The Rain (Book 2 - The Constant Fight)

Chapter 9 - Sentiers de sang et un véritable leadership

A/N - I suggest you listen to the song on repeat throughout the chapter

He threw his body to the side, rolling quietly onto the ground. Courtney spun around in her crouched position, using the lighter to look behind her. She could sense a presence. James pressed himself into the wall, out of her sight. Courtney shrugged it off and went over to Jeanette.

James wiped his bloody hands onto his damp jeans, sniffling at the thought of the son that he couldn't protect.

-Flashback-

"Why'd you go, Dad?" He asked his father, watching as James washed the blood off his hands in the sink. He'd just got back from the house next door, where Courtney killed the dog that was attacking him. "They didn't need your help and you could've avoided..." He waved his hand up the length of his father's body. "This."

James sighed and his shoulders became limp. He took a breath and closed his eyes. "Do you fear them?" He asked, opening his eyes. When Michael didn't answer he turned around and clarified his question. "The dogs. Do you fear them?"

Michael looked at his father as if he was joking. Of course, he did. He nodded slowly, unsure. "Yes." He whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. He coughed and sniffed. "Of course I do. They tried to kill us." His voice became angry when he looked at his father covered in the mutts blood. "One just tried to take your throat out!" He hissed quietly so no one would hear.

James scoffed and laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disappointment. "Why?" He asked confused. "They're just sick and...killing them won't help." He turned away from his son and back to the sink, picking up the wet cloth to wipe down his arms. "They're just sick." He whispered, over and over again to himself.

Michael took a step forward, worry replacing the anger that was once on his face. He reached out a shaky hand and gripped his father's shoulder. James jumped at the contact and spun around with wild eyes, throwing Michaels hand off his body and pushing it away. His breath was ragged and spit dripped from the corner of his mouth. Michael took a step back out of fear.

"Don't do that, ever again." James breathed threateningly, his eyes burning into his sons. Michael, in that moment, genuinely feared his father. The look in his eyes made him seem like a mental patient that belonged in an asylum. Then, within a second, it vanished. He was calm, a sort of persuasive look replaced the rage. "They're just sick, son." James mumbled, looking down at his hands then back up to Michael. "They're just sick."

"Okay," Michael mumbled, trying to hide the unease in his voice. "Okay," He nodded to his father, hoping it would calm James down in some way.

"And that...bitch!" James spat through clenched teeth. His face started burning red with fury and his hand coiled into fists. "She....She.." James searched for the words to complete his sentence but he couldn't find them. He looked around the bathroom thinking it would help in some way. "I tried to be civil with her. I did." He nodded frantically like Michael was arguing with him in some way. "But...She makes it impossible. With her rules and her ways and her...lies." James paced around the bathroom, wringing his hands together, knuckles turning a cold white. HIs eyes wide and wild, mouth twitching at the corners.

"Who, Dad? Who?" Michael asked, stepping forward in front of his father. James froze in place, his head down, eyes stuck on his tattered shoes. He slowly raised his head and the blood drained from Michael's body. His father looked....Murderous. James's eyes were cold and hard. His lethal stare physically hurt Michael. And the one word, the one word that escaped through James's grinding teeth made Michael shiver. Michael was terrified of his father.