Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,27
there’s something good that will assist in my boredom. I’m not normally a drinker, but I just need it to ease my own thoughts. It’s fully stocked. I grab a mini vodka, which is sure to cost a lot of money. I take a whiff, and it singes my nose. Sure that this is just what I need, I toss the contents back, welcoming the burning feeling. I quickly grab my drink on the nightstand and chase the vodka with it. Warmth floods my stomach and I start to feel comfortable, so I figure having one more won’t hurt. I shoot another one back quickly, and thankfully this one doesn’t burn as much as the last.
I walk over to the window and stare intently out at the city below, watching cars and people move along carefree, going about their lives. I wish I could be out there with them, walking around exploring. Once I’ve had enough torture, I walk away from the window, and my foot catches on the oversized comforter. I trip and fall flat on the floor with a loud thud. With my inebriated state, I start to laugh uncontrollably, waking up Rig.
He pops up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m A-O-Fucking-K.” My words slur.
His eyes cut to the empty bottles on the side of the bed. “Are you drunk?” he asks, his voice laced with irritation.
“Me? No, no. I’m not drunk, buzzed might be a better word. I didn’t mean to wake you, I tripped on the blanket.” I get up from the floor, stumbling a little. The liquor is really starting to set in, and my head is a little fuzzy. It feels fantastic. I don’t care what he has to say. I’m not a child, and I definitely don’t need to be told what I can and can’t do.
“That really isn’t the best thing to be doing. What if we have to leave quickly? I can’t have you not being able to function in a crisis situation,” he explains.
“I can function just fine, watch.” I walk over to the mini fridge, grabbing an amber colored liquid, and quickly drink it up. I cough and cringe as soon as I taste it. Not as easy to go down as the vodka, but I’m trying to make a point here.
“That wasn’t what I was talking about.” He shakes his head, keeping his eyes down at the bed.
“Maybe you want to have a drink and lighten up. I’ve slept all day and most of the ride here. I can’t sleep and I’m bored.”
“Well, this isn’t a fun vacation, and I’m not here to worry about your entertainment. Sorry, can’t help you there, and I don’t drink while I work.”
“Aren’t you just a party pooper? Suit yourself, you can go back to bed now. I promise not to wake you again.” I stumble to my bed, grabbing the empty bottles and tossing them one by one into the trash can, like I’m playing basketball.
“I can’t go back to bed once I’m up,” Rig grumbles. “So what has been your drink of choice tonight?” He sits up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and running his hands over his face.
“I went with the vodka, then when I finished those off, I drank some of that awful whiskey. It was horrid, but it did the trick.” I flop onto the bed, my feet dangling over the edge.
“What trick was that?” he asks seriously.
“The I don’t give a shit trick. I’m just trying to feel normal for a moment, have a little fun, and forget about everything. No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about the dreadful things he has done to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that my judgment is so far off that I actually thought this was the man I was going to spend my life with. You know, I would look at myself in the mirror every day, searching for the thing I did to make him treat me like this. I still do it.”
“Well, you’re never going to find it, because it doesn’t exist.” It’s sweet, but I can’t believe it.
“You know, things were great for a while, well, before I knew what he was really doing. If you would’ve asked me back then if I was scared my husband would ever hurt me, the answer would have been: no way in hell. It’s like something snapped in his head, and he woke up completely different one day, I always thought it was my fault,