FREAKS || Jerome Valeska¹

26 || Hereditary

"For my mother looks over me!"

It was the most obnoxious sound I had ever heard, belted out by two annoying people. I admit my brother knows how to sing, and I appreciated his voice... when I was fully awake. But I was trying to sleep in. Recently, I've had this thing where I am still very exhausted, no matter how much sleep I get. To make it worse, they clanged the silverware together, singing even louder as if to spite me.

I lifted my head off the warm pillow, blinking tiredly, "What the hell?" Huffing, I placed the fluffy cushion over my head in an attempt to block the sound.

It didn't work.

"And again!" Edward exclaimed happily.

"No," I whined, pressing the pillow further onto my head, but it wasn't enough. "Not again."

"The fire had gone out,
Wet snow from above
But nothing will warm me more
Then my, my mother's love!"

An annoyed yell was released into the mattress. There had been no choice but to wake up, so I waddled into the bathroom and did my necessities before heading to the kitchen. I was so exhausted I could care less if Mister Cobblepot was our sick guest. With the racket they'd been making, it seemed like the flightless bird was feeling better, and someone had to take the blame for ruining my morning.

Once at the entrance, I crossed my arms, waiting to be acknowledged... that wasn't going to happen. Edward and Penguin sat at the table laughing while they had breakfast, or perhaps it was lunch? They were having Chinese food and wine. I couldn't help but smile. I had never seen my brother happy with anyone other than me... or Kristen.

"Nice of you, gentlemen, to wake me up for breakfast." I joked, chuckling, making the loudness stop and their heads turn to me.

My sibling beamed, laughing sheepishly. "Oops. We got carried away. Good morning, Ree. Mind having breakfast with us?"

I grinned, muttering a 'good morning' before glancing at Penguin, who seemed to have seen a ghost or something — eyes opened wide, lips agape. "Morning, Mister Oswald." I reached for the wine, but a chopstick swatted at my hand, and my brother gave me a warning look. "Ouch."

"I know — I know you," Oswald exclaimed, his finger pointed somewhat accusatorily at me. My mouth pursed, self-conscious because I knew exactly what he was alluding to. His eyebrows knit together, eyeing me carefully. "You. You were the girl on the news... Valeska's girlfriend."

My lungs felt as if they had constricted - I couldn't breathe. The palpitating muscle in my chest ached upon hearing that name. The wound hadn't even started to heal yet. It was difficult not to miss Jerome and his antics. It was likely too soon to say, but he was the love of my life. He had an atmosphere that exposed you to the most fucked up euphoria; it was beautiful. Just when I had begun getting used to it, warming up to the good and bad parts, he was snatched from my grasp.

Edward's eyes connected with mine, displaying worry — this subject wasn't the most delightful to talk about. He pursed his lips, looking at the other man like he wanted to ask him not to bring that up.

"How do you know her?" Blue eyes now narrowed curiously, interrogating Edward. I arched an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe. "Do you go around picking up serial killers?"

My sibling pursed his lips, "Well, Reese is my little sister."

Oswald's eyes widened, his lips parted in incredulity. He looked between the two of us before nodding as if reaching an understanding, "Oh, I see. It's hereditary."

My eyes narrowed as he commented on our psyches but disregarded it and grabbed a plate from the top cabinets near the sink. I sat at the table, slipping some food into the porcelain. A stare weighed on me - Oswald's, and I knew exactly what he was looking at. My wounds. I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me uncomfortable and self-conscious. I lacked pride in them. It was the grotesque physical imprint of the harshest reality, one I loathed to see every day.