Rage in Pain Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 2 Read online

  Rage in Pain Roz

  The R.I.P. Series

  Book 2

  Kris Johnston

  Rage in Pain Roz

  The R.I.P. Series Book 2

  Copyright © 2017 by Kris Johnston

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by B2B Book Covers

  eBook Edition

  ISBN-13: 978-1543012972

  ISBN-10: 1543012973

  No part of this eBook may be downloaded without the permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is originally publicated.

  If you have received this eBook through a free pirated website, understand that you have accepted stolen property. Please respect the hard work of the author and purchase your copy legally.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Trademarked products not belonging to the author are mentioned in this book. The author acknowledges the trademark status of these products as belonging exclusively to the owners.

  The R.I.P. Series by Kris Johnston

  Rest in Peace Roz, Book 1

  Rage in Pain Roz, Book 2

  Coming Soon

  Rise in Pride Roz, Book 3

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Dedication

  For Janine Giske and her three

  amazing daughters.

  One act of kindness can

  change an entire life.

  Thank you, dear ladies, for changing mine.

  *

  In memory of Eric Vieira

  Love of two is one

  Here but now they're gone

  Came the last night of sadness

  And it was clear she couldn't go on

  Then the door was open

  and the wind appeared

  The candles blew then disappeared

  The curtains flew then he appeared,

  saying don't be afraid

  “(Don't Fear) The Reaper”

  -Blue Oyster Cult

  PROLOGUE

  ~Roz~

  My name is Rosalind Ines Pastrano and I just experienced the worst summer I've ever known. And believe me, in my life, there have been plenty.

  I live in a big, sprawling home that's filled with color and laughs and unconditional love. I have friends who care for me, worry about me, support me, and value me. I have a school that is easy to camouflage myself in, but makes me feel like I don't have to hide.

  I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying to find my smile again.

  I'm trying to let my foster dad, Mitch, teach me how to drive but for some reason, I can't concentrate. I keep confusing the gas pedal with the break. It’s made for a lot of interesting moments in the car.

  I’m trying to let my foster mom, Bonnie, plan an awesome sixteenth birthday party for me, but I can’t seem to get excited about it. I honestly don't need a party with a theme, and yet she keeps asking me which idea do I like better; a costume party or a slumber party. I don't care about either.

  I'm trying to go back to the one thing that always allowed my tortured spirit the feeling of freedom-- my art-- but every time I pick up the brush, I stare at a blank canvas for hours and leave it without having made a single stroke.

  I'm trying my best to get on with my life with my new family. I really am. But it's like I’m stuck in a void where there's nothing but darkness. I'm stuck in the nether, waiting for him to come back to me, waiting for his cool air to wrap itself around me and to hear those words once again…

  “I'm always here.”

  But those words never come. The darkness never leaves. The cool air I ache for is nothing more than molasses, hot and thick and heavy in my lungs.

  I'm suffocating. Drowning. Gasping for the air- his air- that cold, icy, refreshing blast of breath that used to signal his presence and keep me safely cocooned within itself. Within his spirit.

  I can't breathe the air without him.

  Because for me, he was my air.

  But still, I try.

  And I will continue to try, because I promised him I would. Because once upon a time, I met a boy… a ghost… who saved my life and my soul. Once upon a time, I had everything my heart could ever want, before it was ripped forever out of my grasp. Once upon a time, my heart experienced true peace and it was incredible, and despite the danger we faced, I was okay with it all.

  Because once upon a time, I was in love, and fully loved in return.

  Now, I'm alone.

  Technically, I'm not. I live with four other people (and two dogs and a cat), and sometimes, they're loud. It’s hard to say you’re all alone when the sounds of Amelia’s sweet, precious laughter echoes through the hallway. Or Vincent’s loud, raucous shouts of glee that drift into my bedroom when he beats a buddy on his video games.

  And yet, despite the laughter and hollers and noise, my aloneness continues.

  I know I'm loved. I know they're there for me. I know I'm not alone in the literal sense.

  Emotionally, however, it is only me and no one else.

  There is an empty, hollow void that, no matter how hard I try, refuses to be filled.

  And that is because he is no longer a part of this life with me. And everyday I have to wonder…

  When will I breathe again?

  CHAPTER 1

  ~Roz~

  “Hey Gorgeous!” Bonnie’s cheerful voice sang to me as I made my sleepy walk into the kitchen. “Happy Back-to-School Day!”

  I moaned tiredly and stopped by her place near the stove to deliver a quick kiss to her cheek.

  “Morning,” I mumbled and poured a cup of coffee.

  “So you're all set for today, yeah?” She asked as she flipped her delicious, mouthwatering blueberry pancakes in a cast iron skillet.

  I sipped the hot, creamy goodness in my cup and leaned against the counter opposite the stove.

  “All set,” I affirmed.

  “I remember my junior year,” she said excitedly, “I had a blast!” She turned and peered at me closely over the top of her cat-eye glasses. “And so will you.”

  Bonnie was no fool. She knew something had been wrong with me all summer, and did her best to help me through it, even without knowing what it was that tormented me so. It was obvious to everyone who looked at me something was wrong. The dark circles, the weight loss, the inability to let my smile reach my eyes. All were visible proofs that my heart was emp
ty, my happiness gone. All because he was gone.

  The subject of him was one I carried dearly in the tiny spaces of my heart, but it was off-limits to everyone. Even Odie knew better than to broach the subject with me. I wouldn't talk to anyone about him. Not Odie. Not The Pastels. No one. And especially, never to Bonnie.

  Besides, what could I have possibly said to my foster mother anyway, without sounding like I needed to go on anti-psycho meds?

  I could imagine that conversation:

  “Hey Bonnie, a ghost saved me from being raped by my step-dad and we fell in love. He was my everything, until he went into the light. Now he's gone forever and I can't figure out how to live without him.”

  My Inner Roz agreed unhappily. Bonnie would think I was nuts.

  Noticing she was still watching me, I smiled unenthusiastically and nodded, then turned to go back to my bedroom to get dressed.

  “Roz,” she stopped me. “Will you tell the kids breakfast is almost ready?”

  “Sure,” I replied, and left the kitchen.

  I went to Amelia’s bedroom first and peeked my head in.

  “Hey, breakfast is ready,” I said to my endearing little foster sister.

  She was standing before her full length mirror, posing in her new back-to-school outfit. She was dressed in purple and white zebra-print leggings covered by a purple mini-skirt and matching blouse. She wore brand-new pink and blue sneakers and she inspected them closely as she switched poses.

  “Roz?” She asked sweetly, as her eyes went from her feet up to her head. “What do you think about my hair?”

  I entered the room and closed the door behind me, then took a seat on the edge of her bed.

  I looked at her hair. Gone were the two fat braids she’d always worn. After she had come back home to us from staying with her aunt (who decided she was needed more as a missionary than as a mother once she realized how much Amelia loved and missed her foster family), she declared her hair was a beautiful gift and she'd no longer be hiding it in braids. Bonnie cried with joy at the child’s epiphany, crediting Amelia’s aunt and positive influence, and agreed.

  Your hair is glorious, Amelia, Bonnie had said sincerely, I wouldn't want to hide it, either.

  Now, I looked closely at the little girl with expressive, dark eyes and creamy dark skin, and saw something I hadn't seen in her before.

  Uncertainty.

  “Amelia,” I said, trying to figure out a way to put her mind at ease about her hairstyle, “My opinion doesn't matter, not really. Even though you have the coolest hair I've ever seen, it still doesn't change the fact that what matters most is what you think of it. No one else.”

  She looked closely at her hair. It was curly, very curly, almost to the point of frizzy but still looking very neat and polished. Bonnie had purchased a type of hair oil which Amelia could use to enhance each and every curl, allowing them to shine while preventing them from frizzing out. The sides of her dark hair were pulled back with pink and blue barrettes, exposing her cute face and allowing the rest to fall in tight curls all around her head.

  She took one last look in the mirror and shrugged, then turned to face me.

  “You're right Roz,” she said simply, “It is the coolest hair you've ever seen.”

  Grinning at me, she left the bedroom as I sat, chuckling and marveling at her confidence.

  ***

  “Middle school!” Vincent hollered as we all made our way to the front yard, “Here I come!”

  I groaned as Bonnie positioned each of us on the front porch and made us hold up miniature chalkboards. Written in white chalk on each one were our new grades.

  Vincent’s chalkboard read, “Seventh grade,” Amelia’s read, “First grade,” and mine read, “OMG! I'm a Junior!”

  “Seriously, Bonnie?” I asked. “Why can't mine just say ‘eleventh grade,’ like theirs? Why does it have all the extra fuss?”

  Bonnie grinned and held up her phone. “Because it sounds like what an excited teenager would say.”

  “You should know by now I'm not an excited teenager.”

  She fiddled with her phone for another minute and glanced at me. “Oh it's there,” she disagreed, “You just have to tap into it!” She touched her phone screen once again then said, “Say cheese!”

  Fighting back the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes, or sigh, I held up the sign and attempted a smile. Amelia and Vincent both yelled out, “Cheese!”

  Bonnie must have taken at least fifteen pictures of us before Mitch declared we'd be late if we didn't get a move on.

  “Perfect!” She exclaimed. “These are going on my Facebook!”

  Groaning, I set the little chalkboard down on the porch and rushed off the steps, eager to begin a new year of school.

  I gave Bonnie a quick hug and the rest of us piled into Mitch’s compact car. She stood in the yard, waving and blowing kisses at us as we drove away.

  “Alright, a new year!” Mitch said happily. “Who's excited?”

  The kids cheered their agreement in the backseat, and I looked at him and nodded, smiling.

  I had heard that Parker’s parents had decided over the summer to take him off life support. I knew he would not be coming back to Marion High. I knew he'd never again try to destroy me and my life. I knew, without having to see his handsomely evil face everyday, that I could go back to school and achieve the normalcy I craved.

  I couldn’t help that a part of me was somewhat saddened by his death. After all, he was somebody’s son. Somebody’s brother. Somebody’s friend. The ones he left behind would no doubt mourn him for the rest of their lives. Although he could not be saved, although he had been seriously misguided while alive, and although he totally deserved being electrocuted by Devon after trying to steal my body, he was still a person.

  I also couldn’t help that the other parts of me- the vindictive, dark, angry parts- were glad the jerk was dead.

  Good riddance.

  Mitch raised the volume of the car stereo as it played Rock N’ Roll High School by The Ramones, and I grinned. I was more than ready for school. I was eager for it. I was anxious for it.

  I needed it to help ease the pain from the constant memory of him.

  CHAPTER 2

  ~Roz~

  The first words I heard that morning as I walked through the doors of my high school came from my best friend, Odie Finkler.

  “Oh my gawd!” I heard her loudly exclaim.

  Even though I couldn’t see her through all the bodies pushing past one another, I heard that loud, distinctive voice.

  My ears were already filled with the sounds of my fellow classmates greeting one another and asking how each other’s summer was, but I still heard her.

  I had to stifle a chuckle. That girl certainly had a big mouth.

  I made my way past the crowd and down the juniors’ hallway where my new locker was located. There she stood in her outrageous glory, wearing a vintage, shredded Love and Rockets t-shirt and faded skinny jeans. She wore a new pair of Docs that were blood red and reached right below her knees, and she’d colored her hair again. This time, the cherry-red was streaked with a fierce, bright yellow, making her entire head look like it was on fire.

  I paused, smiling, and watched the scene before me. I was unsure how to approach, since I had basically blown her off all summer.

  Odie stood close to her new boyfriend, Will, who gazed down at her with a devotion and loyalty that could not be missed. He was dressed in a similar style to Odie, except he was head-to-toe in almost all black. Spiky, jet-black hair, black jeans, black combat boots, black button-down, collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing black cuffs and wristbands, and the one bit of color he wore came in a surprising choice: A deep green, silk brocade suit vest. As odd as it all might sound, it worked. He looked good and she looked happy. Together, they made an awesome couple.

  “Roz!” She shouted when she saw me approach. She flung herself at me and hugged me fiercely.

  I returne
d the hug with everything I had, surprised at how good a simple embrace could feel. I had missed her. I’d closed myself off from her and the others all summer, not wanting to acknowledge the pain of losing my love, or having to witness my friends’ worry over me.

  She pulled back and eyed me up and down.

  “Well, you put a little makeup on,” she noted. “That’s a good sign.”

  I nodded and smirked. “I’m trying,” I vowed.

  She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “I know you are,” she said softly, “But you still suck for not coming over one single time this summer!”

  “You’re right,” I sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been… hard for me.”

  She looked me over once again, much like a mother hen keeping tabs on her baby chick.

  “Did you get new clothes?” She asked.

  I nodded. “Bonnie did some shopping for me. It’s not really what I would’ve picked for myself, but-”

  “No,” Odie interrupted, “It works! You look really great!”

  “It's true,” Will agreed, “You're kinda hot, Roz.”

  Odie nodded in affirmation. I realized she wasn't hit with the jealousy bug at all by his remark, and for that I was thankful.

  I blushed and looked down at my outfit. It was nothing special or outrageous, like what Odie was wearing. Just a simple pair of dark indigo jeans and a pale yellow peasant top that flowed around my hips. My feet were encased in a brand new pair of green Chucks that I hadn’t asked for, or expected, but still received.

  I never had the desire to shop for clothes with Bonnie and the kids when they went over the summer, so my foster mother had purchased a few things for me that were more her style than mine. Except for the Chucks. She knew how much I would love having another pair.

  I was still so grateful, even if I couldn’t properly express it.

  “Bonnie did good!” Odie exclaimed. “I think this look works for you. You should wear stuff like that more often,” she smiled.