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

by Kris Johnston

  But I didn't like it.

  By Thursday, I came up with an eating and exercise plan that would hopefully make my body strong. Of course, I only Googled about a thousand different health sites in an attempt to find what I felt would work for me, but eventually I found a few things that I felt good about trying.

  By Friday, I realized I had no actual plan to take Parker down, or any ideas of how to exact my revenge… but I wasn't worried. I was simply going to be prepared for the fight that would inevitably come, and when it did, I would be ready.

  Lord, help him.

  Hurt him like he hurt me, my Inner Roz constantly encouraged.

  All in good time.

  Chapter 8

  ~Jimmy~

  I never knew how much a person could hate someone until I realized the amount of rage Roz felt for Parker.

  For me.

  I tried to remind myself she didn't know who was living in this body, but it didn't help. The cracks in my heart shifted and grew with every scornful glance, with every silent, warily accepted acknowledgement, with every cold expression she tried so hard to keep from showing across her lovely face.

  I knew no one at this school except for the girl who owned my heart and soul, and she wanted nothing to do with me.

  Nothing.

  It was only for convenience sake that I allowed Elizabeth Tate to follow me around. Hell, was she annoying. Our initial meeting the first day of school had left me slightly dazed, slightly captivated, and I soon came to understand that it wasn't me, Jimmy, who had been momentarily fascinated by the shape of her curves. It was simply an automatic reaction from Parker, from his body. However, she'd quickly assumed herself as “my friend,” and these days, those were hard to come by.

  I'm guessing whatever friends Parker had had before the “amnesia,” had decided to reject him now that he couldn't remember anything.

  Some friends, I inwardly smirked. But I'm positive he had their abandonment coming. No one other than Elizabeth seemed eager to sit with me at lunch.

  Daily, I’d struggle with her possessive touching and heated gaze. It was much different now than it had been the first time I’d talked with the girl in the hall.As Prudence had been quick to remind me, the body I now inhabited still remembered things, almost like muscle memory. And that first day, the muscles in Parker’s body remembered Elizabeth.

  It was difficult for me to keep a distance from her when my arms would move on their own as if to wrap themselves around her, yet I was thankfully able to stop any impending embrace before it could happen. Elizabeth would never notice, and oddly, never seemed to have a problem with my lack of physical attention. As long as she was able to keep her hands on my arms or shoulders, she seemed happy.

  I was miserable.

  I barely lived through that first week of school without marching straight to Roz and blurting out exactly who I was. However, the only thing keeping me from doing exactly that was that I knew she'd never believe me. I could see her immense distrust for me in every look and glance she sent my way, and I was under no delusions that my proclamation to be Jimmy would only end in her cementing deep hatred for me.

  My only chance was to prove I was not the monster she'd known previously. If I was somehow able to earn her trust, or at least get her to the point where she could no longer hate me so much, then maybe I could get her to listen long enough to my story.

  Our first day of school, when Mrs. Elaine assigned us as interview partners, I nearly cried when Roz told me she'd spent her summer trying not to kill herself. It was so unfair. So bloody unfair. Roz was the most incredible creature I'd ever known… why was she always having to endure some sort of pain? Her entire life was nothing but one instance of heartbreak after the other. Sure, she had managed to find a happy home to live in after the debacle that had been life with her mother, but she still had had the misfortune of falling in love with me, only to lose me. I had stupidly gone into the light, only to be reborn in Parker’s body. And that one act had cost Roz her happiness.

  I would never again make the same mistake. When it came to her, I would gladly sacrifice anything to see her smile and know that I'd put it there.

  By Wednesday, I'd seen her peeking at me with a look more of curiosity than hate from across the lunchroom, and it gave me a tiny inkling of hope. If I could just get her to accept me, even a little bit, I would tell her who I really was.

  By Thursday, I noticed Roz, Odie, and The Pastels glancing at me and Elizabeth every time we passed by in the halls. It was nerve wracking, knowing I was under inspection of the powerful witches. I knew what kind of power they possessed, and I couldn't help but wonder if they were secretly planning my demise.

  By Friday, the glances were too obvious to ignore, as well as the pain in Roz’s eyes every time she looked at me. I reaffirmed my plan of proving to her I was a good guy, and took advantage of every opportunity to show myself to her, without pushing her.

  Her look of disgust whenever she glared at Elizabeth, however, made me nauseous. I vowed to myself that on Monday, I'd end the friendship with the possessive girl. Just the thought alone brought me a sense of relief.

  For the rest of that day, I had a lighter step. I was inwardly pleased with my decision to push Elizabeth away. I knew nothing was worth getting in the way of me and Roz, and I was going to figure out a way to make her believe me. When the dismissal bell rang, I didn't fail to notice Devon and Cindy whispering by their lockers as I walked by. Their furtive looks unsettled me, and I quickened my step, anxious to escape the building.

  I knew what The Pastels were capable of, and if they wanted to end me, they'd have no problems doing it. I only hoped that I'd get to prove who I was to Roz before anything magical went down.

  ***

  “You wanted to see me?” I asked Prudence that Saturday, as she sat behind a large, oak desk.

  Piper had come to my room to let me know ‘our mother’ wanted to speak with me in her office, and as I'd already learned since waking up as a member of the Evans family, no one disobeyed Prudence.

  I walked down the long corridor of the large house to where her office was located. I wasn't sure why she had an office, as I knew she didn't work from home (or anywhere else for that matter), but I did know she kept the door locked at all times and never invited any of her children inside.

  Needless to say, I was on guard.

  “How was your first week of school?” She asked coldly once I had quietly closed the door behind me. It was the first time she'd had anything to say to me since the day before school began, when she'd pulled me to the side and reminded me to keep up her son’s sterling grades and reputation.

  “Fine,” I replied shortly. I was under no guise with her. We both knew what the other was. She knew I was Jimmy Matheson, former ghost and boyfriend. I knew she was Prudence Evans, major bitch extraordinaire.

  “I hope it wasn't disappointing being moved back to eleventh grade,” she said, “But I couldn't take a chance of you getting lost in this new world of yours.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  She raised hers.

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  She stood from her desk and walked to the wall on my left, which housed an enormous bookshelf filled with books. Glancing at them, I could see some were old, almost ancient looking, and I briefly wondered if any of them contained spells. After all, she was a witch. And I'm not just talking personality.

  “You can't even manage the simple use of a cell phone,” she said bitterly. “What makes you think you can handle the world as it is today?”

  I bristled at her words.

  “I've managed all week just fine,” I said, ice lining my words. “I didn't embarrass myself, or you.”

  “I don't believe that,” she smirked, “Which is why I had the Tate family brought back to Marion. Elizabeth will be your shadow.”

  I stared at her for several moments before finding my voice. “My what?”

  “Your shadow,” she r
eplied, as if speaking to someone who was either deaf or dumb. I was neither, yet it didn't stop her. “A shadow is someone who does not practice magic, but is still involved in our world. Her job is to guide you and help keep you on the right path, in school and out.”

  “Are you saying that's why she's been all over me all week?” I asked in complete surprise. For some reason, I'd assume there had been something romantic between Parker and Elizabeth. I hadn't expected it to be a job.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “Although, Elizabeth and Parker had dated until the Tates were called away for other pressing matters.” Aha. I knew it. “But that's neither here nor there. They have returned at my bequest, and they understand the importance of what is at stake.”

  I made my way to the brown leather chair placed before her desk, and sat down in it heavily. Questions swarmed in my brain. What was going on here? Why would an entire family move because she asked them to? What was Elizabeth’s role, exactly?

  Prudence snickered, and I glanced at her.

  “I see I’ve knocked you for a loop.”

  I remained silent, despite the questions I wanted answered. Whatever kind of game she was playing would be revealed soon enough.

  She reached forward into the bookshelf and removed a large black, leather-bound tome. It gleamed beneath the overhead light, telling me it was either fairly new, or it had been well taken care of. On the front cover were no words, just a symbol embossed in silver. It looked like an upside-down triangle, with an uppercase V below it. From the point of the triangle two lines continued on their slanted path, moving down into the V, only to swirl upward on either side of the letter in an elegant motion.

  Interesting.

  “Whether you, the man on the inside, is Parker or not, that body remains powerful. Therefore, beginning today,” she gestured to the book, “we are going to have lessons until your brain knows what your body does.”

  I was taken aback.

  What the actual hell?!

  “Magic lessons?” I asked incredulously. She smiled wickedly and gave a slight nod of her head. “No way,” I said, and stood abruptly. “You might control everything and everyone in this house, and I'll even let you control me to a certain extent, but there is no way I'm going along with all this magic mumbo-jumbo!” I turned angrily, appalled and frightened beyond belief, and strode to the door to take my leave.

  I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it. It quickly opened, only to be closed just as quickly by no cause of my own. And then I heard a click.

  I hadn't closed the door, I had opened it. I hadn't locked it either, yet it was now unyielding, no matter how hard I tried to turn the lock and escape. The hairs stood on the back of my neck, and I realized what was happening. She forced the door closed. She locked it. She was keeping it locked until she was done with me. I turned around slowly to face her.

  “What game are you playing at, Prudence?” I asked sharply.

  Her eyebrows rose swiftly and a glimmer of hurt passed across her eyes.

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “I have never heard my son’s voice speak to me in anger before. That wasn't nice,” she admonished.

  “Let me out,” I demanded.

  “Oh come now, Jimmy,” she crooned, and stepped forward to the leather chair, stroking the back of it lovingly. “Have a seat once again. I promise I want to do nothing but help you.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I said. “You're only interested in helping yourself.”

  She tsk’ed at me and shook her head slowly.

  “I can force you,” she said quietly. Threateningly.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up even further and I knew she had me beat. As much as I wanted to escape her office (dungeon might be a more appropriate word, despite that it wasn't underground), I knew she could, in fact, force me with her magic, or hand Roz over to the men of the Dark coven. I couldn’t risk her threats. I concluded, also, that if I went along with her wishes, maybe she'd answer my questions. It was hopeful thinking, sure, but I needed to try and justify my need to obey her.

  Fear was not a good enough justification. It made me feel weak, and ashamed.

  I crossed the floor and slowly sat in the chair I'd occupied only moments before.

  “What a good son,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

  Chapter 9

  ~Jimmy~

  After my first “session” with Prudence, I came to the very real conclusion that the woman was a psychopath. The magic lessons involved nothing remotely close to what I had expected. Indeed, I was stupidly anticipating magic tricks, a rabbit out of a hat, or levitation, or some other kind of weird.

  Instead, she had me work on my breathing and the clearing of my mind. Did you know there are correct ways to breathe, and incorrect ways, as well? I didn't. I thought taking a breath meant pulling oxygen into your lungs, and letting it back out again. Not according to the Breathing Nazi, Prudence Evans.

  There were many incorrect ways to breathe, she had informed me, and apparently I did them all. She kept using phrases like, “find your center,” and “clear all your thoughts,” and “become an empty vessel.” I was supposed to understand what these asinine things meant, I guess, but how in God’s name was I going to become an empty vessel? What did that even mean? My frustration at her language made my breathing even more erratic, and I knew finding my center was never going to happen.

  Then again, my former life before this one had me as a spirit, without the need for air or breath. I was air. I hadn't had to breathe it in, so what the hell did I know about these breathing techniques?

  Well, Prudence knew a lot, and woe to me for not following what was expected of me. Every time I tried to follow her instruction (and inevitably fail at it), she would glower at me and snap her fingers, sending tiny sparks of magical, electrical charges from her fingers to mine.

  Muscle memory is a real thing. Parker’s body had basically died from electrocution at Devon’s crackling fingertips, and it remembered. The whispers of the currents would kiss my fingers whenever Prudence was unhappy with my breathing method, and eventually, I had to fight the overwhelming urge to piss myself, such was the fear running through my veins. The pain itself was not excruciating, but it was enough.

  After the first little sting of her magical current, I immediately trembled from head to toe. I tried over and over and over again to follow her commands precisely. And over and over and over again I would lack success, causing her to send the little zaps of electricity into my shaking hands with each failure. By the time we had finished for the day, I was sweating profusely and begging to use the toilet. I'm not sure if I'd ever experienced a lower moment before, ever.

  Before I was finally able to escape her office/torture chamber and relieve myself, you can guaran-damn-tee that I mastered the art of breathing. After at least twenty tiny charges were sent shooting into my hands, there was no way in hell I was going to give her more reasons to continue with the punishment.

  And so, that day, breathing was marked off the list of things for me to learn.

  Avoiding Prudence and her zip-zappy fingers of torture, was another.

  ***

  Prudence had sent me out of her office swiftly once we had finished, but not without instructions to continue to practice my breathing at least five times a day.

  “It's vital that you are able to calm your body and mind, and find your focus. You will be able to tap into Parker’s magic once you have mastered that.”

  I nodded in defeat, wary of her hands that were reminders for my body of what it felt like to be fried from the inside out.

  “Practice at least five times a day,” she commanded. “If you fail to do so, I will know.”

  Again, I nodded in acquiescence. Internally, my spirit screamed a giant F-you! at this brazenly bold tyrant. Outwardly, however, there was no fight. None at all. I began to understand why Parker had been the way he was.

  I suddenly felt very sorry for the guy, deep in my soul
. He probably never stood a chance, having this insane woman as his mother. What was it he had said to Roz in the school cafeteria, just moments before Devon had fried him? My mind tripped backwards in time, to that terrifying night when I thought Roz would be lost forever.

  Parker had forced Roz to lie on a table, which had been groomed just for her. He'd had that black cube resting on her stomach, the one that contained the soul of someone named Lillianna. The coven standing guard around them hadn't noticed me yet. That old sack of bones, Agnes, was standing just behind him, panting like she was impatient. And then Parker knelt down, and said to Roz...

  “...if I was any other person, born to any other way of life, I would have courted you properly. I would have protected you against the evil in the world. I would have pledged my love for you eternally and I would have died before letting anything, or anyone hurt you.”

  He had said, born to any other way of life. This is what he had meant, my current way of life had been no different from his, except his had probably been harsher, more degrading. More vile. He knew he never had any other choice. His mother had likely brainwashed him his entire life, forcing him to do her bidding in hopes that someday, he'd have enough power to get her back into their precious coven.

  I hadn't forgotten that he'd also told Roz he would have courted her, loved her, protected her and so on. It had stung, to hear him tell my girl those things, but it had allowed me to understand Parker a little bit better, in that moment. He'd known what he was doing wasn't right, but he'd not had a choice. I knew that, now.

  I got it.

  I finished using the bathroom and, as I washed my hands in the marbled sink, took in my appearance in the ornately designed mirror before me.

  Without a doubt, I was Parker Evans on the outside. I peered closely into his pretty eyes, wondering what sort of horrors he had experienced at the hands of his mother. I wondered if he'd had terrible, despicable things forced upon him as a small boy. I wondered if he'd been forced to use his powers against his will. I wondered why he didn't fight against her wickedness harder, or at the very least, run away.