Confidential

by Jack Parker

  Confidential

  A NOVEL

  by

  JACK PARKER

  AMAZON KINDLE EDITION

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY :

  Jack Parker

  Confidential

  This Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 by Jack parker

  Cover and internal design © 2012 by Jack Parker

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced, in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  *****

  DEDICATION

  For mom and my wife

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 1

  I really like to buy things. Boom. I want it, I pay for it, and I have it. It's mine. Not anyone else's. I get it. Instant gratification.

  Unless you buy it online, then it's not so instant. But who cares? I still get it. I still know its coming. I can still have it. It's still mine.

  Now life? Life is not like buying things. I want something, I "pay for it" do something to make it mine, whatever you want to call it. And what happens? Usually nothing. Usually my wants just become longings. No instant gratification there. More like a prolonged hurt. And sometimes a little self esteem killer. You're not good enough to get that. And the reasons you're not good enough? They could be infinite.

  But when buying something… like clothes? Not so much. The only reason you can't get something is because you don't have money. Clerks don't discriminate who buys what, as long as the cash is there.

  I mean, I could try on a shirt, and it could be totally tight, my muffin top oozing out of the bottom, and a sales person would lie to me, and tell me exactly what I want to hear, and I will buy it, because I like it, I may never wear it, but nothing and no one was stopping me from getting it.

  Shopping makes me feel better. It makes me feel… satisfied. When I go to school the next day, and I'm wearing something nice, a really kick ass pair of dark wash jeans I got over Christmas, some really hot underwear (hellloooo, knowing you have sexy underwear just makes you glow), wearing a unique, totally cool shirt that I know no one has because I got it in California? Mmmm. I love that feeling. I feel pretty. I feel special, different, wanted.

  And I know it. I can walk down a hall, and watch people look at me. And I know that look. There are different stares. But this one, the one where they can't not look, that's the best.

  And all those girls, that try too hard to look good, or attempt to not try and show everyone their "natural beauty", yeah, that's bull shit.

  Because it doesn't matter how long you take in the morning, or how little you take, it has to change everyday. Because each day is different. I will curl my hair, wave it, straighten it, crimp it, whatever; until I know it looks good. I'll do my makeup, or not, all depending on how I feel.

  See that's the key, that's what girls don't get. If you feel you look hot, you do. Some girl thinks she needs a little bit more, but no. Way over-kill. Once you go past that feeling, you just look like you tried to hard.

  And that's where we begin. Where I'm sitting next to this girl, who did the whole over-kill thing. She looked fake, make-up caked on, she laughed too hard, her nails too perfect.

  That's another thing, don't be too perfect, it makes you unrelatible. And if people can't relate, you'll be hated.

  This girl, Caroline, had a last name really close to mine. Caroline Vanders, where as I'm: Heidi Van Dauson. Anyways, Caroline was flirting with this guy, Chris, and was bugging me like you would not believe. I mean, really? You want to brag about how you went out and did all this and that? Wow. You're so cool. Someone, please, make me just like her. So I can go to all the parties she goes to, so I can meet all the people she meets.

  Seriously, if I had to hear a "oh I totally know what you mean! This one time…" once more I think I may pee myself. Here. In Algebra II/Trigg.

  And that's how my day started out. With Caroline Vanders and Chris what's-his-face, flirting so that in two weeks they could start having sex and not be called whores. But, about 5 seconds after Caroline let out a squeal and said, "I totally know what you mean! This one-"

  Our door burst open, and made a really loud, and I mean, my ears popped loud, noise and a teacher announced that we were gong into lock down.

  Ooo. Lock down? Nothing exciting happens in my life. Maybe a bank got robbed? That happened once when this girl on my track team's older sister was a sophomore. Sophomore? No. Senior. Maybe. One of the S's.

  Not long after the teacher informed us, we had an announcement. Everyone was to stay in the classrooms, lock the doors. Get as far away from the windows as possible. I hated my math class, it was like a prison, one reason: no windows. When going into a lock down, it suddenly became a place I actually didn't mind being in. No windows were good.

  My Algebra class sat in silence, for a good hour, before the school deemed it okay for us to return to class. That's right. You heard me. Our teachers decided to continue with school. Lockdown had everyone pretty excited. At lunch a million stories where flying around, and even my lunch group was hyped up about it. I had three of the best friends anyone could ask for. In a shallow, high school kind of way. I've had a "best" friend before, I just don't anymore. These girls, Katie, Lauren and Emma, that I sit with, we hang out all the time. To the whole school, we seem like the group of girls that are pretty, go out a lot, are really good friends, have boyfriends, whatever, typical life, well liked. People want to be friends with me and my friends, they invite us places, they like me… to a certain point, I guess. But who cares, really? As long as I'm happy. And cute boys make me happy, cloths make me happy, Lauren, Emma, and Katie make me happy.

  We don't need to have those deep conversations to be friends. I don't have to share any secrets. We know we have each other's backs. Why can't that be enough?

  My friendships some would call empty, I, however, don't see it that way. My family has had to move several times, (Dad's Business) and making substantial friends that I feel deep attachment to only leads to feelings of abandonment, (on their part) which just breaks up the relationship. So now I have friends, with the common interest of appearing to be the best of friends, but really, we just have each others good company.

  After a conversation at lunch over the lockdown, and what we were going to do this weekend, we head our separate ways, out to class.

  And trust me when I say I was the first out of my class at the end of school, bursting through the doors, finding my car, and quickly going home. I hate school. It just drags on and on and on. I pulled into my driveway, turning up the radio, and let out a long sigh. That always makes me feel better, more composed. I cut the engine after listening to some catchy song, and got out of the car, slamming it shut.

  I was so busy twiddling with my keys, attempting to find the one for the house, I didn't notice anything wrong. Until I looked up. I felt weird, like something was wrong. Somethi
ng wasn't right. I can't explain it. I even went back to the car to see if I forgot something, like my cell phone. But nope, it was all in my backpack and my purse had my wallet. I couldn't put my finger on it, and after a couple seconds of hesitation, I realized that this wrong feeling, it was bad. My muscles stiffened, and I looked to the side of house, and slowly crept to it, pushing on the door, it was locked.

  That brought a moment of relief. I was just being silly. Long day at school and all, probably still bothered from the lockdown thing. I unlocked the door, stepped in, and threw my stuff on the ground.

  Big mistake. When my bag landed it made a thunk type of noise. And my house seemed eerily still. I stopped moving, not even closing the door, and then movement picked up again. Upstairs, near my parents room.

  I am probably the dumbest human being ever. Do you know how you see a movie, and the character inches towards a door, down a really dark hallway, that is open just a tiny bit? And your watching the movie going "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" or "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?". I'm assuming you also think things like "I would never have done that, who would do that?" Um… Everybody would. And if you're ever in this position, I advise you not too, but you won't listen, you won't heed this advice, because the thought of not knowing what is going on, it will kill you. The thoughts and feelings you get that something isn't right, you have to prove them wrong, you need to prove them wrong. How else will you be able to enter your home? Your home, where it's supposed to be comforting, even safe.

  In fact, you will want to know so badly what's wrong that you're willing to risk just about anything to find out, including that safety. So I did what any stupid human would do, I went upstairs. I looked around for a weapon; I'm not too out of it. So I grabbed a pan from the kitchen. You know, one of those big metal ones.

  I have to admit, I wasn't sure what I was feeling. It was a mix of absolutely terrifying, body-numbing fear, to complete calmness. It was bizarre. I'm not one of those environmentalists or anything like that, but I had never felt so intune with the world before. All the sudden, I noticed things, saw things differently, more clearly.

  I successfully made it upstairs, and it was for sure that someone was here that shouldn't be here. They had deep, murmuring voices, that rumbled like some kind of thunder, clashing against each other when they argued. Which they did: a lot. As I came closer to the door of the bedroom, all I had to do was slip inside. At this point I was really jumpy, but when I saw three men in my parents bathroom, all I could do was freeze.

  Chapter 2

  I don't know how long I stood there- to me, it seemed like a really long time, but it was probably only seconds. A part of me wanted to run, sprint out the door, a part of me wanted to hit them all on the head, another wanted me to hide under the bed.

  All these choices, different things my brain was telling me to do. And what did I do? I stood there. My thoughts going a mile a minute, but at the same time, it was hard for me to register or believe it.

  I mean, what the hell are these people doing in my parents bathroom?

  That's when I decided it would probably be best to run. But I stood there too long, apparently, and when I turned to run, one of the men bolted after me, tackling me to the ground.

  The breath was completely knocked out of me. I mean, this guy was huge and so heavy. But my entire mind blanked. I couldn't even process what I was thinking, I was just squirming and rolling, trying to breathe, kicking and fighting until somehow I burst free, kicking him square in the face and I got up and ran forward only to smack right into another's chest. I fell back, and my head hit the ground, hard.

  The pain was everywhere, jolting though my forehead, and pounding at my temples. I tried to get up, but felt like someone was sitting on my chest, as I struggled to regain normal breathing. I tried rolling over to one side, before flopping on my back. I felt delusional, trying to focus on my surroundings began to be a struggle. Staring up at the man above me, all I could notice was he had pretty hair, blonde, and fluffy. The other guy seemed rude; the one that tackled me. I squinted at his small height, even with his obvious juiced up muscles, I couldn't help but wonder how he even took me down. He was shorter than I was.

  My eyes surveyed the room, searching for the other person, wondering what he was doing, why they were here. I tried moving again, but the ache in my head only intensified. My eyes started slipping, closing, but I forced them to stay open. I looked up, and saw…not a man, like I assumed, but a redheaded woman.

  "Mick?" the fluffy blonde one asked

  "Hmmm?" The women replied turning from looking at me to looking at him.

  I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, I felt my whole body slipping… slipping away.

  "What should we do with her?" His voice sounded like any mans, deep, throaty.

  "She's bleeding." A higher voice said. I would laugh if I could. It had to be the short mans. "We could take her and dump her body somewhere."

  The blond fluffy man hit him, "She's not dead you idiot."

  "She's just out of it." The woman's voice was strong, and clear. Very commanding.

  "We could get rid of her if you needed us too." The higher voice suggested.

  There was silence. I saw the woman turn slowly, rather menacingly "And why," she gritted, "Would we want a murder? So the police will look more closely than they are already?"

  "Take her and throw her in the ally." Her voice regained its calm, commanding manner. I could hear someone stepping over me, "Make it look like she was jumped on her way home."

  Have you ever gone into a deep sleep, but woken up randomly, in a haze? That's what I felt like. I felt heavy, and slipped in and out of consciousness. I could hear the car rumble, and hear random things like the blinker before a turn, and switching gears from park to drive, or drive to park, but my sleepiness had began to wear off, and my mind wasn't as hazy. I could hear their voices, and I began to open my eyes, now fully awake, only to get punched in the nose and shoved back. I hit the ground, landing on my back. The force hurt so much, I couldn't help but start crying, and rolling over, tasting blood, fully flowing into my mouth. It felt like shock waves through my nose and into my brain, my eyes watering, the pain like a sting.

  Spitting out blood, I tried to get up before looking up just in time to see the short, muscular man kick me in my stomach. My breath left for a moment, causing a surge of panic I've never experienced before. It felt like dying.

  I screamed when one of them grabbed me by the hair and wrenched it back, making my scalp feel like it was on fire, I got slapped across the face, forcing me to fall on the ground. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and went to stand up, to make a run for it, but I was grabbed by the arm and yanked back, only to be hit across my temple. My eyes could only see white, before being surrounded by black.

  I caught my breath, and heard a smack of a door being kicked opened, and a voice yell, "Hey! Get away from there!"

  The men looked up and one came up behind me, dragging me by my arms, his hands yanking at my sockets. He pulled me fast, and I felt the gravel scratch against my legs, before being rolled behind some tree.

  "Do you think that's good?" One of them ask.

  "Yeah. We better get out of here anyway."

  I just laid there. My head hurt. I couldn't think right, I couldn't think straight. I ached all over; I saw them quickly move around me, stepping over me like I was some type of insignificant trash. Weak. That's what I was; I couldn't even stop them, what if they wanted something more? I wouldn't have been able to do anything. I started crying, tears stinging the cuts at the side of my face. I looked up at the sky.

  How long would I stay here? I couldn't move, not now.

  After a couple minutes of contemplation, I realized I wasn't going to lie in some ally, waiting for them to come back, or have some other creep find me. I ended up thinking about it so much, I was terrified all over again, I even forgot about the pain, at least a little bit. I dragged up, and used my arms, which were unsteady and unstable, stan
ding up, I walked towards the end of the ally, towards a street. Ironically, I realized I knew where I was. Pretty close to my house, just about 15 minutes away. Close to my school too.

  The alleyways where behind buildings, some restaurants, where they threw their trash out, other random businesses, like a nail salon, pet groomers, any type of store. I saw the back of a laundry mat my family uses. A guy was looking around and turned to go back inside, the slam of the door very familiar to the one I heard earlier.

  I opened my mouth to speak, my lips pulling apart, dried together from blood. I croaked out some pathetic noise. I coughed; the shaking hurt my whole body. I tried again, a moaning noise escaping my lips.

  No one could hear me, no one would see me, I would have to walk all the way home, it would get dark soon… and then someone else would have to find me.

  I felt an arm on my shoulder, and I screamed as loud as I could, trying to run but arms clasped around my waist.

  "Shhhhh." I heard from behind me "Its okay, I didn't mean to scare you,"

  I kept screaming, then started crying, the arms released me, and I saw the guy from the laundry mat. His eyes were scared. Not like the other ones. The ones that could kick and hit me, his were brown, with laugh lines at the side.

  "I called the police." He said, afraid to touch me, afraid to even look at me. "Are-are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

  I opened my mouth only to let a pathetic noise come forth. I couldn't hold it in anymore; I just started crying, and held on to this guy's shirt. No one would hurt me if I weren't alone right? He wouldn't leave me here. I could tell by his face.

  This poor guy. I think I might have scared him. But I wasn't letting go. I stayed with him while he led me to the back room of the laundry mat.