Frosted (Frosted Series Book 1)

by Taylor Rose

  Right before my blades touched the ice, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The cold air burned my lungs, giving them the kick start they so desperately needed. Letting the air out through my mouth, I opened my eyes and see the fog fly. The heat from my breath showing up in the freezing cold room. Frosting my vision. Frosting me.

  I was completely and utterly frosted.

  Frosted with love.

  Frosted with time.

  Frosted with hope.

  Always fucking frosted.

  The second my blades touched the ice, I was a goner. The energy from the ice poured into my body as I moved my feet and glided on the frozen surface. I skated a couple of laps around the rink to get my rhythm back, and before I knew it, I was flying so fast that I only saw blurred figures. My blades cut through the ice like a knife sliced through butter. I was so focused on skating my troubles away, that I don’t even realize most of the guys had left the building already. There was only one still here, and I was really hoping he would stick around and skate with me.

  “Hey Cooper! Wanna skate for a while? I could use the practice,” I exclaimed loud enough that he could still hear me up in the bleachers. His head snapped up, and his eyes locked on mine. Almost glaring, but without heat in his stare. I shrugged my shoulders and continued skating around the rink, knowing he would only come back out if he wanted to. I couldn’t force him. Without looking up, I heard the door to the center open and close. My shoulders slumped with the realization that my chance at scoring any time with another human being was gone. I pushed my anger out, and started to skate even faster than before.

  The only thing that made the life I have worth it, was gliding on the ice.

  That’s where my talent lies, not in books, or even communication. Not that I’d had the best teachers.

  All of a sudden, my body slammed into something hard. I crashed down onto the ice causing a boom to echo throughout the rink. What the hell was that? I lifted my head from the ice to see what I bumped into, only to realize Cooper was lying on his back, smack dab in the middle of the ice rink, with his hands clutching his stomach.

  What? I thought he left. Feeling like an absolute dick, I picked myself up, dusted the ice flakes from my clothes and slowly skated over to him, hoping and praying he was alright.

  Fuck.

  Hurting someone was not something I needed to add to my conscious.

  Like seriously, there was enough there already.

  “Cooper, what the hell man? I thought you left,” I said as soon as he was within hearing distance. But, instead of being in pain, Cooper was clutching his stomach because he couldn’t stop laughing.

  What. The. Fuck.

  His laughter became louder the closer I got to him. Lifting his head, his eyes met mine, shining with humor.

  What a mother fucking prick.

  “Dude, that was fucking hilarious. So fucking funny. I was screaming your name, but nothing was catching your attention. Not even when I screamed, Kieran is gay!” Cooper chuckled, laughing between words. Rat bastard. “You only stopped because you ran into me. Fuck, I can’t breathe man.”

  “You’re such a dick sometimes. You know that?” I asked him, trying to hide my own shit eating grin.

  “Like you’re any better?” Cooper quipped.

  That cheeky fuck.

  “Never said I was, man,” I conceded while wiggling my eyebrows.

  “Best two outta three?” he confidently asked.

  Racing Coop had become one of my favorite things to do. It didn’t happen very often, because I wasn’t not here a lot. But, damn it was fun.

  I nodded my head, giving him my silent agreement.

  “Three... Two… One!” he bellowed.

  And we were both off.

  Pushing the blades of my skates into the ice gave me the momentum I needed to circle the rink again. This time, I had to pay attention because I wasn’t alone. Slowly, my eyes scanned the rink, needing to outline the fastest possible route in my head. My competitive juices started to flow.

  Losing, well, losing was for losers. And I sure as hell wasn’t a loser.

  Racing with Cooper was the most fun I’d had in weeks.

  Was it sad that this was the only thing I had to look forward to in my life?

  I’m sixteen for fucks sake, I should be worrying about partying, girls, sex, and booze. But not one of those things were important to me. At all.

  Maybe it was because I wouldn’t want to bring her home and introduce her to Mitch.

  Maybe it was because I didn’t want anybody to stick their nose in my life.

  Or maybe it was because I was devoting all of my time and energy to making sure I had a brighter future than my present.

  Either way, I hadn’t really gone through puberty yet. I was a late bloomer as my asshole foster father said. He never let me live down the fact that I was sixteen and still had a voice that squeaked like a mouse. Not that any of that really mattered.

  I didn’t want a girl’s attention anyway. All I wanted to do was skate. It was the only thing that gave me hope.

  After a couple of hours of skating around with Cooper, I realized it was well past midnight and I had better head home. I already knew that I was going to pay for skating tonight, but it was well worth whatever I had to endure. After taking off my skates and putting my shoes back on, Cooper and I headed out the double doors of the center, making our way into the parking lot side by side.

  “That your bike, man?” Cooper questioned, looking my rusted bike up and down. It was barely hanging on by a thread, but it was all I had right now. “Is it even safe to ride?”

  “Yeah, that’s mine,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way over to my bike. I just wanted to get home already so that I could get my punishment over with, sooner rather than later.

  “Why don’t we put it in the bed of my truck, and I can drop both of you off at home?” he asked me, his eyes pleading with me just to agree with him.

  Fucking shit.

  “Okay man, that sounds a hell of a lot better than riding all the way home,” I relented as I shrugged my shoulders. I already knew he was going to push the issue either way. There was no way in hell he was letting me ride home. Not alone. Not in the dark. May as well rest my legs while I was able to.

  Both of us taking a side of my bike in our hands, we lifted the heavy fucker in the air and pushed it up into the bed of his truck. We carefully maneuvered it so that his ride didn’t get scratched. It was tied down with rope so that it didn’t fall out, because I would freak out if anything happened to my only means of transportation. Hopping into the passenger seat, I clicked my seatbelt into place, ready to roll. Cooper followed my directions and dropped me off in front of my house. I unloaded the bike myself, not needing Mitch asking me any unnecessary questions. He already hated me more than life for some reason. Not that I had any idea why that was.

  I asked him once, and he just glared at me. As if I could read his damned mind. Then he punched me in the face. Turned out, he broke my nose. That wasn’t fun and it hurt like a fucking bitch, so I never asked him again. Who knew what he would do if I asked again? My body shivered just thinking about it.

  I left my bedroom window open when I left, so stashing the bike near the window, I made my way back inside my room by climbing through. Well, room wasn’t really the word I would use. Shoebox was more like it. It was about as big as a closet. The only thing that fit inside was my bed, and if I grew any more, I wouldn’t even be able to fit in that. But it’s the only home that I have, so I’m thankful for it. Some people had it a lot worse than I did, this I knew, so complaining wasn’t really my thing.

  Quietly, I closed my window, listening until the lock clicked into place. Home free. Peeling off my clothes, I laid down in my bed and stretched my body out, feeling the cool cotton against my skin. I sleep in nothing but my boxers, it’s the only comfortable way I can stay asleep. My body temperature rises once I
’m passed out, and waking up in a puddle of sweat was the worst. Closing my eyes, I let the hum from the pipes in the house lull me into a peaceful state. But before I even had a chance to take a breath, the door to my room flew open, smashing into the wall and causing a thud to echo throughout the house. Mitch marched in and grabbed me by my ear, making sure to twist it with his full strength. I was completely weakened.

  “Where the fuck were ya, shithead?!” he roared, dragging my limp body down the hallway, “You’ve been gone for hours!”

  “I was just hanging out with a friend,” I gritted out, clenching my teeth together.

  I wish I understood why he has always hated me so much.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck. Ya know you’re not supposed to leave the house without tellin’ me!” he screamed as he continued to drag my body down the hall and into the kitchen. Once we got to the tile floor in the center of the kitchen, he forced me to my knees. My bones cracked against the floor, bruising me. Using a thick rope, he tied my wrists together to keep me from moving my hands. Walking over to the fridge, he pulled out a cup of something. He walked right up to me, opened my mouth with his free hand, and shoved a washcloth in my mouth as far as it would go. It was dripping wet with some kind of liquid from the cup he pulled it from.

  I tried to spit it out, but before I could, he grabbed an already cut piece of duct tape that was hanging from the counter in front of me, and taped the disgusting thing inside of my mouth. There was no escape. Laughing, he walked out of the room without a further glance. Leaving me to deal with my pain alone.

  Weird. He loved watching me suffer.

  I immediately started to gag because the stench and taste was just too much to take all at once.

  Vinegar and bleach.

  Son of a fucking bitch!

  The washcloth was drenched in the horrifying liquid. The mixture slowly dripped down my throat, searing my vocal cords on the way down. As soon as the mixture reached my stomach, it took every ounce of restraint I had to keep whatever was in my stomach there, because if I were to throw up, I would just have to swallow it down again.

  A cycle of absolute fucking hell.

  I did everything I could not to show how much this was affecting me. He thrived off of my pain. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard him walking back in the room and wondered what else he had planned. Although this may be new, I knew there was more to it than just this. He was a sadistic bastard and this wasn’t enough. Not yet, anyways.

  “Doesn’t that taste good, boy?” Mitch snickered, knowing full well how awful this had to be for me. For fucking anyone. Not that he gave a shit, he was the one who forced this on me in the first place.

  I didn’t answer him. Not because I couldn’t, but because I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. I couldn’t talk right now if I wanted to, but I didn’t even shake my head. I stayed still, not giving him anything.

  Without warning, I felt a slice through the skin of my back. Blinding pain took over my body. Before I had a chance to do something, anything to get away from him, another slice through my skin sent my body into overload. I could feel my own blood dripping down my back, coating my skin with a warm, reddish hue.

  What the fuck was he doing to me?

  My body started to convulse, but that didn’t stop him. He continued to cut into my bare back, drawing as much of my blood as he could.

  I told you, sadistic.

  Emotion clogged my throat, tears prickled my eyes, and started falling down my cheeks. It was my body’s reaction to what it was going through. Mitch didn’t care. Instead he started cutting into my body even more.

  Each slice burned, scorching my skin with a trail of heat.

  After what felt like an hour of being cut up like a piece of steak, he finally stopped. I heard a crash of something hitting the floor and knew my torture session for not listening to his rules was finally over. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled even more of the vinegar and bleach mixture. For a while there, I couldn’t even tell the washcloth was still in my mouth. I was in too much pain elsewhere to notice. But it was back at full force, and I had no idea how much of the mixture had found its way down my throat and into my stomach already.

  Fucccckkkkk.

  “That was nothin’ compared to what will happen if you ever disobey me again. I wouldn’t chance it if I was you, Kieran,” Mitch declared, as he walked directly into my line of sight. My teeth were clenched together, my tied hands in fists.

  Just wait until I’m big enough to fight back, you sick fuck.

  Mitch pulled his hand back, punching me straight in the jaw. My whole body knocked over, and now I was laying on the ice cold tile floor.

  Jaw pulsing from the punch to the face.

  Washcloth still in my mouth.

  Wrists still tied together.

  Blood dripping from the cuts on my back.

  Now that I was laying on the tile floor of the kitchen, I could see what he used to cut slashes through my skin. I vomited, because I would never have thought he could be that cruel. Tears streamed down my face, not knowing how to stop. About a foot away from me, on the ground of the kitchen were my hockey skates, blood soaking the blades. He used the only thing in my life that I loved, to torture me. I heard him laughing in the other room and knew that he was waiting for me to see this part of his sick plan.

  I couldn’t let him win, I wouldn’t let him win.

  He could tie me up. He could beat me down. He could hate me with every fiber of his being. He could take away my fight. He could take away my heart. He could take away every-damn-thing that I had.

  But he would never take away my will to survive.

  Scars are souvenirs that you never lose.

  A constant reminder.

  Etched on your body.

  Etched on your mind.

  Etched on your soul.

  They stay with you forever.

  Mine would forever remind me to never give up.

  Eighteen years old…

  The sun was shining down on my small town of Redding, Alaska. The rays were peeking through the cloud covered sky, light breaking through in patches.

  People were rushing around, trying to get everything put into place. Trying to get all of the graduates ready for their walk of fame.

  The hustle and bustle of our small town population seemed to affect nearly everyone here.

  Staff was running around setting up last minute chairs, tying streamers and balloons to the fence, and setting up the stage while parents fussed over their child’s hair, cap, and gown.

  It was graduation day at our local high school.

  The day I had been waiting for, for what seemed like forever.

  The day I could finally get the hell out of this god forsaken hell-hole.

  The day this tattered life ended, and mine was able to begin.

  My bags were already packed and sitting in Cooper’s truck, awaiting our journey.

  Looking around, students were starting to line up to be called across the stage. The fact that the set up was half-assed didn’t seem to matter to anyone. I pulled my graduation cap onto my head, making sure that my locks of brown hair weren’t pulled the wrong way. My hair fell right above my shoulders, framing my face. Most of the time I had it pulled back into a man bun on top of my head, but Cooper’s mom wanted pictures before we left, so I made sure to look my best.

  I straightened my dark purple graduation gown, pushing all of the wrinkles out of the fabric. I ran my fingers down the front to make sure that all of the buttons were put together correctly.

  Pictures would be the death of me.

  Looking up, I locked eyes with Cooper Callahan. My best and only friend. He was standing more towards the front of the group. Considering his last name began with a “C”.

  He winked at me, a slow smile playing on his lips.

  Goddamn mother fucker.

  He was so fucking annoying. I swear to god, i
f he wasn’t my best friend, I would hate him. No joke.

  Grumbling, I walked over to the line to stand in the spot meant for me. No one here other than Cooper would talk to me. He was the only one who’d always been there for me, who’d been my friend no matter what, when everyone else didn’t give one shit about me. I was the white trash they wish they could throw away.

  But, fuck.

  It was not my fault. I’m not the one who collected the foster parent checks every month and spent them on booze. It’s not my house that was slowly falling apart, the wood rotting through and breaking off. I’m not the town drunk, the one everyone whispered about. I just happened to be adopted by him. None of it was my fault. And yet, everyone here had always treated me like I was a parasite that needed to be squashed.

  Fuck all of them.

  Except for Cooper and his mom, Mary-Beth.

  In fact, she was the only reason I was going through with walking for graduation. Some bullshit about wanting to see her boys walk together. And after everything she’d done for me, this seemed minimal in return.

  The principle started calling names, letting the students walk across the stage and handing them a diploma in one hand, while shaking their hand with the other. Parents crowded the stage, trying to get a picture of their child shaking hands with our small town principle like he was a fucking Kardashian.

  Slowly but surely, the line started to dwindle down, the students who had already graduated mixed in with the parents in the crowd.