Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,40
in the glove box.”
I open it up and move papers around, searching for a blank piece. While digging around, my hand collides with a cold piece of metal, and I push a paper back, seeing a handgun. I’m not a naive person, and I know it’s for protection, but I’m not a fan of guns. Even more so since Steven. It makes me wonder if Rig truly thinks he’ll have to use this at some point, or if he is just the kind of person who needs to feel protected at all times. I push the paper back over it, not wanting him to know how uncomfortable this makes me. After finding a pen and paper, I close the glove box, trying to get the image of the gun out of my head.
Rig looks over at me. “What’s going on, I thought we were having fun? I thought you were going to show me what a bad-ass you were and try and beat me at the game?”
“Oh, I’ll beat you at the game. Nothing is going on. Just tired from getting up early.” I lie.
“You do know that you’re a really shitty liar, and I can tell when something is up, right? You get super quiet. You go from one extreme to the other.”
“I don’t like guns,” I say bluntly.
“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t really think you wouldn’t be comfortable with it. It’s something I keep so I know we are truly safe.”
“No, really, it’s fine. I understand. Just not a fan of them. I guess when one has been held to your head on more than one occasion, you start to not like the sight of them.” I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
“I will make sure you don’t see it. I promise.”
“Punch buggy!” I punch Rig softly in the arm, and he pretends it hurt him.
“I’m pretty sure I said it was punch bug, not this girly punch buggy you just yelled out.” He chuckles, which only makes me laugh at myself.
It feels good to laugh with him, knowing that lately I’ve been so hard on myself, always overthinking things. Sometimes I forget to be thankful and appreciative of the situation I’m currently in. It’s hard to take a step back when the most random things trigger visions of how horrid my life was, how close to the end I was. Who knows how much longer I would have stayed alive. Would he have followed through, or would I eventually just have given up and let the misery cloud my judgment?
“Alright, punch bug. I’ll get it right next time.” I grin.
“If there is one. I’m not going to let you get another one on me. You might as well just write winner under my name and save yourself a lot of time there,” he says, patting himself on the back.
“Who needs to save time? As of right now, that’s all we have till we get to the next place.” I point out.
“True.” Rig nods. “I’m starting to get a little hungry, what about you?”
“Just a little, maybe in a while. How long will this drive be?”
“It’s going to be a while, but nothing like our last one. We should be arriving at the new place tomorrow night, so just enjoy the drive,” he says, and I wonder why he loves always being on the go.
I can’t stand this distance I have had to deal with since being with Steven, hardly ever seeing my parents. I don’t understand how they put up with it, and how they haven’t felt anything was wrong. Even though they live out of state, we talked all the time while I was in college, never went too many days without hearing from them. What they are thinking? Did they think I was mentally unstable to just disappear, or did they even have a clue as to what could have possibly been going on? I’m not too keen on that whole mother’s intuition, but I always hoped that they would come save me.
“Do you think I’ll ever see my parents again, or talk to them? Or did I just silently say goodbye to them?” I ask, wanting to know how this will all play out in the end.
“Honestly? It really depends on a lot of things. Most people don’t ever get a chance to see their family again. Most don’t talk to them in fear of the abuser going after them. They try to stay away and keep their family