Rage in Pain Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 2 Page 12

  “Roz,” he said in all seriousness, “I think I found the problem.”

  There was an actual problem? Yes! I'm saved!

  Standing, he put his hand on my quivering bicep. “Your puny arms are too weak!” He chuckled. “Now, get back to work! There's no stopping just because it's uncomfortable! Move, Pastrano! Move!”

  I looked up at him in horror, taking in his delight.

  “You're terrible,” I grimaced.

  “I’m a P.E. coach,” he corrected. “You asked for strength, and that’s what you’re getting. Now back to work! Twenty reps! Move!”

  Questioning my sanity, my ability to do this, and my love for my foster father, I moved.

  ***

  That night I lay in bed, paralyzed. My entire body ached from head to toe. I had somehow managed to get through my first workout with Mitch, but not without a price.

  My entire body hated me.

  I had somehow gotten through the disaster that was the rowing machine before having a go with the punching bag. I made a complete mess of that. My punches were weak, my jabs were more like little pokes, and I couldn't throw a hook to save my life.

  I did, however, enjoy imagining Parker’s face on the punching bag with every hit I landed.

  Which wasn't many.

  After taking a couple ibuprofen and a long, hot shower, I thought I'd feel a little better. I didn't. My body hurt so much and it made me angry with myself for being so weak.

  I never even made it to the weights. Mitch knew I wasn't ready for them and the thirty minutes I'd worked on the Rowing Machine From Hell and the Punching Bag of Death had completely depleted me.

  At least the time I’d spent on the punching bag had released some of my darker emotions, and allowed me to realize what they were. Anger and sadness seemed to be the running theme of my life these days.

  Now, as I lie there staring up at my ceiling, I began to dissect what exactly I was angry and sad for.

  I was angry at myself for being so weak, physically. I was angry for hurting. I was angry at Parker. I was angry at Odie. I was even angry at Mitch, even though he was only trying to help me get in shape, as I'd requested. But heaven help me if there were a few times in my workout when I wanted to punch him instead of the bag!

  I was sad for many reasons. My main feeling of sadness was of course, from missing Jimmy. I missed him beyond words. I was getting by, and living my life, and doing the things I knew he'd want me to do. But, I missed him. And in an odd way, I was pissed off at him, too. I was angry with him for leaving me right when I needed him most. I was angry that he'd even think going into the light was somehow better for us, when I needed him so much.

  And then, the fact that I needed him, fueled my anger even further. I didn't want to need anyone, especially not a boy. I wasn't an emotionally weak female who needed male attention to validate herself. I had been through a huge storm of crap in my life and survived. I didn't need anyone. At least, I didn't want to need anyone.

  Sighing, I realized how wrong that was. I did need my family. They loved me even when I was being an idiot. They helped me through all this weirdness of my life without even knowing it. They supported me, listened, encouraged me, no matter what. If I didn't have them and their love, I'd never make it.

  I also needed my friends. They were the ones that knew of all the supernatural stuff I'd encountered since I came here, and they knew me better than most people. They'd helped me, saved me when Parker was trying to steal my soul, even cried with me when Jimmy had gone into the light.

  They loved me like my family, and for me, that made them even more special. I already knew blood wasn't what made a family, but my friends’ love for me confirmed it.

  A soft knock at the door sounded and I said, “Come in,” as I tried to raise my head to see who it was.

  “It's me,” said Mitch as he came inside my room.

  I gave him a pitiful wave as he chuckled at me and sat down on the desk chair beside my bed.

  “Was that too much of a workout for you?” He asked.

  I nodded. “Yes. It was. I hate you forever, get out.”

  He laughed and patted the top of my head. “If I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't have put you through all that.”

  I sighed and nodded begrudgingly. “Everything hurts.”

  “You'll hurt more in the morning. And you know what helps the most with that?” He asked.

  I shook my head, no.

  “Running!” His eyes took on a scary gleam. “I'll be waking you up at six. Be ready for your morning jog!”

  I stared at him in terror. “You're evil,” I whispered. There was no possible way I was going to survive a jog anytime soon. He was insane.

  He chuckled and escaped my bedroom, but not before pausing as he left. “Six A.M.!” He said happily.

  “I've created a monster,” I realized. “I want my foster dad back!” I yelled as he scooted out of my room and closed the door, laughing.

  Chapter 22

  ~Roz~

  I fell asleep that night completely exhausted. As my eyes were closing, I promised myself that I'd call Odie and make amends with her the next day (despite still feeling that betrayal), and I'd get a hold of Devon to see if she knew anything else as far as Parker went.

  And then the next thing I knew, I was once more in Parker’s bedroom.

  Oh great, I thought, Why am I here again? I'm so tired of this dream already!

  Except, it wasn't the same dream. As I looked around the bedroom, I saw it was empty. Parker wasn't here. It was only me.

  I turned around, wondering what to do with myself. A soft light flickered from the opened bedroom door, so I followed it into the hallway. The carpeting felt lush and thick beneath my bare feet as I stepped out and took in my surroundings.

  The house was huge, rich, and immaculate. Dark, polished wood gleamed everywhere from my perch on the second-floor landing. I looked down into a den on the floor below me, done in tasteful (if not boring), shades of beige and brown.

  I tiptoed down the wide staircase and wondered why I was trying to be silent. I was dreaming, after all. It's not like my silence here mattered. But there were voices coming from somewhere in the house. Loud, agitated voices. Perhaps the years spent with Jill and Derek had conditioned me to silence when there was arguing in my childhood home. Regardless, even in a dream which I assured myself could not hurt me, I stayed as quiet as possible.

  I followed the voices down the stairs, past the den, and beyond the large gourmet kitchen. There was another hallway beyond that, and I continued on silently until coming to a door that stood partially opened.

  This was where the voices came from.

  I immediately recognized one of them as Parker, and the other was a woman.

  Peering through the crack in the door, I was unprepared for the sight that greeted me.

  An older woman stood with her hands raised above Parker, who sat within a large chair. His arms and legs were held in place with thin, wispy strips of a sickly green and black smoke that tendriled around his limbs. Sparks fell from the woman’s hands, igniting small, tiny pockets of flames to erupt upon Parker’s body for a brief second before dying out. His clothes were covered in burn holes and ashes from where older flames had hit. Parts of his hair were singed. He had two blisters on his face, obvious marks from where the tiny flames had touched him. The tops of his hands were also affected, looking as if someone had put their cigarettes out in the soft flesh.

  “Please stop this!” He cried in pain.

  “Not until you connect with my son’s magic!” She demanded. “You have it right there at your disposal and yet you still deny yourself! You deny me! This is your last chance to access it, or I will destroy your beloved Rosalind!”

  That startled me. Why was she bringing me up? I didn't even know who this woman was!

  “No!” He pleaded. “This has nothing to do with her!”

  The woman lowered her hands to her sides and stared deeply i
nto Parker’s eyes. “We have been having these sessions long enough. It is time to either accept the magic within my son’s body, or go back to your place behind the veil and rot. Which will it be, Jimmy?”

  I gasped.

  Why was I still having these dreams of Parker being Jimmy?

  The woman looked up from Parker and squinted at the door. I swallowed in fear and covered my mouth.

  It's just a dream, she can't hurt me, I repeated over and over as she slowly approached the opened door.

  Parker looked to the door and caught my eye through the tiny crack. The most terrible expression of horror I've ever seen on a person crossed his features. Silently, he mouthed one word.

  Run!

  Without further prodding, I turned and ran as fear made itself a home inside me.

  “Is that you, Rosalind?” Came a wicked whisper from behind me as I flew into the kitchen. “Don't run away my pet,” she said, “Play time is just getting started.”

  I raced up the stairs and found myself back in Parker’s bedroom, unsure of why I'd come here instead of finding the front door and running out into the street.

  It's just a dream, I whispered, it's just a dream.

  I heard her approach the bedroom and I did the only thing I could think of. I hid under the bed, like a frightened child. My limbs groaned in protest as I threw myself to the floor. Apparently, even in a dream you can still hurt from your real-life workout.

  Odd.

  I rolled beneath the bed just as she opened the door, and I quickly backed up as fast as I was able. I watched her high-heeled feet as they walked quickly around the room, searching for me.

  “You know what, Rosalind?” She asked in her cold, evil voice, “I hand-picked you to be the vessel for Lillianna’s return. It was supposed to be a triumph for my son, and assure my place back within my coven. You see, the mother of the most powerful warlock in Indiana would never be denied anything, not once his title as necromancer had been confirmed.”

  Her feet came to a stop right before me, and turned away from the bed. The mattress above me dipped and I realized she had sat down on the edge of the bed, directly above me.

  Panic flooded me and I stifled my breathing once again.

  “And then your little witch friends came along and ruined everything I had worked so hard for. Do you know how many times I nearly had them killed for taking away my son?”

  I trembled from under the bed and told myself to wake up, wake up, wake up!

  “Of course, your stupid boyfriend had to intervene as well. And now, for some terrible reason, he's here and Parker isn't. I think that's a horrible thing for any mother to have to endure, don't you?”

  The bed shifted and my heart exploded in fear. I backed up again, trying to remain as silent as possible.

  “Then again,” she said, “I'm not like most mothers.”

  Suddenly her face was before mine, and her smile was chilling.

  “Gotcha.”

  ***

  I woke up with a start and looked around, disoriented.

  I was home, in my own bed. The clock on my nightstand read four in the morning.

  My body was shaking from either fear or adrenaline, or both. I had no idea what was happening or why I had such a terrible dream, again.

  I sat up in my bed and replayed the events that had felt so real. I had fallen asleep. I had dreamt of being in Parker’s house. I had found Parker being tortured by his mother. In my dream, however, she had called him Jimmy. And she wanted him to access Parker’s magic.

  She had chased me through the house and found me after I'd hid under Parker’s bed. But then what? Something else happened after that, but I couldn't remember what.

  I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on the dream, trying to remember what had happened after she had found me.

  Parker’s voice had come next, I was sure of it. I didn't know what he'd said, but he was angry… and scared. He was afraid of her. No. He wasn't exactly afraid of her.

  He was afraid of what she would do to me.

  She had called him Jimmy once again, I think. And my confusion caused her to laugh.

  “You don't even realize who he is!” She had hackled.

  And then… Focus! What happened?... and then, a blast of ozone came shooting and crackling from Parker. A blinding blast of warm yellow light streaked with icy blue, shooting from his burned hand. And then…

  And then…

  He held me close. He held me like Jimmy used to. He even felt like Jimmy. And I wanted to believe it. I let myself believe it in this dream. In this dream it was safe to believe he was my love and nothing could hurt me, and we'd be together forever.

  His mother… what had happened next? She had collapsed from the blast Parker had thrown at her. But then she was there… sparks flying from her hands… and then…

  And then…

  I don't know.

  I woke up here. In my bed. Safe.

  My phone suddenly buzzed from my nightstand. Startled, I picked it up and looked at the incoming text.

  Parker: Are you safe? Did you make it home? Please answer this Roz! I can't risk any noise or I would call instead.

  I breathed in and out for several seconds, staring stupidly at the text.

  Parker: Baby please don't check out on me. I need to know you're safe. Please!

  I took a deep breath, still in shock, and felt my soul switch to autopilot.

  Me: I'm safe.

  His reply was instant.

  Parker: Thank Christ! I put her under a forgetting spell. The P’s taught me how to do it this week. Don't worry Roz, she won't remember you were here.

  I nodded at the text, my brain clouded and not understanding any of this.

  Me: Am I losing my mind?

  Parker: No sweetheart, you're not. Will you meet with me tomorrow? Please? I can explain everything. We'll even get The P’s to join us if you don't trust me. Just, please Roz. Please let me explain all of this. Please.

  I stifled a sob at the words as I realized deep down, I wanted all of this with Parker to be real. I wanted him to be my Jimmy. I missed him so much it was disabling.

  Me: Are you Jimmy? For real?

  Please say yes, my Inner Roz implored.

  Parker: Meet me tomorrow at noon, at the bookstore by the coffee shop. Devon and the others will be there. And as you already know sweetheart, I'm always here. Please say yes.

  I wiped a tear from my eye. I'm always here. He’d said I'm always here. Jimmy had said that to me every night, whenever I fell asleep in his arms. He had always said that to me. It had been his reassurance that no matter how crazy life got, or how afraid I was, I had him with me. Always.

  Those words did something to me. I felt a shift in my soul, and the tears fell easily. In this particular moment, I didn't even care if it was Parker messing with me, all I wanted was for Jimmy to be alive.

  I typed the three letters into my phone before clicking send. I had no idea how such a tiny word would change my entire life, and open up a completely new destiny for myself. One small, little word that would have many repercussions for years to come.

  Such a tiny word. With such a big, unforeseeable outcome.

  Me: Yes.

  Chapter 23

  ~Roz~

  As promised, Mitch had me up and running just two hours later.

  I hated him.

  My body was already sore, and because I couldn't fall back to sleep due to the intensely real dream (and text from Parker afterwards), I was incredibly grumpy.

  To say this was not my finest moment would be an understatement.

  I did the warm-up stretches with as much grumbling as I could possibly muster, just to make sure Mitch understood my displeasure. If I was going to be miserable, so was he!

  It didn't work. He completely ignored my lame attempts at making him unhappy and continued guiding me through the warm-up with a perky little smile.

  I had expected to be achy, angry, and tired for the entir
e length of our jog around the neighborhood, but the oddest thing happened. Within minutes I began to feel lighter, more awake, energized. The soreness in my muscles eased up. By the time we came back around to the house, I was feeling really good.

  That experience taught me firsthand about the whole endorphins thing, and I was pretty amazed by it. I even gave Mitch a pass that day for waking me up so early.

  After a shower and a clean change of clothes, I felt human again.

  I took a notebook into the kitchen with me and sat at the table while Bonnie cooked breakfast. The smells of eggs, bacon, and pancakes cooking from the stove had my stomach rumbling and mouth watering.

  Somewhere along my morning jog, I had decided I was going to make a list of all the things I wanted Parker to explain when we met this afternoon. I had so many questions that desperately needed answers, and even if I wanted to believe he really was Jimmy, it still didn't mean he was. However, after that dream last night followed by his quick text to make sure I was safe, I knew he was the only one who could provide an explanation.

  As I made my notes, I had a flash of seeing him being tortured at the hands of his mother. I think, deep down, that had been the deciding factor for me. Whether or not it had been a dream ceased to matter at that point. My heart had gone out to the boy who endured such agony from the one who had given him life. I couldn't help but feel his anguish as my own, it was too similar to what I been through with my mother and stepfather.

  Child abuse was as ugly of a thing as there could possibly be. I still remembered the fear and terror as if it'd only just happened to me, and I doubted it would ever truly go away.

  Perhaps that was why I agreed to meet with him. Perhaps my heart had been broken by the sight of his pain, even if it was a dream. Perhaps I was a sucker for anyone who had been through agony that mirrored my own.

  Perhaps I just wanted to see what he had to say.