The Hauntings

Chapter 22

"Oh Crap, I think I'm dying. Oh shit." Francis groans as he leans over his bed, sweat matted and face convulsing in pain. He sheds his sticky t-shirt with one hand.

"Don't be so dramatic, boy. You're supernatural. You're not gonna die, it's just going to take you an hour or so to get over this allergic reaction." A dry voice snaps harshly.

Francis is shocked out of his pain for a moment. His eyes land on the seven foot man, packed with muscle blocking the doorway, with a disgusted look on his face. The dim room making him all the more intimidating.

"You were supposed to kill her, not satisfy your wet dreams, quite frankly I think you deserve this. Serves you right. What were you thinking?  Actually I dare not think." he scolds, stepping further into the room uninvited..

"Sorry I-" Francis mumbles through lips quivering with pain.

"Well, you're not in any shape or form to kill her so I think it is up to me." The beast of  man brazenly claims, shaking his long black hair in disdainfully, his chunky neck pivoting on his wide set shoulders.

"No that's OK, I'll be fine. I'll do it." Francis looks up rapidly at his bedroom door and speaking far too willingly.

"Don't be so stupid boy. I'm looking quite forward to it myself now. I'm sure I can think of something imaginative for the girl. Not going to lie I might even enjoy this." His black eyes lighting up in anticipation, at the gruesome task he has so gleefully assigned himself.

"No! Father don't! I'll do it. Let me do this please. You said at the beginning this was my job. My revenge. Please. I want to do it." Francis tries to leap up and protest but only manages to half rise, gripping on to the bed post for support.

He doesn't want his father to go anywhere near Elizabeth, whether she decided to slyly stab him with an epi-pen as they kissed or not, she doesn't deserve his father's wrath. 

"Hmm...have to give it to you on enthusiasm, boy." Francis' father relents, folding his arms across his chest, filling out even more space in the room and his black suit just barely being able to contain him.

His bushy eyebrows perked up as he observes his sickly son. What a disappointment. Why did have to end up with this runt?

"Please father, I can do this." Francis looks up at his father with earnest eyes, almost pleading but not allowing it to get that far as his father hates weakness and at the moment he is already the picture of it. 

"If you don't slaughter her the next you see her, I will." Micheal orders, truth echoing in his words.

Francis nods in agreement, white knuckles clenched on the bedpost.

Micheal sighs. He better give one of those pet talks to his son. He hopes that Francis has not become soft. Hesitation is always a dangerous sign, especially from this one. Francis was always a feeble and fickle one, when he was younger. There is no time for dilly dallying. Their game will be up if this inconvenience from his foolish and inept son occurs again.  

"Son, look what your sister has done to you, to us. She ruined your life as well as mine. We need revenge. You need revenge. There has to be payback. Payback to her kind. Then we can move on, we can rebuild our life again, together. This time nothing is holding us back. It will just be you and me, son." His father passionately confides.

Micheal words refresh the anger and pain in Francis, renewing the fight in him. He can't give up. Francis can aim for better. He doesn't deserve to be tossed to the side, forgotten and lonely.

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"Scar! Hey, Scar I have something to tell you!" Elizabeth shouts down the empty corridor to Scarlett, who bends her head further down and speeds up.