Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,76

have to talk to him, you have to get him to open his eyes. My son . . . I can’t lose him. He is the only one we have left. Talk to him, Parker!” he yells.

“Rig. Rig!” I hold his face. “Wake up, you have to hold on. I’m so sorry. Please wake up. I love you. Don’t leave me, Rig!” I get nothing.

Suddenly police are running through my door, and there are people everywhere.

“Ma’am, you need to back up. Are you hurt?” an office asks, crouching down to Rig and Steven. He calls for an ambulance on his radio.

It feels like forever until the ambulance gets here, this is a horror movie, playing out in my head. I can’t focus, and the police officer is trying to ask me questions. His words blur together as if we’re in a fog.

The paramedics come through the door with a stretcher and start to work on Rig. I try to watch what they are doing, hoping for a sign, anything to show that they are helping him.

They check his neck for a pulse. Why isn’t he responding?

An officer shields me from him while they work. “Let them do their job, miss.”

Another one puts his hand on my shoulder. “We need to ask you some questions, and they need to try and help him. Can we go into the kitchen?” the officer asks. Just as I stand up, the monitor beeps, and they put an oxygen mask over his face.

“He’s alive!” I grab his hand, never wanting to let go. But the officer pulls me away from him. I push off, fighting to stay next to Rig.

“They need to get him to the hospital, and you need to back up so they can do their job and help him,” he demands, and I let him drag me away, stepping on the wig I didn’t fully realize was no longer on my head, I stomp on it, letting that piece of Parker go for good.

They get him on the stretcher and rush him out of the house. My eyes fall on Steven’s lifeless body, and I have no remorse whatsoever. I’m filled with anger, sadness, and fear—fear that this isn’t the end, and that his people will still come after me.

“What is your name, and can you please tell me what happened here tonight.” The officer sounds compassionate.

“My name . . . My name is Clarissa Fields. That man on the floor, he is my husband. I have tried for years to leave him. He was violent, and angry, and threatened to kill me all the time. I finally got away, but he found me. He tied me up, sexually assaulted me, and tried to kill me. Then he shot my boyfriend, Ryan.”

“Who stabbed him?” he asks.

I take a deep breath before I answer, because this still doesn’t feel real to me. “I did. Ryan came through the door, and Steven shot him. I had no other choice; he was going to kill me next,” I explain through the tears.

“Ok, I’m going to go talk to the other officers. Please sit down and try to relax.”

After being questioned for nearly an hour, I have explained everything to them. They found the restraining orders when I told them I was from California.

All I want to do is go see Rig, be with him, and let him know that I’m there. Finally getting the all clear to go, they have an officer take me to the hospital to Rig.

I’m told to wait in the waiting room because they have rushed him into emergency surgery to repair arteries and remove the bullet. The nurse says she’ll update me when they have news.

Grabbing my phone, I dial my parent’s phone number, listening to it ring, hoping they answer knowing how late it is. “Hello.” My mom answers groggy.

“Mom, it’s me.” It’s all I can manage to get out before my sobs make it unable to talk.

I fall asleep on the chair in the waiting room, and when I wake up it’s already past 7am. Footfalls echo on the linoleum floor and I look up, thinking the nurse or doctor is finally there with an update. But it’s Andrew and Mary, sadness plastered all over their faces.

“I’m so sorry, Andrew. I wanted to get away, but everything happened so fast. I didn’t even know Rig was in town.” I feel completely responsible for this situation.

“Parker, this is in no way, shape or form your fault. I thought we