keep a man. What did you do to Ryan to make him leave?”
Obviously he’s already done his research. My stomach clenches. What if he’s gotten to Rig first? “What have you done to him?”
“I haven’t done anything to him. I’m not saying some of my friends haven’t paid him a visit, but this isn’t about him. This is about you, your infidelity, and your running. You thought you had everything figured out. You thought the vows we made weren’t to be honored. You know, that really fucking hurt me, Clarissa.”
“We were over a long time before I even left. You don’t want a wife, you want a fucking servant. A robot wife with no feelings and no say in anything. Why would I even stay?”
“I wanted a wife, one that didn’t embarrass me, that just did the things that needed to be done without asking, and made sure her husband was taken care of. When you couldn’t do those things, I had to snap you back into shape. You became a fucking disaster once we were married. You thought you had your catch and you didn’t have to work to keep him.” Steven sneers. “That’s ok, though, I had others that were more than willing to do the things for me that you refused to do.”
“So why not let me go?” I yell, my wrists struggling against the tape. At this point I’m no better than dead, so I don’t really care what the hell comes out of my mouth.
“I will never let you go. You know this.” He takes a seat across from me in the recliner, resting his ankle on his knee. Always the intimidator. “Let me tell you about my journey. It all started the day you never came out of that office. The second your phone locator never moved I knew something was wrong. I must admit I thought you were kidnaped at first. But then I saw you with that lovely elderly couple in that shack. My god was that place a shit hole,” he says in an appalled tone.
“Alice,” I whisper to myself.
“They are fine. I didn’t really have to talk to them since I’d already found you. No use making an unnecessary mess.” He smiles, his warning clear. “I had one of my men then follow you for some time. Oh, I would come out occasionally when you would stop at one place for more than a few days. You know, I wanted to see how far you were willing to go to get away.”
“You’re sick.”
“Maybe, but you know the one thing that really sent me over the edge? The night you whored yourself out to him! It was like a fucking slap to the face, watching you do things with him you no longer did for me. I watched you guys holding hands, and it was then I knew you had feelings for this guy. It had to be stopped! I know how shy you are, how you hate to be touched, so for you to let this guy put a finger on you, I knew feelings were involved. So I continued to watch, and wait for the right time. I thought I was going to have to kill both of you, watching you two play house like nothing else was going on around you. You’re the ones who slipped and forgot what you guys were doing. You weren’t careful. You stopped looking around all the time, and it became easier and easier to watch you two. So what did you do to this one to make him leave?”
“I asked him to leave. It wasn’t his choice.”
“Well, if he loved you he would have fought, just like I’m doing here. You weren’t meant to be with him, that’s why he’s gone and I’m back. He never loved you and he used you, got his kicks in while he pretended to be your fucking savior.”
“Shut up! You have no clue what you’re talking about.”
He jumps up, his fist crashing into my jaw. “You won’t talk to me like that. Your mouth has always gotten you in trouble.”
A coppery taste fills my mouth. Once the stinging of my jaw starts to die down, and the shock settles, I know I have to switch into survival mode. I test the tightness of the tape, wiggling my hands. Too tight for me to break loose. Moving my hands back and forth I try to loosen them a bit, but it doesn’t seem to be working. The cool blade of the knife rests against my waist. If I could just get one hand free and get to it. Even if I die trying.
“Now the question is: what to do with you.” He walks slowly around the chair, circling his prey. “I certainly can’t bring you home. You have made me look weak to others, and if I don’t do something with you, I won’t be able to show my face.”
Fear has ruled my life for so many years, I can’t let it get me this time. I beg my innermost strength to show up and get me out of this mess.
My phone rings, the muffled sound coming from his pocket. Andrew calling to check in on me as promised.
“Who is calling you at this time?” Steven demands.
“I don’t know, just a friend probably,” I lie, sort of.
“You’re lying.” He yanks it out of his pocket and checks the caller ID. “Who is Andrew? Wait . . . I know who it is. You’re going to let him know everything is ok before he gets nervous. Can’t have that, can we?”
I shake my head, putting my foot down. I need Andrew to worry about me and send help.
He lowers a gun to my temple. “Make him think everything is ok. If you don’t, I’m going to kill you, right here, right now. Just like I promised I would.”
He hits the answer button on the phone and holds it to my ear, the cold gun still pressed to my head.
“Hello,” I say, trying to hold it together.
“Hey, Parker, how is everything over there? Are you having a nice start to your new year?” Andrew asks.
“Yes, everything is ok. Just about to head to bed.”
“Ok, well, I have a quick question for you: Have you heard from Rig? I haven’t been able to get in touch with him for a couple days now. Did he come back out there? I know he left not on the best terms, and it was eating away at him.” Steven has had something done to him. My heart drops to my feet, shattered in a million pieces.
“No, I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left.” The last words come out shaky, and I’m starting to cry.
“Is everything ok, Parker? You sound a little . . . off.”
“I’m ok, Andrew, just tired. Let me know if you hear from him.”
“Are you alone? If you aren’t, please just say ‘I’m fine, I’m going to bed now.’” I look up at Steven to gauge if he heard Andrew.
“I’m fine, I’m just going to go to bed now.”
“I’m sending help. Just do what he says and someone will be there shortly.”
“Thank you.”
He ends the call, and Steven takes the phone from my head.
“Good girl, I knew you weren’t stupid enough to say something. Now, do you have a fucking drink in this place?”
“In the kitchen, above the sink in the cabinet.” I tug my wrists against the tape again.
“Don’t go anywhere. Oh, that’s right you can’t. The party is just getting started.” He laughs with an evil tone and heads to the kitchen.
Wiggling my hands back and forth, I cut my hand on a screw. I work the tape over the screw, ripping it a little bit at a time.
One hand slips free as Steven walks back into the room, a smug look on his face. He clutches a glass of clear liquid.
“Really, Clarissa? You only had Vodka, and you know I prefer scotch.” He sets his glass down on the coffee table. “Look at that, it’s already a couple minutes past midnight. Was this the new year you were looking forward to? Let’s get a little kiss here to celebrate, most likely your last.” He tries to press his lips to mine. I turn my head away from him, making him miss so he gets the corner of my mouth.
He presses his fingers deep into my skin, holding my face in place, then smashes his lips to mine. I’m instantly repulsed,
He pulls his dry, cold lips from mine. “Don’t act like you don’t like that. I’m sure since your little boyfriend left, you haven’t gotten much satisfaction. God, if you just stayed and did what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. You always knew how to fuck shit up, Clarissa. But tonight, you’re going to do as I say, and not deny me having you one last time before I let you go. And when I say ‘let you go,’ I mean make good on all my promises,” he huffs and walks out to the kitchen.
He returns seconds later twirling a knife in his hands. He drops to his knees, setting the gun down on the carpet. He runs the dull side of the knife down my neck to my collarbone. I sit here shaking, unable to move. My free hand dangles behind me. Grabbing my shirt, he cuts the front straight down, exposing me.
“You allowed him to touch you like you used to let me. I won’t let that be the last memory of him you die thinking about. He tainted you; he was never anything to you.” Steven runs his hands up and down my front. Tears well in my eyes.
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. “Please stop,” I beg, sobs muffling my words.
He builds off my fear, grabbing the knife and dragging it down my chest to my stomach, until he reaches my waistband. I start to freak out. The second he cuts my pants, the knife will drop right onto the chair. That’ll be the end of me.
His eyes briefly meet mine. Then the sharp point digs into the fabric, the fibers ripping. The knife crashes to the chair, clanging loudly against the wood.
“What the hell—” He reaches behind me.
The door slams open. I knew Andrew had sent the police. What I didn’t expect was Rig to run through that door, barreling right at us. Steven grunts and loses his balance, giving me the split second I need to crash my head into his, my wig falls to the floor. He falls back, and Rig jumps on top of him.
My head pounds from that blow, and suddenly everything turns to slow motion. Grunts and groans and bodies wrestling in front of me. I’m frozen, I can’t get my mouth to say anything.
Somehow Steven gets on top of Rig, and a deafening explosion shreds my eardrums. Steven stiffens, siting up straight, the gun in his hand. Adrenaline roars through me and I rip my left hand out of the last bit of the tape, snatching the knife still resting behind me on the chair. I plunge the blade into Steven’s neck.
“Parker, NO!” Rig yells out, but it’s too late. I’m taking my life back.
Steven looks back at me slowly, raising his hand with the gun, pointing it at me. I rip the knife out and stab him again, the blood spurting out of both of the wounds. His hand drops, and the gun falls to the floor. He curls in a ball and gasps for air.
To my right, Rig lies on the floor bleeding, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“RIG!” I yell. “Hold on, Rig, open your eyes! Please Rig!” Crying, screaming, my legs are still bound to the chair. I struggle to free myself with the knife, then drop to the ground and hold him.
Sirens sounding in the distance start to get closer.
“Rig, wake up. Help is almost here. Don’t close your eyes. Please Rig, don’t leave me again,” I beg him.
Steven’s gasps turn into small coughs, blood now leaking from his mouth. I won this time.
I stare at Rig, blood spilling from his chest, and I feel like anything but a winner.
I reach over, grabbing my phone out of Steven’s pocket, and quickly dial Andrew.
“Rig’s been shot, Andrew, help me. What do I do?” I cry. “Help me!”
“Help is on the way, stay calm!”
“I hear sirens. Rig must have called them before he came in. It all happened so fast. I don’t know what to do. He won’t talk to me!”
“Where is Steven, did he get away?” he asks, fear in his voice.
“No, he’s here. I killed him, Andrew. I’m going to jail, I fucking killed him. Oh my God, what am I going to do? I’m so scared, Andrew.” I cry into the phone.
“Parker, breathe. Where has Rig been shot?”
“His chest, his chest is bleeding. I’m trying to feel for a pulse, but I can’t find one. I don’t know if I’m checking the right way.” I continue grabbing his wrist, checking for anything.
“Is he breathing? Parker, you have to talk to him, you have to get him to open his eyes. My son . . . I can’t lose him. He is the only one we have left. Talk to him, Parker!” he yells.
“Rig. Rig!” I hold his face. “Wake up, you have to hold on. I’m so sorry. Please wake up. I love you. Don’t leave me, Rig!” I get nothing.
Suddenly police are running through my door, and there are people everywhere.
“Ma’am, you need to back up. Are you hurt?” an office asks, crouching down to Rig and Steven. He calls for an ambulance on his radio.
It feels like forever until the ambulance gets here, this is a horror movie, playing out in my head. I can’t focus, and the police officer is trying to ask me questions. His words blur together as if we’re in a fog.
The paramedics come through the door with a stretcher and start to work on Rig. I try to watch what they are doing, hoping for a sign, anything to show that they are helping him.
They check his neck for a pulse. Why isn’t he responding?
An officer shields me from him while they work. “Let them do their job, miss.”
Another one puts his hand on my shoulder. “We need to ask you some questions, and they need to try and help him. Can we go into the kitchen?” the officer asks. Just as I stand up, the monitor beeps, and they put an oxygen mask over his face.
“He’s alive!” I grab his hand, never wanting to let go. But the officer pulls me away from him. I push off, fighting to stay next to Rig.
“They need to get him to the hospital, and you need to back up so they can do their job and help him,” he demands, and I let him drag me away, stepping on the wig I didn’t fully realize was no longer on my head, I stomp on it, letting that piece of Parker go for good.
They get him on the stretcher and rush him out of the house. My eyes fall on Steven’s lifeless body, and I have no remorse whatsoever. I’m filled with anger, sadness, and fear—fear that this isn’t the end, and that his people will still come after me.
“What is your name, and can you please tell me what happened here tonight.” The officer sounds compassionate.
“My name . . . My name is Clarissa Fields. That man on the floor, he is my husband. I have tried for years to leave him. He was violent, and angry, and threatened to kill me all the time. I finally got away, but he found me. He tied me up, sexually assaulted me, and tried to kill me. Then he shot my boyfriend, Ryan.”
“Who stabbed him?” he asks.
I take a deep breath before I answer, because this still doesn’t feel real to me. “I did. Ryan came through the door, and Steven shot him. I had no other choice; he was going to kill me next,” I explain through the tears.
“Ok, I’m going to go talk to the other officers. Please sit down and try to relax.”
After being questioned for nearly an hour, I have explained everything to them. They found the restraining orders when I told them I was from California.
All I want to do is go see Rig, be with him, and let him know that I’m there. Finally getting the all clear to go, they have an officer take me to the hospital to Rig.
I’m told to wait in the waiting room because they have rushed him into emergency surgery to repair arteries and remove the bullet. The nurse says she’ll update me when they have news.
