Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,19

doing circle after circle around the couch, a noise startles me. Rig is standing there watching me. I have no clue how long he has been there, or how long I’ve been going at this, because I have been consumed by my own demons.

“Are you okay?” he asks, not making a move toward me.

“Yeah, just needed to walk a bit,” I say breathlessly. I bend over, trying to regulate my labored breaths.

My hands shake as I place them on my knees to steady myself. I didn’t realize while I gave Andrew all of my belongings, my anti-anxiety meds were in my purse. So there is really nothing I can do at this point other than try to fight them myself.

“You’re shaking. Did something happen?” Concern is etched in his eyes.

“I married the devil. That’s what happened,” I say, matter-of-factly.

“I don’t understand. Here sit down, talk to me.” He takes a seat on the couch, patting the spot next to him.

What he doesn’t know is, I can’t sit down, I can’t be still. If I do, I’ll have to keep remembering. I need to keep moving while this adrenaline pumps through me. I’ve always thought moving will get it out of me faster.

I don’t want to remember.

“I can’t stop; I just have to keep moving. Right about now would be a great time for all that work you talked about.”

“You might be starting to scare me a bit.”

“What, you’ve never seen someone having a panic attack in all your years of hiding terrified women and children? Don’t tell me this a first for you.” Sarcasm drips from my voice.

“Honestly? No. Can I help in any way?”

I continue to pace like a caged animal, my hands fiddling in front of me. “Yes, yes, you can. Why don’t you tell me about Alice, how she acts like she has known you forever?”

He lets out a huge sigh. “I don’t really see why this would help.”

“If I’m staying here, I think I have a right to know, and don’t use that the less you know bullshit on me.” I look him square in the eyes, showing him how serious I am.

“OK, just remember you wanted to know. Alice and James were never able to have children. They were always active in the church, great people who always helped others, even if it left them without. They finally accepted the fact they would never have a child of their own, and they moved on. Well into their forties, they noticed a teen who was always sitting in the back of church, with torn, old clothes, no shoes, always at the food bank starving, with no home to go to. They knew they had to take him in. He was thirteen at the time. Things were great for a while: he got on track, went to school, and they were getting closer to him every day.” He pauses and looks at me.

“He joined the wrestling team, and started doing really well. It got him a partial scholarship to a college, and off he went. Well, when he realized it was a whole different story doing it in college, he turned to steroids; not very often at first, but after a while, it got really out of hand. But he couldn’t get big enough. He was eventually thrown off the team for not passing the drug tests. He quit steroids, or so we thought, and went off working, building a life far away from the only family he knew. Life still wasn’t good enough for him. He lost control and started doing steroids again, just because he wasn’t happy with himself. He was already married to my sister when the steroid rages started taking over, and she hid it from us for a long time. When she finally told my parents, it was too late.” He closes his eyes and leans back on the couch with his hands tightly laced together on top of his head.

I feel horrible for pushing, for making him relive this again all because I was tired of reliving my nightmare.

“I’m so sorry,” I say sincerely.

“When he was arrested, he called Alice and James, and that’s when they reached out to us. We don’t blame them; there is nothing they could have done. They did everything they could to express their remorse to us. It wasn’t their fault, and as time went on, we asked them if they wanted to help other victims like we were, since they lived on the outskirts of