Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,72
a thump-thump that makes my skin crawl. Opening the door slowly, I see the bird feeder I hung last week banging against the wall. A long, slow exhale parts my lips. I close the door and lock it up, walking around to all the windows to make sure they’re locked too. A few steps down the hall, a chill runs down my arms, sending goose bumps crawling over my whole body.
My brain is screaming at me something is wrong. I scurry to call Andrew, but when I get back to my room my phone is gone. I swear I plugged it in next to my bed. Panic takes over, and I run to the kitchen to grab a knife. Somebody’s in my house messing with me.
My fingers curl around the cold hilt as I creep slowly into the dark living room. I go to turn on a lamp, but before I reach the switch, a hand stops me.
“Your little light won’t reveal anything you don’t already know.” Steven’s voice slithers through the dark room, and my heart stops.
“Before you even try to scream or run, I must warn you: you have no neighbors, nobody will hear you, and it will just irritate me more than I already am.” Shadows play on his tight face.
My brain tells me to run as fast as I can out of this house, but my legs are frozen in place. I slowly slip the knife in the waistband of my sweats, making as little movement as possible.
“How did you find me?” I whisper.
“You know I have my ways, plus it wasn’t that hard. I’ve been following you for some time, waiting for the right time to surprise you. A new year and a new start sounded pretty reasonable to me.”
“I’m no longer yours to intimidate. There isn’t anything you can do that will make me come back to you. You might as well just leave.” My voice sounds harsh.
“You’ll always be mine, you know that. I told you what would happen if you ever tried to leave again,” His words bitter. “I’m still trying to decide if you’re more valuable dead or alive.”
My nerves tangle together, but I’m fighting hard to stay calm. Panicking will only make him angrier. Trying to focus on my breathing isn’t working and I feel the panic attack coming on.
His chair creaks out a warning as he lifts. I can feel him moving closer to me, so close my breath bounces off his face and back to me.
“Clarissa, Clarissa, Clarissa.” He drags the last word out. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come and collect what was mine?” He slides a finger up my arm.
I’m shaking, on the verge of throwing up or passing out, whichever one comes first. The liquor that oozes from his breath when he speaks alerts me this could go south way faster than I think.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
“Tell you what I want! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fillet you like a fish. Huh? How about if I do that, Clarissa? Or is it Parker these days?” he says it like it’s coated in acid.
Think. What can I say to him?
“You won’t get away with it. People know about you and will tell the police about what you’ve put me through. So either way, you will be digging your own grave. They’ll find you.”
“You don’t think I have an alibi? That’s the least of my worries. I’ve been practicing my little speech for the moment the cops come to me with the news of your death. Believe me, I’ve had a lot of time. It’s very boring just sitting idle, waiting for the time to come see you,” he spits. “Turn on the light,” he demands. “Have a seat in this chair I have all set up for you here.”
I turn on the light and shield my eyes till they adjust to the brightness, delaying the moment I have to see his face again. When I finally look up, it’s the same Steven I’m used to seeing—still in his suit, nothing out of place—but the anger is more apparent.
“Sit down!” One of my kitchen chairs now sits in the middle of the room, next to is a roll of duct tape. “Let me tell you all about my little trip across the fucking country.”
Once I sit, he bends down and starts to tape my legs to the chair.
“This isn’t necessary, I’m not going anywhere,” I say, voice shaky, but trying