Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,2

the door to click open so I can get this over with.

Time drags for what seems forever, and I wait. Sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through a magazine, trying to keep myself awake. It’s getting late, and I’m barely able to hold my eyes open any longer. I sit back with my head against the pillow, thinking of things I can do to get out of this life. My eyelids flutter closed and I eventually doze off.

The front door slams shut, jolting me out of my sleep, followed by a slew of curse words. I quickly sit up, hoping I don’t look like I was sleeping, and attempt to not shake, but fear wins out this time. I’m trembling, wondering what has happened, not because I care, but because whatever did, just sealed my fate for the night.

He comes barreling through the bedroom door and stands there staring at me. This is going to be a sparring match once again. Those usually consist of me ducking or dodging many swings until he finally connects, leaving me dazed and unable to protect myself.

Flashes of my living nightmare start playing in my head, which makes the monster in him stand out even clearer.

Fighting for my life was something I never imagined I would be doing daily. I wish every day my parents lived out here. They are the kind of people who would drop by unannounced. Maybe, just maybe, they would be able to help me, but it’s to the point where I am in so deep, there is nothing they would be able to do. I refuse to tell them, fearing that dragging them in would only make things worse, and dangerous for them. I know my phones are tapped, so there’s no way now for me to tell them carefully.

I’ve waited too long.

The system infuriates me; the laws that are supposed to keep me safe and free have kept me captive, fighting to stay alive.

I have always been a strong individual: graduated a year early, moved out and went to college halfway across the country all on my own, providing for myself. I haven’t had to ask my parents for money since I started my first company.

The random times I do get to talk to them, they tell me how proud of me they are, and the shame I feel is just as bad as the way I am living. The lies start to overlap and I forget what I have told them, as my mind is never fully in the conversation. All they seem to want to know is when we’re going to give them grandkids, the thought of that now makes me sick to my stomach.

“Are you even listening to me?” Steven snaps at me, startling me from my thoughts.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I say, hoping I won’t get asked what he just said, because I didn’t hear a damn word.

“This is exactly your problem right here: You’re so wrapped up in your own head that you forget when people are talking to you. You’re lucky I married you, because nobody else would put up with this crap,” he spits, his tone getting angrier with each word.

“I said I was sorry. It won’t happen again.” I try to stay calm.

“You know what? Go to bed. I don’t want to talk to you right now, and I certainly don’t want to touch you.” He storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He has these fits a lot, so by now I shouldn’t jump when the door slams, but old habits don’t die. I don’t think I will ever get used to it, the second he leaves the room, my muscles relax a bit.

I get as comfortable as I can with my nerves on edge, counting backwards to lull myself back to sleep. It’s proving difficult as all I can do is wait for him to come barreling through the door again, looking for a living punching bag.

After a while I finally relax a bit and drift off, knowing this day is over. I’m one day closer to getting out of here.

After breakfast and cleanup, I finally get a chance to sit down at my desk and see what I have to get going on today. Working from home is a blessing and a curse all rolled into one. I get to avoid the stares of people as I try to hide my many injuries, but sometimes I wish someone would know, report this, help me,