Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,14
use the bathroom before I go in?” I offer.
“No, I’m good thanks. Food will be here in about thirty minutes,” he says.
“So are there any other clothes than the ones I got on?”
“Yes, there are. Here, I hope something in here works for you.” He hands me a black duffle bag.
“Thanks.” I take the bag and lock the bathroom door behind me.
I start the water, grab some of the bubble bath provided by the hotel, and empty the contents in the water. I soak till my fingers are waterlogged, trying to think about nothing at all, and it feels fantastic. I’m not even thinking about Steven barging in ruining my night. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe. I know there still is a lot to be concerned about, and we aren’t out of the woods, but I will take this moment and live in it.
A knock on the door tells me the food is here, so I get out of the tub and wrap the plush white towel around me. Walking over to the fogged up mirror, I wipe at it and see someone who resembles me staring back. No bruises to try and hide, and there is a tiny spark of life in my eyes.
I dig out some clothes I would never choose for myself, but gladly put them on. It’s not something to be picky over. It’s just a plain pair of sweats, and a solid gray tee shirt. A big robe hangs on the back of the door, I grab it and wrap it around myself over my clothes.
Rig hands me a plate as I enter. “Here’s yours. I got us some club sandwiches and fries, nothing fancy.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
I grab the remote and hit power on the TV. The high I’m on shatters. The news reporter drones on about a missing woman, and she’s talking about me. I thought being far away from California would hide me a little better, but this just shows me how much power Steven has, and how far he will go to find me.
They ask Steven lots of questions. They are playing it as if he’s the torn up husband: brokenhearted, concerned something horrible has happened to me, and begging for me to come home. It’s funny how well he is playing the part, his hair is not done, and he isn’t wearing his typical suits. He really is acting here.
“Clarissa went to a meeting and never came home, our whole family is terrified that she was set up, robbed, or worse.” He lies to the reporter, as I listen to the report.
We are working together, searching for clues and urging if anybody has any information to please call the tip line and let them know anything.”
Shivers run down my body as I think of all the manpower and resources he’s using to find me. He must think I am really gone, but I don’t underestimate that this is all a front to track me down.
I nervously look over to Rig, who is watching the TV and speed typing on his phone.
“What do I do? They’re going to find me,” I say, defeated.
“They aren’t. We just have to be more careful than we have been. You aren’t Clarissa anymore, you are Parker now,” he demands.
I cover my food back up not having the stomach for it now.
“I think I’m just going to go to sleep now. I’m tired.”
“Don’t let this discourage you, this happens all the time. You are free. Stop worrying about Clarissa, because she doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I know. I just need to go to bed. I wish I never put that TV on,” I mumble. “Thanks for the food, sorry I wasted it.” I get up to close up the container and get it off my bed, my hands are shaking, and I knock the food on the floor.
Bending down to clean it up, I pause for a second staring at the mess I’d normally rush to clean up before Steven would notice. Rig gets up, and crouches down to help pick it up, but I stop him.
“Please don’t, I’ve got it.” I hold up my hand stopping him, I’m not use to someone helping me clean up, especially it being my mess.
“Let me help you, it’s ok.” He stresses.
“Thank you, but I got it.” I put my foot down, something I haven’t done in a long time, but it feels good.
Once I clean up the mess, turn off the light by my