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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
I stand at the edge of the ocean in khakis rolled up half way up my shins with a long sleeve sky-blue shirt. I'm watching the waves smack at the shore and rush over my bare feet as if they need to be somewhere. As if they were being chased. The waves remind me that the world goes on, sometimes peacefully, and sometimes roughly. Life goes on, even if you are being hunted and sought after everywhere you turn.
Here's the why, I'm a genius, prodigy, specifically a Pretender. I become different people to simulate the outcome of various situations. After over 30 years of inprisonment and simming for The Centre I realized that my SIM's were being used to do the opposite of what I had initially believed. So many innocent people were being killed from my abused simulations and discoveries. I escaped, leaving everything and nothing behind me. Now I am running from The Centre for my freedom. They think I'm their property and that they own me; it's sickening. People thinking they can keep a human on a chain, like a dog. I'm the dog performing tricks for my master. When I disobey, I pay. Running away is the worst thing I could have done for them, the best for me. Now, I just have to find out who I am.
I have a human bloodhound on my trail. She goes by the name of Miss Parker. She used to be the sun I revolved around, the one who brought me happiness, even in the dark, frigid, dreary walls of The Centre. My best friend was my window to the outside world. Then, her mother, Catherine Parker a wonderful person, was murdered. Parker was sent away to boarding school by her father, and when she came back she was no longer the sweet innocent little girl that had given me my first kiss, but simply her father's daughter of stone.
Now she is the Ice Queen hot on my trail, trying to recapture me. Parker has a deal with her father, Chairman of The Centre. She has to bring me back, and she can leave the Centre. She was naive enough to believe him. But I know that he will never let her go.
She believes that she still loves him, even after what he's done to her. The web of lies she's trapped in were all created by him to turn into the hateful pained woman she is now. Though many overlook her pain, I understand that she has feelings, she just can't show them. She'd kill me if she knew I thought that. She carries more pain than anyone I've ever known. And she hides it all just the same.
She doesn't work alone to find me, though. A team of three work to find me. My mentor, protector, and "father", Sydney, is a third of that team. His part is to find my "emotional" meaning in the clues I leave for them. Broots is the technical worker. Miss. Parker's personal computer geek. I have worked with him twice and he's a bit of a coward, but he's just another innocent corrupted by The Centre. Besides that, he also enjoys Pop-tarts. Parker is the leader with a 9 mm Smith and Wesson. She'd never shoot me, I know that and deep down so does she.
I realize the time. It is 2 in the morning, time for Parker's wakeup call. I push speed-dial number 1 (Syd's dropped down to number 2. He's not nearly as fun to bother since he enjoys my calls), and wait for her to pick up.
"What, Jarod?" she half screams, half growls into the phone. She knows that only I would call at 2 am. Anyone else would rather perform their own root canal than face Miss Parker in a bad mood. Or well, face Miss Parker.
"Do you ever watch the waves of the ocean, Miss. Parker?," I inquire as a reply. My questions now serve as a greeting as well.
"No Jarod. I live next to the ocean, but never felt the urge to look at it. I've yet to see it." she replies in full Parker mode.
"I didn't say 'look at the waves'. I said 'watch the waves'. There is a difference."
"I'm on pins and needles over here." Her voice is tired and menacing at the same time.
"The waves seem to replicate our lives, Parker. Choppy and dangerous most times, but silent and still other times. Somehow, you know that when they are silent, they are only planning their next move." I reply matter-of-factly.
"And who, Jarod, is they?"
"Now Parker, I know I'm supposed to be the genius, but you're not that naive."
"Ah, of course, what every problem is caused by, what every suicidal lunatic jumps for, what every cat up a tree hides form, and what every snack machine resists your dollar for, The Centre. Is there a point to this Jarod?"
I sigh, "What did we do to deserve the fate we've gotten?" I purposfully avoid answering her question, because there really isn't a point. We both know that.
"Maybe Lady Luck just has a different agenda for us."
"Lady who?" I don't believe I've met this woman. "Does she work at the Centre?" I hear her stifle a laugh, mere miles away.
"No Jarod. It's a figure of speech ok. Lady Lu- never mind. Maybe we're not lucky."
"You shouldn't have to be lucky to have some happiness." I still wonder who this woman is, but I drop the subject. We stay silent for a moment, both answering my question in our own minds. Finally I speak up again. "Well, maybe our luck has yet to find us, Miss. Parker."
Just before I am ready to end this conversation, I hold the phone out over the deck allowing her to hear the waves. They are quieter than ussual, but you can tell they are there.
After I hang up, my thoughts turn once more toward my childhood friend, now my enemy, the predator.
Its amazing Parker isn't dead, after all she's been through. Just a few months ago, she was shot while trying to save her father. It was not her first time either. A few years ago she was shot, by Brigitte, while again trying to save her father. Add to that the stress of working at the Centre, and the strain of living under so many lies.it's a miracle she's still breathing.
But Parker's always been a fighter. She always will be.
The sound of a car parking interupts my thoughts. I can tell that it Parker's Porsche Boxter. As with most things of her's, it is sleek and dark. A car door slams echoing into the night, and if I were not on the Blue Cove sand, I would hear her 4 inch stilleto heels stealthily approaching me.
I turn, and watch her cryptically.
She heads for me, her hand at her back. I just stand there, watching.
I'm not surprised that she found me so fast. Parker's been getting better at following my abstract clues.
Most people would look like Raines in a good mood at such an early hour (or late), but of course Parker doesn't. Its nearly 3 in the morning, and she's in a no doubt expensive, gray, business suit. Perfect Centre attire; dark, gloomy, and uninviting. I'd guess she doesn't wear anything else.
Parker reaches me, and draws her gun with a hesitant expression smearing her face. "Jarod." Obviously our last conversation has moved her, or her routine has changed; I'm not cuffed. She gives me a look, almost, sympathetic. I'm tempted to inquire about this Lady Luck.
"Miss. Parker, so kind of you to join me."
"No Jarod, I'm not going to tell you who she is." she says firmly. I crack a guilty grin. She's always been able to read me far too well. She raises one brow, though her eyes are laughing.
"They're calm tonight, Parker." I can see her arguing with herself in her own mind. I think I even see her eyes watering. It has to be the light. That would be my friend I'd be seeing. Abruptly, her head snaps up and her sapphire eyes pierce into my chocolate ones. Almost pleading.
"It doesn't matter, Jarod. I really am sorry." she says while taking a step forward. A mere five inches may seperate us.
I cock my head down to reach her level. "Oh, but it does matter." I say with a compassionate smile.
She reaches out and grabs me by my shoulder, but I brush it off as if it was easy. I start to sprint to my jeep. She'll never catch me in those heels, and she knows it.
I hear her call out for me, "Jarod!" then she thinks I can't hear her and whispers, "Thanks."
I leave her, standing there. I leave her standing there. Even though I want to take her with me, take her away from the Centre, I leave her there.
An hour later I call her from a cheap Blue Cove Motel. The inexpensive ones hold the most ineresting people.
"What do you want now, Jarod."
"You're welcome." She sighs.
"I just. . . I wasn't-"
"You don't need to explain yourself, Parker. I understand, I always have and I always will. Trust in that, Parker. Trust..."
I hang up. I know she would really shoot me if she heard me tell her to trust me.
If only she would trust in it. If only she would trust in me. I know she's been hurt too many times now for the thought to cross her mind.
I work every day to help the weak and abused. But I can't help her. The one person I care about most is the one person I can't help. Parker is the most abused person I know, but far from weak. I only wish she'd let me help her. I want to help her. I need to help her. Help her to escape the Centre. I wonder if this is the way things should really be. Guilt overwhelms me when I consider that while I am free, she is trapped still. I need this freedom to find out who I am though. So does she.
But still,
Is my freedom worth Parker's?
Listening for the soothing music of the waves, I hear nothing. Swallowing, I blink once and sigh before I send Miss. Parker my next clue.
Here's the why, I'm a genius, prodigy, specifically a Pretender. I become different people to simulate the outcome of various situations. After over 30 years of inprisonment and simming for The Centre I realized that my SIM's were being used to do the opposite of what I had initially believed. So many innocent people were being killed from my abused simulations and discoveries. I escaped, leaving everything and nothing behind me. Now I am running from The Centre for my freedom. They think I'm their property and that they own me; it's sickening. People thinking they can keep a human on a chain, like a dog. I'm the dog performing tricks for my master. When I disobey, I pay. Running away is the worst thing I could have done for them, the best for me. Now, I just have to find out who I am.
I have a human bloodhound on my trail. She goes by the name of Miss Parker. She used to be the sun I revolved around, the one who brought me happiness, even in the dark, frigid, dreary walls of The Centre. My best friend was my window to the outside world. Then, her mother, Catherine Parker a wonderful person, was murdered. Parker was sent away to boarding school by her father, and when she came back she was no longer the sweet innocent little girl that had given me my first kiss, but simply her father's daughter of stone.
Now she is the Ice Queen hot on my trail, trying to recapture me. Parker has a deal with her father, Chairman of The Centre. She has to bring me back, and she can leave the Centre. She was naive enough to believe him. But I know that he will never let her go.
She believes that she still loves him, even after what he's done to her. The web of lies she's trapped in were all created by him to turn into the hateful pained woman she is now. Though many overlook her pain, I understand that she has feelings, she just can't show them. She'd kill me if she knew I thought that. She carries more pain than anyone I've ever known. And she hides it all just the same.
She doesn't work alone to find me, though. A team of three work to find me. My mentor, protector, and "father", Sydney, is a third of that team. His part is to find my "emotional" meaning in the clues I leave for them. Broots is the technical worker. Miss. Parker's personal computer geek. I have worked with him twice and he's a bit of a coward, but he's just another innocent corrupted by The Centre. Besides that, he also enjoys Pop-tarts. Parker is the leader with a 9 mm Smith and Wesson. She'd never shoot me, I know that and deep down so does she.
I realize the time. It is 2 in the morning, time for Parker's wakeup call. I push speed-dial number 1 (Syd's dropped down to number 2. He's not nearly as fun to bother since he enjoys my calls), and wait for her to pick up.
"What, Jarod?" she half screams, half growls into the phone. She knows that only I would call at 2 am. Anyone else would rather perform their own root canal than face Miss Parker in a bad mood. Or well, face Miss Parker.
"Do you ever watch the waves of the ocean, Miss. Parker?," I inquire as a reply. My questions now serve as a greeting as well.
"No Jarod. I live next to the ocean, but never felt the urge to look at it. I've yet to see it." she replies in full Parker mode.
"I didn't say 'look at the waves'. I said 'watch the waves'. There is a difference."
"I'm on pins and needles over here." Her voice is tired and menacing at the same time.
"The waves seem to replicate our lives, Parker. Choppy and dangerous most times, but silent and still other times. Somehow, you know that when they are silent, they are only planning their next move." I reply matter-of-factly.
"And who, Jarod, is they?"
"Now Parker, I know I'm supposed to be the genius, but you're not that naive."
"Ah, of course, what every problem is caused by, what every suicidal lunatic jumps for, what every cat up a tree hides form, and what every snack machine resists your dollar for, The Centre. Is there a point to this Jarod?"
I sigh, "What did we do to deserve the fate we've gotten?" I purposfully avoid answering her question, because there really isn't a point. We both know that.
"Maybe Lady Luck just has a different agenda for us."
"Lady who?" I don't believe I've met this woman. "Does she work at the Centre?" I hear her stifle a laugh, mere miles away.
"No Jarod. It's a figure of speech ok. Lady Lu- never mind. Maybe we're not lucky."
"You shouldn't have to be lucky to have some happiness." I still wonder who this woman is, but I drop the subject. We stay silent for a moment, both answering my question in our own minds. Finally I speak up again. "Well, maybe our luck has yet to find us, Miss. Parker."
Just before I am ready to end this conversation, I hold the phone out over the deck allowing her to hear the waves. They are quieter than ussual, but you can tell they are there.
After I hang up, my thoughts turn once more toward my childhood friend, now my enemy, the predator.
Its amazing Parker isn't dead, after all she's been through. Just a few months ago, she was shot while trying to save her father. It was not her first time either. A few years ago she was shot, by Brigitte, while again trying to save her father. Add to that the stress of working at the Centre, and the strain of living under so many lies.it's a miracle she's still breathing.
But Parker's always been a fighter. She always will be.
The sound of a car parking interupts my thoughts. I can tell that it Parker's Porsche Boxter. As with most things of her's, it is sleek and dark. A car door slams echoing into the night, and if I were not on the Blue Cove sand, I would hear her 4 inch stilleto heels stealthily approaching me.
I turn, and watch her cryptically.
She heads for me, her hand at her back. I just stand there, watching.
I'm not surprised that she found me so fast. Parker's been getting better at following my abstract clues.
Most people would look like Raines in a good mood at such an early hour (or late), but of course Parker doesn't. Its nearly 3 in the morning, and she's in a no doubt expensive, gray, business suit. Perfect Centre attire; dark, gloomy, and uninviting. I'd guess she doesn't wear anything else.
Parker reaches me, and draws her gun with a hesitant expression smearing her face. "Jarod." Obviously our last conversation has moved her, or her routine has changed; I'm not cuffed. She gives me a look, almost, sympathetic. I'm tempted to inquire about this Lady Luck.
"Miss. Parker, so kind of you to join me."
"No Jarod, I'm not going to tell you who she is." she says firmly. I crack a guilty grin. She's always been able to read me far too well. She raises one brow, though her eyes are laughing.
"They're calm tonight, Parker." I can see her arguing with herself in her own mind. I think I even see her eyes watering. It has to be the light. That would be my friend I'd be seeing. Abruptly, her head snaps up and her sapphire eyes pierce into my chocolate ones. Almost pleading.
"It doesn't matter, Jarod. I really am sorry." she says while taking a step forward. A mere five inches may seperate us.
I cock my head down to reach her level. "Oh, but it does matter." I say with a compassionate smile.
She reaches out and grabs me by my shoulder, but I brush it off as if it was easy. I start to sprint to my jeep. She'll never catch me in those heels, and she knows it.
I hear her call out for me, "Jarod!" then she thinks I can't hear her and whispers, "Thanks."
I leave her, standing there. I leave her standing there. Even though I want to take her with me, take her away from the Centre, I leave her there.
An hour later I call her from a cheap Blue Cove Motel. The inexpensive ones hold the most ineresting people.
"What do you want now, Jarod."
"You're welcome." She sighs.
"I just. . . I wasn't-"
"You don't need to explain yourself, Parker. I understand, I always have and I always will. Trust in that, Parker. Trust..."
I hang up. I know she would really shoot me if she heard me tell her to trust me.
If only she would trust in it. If only she would trust in me. I know she's been hurt too many times now for the thought to cross her mind.
I work every day to help the weak and abused. But I can't help her. The one person I care about most is the one person I can't help. Parker is the most abused person I know, but far from weak. I only wish she'd let me help her. I want to help her. I need to help her. Help her to escape the Centre. I wonder if this is the way things should really be. Guilt overwhelms me when I consider that while I am free, she is trapped still. I need this freedom to find out who I am though. So does she.
But still,
Is my freedom worth Parker's?
Listening for the soothing music of the waves, I hear nothing. Swallowing, I blink once and sigh before I send Miss. Parker my next clue.
