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Michael didn't even notice when it started to rain, when tiny droplets of water began pouring from the sky and onto his window. All he could think about right now was the yellow stuffed bear in his arms, the blood on his clothes, and the hum of the engine as his dad drove recklessly through the streets.
It wasn't because he was mad; his dad always drove like an asshole. Always complaining about how driving on the left side of the road is infinitely better than driving on the right, like the proud English gentleman he is. Actually, it was weird, how not-mad he was... he would snap and throw a fit about the littlest of things, especially after his mom disappeared suddenly, but today he was...oddly calm. Collected. Like he knew something like this was bound to happen.
Michael held back tears as he stared at his father, thinking back to Davie -- how he had cried and begged for Mike to let him go, as he was picked up and carried, being held closer and closer to Fredbear's jaws. He squeezed the fabric of the old Fredbear plush, feeling bile crawl up his throat. The blood splattering all over the animatronic's mouth and the floor, getting all over Mike's mask and his clothes, the screams of the people around as they realized what had just happened, the horrible, awful sound of the crunch that echoed from the robotic bear's jaws, it made Mike sick. If he hadn't frozen in shock in that moment, he probably would have thrown up right then and there.
He looked back to his father, grey eyes fixated on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tight and firm.
He should have been angry. His dad was always getting mad at him for stupid, petty small shit, so why wasn't he mad now?
Maybe he was mad, and he was just holding it in until they got home? Was that why? His dad always loved a nice, long lecture in the car-
"Michael."
Mike was snapped out of his thoughts as his father's voice commanded attention. Instantly, he sat up straight and looked at him.
"Um, y-yes Dad- I MEAN Father?" Michael breathed a sigh of relief as he caught himself. Last time he called his dad 'dad,' he went ballistic about 'being treated with respect.'
His father opened his mouth to speak; "Michael, did you know you were supposed to have an uncle?"
Mike stared at him with confusion. "What do you mean, Father? I have an uncle, Uncle Henr-"
"No, not like that. I mean a real, flesh and blood uncle."
Mike looked at his father in shock. "You...had a brother? You said you were an only child..." He asked carefully.
His father's grip on the wheel tightened. "No. I never had any brother. But I almost did."
There was silence for a few seconds, before Mike got the courage to ask;
"What happened to him?"
His father didn't take his eyes off the road. His speed remained steady. "I killed him, Michael."
Mike's eyes widened. "What? What do you mean??"
His father continued just staring at the road in front of him. "I was meant to have a brother. A twin brother, in fact. But I killed him. Do you want to know what happened to him, Michael?"
Mike nodded his head, not knowing what else to do.
"When we were being carried in your grandmother's womb... my umbilical cord, it wrapped around his neck. It squeezed the life out of him, it did. He was born still, and cold, and I was not. Had he lived, my brother would have been named Vincent."
Mike looked down at Davie's little yellow bear, unsure of what to do or what to say.
"I strangled him, Michael. I had killed my own brother, and neither him nor I had even been born yet." His father said as his breath hitched.
"That's why, I'm not too concerned about what happened today. I knew something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."
Mike felt a chill run up his spine.
"I'll be transparent with you, Michael; I've always resented you, since you turned fourteen and started behaving like a rebellious punk. But, now I see there's nothing to worry about. You'll grow up into a fine young man. You're just like me, after all."
Mike sank into his chair, watching the rain pour outside.