Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele

Acknowledgements

As I lie here, clutching my side, the blood trickles down my chin, dripping onto the cold slate floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I try to figure out how my life got this way. What I have done so horribly wrong to be living in hell.

Fresh tears blur my vision while I listen, making sure the monster I once thought was my loving husband has left. In the moment everything went wrong, I could barely hear anything above the sound of my ribs cracking. The ringing in my left ear is starting to subside, but I’m still unsure if it’s safe to get up.

I have to clean this blood off the floor before it dries. Tidy house, first and foremost, or he’ll just get angrier.

I have to figure out how to leave, get as far away as possible. This time, it has to be more carefully planned. I need to disappear, but faking my own death won’t work.

He always finds me.

I’m Clarissa Ava Fields, one of the biggest Internet moguls in the United States. I start web-based companies, grow them until they are large enough to sell, then turn a big profit. The businesses are not what I want, but I’m good at it.

Spending most of the day on the computer, I’m able to spare some time to make an important video call that needs to be done.

I have a whole routine of things I have to do before I actually can connect the call. This consists of deactivating the IP address tracker for the other caller and myself. Since I am sure this house is completely bugged with voice recorders, I wear my headphones so only I can hear. I also play music as loud as I can without being suspicious, trying to drown out my words.

The call is to figure out what steps I need to take in order for me to finally break free. I can’t go to a meeting anywhere because I know my phone GPS is tracked, and the last thing I want to do is bring more risk to an already risky place.

I wait for the call to connect. My legs are shaky, and my fingers hover over the button to disconnect. Holding out because I know there is nothing I can do without the help from someone who knows what they are doing.

The call connects, and I suddenly feel extremely shy, and want to hide.

“Hi, Clarissa. My name is Susanne, are you alone?” she asks.

“I am, thank you for taking my call. I don’t know where to start, but I’m sure you are the person I need to talk to,” I say in a hushed voice.

“I’ve been told about your situation from Jason, who referred you to call me. If it’s as bad as he has told me, you really can’t spare much time. I’m aware that you have already filed multiple restraining orders?” she asks, writing things down on a notepad in front of her.

“I have, several of them. They do nothing; they are just pieces of paper. What do I need to do to get out of here? Every time has been unsuccessful. They always find me.” I keep my voice down.

“They, who are they?”

“Well, Steven, and his goons.”

“Ok, so you’re not only concerned about him finding you, but others too? Do these people have names?” She continues to write every time I say something.

“I’m sure they do, I just don’t know what they are.”

“Ok, I’m going to give you a number to call. You need to call as soon as possible. They will know what the next best step is for you. I’m going to inform them now about your call, and hopefully this will be the next and last step for you.”

“That’s it?” My stomach clenches. “You aren’t going to be able to help me?”

“I’m just here to figure out what needs to be done, and you need to call that number. I wish you luck, Clarissa. Bye.” And she abruptly ends the call.

I’m left feeling confused and hopeless.

After the call it takes me a moment to snap out of it, I see it’s 9:15. I have to start my daily chores around the house. My checklist is completely etched into my brain so nothing is missed. Everything has to be done a certain way. Even the cleaning solution has to be lemon scented. I once tried to substitute with a citrus scent. That was met with a blow to side of my face and a warning never to mess that up again as I