Page 117 of Forged in Rain

I can’t concentrate, and instead, I doodle in my notebook. At this point, I don’t care if I graduate. I’m just operating on autopilot. And since I don’t know where else to go, I’m here. Fuck, this is all so unbelievable.

“Rain Flaherty?”

I glance up when a man I don’t recognize says my name from the door. I assume he’s a school official when Mr. Trimble nods.

Grabbing my bag, I follow him out the door, spying Jig’s frown on the way. The man leads me down to the office without a word, and idly I wonder what I’ve done this time.

“Wait here,” he says, and I collapse in the seat, burying my head in my hands. What the hell am I doing here?

This is all too familiar, and images of John picking me up after my fight at school last semester roll through my brain until I push the thought away.

I can’t contemplate that horror while sitting in the front office at school with the damn secretary eyeing me every few seconds.

“Miss Flaherty? This way.”

I follow the man down a small hallway and into an office toward the back, tripping in the threshold when I find, to my horror, John waiting inside.

He smiles, his icy eyes boring into mine, and I suck in a breath before coughing into my hand.

It never occurred to me that he would show up here as pretty as you please. The man has no fucking shame.

John cocks his head to the side, and I come to a stop, refusing to move further into the room. We’ve been all over the place looking for this piece of shit, and now he’s standing before me. And I’m powerless because we’re in the front office of my school.

“Ah, niece, come in,” John says with a glint in his eyes.

I glance at the school official who’s about to leave me with this monster and consider my options but falter when John’s eyes flash with a warning. I don’t know what to do, but I have to assume I’m safe enough as long as I’m here, among others.

Taking one small step, I watch as I’m closed inside the room, and I open my mouth to say something, anything, but John forestalls me.

“I wouldn’t.”

I curl my icy fingers into my palms and will my rapidly beating heart to calm the fuck down.

What does he want? Why is he here, of all places?

“Now, Rainy,” he says briskly, nodding toward the seat opposite him.

Cautiously, I sit, my spine so rigid it feels as though it might snap under the pressure. John craves my fear, and I refuse to give him anything. Instead, I shove my hands beneath my thighs to hide the tremble.

“What do you want?” I whisper as he sits opposite me with a considering stare.

His eyes shine like jewels, but the fanatical light behind them makes me mentally cringe. How does he fool the masses? Or is it just because he allows me to see behind the mask?

“I want my life back,” he says, slamming his fist on the desk.

Shrinking in my seat, I stutter, “Wh-what?”

“You thought you could get away with it?”

My only option is to feign ignorance, and I pull up my most pathetic expression, which is not hard to do when I feel like I’m about to die. “With, um, what?”

He tsks, and I flinch, caught in his wicked stare. I could scream, run, get out of here, but John’s continuous threats from before linger in my head and have me frozen in place.

Why can’t I move?

“Enough,” he says sternly.

Raising my trembling chin, I say softly, “What?”

---