Blood Rush

Chapter Four: Predestined

Deedee and Jerome snuck back into the camp and grudgingly re-entered the trailer that they honestly couldn't call "Home".

Had Lila been up, perhaps she might have caught wind that at least one of them had had some sexual encounter. How Deedee's legs had become like wobbly Jel-lo would have been the first cue. Their mother was snoring in the first room. Whether or not the guest suitor was still in her room or perhaps had left afterwards, neither Jerome nor Deedee cared to find out.

They merely tolerated Lila's late night fornicating sessions so that she would leave them alone. But even Lila, unbelievably obnoxious, could bark out chores all the while getting rammed from behind by an adoring fan or even one of the carnies from their own Circus Family.

Deedee grabbed Jerome by the wrist to lead the two of them to their singular bed in their singular room, where always before they shared; but this time, it wasn't going to be staring at the ceiling, talking about their hatred for their mother or the goings-on of the circus.

Deedee's outfit jingled and jangled, as she strode to the bed, and with Jerome's eyes on her, she unclasped the dress once more to let it fall from her shoulders, stomach, and then puddle around her ankles. Jerome felt his stomach turn, not from revulsion, but of the reminder that the two of them were still related even after coming from Arkham Bridge. In a place so familiar as this that they shared this room as brother and sister for several years, the urge to do wrong felt right.

Deedee shrugged her shoulders coyly, smiling, and then got into her side of the bed. She gestured for him to join her, patting the side of the bed with a hand.

Jerome followed suit. He made a smirk, and he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Deedee grinned, and he fingered the button of his jeans, pulling them down around his ankles, stepped out of them. He slid into his side of the bed under the blanket with her.

The first time, they lay naked beside each other in their shared bed. Delilah turned on her side to look at him. And he turned on his side to look at her.

"This ought to keep things interesting around here," Deedee said quietly, head resting on her arm, "Don't you think, Brother?"

"It really will make things interesting, Deedee," Jerome remarked. "Still want the bitch dead?"

"Of course," Deedee answered as fondly as she had spoke before. "Of course, I do. You?"

Jerome's face broke into a wicked smile, and he said, "Of course."

"Well, maybe we should really do something about it instead of talking," said Deedee.

"I was thinking the same thing," Jerome replied. "I mean where's the commitment if nothing is really done about Mom?"

"Exactly. Or else we're just a couple of teenagers talking shit," said Deedee.

"I have a couple of good ideas," said Jerome. "Been thinking about it again since we got home. You?"

"Of course." Deedee shrugged. "But obviously I'd let you pull first crack at her."

"Sure you shouldn't be the one to draw first blood? You're oldest." Jerome said jokingly. "First come, first serve…"

"You're too kind," Deedee said. "But I think you'd like it most to actually do it. I think I'd prefer to watch…" She licked her lips. "You know...I think I would like to watch you kill our Mommy Dearest."

"Yeah?" Jerome said quietly, intrigued. "And how'd you like me to do it?"

Deedee felt her stomach turn as she saw a glint in his eyes. Sweet blood lust, and maybe even lust all together. Jerome's smile was more prevalent than ever, the hint of a psychopath. Jerome let his eyes fall to his sister's rosy cheeks, where they flushed with obvious enjoyment of their intimate setting: naked and close, discussing the predestined homicide of Lila Valeska.

"Make her bleed," Deedee whispered. "Make her struggle. I can help you with that. I can restrain her."

Jerome raised a hand to her face, where he could notice her faint burn scars. Her skin was flushed to the touch. Sadistic temptress. He wondered if she was wet from discussing Lila's future homicide. Honestly, the idea of Deedee restraining their mother while Jerome killed her stirred a fire in his belly as well.

"We should take her somewhere secluded," advised Jerome. "Away from the circus."

"Arkham Bridge," suggested Deedee.

"You're a bit of a poet, aren't you?" Jerome chuckled. "Kill her where we—"

"That's the point. New beginnings," Deedee consented. She kissed his palm, angling her lips to face his hand that caressed her cheek.

"So we take her to Arkham Bridge," said Jerome, his eyes watching her lips. "Won't that look a little weird, taking Mom on a walk like we're a wholesome family? Never have been that way before."

"We let her follow us," said Deedee. "She'll want to know why her children are sneaking off together."

"Let her find out about us?" Jerome said quietly. "I thought we'd keep it quiet, you and me…"

"No one will believe a dead woman," breathed Deedee.

"Oh, Deedee," Jerome growled appreciatively, "You're bad."

"It's in our blood," Deedee said. "When do we do it?"

"Tomorrow night," said Jerome.

"Tomorrow night?" Deedee said with a feverish delight. She chuckled. "Aren't you eager?"

"Aren't you?" Jerome remarked. He caught her chin between two fingers. "Tonight has sort of opened my eyes to what I really want. And that's to stop hearing the bitch call out orders like we're her little servants, not her children. To kill her, to break free…" He considered her naked breasts. "To slip into you again, right here…in our bed."

"You've certainly put things into perspective." Deedee conceded, feeling her face grow hot with his blunt honesty. "Makes me wonder why we didn't do this long ago."

"Fear," said Jerome. "Social acceptability is mind-numbing."

"Painful," added Deedee.

"Agonizing," Jerome coined in.

"Boring," they said at the same time.

Jerome and Deedee broke into a smile.

"Tomorrow then." Deedee said quietly.

"Tomorrow…" Jerome muttered.