Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,39
It’s going to be hard since I have had everything set up for me. This amazing group of people have gone above and beyond to help me out, so I wouldn’t have to worry about anything at the moment other than being free. Free. That’s a word I use loosely, because I truly believe I will never fully be free from Steven’s grip. Everything I do will forever be closely constructed around hiding and not drawing attention to myself, hoping he will never find me.
I was raised to stand out and never be a follower, make my mark and let everyone else follow me. I never thought it would be the other way around, but that’s the life I’ve been living. But maybe it’s the best thing for me, I already know what to do, follow directs, and be somebody else.
If I just went with the flow of things instead of always protesting tiny stupid things, maybe I wouldn’t be here today. What could have possibly changed in my life to not be at, for what I call, the wrong place at the wrong time? Was this all in the plan for me? Is this something that will make me stronger, or ultimately break me, leaving me a fragment of someone I used to be?
Rig comes into the room with his bags, pulling me out of my own dark hell. Living with my thoughts is the hardest part. Having good days where I feel untouchable, and others I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.
“Ready?” he asks, watching the torment play out on my face.
“Yeah, I guess. Let’s go.” I snatch my bags, looking around at my own little safe place, sad to say goodbye.
“Are you going to sit up front with me this time?” he asks on our way to the car.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” I ask.
“Oh, you know. The ride here wasn’t very pleasant. You sat in the back, moping. Not this time. Let’s just try to make the best of this drive, okay?” he says with a wink, only the most confusing winks ever.
Sometimes I think he is bi-polar when his moods change in a split second. He likes me, he hates me, he wishes we could be together, he wants nothing to do with me. I’m so damn confused. I swear he knows how good he is at playing these mind games, and enjoys doing this to me. Maybe I’m not as good at reading people as I thought, and that’s how I ended up completely clueless about Steven. I forget about all these thoughts, especially since they have the power to set me back if I think too long.
We are on the road again, driving on roads that are bare and empty, with an occasional cow here and there. Once we get into a little more populated area, just cruising along, he suddenly blurts out, “Punch bug” and taps me on the arm.
“Wait, what?” I ask, not knowing what the hell is going on.
“Tell me you never played punch bug?” He looks at me like I’m an alien.
“Um . . . would I have asked if I have?”
“Ok, so when you see this certain car, you yell it out, and you hit my arm. You have to shout it out the second you see it,” he says, a little too enthusiastically. But I go along with it, because I don’t want that grin to leave his face.
“Yes, I know the car. Ok, but wait, just old ones or the new ones also?”
“”It’s usually the old ones, but because you are a beginner, you can do both. I’ll just do the older models. Seems fair, right?”
“I don’t need an advantage. I don’t need like a head start or something. I’m capable of playing the game by the rules,” I state.
“Haven’t gotten that feeling from you lately, but ok. Cool. No newer models,” he says.
I’m taken aback for a second. Rules, what rules have I not followed other than my minor mess up with the phone? “What do you mean? I’ve followed every rule or instruction that has been given to me.”
“Really? If you think you have, then I must be mistaken. Let’s just play the game, or I can start singing about bottles of beer on the wall,” he teases.
“Fine, you’re on. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen in this car?” I ask, wanting to take score so I can rub it in his face later.
“Yeah, there should be one