Rose of Rage Pt. 01

Author's note: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people or places, both living and dead is purely coincidental. Elements in the story may or may not resemble their real life counterparts.

This is my first real work and it may not be up to many of the reader's standards but I hope my efforts make this story at least a bit interesting. And if you enjoy reading it, all the better. I would also like to mention that this story has been edited by myself. Despite my multiple attempts at contacting an editor who I thought would be perfect for my type of writing, none responded. Expect a plethora of spelling and grammatical errors going into this. Lastly, I'd like to thank you for your patience.

This story will be slow and long. If you're looking for a short and sweet story, this is not it. Needless to say, this story is not focused around sex.

Dedicated to someone I know who's going through a rough time. You did say that you wanted to read something I wrote, didn't you? So don't complain it's on literotica.

O_o

I've really never been a patient person. And I've never been that intelligent. I'm not saying that I'm dumb or incapable of making perfectly rational decisions, it's just that I have a long streak of being "dumb as fuck". I am smart, but I have an extra quality that most "intelligent" people seldom have, emotions.

It's a scientifically proven fact that people with high IQ are usually distant, try not to get attached to anyone or anything for that matter, and never care about anything else but themselves. Was the case for me as well, until 10 years ago when the person I loved, respected and cared about the most put me up for adoption. My mother had never been one for responsibilities. Neither was my father. I had never even met the guy, let alone have any quality father-son bonding. Hell, I didn't even know his name. My mother had at least tried.

Still, I'd be lying if I said I kept a perfect demeanour and never said anything hurtful to my mother. I was 13 but I wasn't stupid. Far from it. To most it may seem as though, in common terms, "I'm tooting my own horn" but if you were me, you would have accepted it as a fact as well. I mean, I was better than my peers at almost everything and stating the facts does not qualify as bragging. I knew it and so did everyone else. But then again, it's the victors who decide what history becomes.

Back then, I was just a pretentious little brat who thought he was better than everyone else. But hey, every Tom, Dick, and Harry thinks that they are perfect, deep down.

Imagine how hurt I was when I found out my mother was going to give me away, was going to throw away her perfect baby boy. The one she held so near and dear to her heart. Even as a kid, I knew that my mother had problems. Both financial and psychological. She was hurting and had no one to turn to, suffocating under the responsibility of taking care of a child as a single mother.

I admire her for lasting 13 years. In her state, just taking care of a child would have been an admirable feat but she was the perfect mother. More perfect than I could have ever asked for. I thought that if I had her behind me, I could take on the whole world, and win. She was everything a mother could and should have been. Never had I ever felt that I was under inadequate care, and she had never given me any reason to. She took care of every single one of my needs. I was smart enough to never ask for anything she couldn't provide for me and for that alone, I think I saved her a lot of grief. I mean, we didn't have the most luxurious of lives life but which mother wouldn't want to give everything she could to her child.

She had her moments of weakness. Namely, when she tried to introduce "father figures" in my life. I may have been a kid, but when I was angry at something, let's just say I don't forgive and forget. And I hadn't forgotten what my real father had done. Left my mother with a child she could never give a good life to and a plethora of debts and hardships.

Not all of them were bad but I knew, or rather, I was sure that they were all taking advantage of a single mother with a lot of problems. After the fifth one, I made it clear to mom that I didn't need a "dad" and that she was perfectly capable of raising me on her own. I knew that she sometimes got angry that I didn't understand her pain but she never said anything to me. Nor did I see anymore "father figures". Good, I thought. I would rather see her lonely than broken and crying.

We had a lot of fights. Serious ones. Usually about something menial like where the milk would go in the fridge and how my room was always a mess. Whenever we had fights, she loved playing dirty. Usually by doing things that would really piss me off. Like not making breakfast on time. She never went easy on me. In fact, I thought she wanted to see me suffer for destroying her life, but whatever her intent, it wasn't easy living in the same house when we were both angry. The dirtiest card she would play is the "I've bought you a new dad" card. I hated that more than anything. Sometimes, I thought she liked making me angry.

I was pretty bad as well. Once I invited my whole class to our tiny apartment and they trashed it. Needless to say, she didn't talk to me for a month.

My relationship with my mother was rather peculiar. She never wanted me. Thought I was responsible for squandering her dreams and ambitions. But at the same time, she loved me more than she loved herself and I think those conflicting thoughts is what led my mother to just... give me away.

As I previously mentioned, I was more than unhappy. I knew she couldn't give me a luxurious life nor could she afford to send me to college. My life would be ruined had stayed with her, my potential would have been wasted. I was fully aware of the hardships I'd have to face but I wasn't just gonna call child services on her. She is my mother. Whether she likes it or not, I'm her responsibility. Besides, I didn't think she'd have it in her to survive without me. Not after what she had been thorough. I didn't want to leave her alone. I didn't wanna be alone. Little did I know that she was planning to put me up for adoption.

The last months with her after she gave me the news were bad. I fought her decision and I fought hard. I cried, I screamed, I pleaded, and I did everything I thought I could to stay with my mother. She became cold and distant and at times, she just ignored me.

Soon, it was as if "father figures" were on sale. A new guy every day. That's how bad it was. I even suspected that she was prostituting for a while. One look at her bank account was enough to confirm my suspicions. That's wasn't all. She started doing drugs. Any chances of me staying with her were being snorted by my mother and her "friends". I soon figured out that she was doing everything to make it seem like she couldn't take care of me and that she was an unfit mother. She wasn't planning to put me up for adoption. She was planning to call child services and get me placed in a foster home.

I wasn't stupid. I gathered a list of thing that she did and why she did it in a file and threw it at her. I could see it on her face that she wasn't expecting me to know exactly what she was trying to do.

"I'm staying with you, whether you like it or not. And if I have to read every single textbook our law has to say about this situation to stay with you, you know I will."

Then we entered the "I'm sorry but I can't take care of you" phase. I was just glad that she stopped prostituting and doing drugs. She cried and she pleaded and she said hurtful things. None of her words affected me and she knew that as well. I had made up my mind and words were no longer enough to make me stop.

We fought for 3 more months. But eventually, I was tired of it. She won. I had nothing left to say. Just seeing her like that, broken and crying was tearing me apart. That whole thing made me feel things I never even thought I could feel. I felt like I was betrayed, that she was no better than my father. At least, he had never shown me hope, never told to me that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

In a couple of months, everything was finalized. I no longer had a mother.

*_*

I was placed in an orphanage. A catholic orphanage. I am anything but religious and I was more that annoyed by the treatment.

"God will make everything fine. This is a test of your faith." They said. Lies, I told myself.

There in that very orphanage, I had a crush on someone for the first time in my life.

I was 14, shoulder length jet-black hair, and wore glasses, and was below average at best. 5'4" at the time.

She was 17, beautiful, blond hair, 5'6" and had most everyone's attention once she walked in the room.

I was awkward, had no one to talk to and spent way too much time writing and reading books.

She was a social butterfly. Everyone loved her.

Girls would turn the other way if they saw me.

Guys turned towards her whenever possible.

We were as different as could be. Almost as if we were from two different worlds. I would love to tell you that despite the differences, despite the odds, despite everything, she loved me and we got married and had 3 kids, but... that never happened. The first and last time I talked to her was to ask her to return a book I had taken from the library (she worked there and was about to go to work). She told me, and I quote, "Please never speak to me again."

"As you wish, your highness." I said mockingly and bowed. She was more than a little surprised, as if someone had just slapped her.

She didn't have to tell me twice. The only reason I even liked her in the first place was because I thought she was helpful to everybody and always tried to help everyone she could.

Much to my delight, some of her "Well-wishers" saw the whole thing and started spreading rumours about how mean she was to me. Even exaggerated it quite a bit. I stayed out of it mostly but even I could see that every person she had ever wronged had plenty of opportunity to add fuel to the fire. Most of the girls disliked her too cause you know, she was popular and they weren't.

In short, her reputation was going down the drain, fast.

I, on the other hand, was on everyone's "Oh that poor guy..." list. I was getting "Get over it soon!" cards which were more than annoying in and of themselves but those who thought I asked her out and was turned down were extra annoying. Soon everyone forgot about the whole thing and moved on. I too, figured that I had made an error of judgement and chose to forget about her instead of aiming for a star who in reality, was just a piece of chewing gum stuck to my window.

Everyone from the orphanage went to a catholic school not far from the orphanage. I alone attended a private school. I'd like to say that they recognized my potential and put me in a better school, but I had a gut feeling that my mother was somehow involved. Not mother, I had told myself, the woman who gave me away.

My studies were great. Always A+. The teachers loved me, jocks bullied me and the nerds looked up to me. All was normal. Except for the fact that females still avoided me like I was the black plague. Well, fuck 'em. One part of my head said. That's the problem, isn't it? You can't. Said the sarcastic part.

The sarcastic part of my head is an asshole.

I was 16 and the closest contact I had with a female since I was aware of "sex" things was me giving a girl in my class a book she left behind. That was it. Yup, I was that pathetic.

Needless to say, I was rather popular among the people in my school who were on the highest rung of the social hierarchy. Why, you ask? Well my nickname was HK, which stood for homework killer.

I would do anybody's homework, for a price, of course. I sometimes wondered how far I could take it.

Also needless to say, I lost my virginity pretty soon.

One of my "clients", was fascinated by me. As to why that was, I was oblivious. She always tried to talk to me, make jokes and generally acted like she knew me well. She also told me about all the TV shows she watched and who had won the Oscars and who hadn't. All this wasn't in public. She would look around for almost a minute before even approaching me. I hated her of course.

Soon we all graduated from junior high and again, needless to say, I was very, very happy that I would be out of that shit hole.

But as they say, out of the fire and into the frying pan I went. Let's just say that my sophomore year was a disaster. I was pranked, humiliated and every other ungodly thing you could imagine would happen in a high school happened to me. By the end of the first week, I was the laughing stock for the entire school.

#_#

One day when I was sitting on a bench near the school entrance, a man in his forties approached me. He was wearing a suit.

I instantly recognized him.

"Hey!" he said cheerfully before sitting beside me. "Lovely day isn't it."

"I don't mean to be rude or anything," I said, "But I'm having a bad day and I don't have anything to do with you so it would mean the world to me if you sat someplace else."

I didn't want him to know that I knew who he was. As I said, I am smart. I was 15 when I found out who my father was, what he looked like and what his net worth was.

Now before you accuse me of doing something illegal or being an opportunistic bastard, let me tell you that I obtained that information legally. I figured he had to be either a. Rich and connected b. poor and/or jobless and c. someone who worked in the ad business. If you ask how I figured this, well, you'd have to look inside my head.

The thing is, I know my mother. She is definitely not the one night stand type. So I figured it had to be someone who she met while either studying or working. That explains c. He would also have to be reliable and trust worthy. My mother is a good judge of character. So what if my father was responsible and trustworthy but simply couldn't support both my mom and me? That's explains b. Rich and connected people have a history of lying and sleeping around. Rich people also like to seek new challenges. So that was a. Why am I telling you all this, well it's important.

So after a lot of careful deduction, I reached the conclusion d., someone who she knew for a long time, someone she worked with and someone who was rich and connected. My mother was always a thrill seeker which led me to a conclusion; she was having an affair with a married man and got pregnant. The guy to save his reputation and money, didn't want me. My mother on the other took pity on me.

This was all speculation of course but I told everything I wrote here to the principal of my junior high.

The principal adored me. Maybe a little more than conventional teacher-student adore. She loved me like her own son. And to be honest, I loved her too. She was always there whenever I had trouble and I felt safe around her. Enough so that I would run away from the orphanage from time to time just to talk to her.

She was there for me since the beginning when I had the most trouble. I was in shambles when she found me but slowly, she put me back together. Helped me move on. My studies got better, I was more sociable. And more importantly, I never had any troubles in school because of her.

When I put pressure on her to tell me who it was that was paying my fees, she smiled and said "I knew you were smart enough to figure at least that much out. Here." She handed me a red folder. "Please, please, I beg of you please, don't hate me."

I didn't like what she said but I didn't say anything. My mind started racing.

The first page contained a photo, a photo of a man I had seen before. On that very school.

I looked at his name. James Henry Kruger, Jr. Age, 47.

"Mrs. Kruger, I... I-I... your husband?" I was stuttering. My breathing was erratic. "You're my step mother?"

"Yes." She said calmly.

There was a rather long pause. I was lost deep in thoughts, trying to comprehend that the one remaining mother figure in my life simply choose to withheld that information from me.

"I, uh, why didn't you tell me?" I said, regaining some composure.

"I was waiting for the appropriate time."

"How long have you known?"

"Since Laura was pregnant."

"And you didn't think it was important for me to know all this?"

"Regardless of what our relation off the school premises are, you are still my student. And whether you believe me or not, I do care about you. I didn't want you to be angry and I certainly don't want you to ruin your life by doing something rash, so I thou-"

I slammed my hand on her table. She flinched. "So you thought what? That you could just pretend like nothing has ever happened, call me son and then pat me on the head and tell me that I'm a great student and everything will be all right?"

"No-I-"

"I thought I could trust you Holly." I spat, almost as if just saying those words were enough to kill her.

She looked at me with eyes full of pain. Pain and fear. She had never heard me talking like that to her. Hell, I never talked like that. Ever.

"No, I don't want to hear anything." I said, as she was about to say something. "I've seen enough, I've heard enough and I don't want anything to do with your husband or my mother and if that man ever finds out that you told me everything, you'll be sorry and if you dare call me 'son' again, I swear in the name of everything good and holy, I'll strangle you myself. You are not my mother and you don't get to make decisions for me. Are we clear?"

She nodded silently, on the verge of tears.

I stood up, took the red folder in my hand and walked towards the door.

"And don't worry, I don't hate you." I said in a cheerful tone, before I left the room and slammed the door on my way out.

I spent the next couple of days going through contents of the red folder. With a clear and unclouded mind, I picked up much more from the folder than I preciously had. Inside was detailed information about my father, my mother, photos of them together, kissing, holding hands and in bed.

I wanted to throw up.

After going through the folder a couple of times, I was almost certain that Holly had hired a PI to follow her husband around. Which meant, he didn't know that she knew everything. Then my mind went towards what her relationship was like with my mother. Her calling my mother by her first name so casually led me to believe that she did know my mother quite well.

A few days later, I decided to go knock on Holly's doors for answers. When I got there, I saw two cars, one I recognized as Holly's. I figured the other one was her husband's and decided to come back later. But just as I was turning around to leave, I saw them come out the door. Holly and my mother. They were laughing.

I quickly hid behind a car and listened to them talk.

"You should have seen his face." Holly said laughing. "He threatened to strangle me."

"Oh don't worry." My mother said giggling. "My son can't kill someone."

"You weren't there, Laura. He was bloody scary." Holly said in a serious tone. "Do you think it was a mistake to give him the folder?"

"Not really, I mean, come on Holly. What could a 15 year old do with that information?"

"You don't know him, Laura. You don't. He's changed a lot. And he is no longer as naïve as he used to be. I fear something terrible might happen."

They were still talking but what I had already heard was enough to make my mind race. Holly was in contact with my mother. From the topic they were discussing, I had a feeling that it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. The red folder event was planned ahead of time as well.