Rage (Ruthless Tendencies Book 1) Read online

  RAGE

  Ruthless Tendencies Series

  D.M. Burns

  Copyright @ 2019 by D.M. Burns

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locale, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About this book

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  D.M Burns Note

  Acknowledgements

  Connect with D.M. Burns

  Renegade

  Reese Walker

  I was just the average girl next door until my eyes locked in on him. Spending my days in and out watching, pinning and stealing his private and personal moments. Locking them away close to my heart. Safekeeping.

  The beautifully broke boy.

  The angry adolescent.

  The life of MY Rage.

  All the things that I’m sure I should’ve consulted a therapist about. There was no help for me though. That boy was in my mind without so much as even a conversation. In my blood changing my DNA chemical code, my soul. My sick twisted addiction that would end up draining the life out of me.

  Rage Remmie Knox Reynolds

  Those eyes, those fucking exotic green eyes, are always invading, interfering but familiar. My little Shirley Holmes is an observant one. So, I give her something to see. It would serve her best to stick with the barbie doll bullshit. All the girly getup frills and whatnot that a kid her age is supposed to do. The only thing she’ll get from studying me is…

  Ruthless Tendencies.

  Ruthless Savageness.

  Ruthless Rage.

  I’m no role model or knight in shining armor across the way. I’ll snatch her little girl dreams up by the throat and choke the life out of them all. While smiling like the special kind of midnight wolf I am sent to huff and puff, blowing her goddamn house in.

  Little Reese… Little Reese… Let me in!

  This book is dedicated to anyone who ever battled with those ping-pong emotions of angry lust driven by the unfamiliar feelings of young love. What a wild ride and rememberable time it will be. Epic in nature and unwelcome when you first stumbled across it, or at least it was for me. Here’s to everyone that’s gone through it and to anyone in line waiting their turn for it, but most importantly to those amid The Chaos.

  Embrace it when you want to strikeout. Smile through gritted teeth when you want to scream. Seek understanding when you feel the need to usher yourself in the other direction. Enjoy every aggravating, crazed, mind-boggling emotion for those moments are defining in nature.

  To know love is to know hate. The two feed off each other and if handled with extreme care will evolve into something much more powerful once combined.

  Rage: violent and uncontrolled anger, a fit of violent wrath, violent action, an intense feeling.

  chapter 1 – reese

  Age 13

  Rage is derived by a mixture of multiple emotions filtering to the surface which triggers a reaction. Depending on the different layers and stages of life we’re entering in will determine our response. Love. Jealousy. Lust. Confusion. Loss. The list is endless but at thirteen years old, sheltered by my picture-perfect home life of unicorns and rainbows, I had no idea that I was staring at rage in the rawest form from my front porch step. And at that age, I damn sure didn’t know it could be so painfully beautiful in appearance either.

  My home life’s a loving environment that envelopes me like a warm blanket on a subzero night. Having both my parents softening every blow that comes my way like padded uniform gear, I’m blessed. I never suffer one bruise from the cruelty that the outside world has to offer. Hell, the worst fight I remembered my parents having was when my dad left the toilet seat up and during the night my mom fell ass first in water. Even then, that ended in their laughter. So, all of this that I’m witnessing is an enigma.

  Misunderstanding laces my facial features as I stare helplessly into the backyard across the street at my fifteen-year-old neighbor, Remmie “Rage” Reynolds. Storming his way out of the back-screen door of his middle-class home. He stalks a few steps then viciously pounds away on the trunk of a great oakwood tree that had the misfortune of growing roots on shared soil with him. You'd think that tree had wronged him in a heinous way. Like a cage fight unleashed and Remmie’s sparring for his life, blow by blow.

  Everyone calls him Rage. I never quite wrapped my brain around this concept until today. This dark brown almost black-haired boy with icicle blue eyes carries around some severe freaking anger issues. That much is apparent. But unlike most girls that would be wise enough to tuck ass and rush back into their house, I stay rooted to my stoop spot spying, always spying on him. I’m not most girls. I’m a stupid, stupid girl. I should sprint in the other direction as far as I can go. As fast as I can get there.

  Transfixed, I observe this twisted remake of Fight Club playout. Hell, Remmie’s facial attributes even resemble an underdeveloped angry younger Brad Pitt, except harsher, more profound. My heart pounds in my chest like an unwelcomed beating introduction of the police announcing their entry for a drug bust, violently and without mercy.

  I’m always lurking around him. Quietly waiting for any clues, I can get that’ll bring me a little closer to figuring out the mystery behind those icy steel gates to his soul. Even at such a young age, my fascination with Rage is as unstable as a three-legged table seating six. At the same time, feeding my hunger for Rage related knowledge is very much a part of my reality.

  Remmie knows I stalk him, but he never acknowledges or encourages my antics. There’s only been a handful of times that he ever showed any type of reaction to my nosey ways. One of those times, that stand out the most, was when he was making out in his backyard with Lesland Bryans. I hid in the bushes that lined the front of my house feeding my adolescent broken heart. It was a traumatic sight, seeing my childhood crush sucking face with the street corner hood rat.

  God, I hated that busty blonde that flourished in the tits department way before any of the rest of us had a chance to even know what a training bra was. Girls like her are the foundation that prompts angry rap songs about hookers and ho’s. Like hello, Beyonce, Becky’s right over here!

  Remmie wasn’t supposed to have girls at his house while his mom was away at work. Then again, I knew better than to be hiding out in the bushes stalking him. Remmie’s mom was well aware that her son was turn
ing that curve from boy to man. The changes were coming on fast, overnight. His body hadn’t completely matured yet but damn near it and unlike Brad Pitt, Remmie was going to be a solid powerhouse brut. Mrs. Reynolds’ brought the hammer down with the “no girls at the house while I’m not here,” rule.

  When Remmie got up and disappeared into his house, I figured it was best to take my pity party to my room for the night. The dusty dark surroundings that colored the outside world around me hinted that my curfew was closing in any way.

  Slowly, I started untangling myself from the prickly skin biting bushes when a strong forceful hand reached in clamping down around my arm. Next thing I knew, I was being wrenched up into a standing position. Caught off guard and petrified in shock, I came face to face with a very annoyed but slightly amused Remmie.

  “Reese, what the fuck?” He leered at me.

  His words were harsh for someone unaccustomed to hearing profanity. I had to remind myself that I was the one in the wrong, not him. I blink several times at his lingering anger flued words. Then I tried to compose a coherent sentence but come up short, settling for an accusation instead.

  “Well, I uhmmm. You’re not supposed to have company Remmie.” I squeaked.

  “Oh yeah?” He says. I shake my head yes because I was too scared to utter any other words. “Thanks for the reminder, Shirley Holmes. But last time I checked you’re not supposed to be spying on me either. Yet here we are.” He waved his free hand toward the bushes he’d just plucked me out of. He had a sideways smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

  “Shirley who?” I asked dumbfounded.

  “You know, like Sherlock Holmes’ sister or some shit?” He chuckles as I stare at him in bewilderment. “Forget it, Reese.”

  “Take your hand off me right now Remmie.” I stomped my foot showing my childlike age in that one reaction. He arched his beautiful eyebrow but dropped his hold on me and crossed his arms over his large but still slightly boyish chest.

  “Swear to Christ Reese, go in the house right now or I’ll go get your mom.” He threw his thumb out motioning to my front door. Where the hell does, he get off bossing me around?

  Even though my ears were pounding with a spike of adrenaline pulsing through my blood, I could hear Beyoncé’s Becky chuckling out in laughter. She was watching us from her perch at Remmie’s backyard fence. Anger and embarrassment sweep through my little limbs like a live virus. The heat that spilled out onto my cheeks was evidence of that. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into my hiding place within the bushes.

  “Shut up Lesland.” Remmie barked out at her. She sashayed back over to his picnic table plopping down with a scrawl on her face.

  That should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t. I wanted Remmie to be mine, but I knew he never would be. You could never truly have someone like Remmie. You could only enjoy the limited time he allowed you to have with him before you were forced to let him go. Leaving you holding tight to nothing more than a few good memories. Caging or trapping someone like him was similar to catching fireflies in a jar without the holes poked into the lid for air, disastrous and deadly. Stupid, stupid girl I was.

  “You can’t tell me what to do Remmie.” I hissed out at him. I leaned in with my hands on my narrow tiny hips, attempting to give him my mean preadolescent bitch face.

  “Why not? You watch over me like a second mom and it’s cute and all, but playtime’s over Reese. It’s time for the kiddos to go get ready for bed.”

  Those words felt like a brutal butter knife jab. The dull blade screwing up easy entry. My face scrunched up, but I tried to mask it away quickly. Instead of calling me on it he tucked a few strands of my jet-black hair behind my ear. That innocent gesture sent tingles swimming through my body. Even at my young age, I felt them.

  “Little one, in a few years you’re going to ruin life’s but for now stay young, yeah?”

  Mortified, I turned on my heel and stomped toward my house muttering, “Don’t patronize me butthole.”

  “I heard that Reese.” He said. I could hear him chuckling at me again.

  “Meant for you to Remmie.” God, I wanted to flip him the bird but at the same time, I was scared to.

  When I made it to my bedroom window, I peeked out of the blinds allowing my eyes to eavesdrop. Rebel, Renegade and Rampage Carter, Remmie’s cousins, we’re all jumping over his fence. This always led the way for a helluva impending party. Of course, they had a crowd of girls following hot on their heels too. They passed over a cooler which held alcohol, no doubt. The hood rat was hugged up to Remmie’s back pinning for his attention. But Remmie was laughing at something Renegade was animatedly explaining in detail and ignored her efforts.

  To my shock, Remmie’s eyes zeroed in on my window. It’s like he could sense that I was slithering my way into his private party from afar. His devastatingly straight teeth made an appearance as those lips curved into a vicious wide smile then he winked and tipped his beer back. How did he know I was watching? Maybe it’s because my nosy ass was always up in his business.

  It’s as if he heard my thoughts because he turned and tongued out Beyoncé’s Becky’s tonsils successfully destroying me a little more. Whoever came up with the saying, “You’re young, you’ll get over it”, was an idiot and so very wrong. I never got over it. NEVER!

  With every knuckle shattering blow Remmie connects with that tree his grunts grow louder and resonates throughout my body. The thing is, those sounds emanating from him aren’t laced with pain, no. Being a five-year super spy veteran for anything and everything Rage related, I know firsthand that those sounds are his satisfied release. Each and every cut breaking through on his knuckles from the abuse he’s inflicting releases his rage. It’s brutal. It’s a blood bath. This is his telltale calm after the storm for whatever brought him out of that backdoor today.

  A tear slides down my cheek and my body heartachingly cracks when Remmie’s busted up, blood-stained hands cover his face and his gravelly voice roars, “FUCK YOU, GOD,” throughout our quite middle-class subdivision. Then Remmie continues to knuckle up with the tree like a savage. Jesus…

  Without noticing, my mother makes an appearance on the porch. Coming up from behind, she takes me gently by the arm and leads me into the house with worry etched out on her face. I stick my plaster my face to the side window of the door, eyes on him.

  “Reese, I’ve told you it’s not polite to spy on Remmie.” She shakes her head at me. “One day that young man is going to get angry with you about that.”

  “Mom, Remmie’s really upset today. It’s not like his normal angry either.” My mother studies me for a moment contemplating. Why? I’m not really sure.

  “Yeah, I would guess so honey. Uhmm, you know how our preacher tells us that we must trust in God’s plan. Even though sometimes we might not understand we still have to believe that there’s a bigger picture for his choices.” I look over my shoulder at her and shake my head yes. I love listening to our soft-spoken preacher. He’s a very nice man with lots of knowledge all centered around the biggest man of all upstairs. “Well, God took Remmie’s mother home today honey. Your dads on his way to talk to him. But don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.” She stares out of the living room window biting on her thumbnail.

  Before she has a chance to say another word or react, I bolt out the door. I leave my mother behind without even giving her an over the shoulder glance. My compulsion to care for him was overwhelming, even at that age. My purpose in a nutshell. My Remmie.

  Crossing the street in a flash of panic, my eyes find him. He’s sitting down on the ground, slouched against the tree with his arms wrapped around his knees. His head is buried deep down into his arms. God, his hands are dripping with blood and I winch at the sight.

  Sheepishly, I approach him like he’s my defeated wounded wolf. I take a seat on the dirt right at his side. Reaching out, I wrap my small arm around his shoulder not uttering a word. I just need to be near him. I
want him to know he’s not alone. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn't push me away. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t move at all.

  Death is alive in this backyard. And the Rage is too.

  My dad pulls up and parks his truck in the driveway then makes his way over to us. “Reese go on in the house honey. Your momma's waiting for you. Go on Darlin.” Dad pats me on my head.

  I hesitantly untangle myself from around Remmie. I look down at him, but he never pulls his head up from his arms to look at me. My heart screams for him to give me something, anything. Some kind of sign that he’ll be okay, but I get nothing.

  My heart hits the bottom of my stomach and the tears flow easily from my eyes now. I take off in a sprint, racing into the house and right past my mother. Making a dash for my bedroom. I approach my window and jerk my blinds up not caring who sees me watching. I’m torn down the middle of my heart. All Remmie had left was his momma. What’ll happen to my Remmie now? Where will he go?

  Dad pulls Remmie off the blood-stained tree wrapping him in a fatherly hug. Remmie stands with his bloodied hands hanging at his sides immobilized like a zombie. After a minute, dad leads their way through the backdoor of Remmie’s house.

  A couple of hours later, with my face still glued to my bedroom window, I see Remmie’s aunt, Rebel, Renegade and Rampage’s mom, drive up. She shuffles Remmie out of the house and into her car taking him with her and away from me. That was the last time I saw Remmie.

  Chapter 2 – Reese

  Three years later

  I’m on the fast track as far as my goals are concerned. I’ve been promoted from a junior to a senior this year. This means I’ll be graduating sooner rather than later as long as I keep my grades steady. No doubt, this will be a breeze for me. I’ve managed to be bumped up on the educational ladder two years in a row. I skipped my eight-grade year too because my grades excelled. The curriculum is easy for me. I can see the college light at the end of the tunnel burning brighter with every passing day.