The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  Lucas’ eyes widened. “No way.”

  “Yeah. I did well too. There was one in Canada I was training for, in a place called Penticton. It’s a desert run. Dry heat and harsh wind. I was hoping to go there next year maybe. Then I was thinking about joining the police force or the army. I wasn’t sure which.” My voice trailed off. “Everyone wanted me to go to college, but I was more of a physical person. Not scholarly.”

  “I never would have guessed.”

  “No.” I laughed bitterly, hating the thing I’d become. “A shaved head, piercings and tattoos, and psychotic episodes don’t really scream dedicated athlete.”

  “No.” He squeezed my hand again. “If we were in the real world I’d ask you on a date. I would ask you to go for dinner and try to impress you by enduring some crazy run so we had something to talk about.” He said it to the lake, not meeting my gaze.

  “If this was the real world I would say yes.” My eyes threatened to flood with tears but the tension in my entire body was almost painful.

  He let go of my hand and walked away, leaving me alone with the wind and the wish I were part of the real world.

  I strolled around the lake, reliving the weird moment, unable to go back inside to face him and his confession.

  When I got too cold I headed back in to hide in the study again. I sat on the window ledge, my perch, and stared at the gray lake.

  The door creaked behind me again, but I didn’t flinch or jerk. I casually glanced back to find Lucas once again lingering in the entrance. “Hi.” I waved lazily.

  He didn’t speak but watched me with a grimace as though he was in pain.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  His face flushed as he crossed the room in silence. His warmth enveloped my personal space. He hovered there, taking up the entire room as it shrunk in on me and he invaded my bubble.

  His expression of agony didn’t change as he bent slowly, bringing his face closer. I didn’t close my eyes. His handsome face lowered to mine. I’d never kissed a boy before. His soft warm lips brushed against mine, sending an electric shiver throughout my body. His lips settled for a moment as if letting me get used to the feel of him against me.

  I never knew a moment could be so delicious and soft.

  His hands crept along my sides, holding my hands. He smiled as he kissed me, putting my hands on his chest. My face reddened, burning against his. I let my hands touch his chest—I let myself feel him. He was real. This was happening

  “Are you okay?” He pulled back, looking at me. “Was it too fast? Did I scare you?”

  “No. I’m fine.” I felt silly. “It was perfect.” I ducked my head, embarrassed.

  “You’re perfect,” he breathed as he bent, kissing my cheek.

  For the first time, I kissed a boy. I pulled at him, nearly toppling us both. He steadied himself, lifting me off the ground. My back hit softly against the wall with his hands cupping me and holding me to him.

  It was magical and sensual for a whole minute before, like any abuse victim, I froze. He didn’t realize for the first few seconds. I had stopped moving and was letting him roam my mouth and face. From something dark and seedy in my past, anger welled inside. It scared me. I shook with building rage, working out a plan in my mind.

  The kissing and touching stopped as he placed me on the ground carefully and stepped back. “Where did you just go?”

  “I don’t know.” Humiliation hit. “It wasn’t me—it’s the other me. Someone liked to hurt me—her.” I twitched, feeling lost inside.

  “I would never hurt you. Never. I would kill anyone—”

  “I’m sorry.” I cut him off. “Even if the scars aren’t mine, my mind remembers their pain. I can’t do this.” I trembled with fear and desperate sadness but maintained my composure long enough to leave the room.

  He tried to reach for me but stopped himself.

  I wanted to turn around.

  I wanted to fix it.

  I wanted to scream that the pain wasn’t mine.

  Instead, I walked to my room and closed the door. Safety. I liked having my own room, and it was like a sanctuary. Hugging myself, I walked to the huge mirror.

  The reflection lied to me. The girl in the mirror looked like old me.

  My thick dark-brown hair with the slightest curl to it was shiny and healthy-looking again. My dark-brown eyes and long eyelashes shone with glistening tears. My face barely showed any signs of scarring from the piercings Lucas had removed. I lifted a long thin finger to my lips, remembering the feeling of him touching me. The softness and the sensuality had been a first for both of me.

  “Why, Miss Ari, you look a wreck. You want I should pour you a bath?”

  I glanced up at Annabelle and smiled. “Yes, please.” I knew I wasn’t dirty, but I couldn’t help but feel it.

  I looked back at myself, seeing the tattoos I hated poking out from my clothes in random places.

  “Well, I be concerned for ya, miss. You look some upset. What be troubling you?”

  “Everything.” I stood still, watching the reflection speak, “My soul is split into two people, Annabelle, and I can’t seem to keep the bad one of me out of my mind.”

  “Well, Momma Elsie could help ya wit dat. She be a magic lady who helps Lydia sometimes. I seen her do some amazing things. Ask Lydia to takes ya there. Now I’ll pour ya bath.” She vanished.

  “Okay, thanks.” I left the room quickly, searching for Lydia. I was scared to run into Lucas, but I needed to know about Momma Elsie. Lydia was in her reading room perusing a huge book.

  “Who’s Momma Elsie?”

  Lydia exhaled deeply, looking at me. “Annabelle is going to get it. Elsie is no one you need to be concerning yourself with. We have to learn about your other side before we just dispel her. We don’t know a lot about you and your gifts. I know you’re having a hard time with it, kiddo, and I know you want a normal life. You have to remember though, if we dispel one of you, it could be old you who gets removed. Then what? You’ll be in a dark place, honey.” She lifted her book again and dismissed me with the page she flipped.

  Defeated, I walked back upstairs for my bath. A very large part of me didn’t want to wash off Lucas’ touch and kisses, even though I couldn’t help but associate them with the bad memories.

  Chapter 9

  The cop and the killer

  Aimee

  I winked into his room, sat across the bed from him, and watched him sleep.

  “Aimee, Jesus. Make some noise beyond that whoosh.” Shane stretched and opened his eyes. He looked sleepy and warm. I wanted to touch him in all the wrong ways. He yawned and stared at me.

  “Is this okay?” I was desperate for him to say yes.

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t answer my question, and yet still said the thing I wanted him to.

  “Me too.”

  “How do you do that whoosh thing?”

  “I don’t know. It just happens. I think about a place and wink and I’m there.”

  “Weird. Were you scared the first time you did it?”

  “Yeah. I was alone. I winked to Portland, trying to get as far away from home as I could. Lydia found me living on the street alone. I had let the hunger get so bad that I couldn’t be near anyone for weeks.” I shuddered, remembering the way they’d put bad people in my room and let me take them one at a time.

  He grimaced. “Kind of scary.”

  “Yup.” I agreed. “Now it’s part of who I am.”

  “Well, as much as I want to, I just can’t hate the fact you’re this new superhero-badass Aimee. You’re less vulnerable.”

  “Less able to be poisoned. How’s my dad?” I changed the subject.

  “He’s sad. He can’t eat and he sleeps all the time. He barely leaves his house.”

  “Oh my God.” My chest tightened. “What can I do?”

  “You need to see him.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I can’t let him see me like this. How do I explain? I look diffe
rent. I kill people every week.”

  “I can’t see the difference in you. You look the same. If I can’t see it, and believe me I’m looking for it, he won’t either. You look more like Alise, which could just be from getting older and less dorky. Fashionable roomies at the center?”

  “The center? Really?”

  “It’s what I call it.” He reached forward, touching my leg. “Let’s drive over though, okay?”

  “Fine.” My stomach was in my throat, but I couldn’t leave my father the way he was. I needed to fix things with him and I was probably safe enough to see him without hurting him.

  Shane showered quickly and changed while I flipped through his yearbook.

  “Ready?” he asked from the doorway, looking sexy in his superman tee shirt and jeans. I exhaled, trying hard not to think bad thoughts.

  “Yup.”

  We strolled down to the truck. “You know, I miss riding in this truck.” I climbed in and closed the door, remembering how sick I’d been when I rode in the truck the last time.

  “I miss you.” He closed the door for me.

  My nerves didn’t improve as we drove with Shane nattering on, “Yeah, so anyway, I got lucky with my job. I can come home a lot, and if I need to help my mom I can be there pretty fast. My dad is marrying that girl, you know?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “No.”

  “Oh yeah.” He nodded as he drove. “I got an invitation. I’m not even kidding. You want to be my date?”

  “No.” I scoffed. “You’re not going to the wedding?”

  “I have to. My sister’s going too. Dad has spent a lot of time trying to make up for everything. And while I don’t like Hilary, she makes him happy and he has been trying.”

  “Hilary—it just sounds like mean-girl home wrecker.”

  “Still a nerd at heart.”

  “I guess so. Speaking of which, how are my sister and Blake doing? I lost track of them.”

  “They live in Boston now. They just moved. He’s going to MIT.”

  “MIT? Wow, talk about a dream come true for him.” I tried not to be jealous of the normal life they were all living without me.

  Shane’s expression hardened as he parked in my driveway. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think Blake beats your sister. She had bruises on her arms last time I saw her and she was really skinny and weird, like shy and unsure of herself.”

  “Blake couldn’t hurt a fly.” I rolled my eyes. “I know you hate him but let’s be honest, it’s Blake. He’s a giant nerd—he’s not beating my sister. Alise is probably on drugs and he’s trying to help her.” I sighed. “Maybe Boston will be good for them. She has an addictive personality; it sucks. I’ll try to find them in Boston and see if I can get a read on her.” The idea of checking in on my sister was exhausting. I had no desire to see either of them.

  Staring past Shane, I cringed at my house but forced myself to open the truck door. When I hopped out I realized I was brutally overdressed in my skinny jeans, high-heeled boots, and cashmere sweater. My dad would be suspicious of my clothes but I could lie. I’d been doing it so long it felt natural now.

  Shane bounded up the stairs to the front door as if he was family. He was now. I was more than grateful for the attention and care he had given my father over the past year and a half. I wished my sister had done more.

  He opened the door without knocking, making my feel like the outsider.

  My father sat in the living room, staring at a huge flat-screen TV. I eyed it curiously. We’d never had a TV like this one. He was watching the nature channel. At least that hadn’t changed.

  “Look who’s feeling like her old self and able to finally leave the medical center.”

  “Who?” My father turned. His lips trembled as he rubbed his eyes and shook his head in tiny twitches of disbelief. “Aimee? Is that you?”

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  Tears poured from his eyes as he tried to stand but his legs trembled. “Aimee. Are you okay? You look amazing and healthy.” He stumbled over to me, reaching but hesitating before he finally took my hands.

  My eyes darted to Shane who smiled. Focusing on not killing him, I kept my hands in check.

  “Are you better? Did you get a liver?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, forcing a smile across my lips. I didn’t want to let him see I was shocked at the state of him. My father’s face was thin and old, pale. He looked ill.

  “Daddy,” I whispered, gripping his weathered skin.

  “Oh, I missed you.” He pulled me in, gripping tightly and sobbing just a little.

  Tears streamed my face as I nestled into his thin frame, smelling his old worn sweater.

  His muscles shuddered as he clenched me tightly. My new body didn’t flinch under the strain and pressure, not like the last time he had hugged me like that.

  My hands tingled for half a second, but my love for my father was stronger than anything that lived inside me.

  After he had gained his composure we sat at the bar while he made omelets. I dreaded eating in front of him.

  “When Blake got into MIT he asked Alise to go with him. We are all so proud of him. After everything that’s happened around here, everyone is still trying to put the pieces of their lives back together.” His voice cracked slightly as he whisked the eggs.

  I forced a smile. “How’s Giselle?” A subject change needed to happen.

  “Good.” My dad nodded eagerly. “She’s doing amazingly. She is in Seattle now, just moved there and going to school to be a fashion journalist.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how that’s a job but apparently it is.”

  “I’m glad she’s feeling better.” I needed to pop in on her too, especially if she was so close.

  “Yeah, but it’s taken her as long as it’s taken you to recover. She was just lucky to be able to do it at home after the transplant.” He glanced back at me. “She stayed here, with me. She didn’t want to live with her parents. So Shane and I took care of her. Her mom would come with food all the time. We actually ate quite well because of it. Giselle couldn’t eat any of the food her mom brought.”

  “It wasn’t the worst favor I’ve ever done.” Shane chuckled.

  I glanced at Shane and smiled. “Thank God for small and large miracles.”

  “Now that you’re healthy again, what’s the plan?” My dad beamed and plated the omelets. “What’s the plan for school?”

  “Oh right. School.” My heart sunk. “I’m planning on getting my GED quickly and seeing what schools will take me.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Any idea about the future?”

  “Not much yet. Just grateful to be alive.”

  My dad gripped my hands. “Me too, kiddo.”

  Shane cleared his throat nervously. “So, Mr. Mackenzie was tried for murder, rape, assault and battery, stalking, and a few misdemeanors that were added because of him being a teacher and an adult, and Jaime being only seventeen. Anyway, it’ll be life with no chance of parole—ever.”

  “Good.” I stuffed a bite of omelet in my mouth and chewed hard. “He deserves every second of his punishment. Some of us will never recover from the things he’s taken away.”

  “I’m glad you’re home, kiddo,” Dad changed the subject the same way I had. “I thought I was going crazy. Your letters were the only things that kept me sane. I couldn’t bear the lack of correspondence between us.”

  “Letters?” I glanced up to see Shane wink at me. “Oh yeah, well I’m glad. I wasn’t very strong and it took a lot out of me to write those letters.”

  “I know, kiddo. They were better than anything. I still read them all, every night.”

  Shane didn’t meet my gaze. He ate his omelet and let my father believe it was me who wrote them. I struggled not to fall for the guy who wrote my father to keep him alive.

  I didn’t succeed.

  Chapter 10

  Angsty bushwhacking

  Ari

  I peered out the window at the gray weather,
sensing the old me slipping further and further away, as if lost in the fog that seemed to constantly hover around the house. I didn’t know what to do with myself, but I was scared of staying there much longer. I needed some heat and some sweat and to run the energy off.

  My legs twitched with the desire to move and deep down for some bizarre reason I had an urge to feel pain. I suspected it was the same need my piercings, tattoos, and cuts in my skin had come from. I didn’t completely get it, but I understood what it was like to feel chaos taking me somewhere. I knew the burn in my legs and lungs was the only thing that stopped me from getting lost sometimes.

  Maybe me and the other me shared that, that need to burn and ache and spend everything we had inside us.

  I slipped on some shorts and runners I had Aimee pick out for me. Normally, I ran a small trail around the lake but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

  I went downstairs quietly and to the front door.

  The frigid air hit me like a wall, burning my bare skin. The cold was extreme like the desert, just the wrong kind of extreme. I paced to the edge of the house and then pushed myself off into the woods. I ran along the path Lydia had told me about that circled the lake for several miles. It wasn’t much of a run, but if I veered off I could maybe climb one of the hillsides.

  My muscles burned and ached from the cold as I left the trail and ran into the woods. The ground became uneven and my weakened leg muscles struggled with the logs I hopped over. Dead brown leaves smacked my face weakly as they were barely attached to the branches I ducked under.

  My vision blurred, my lungs screamed from lack of air as I climbed higher and higher. After a few miles my head pounded, but I pushed myself farther. I was determined to feel it—the explosion of endorphins I used to get.

  Off to my left, a branch broke. My heart stopped for a second as I slowed to a jog and pivoted around. The forest had swallowed me. I no longer saw the lake. I could no longer see the extremely high rooftop of the mansion or anything, or hear anyone. Another branch broke and I stopped running completely. My head pounded with my heartbeat as I looked up at the gray sky, letting my legs crumple beneath me.