WARNING: I would advise all people reading this to ask yourself whether or not you want to read this story because it IS M rated for language, sexual content, and violence. This is also a VERY VERY dark story, so be warned.
This is a story that I have been thinking about for a long time but didn't have the guts to write. I don't think that ANYONE has ever written a story like this – or at least I hope not – so I hope that I'll get props for originality. I hope you all like it despite the sibling love that's going to be passed around.
Father said we were abnormal.
He said that it was unnatural for a brother and sister to be so close. But for me it seemed as easy as breathing. Jasper and I had always been close – we went everywhere together, had spent our entire childhood nearly attached at the hip. He was my anchor, the only thing that kept me in this house in which dishes flew at the walls, shattering, and screaming was common.
As I rinsed off a white plate at the sink, I felt cool lips press against the back of my neck. I had my hair up in a pony tail so that it didn't drag into the soap water. A small shiver worked its way down my spine.
"Need some help?" Jasper asked, moving to put away the dishes.
I shook my head. "No, I've got it. You need to work on the yard. You know Father's going to want you to mow it soon."
He ignored me and continued putting away the dishes into the cabinets, not bothering to dry them first. "I'm so fucking sick and tired of him, Bella." He turned towards me, his gray eyes serious. I watched his eyes travel over my cheek, taking in the fresh bruise I had gotten that morning. "And he hurts you." His voice was low, full of quiet fury. He reached out to cup my face, his chest inflating as he took a deep breath. "I won't let him hurt you anymore, Bella. No more bruises, no more broken bones. The next time he lays a hand on you, so help me God, I will cut his throat."
"Jasper, no," I said firmly, drying my hands on my jeans. "You're being silly, stop it. You know you won't . . . kill him." It took me a moment to say it because Jasper's hand suddenly tightened on my jaw. Not enough to where it hurt me, but enough to stop me from talking.
"I can, and I will." He dropped his hand and continued putting the dishes away. "That fucking bastard has done enough damage around here." Jasper's movements were abrupt but not jerky as he continued. I watched the play of muscles in his upper arms and chest as he reached above his head to the cabinet.
Jasper was shirtless, his lightly tanned skin glistening with a small sheen of sweat and I knew he had been outside. He had always been exceptionally tall and lithely built, but with powerful muscles. I couldn't help the way my eyes traveled over his chest to the hem of his black jeans that hung low on his hips. Something curled in the pit of my stomach, something heavy and not entirely unpleasant. I knew it wasn't right for me to look at my brother like this, but I didn't seem to be able to help it.
We had always been unashamed of our bodies, unashamed of being naked in each other's presence, but that was when we were children and now we were nearly adults. I remembered taking baths with Jasper, both of us squealing and laughing in delight. I had seen every part of him and he had seen me.
But, again, we had been children.
Things were different now, and we had both matured and grown through puberty. Jasper was tall with wiry muscles and golden hair, and I had breasts and slight curves.
And it was impossible not to notice how his skin glistened when he stood only inches away from me.
Pushing away my thoughts, I turned back to the dishes, continuing to wash them in silence. We worked as a unit, like we always had. Silent, yet connected.
When Father came through the door, eyes red and furious, I knew it was going to be a hard night.
I was setting the table, for Father liked to envision us as the 'perfect family'. Jasper had helped me cook the food and was now bringing the spaghetti to the table. The garlic bread was sitting in its own plate and the salad had been placed in a large bowl.
"Fucking assholes," Father muttered, sinking into his chair at the head of the table. He wasn't a tall man, actually he was about my size, but he had muscles to make up for that. Father was a well-built man who did manual labor for a living. He turned his bloodshot eyes to me and sneered. "What the fuck are you looking at?"
I quickly went to him and kissed his cheek, like he always made me do. "Good evening, Father, how was your day?" I did my best to bite my tongue against any retorts that I might have. It would only make things worse.
"Shitty," he spat, digging into his pocket and throwing something onto the table, nearly getting it into the salad bowl. "Just look at what I got. A fucking parking ticket!"
"I'm sorry, Father. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Of course, I knew there was nothing I could do, but Father demanded both Jasper and I to be polite and if we weren't then there was always hell to pay.
"What are you, stupid?" Father hissed. "If you've got the money for this parking ticket then give it to me, if not, then get out of my fucking face."
I quickly moved away. Jasper sat down at his place in the table while I proceeded to dish out the food. Jasper's eyes were hard steel during the entire silent meal. I could feel the tension in the air, the hair on my arm tingled with it and an unpleasant nervousness settled in the pit of my stomach. One false move and Father's fury could be ignited. On days like this, all it took was the drop of a napkin for him to be enraged. So I focused on keeping my fork from scraping my plate and the garlic bread from staining my fingers.
Twirling the spaghetti around my fork, I brought it to my mouth.
"For Christ's sake, Isabella," Father snapped. "Can't you even eat properly? I've spent the last seventeen years trying to teach you how to behave properly and now you turn into a pig? Sit up straight and eat like a human instead of an animal."
I bit my lip and sat up straighter like he asked, seething on the inside. I thought I heard Jasper say something, but I couldn't make out the words.
"What did you say, boy?" Father demanded, setting his fork down on his plate – always a bad sign.
"I said, she's eating fine, Father," he said through gritted teeth. Jasper looked up at me, his eyes unreadable. I could see the control that he fought to keep under Father's harsh words and scrutiny. Jasper was furious and I noticed that his full lips were set in a hard line.
I glanced up to look at Father, and cringed at what I saw.
Father stared at Jasper with a mixture of shock and anger. "Are you insinuating that I'm lying?" he demanded lowly, his voice like a razor's edge.
"No, I only said – "
But Father didn't let him finish. He reached over and slapped Jasper hard on the side of the cheek. The crack of flesh against flesh resounded in the dining room. I gasped, my hand covering my mouth as I watched Jasper's face turn to the side with the force of the blow. No sound escaped him; he was as mute as an oak tree.
"How dare you sass me," Father hissed. "I would have thought that last time you'd learned your lesson, but I guess not. Am I going to have to make you drink a whole glass of bleach this time instead of a shot of window cleaner?" His voice rose with each word, now yelling. Pushing his chair back from the table, he stood up. "I will not condone backtalk in my house, and you know that! Come here."
Father grabbed Jasper hand and walked into the kitchen. The table knocked as I struggled to stand up. Our glasses of water and Father's beer spilled all over the table, dripping down the cloth to the floor.
A growl of rage ripped through Father's throat. "Clean this up, you filthy bitch. Now."
My hands shaking and my heart racing, I dropped to my knees and tried to use the sparse napkins to clean up the mess.
"This is the last time that you two shall ever disobey me! I have had enough with your fucked up games and stupidity. It's time you two grew up and stopped acting like babies!" Father pushed Jasper against the sink. "Get the bleach out," he ordered.
"No!" I screamed, launching myself between Father and Jasper. Drinking a glass of bleach would kill Jasper! Tears were already starting to pour down my face. "Please don't," I blubbered. "He didn't mean it!"
Father pushed me out of the way and I slammed into the refrigerator, my back hitting the door handle. I gasped closed my eyes. Another bruise for me to count.
"I said," he repeated slowly, kicking the cabinet door so hard it splintered, "get the bleach out."
Jasper's eyes locked with his, gray against brown, and I suddenly wondered what would be the end result of tonight. I had never seen Father so angry and I could only hope that nothing too serious would happen.
Suddenly, Father grabbed Jasper's hair in his fist and smashed his face into the cabinet above the counter. The wood split from the force and my brother's head went back into the glass cups inside. Immediately, I could see the blood. It slowly trickled down the side of Jasper's golden locks, staining them. Satisfaction spread over father's face as he looked at the pain scrawled over his son's face.
"You defy me one more time, boy, and I will pour the whole gallon down your throat, now get the bleach."
"Stop!" I shrieked. "You're going to kill him! Stop it!" I ran to Jasper and cupped his face with my hands. He gritted his teeth but wasn't successful in keeping his emotions off his face.
"I told you to clean that shit up," Father said, pushing me into the dining room. He let go of Jasper and shoved me down onto the ground. "For once, do what you're fucking told!" I tried to crawl away from him but I was on my back and that made it hard. He squatted down so that he was close to me. His dark brown eyes stared into mine with disgust as he looked me over. "You look so much like your mother," he hissed. "She was a slut too, always traipsing around, fucking every man that so much as looked at her. Then she had you two and told me you were mine."
He leaned down towards me, his face not even an inch from mine. Every dirty pore on his face was magnetized, every flaw lengthened. His eyes seemed to turn coal black with revulsion.
He stood up and reached down to yank me up by the arm. Pain screamed through my limb, into my shoulder, but I bit back the yelp.
"Now, get this shit cleaned up!"
Before I had time to breathe, he yanked me by the hair and pushed my face down into the puddle of beer pooling on the table. Spaghetti smashed against my cheek. I choked back a sob, my eyes red from the tears. Father pulled his hand away from my head long enough for me to rise up before he took it and slammed me back against the table.
"Don't fucking touch her!" Jasper roared.
I opened my eyes to see Jasper striding towards father with a long knife in his hand, murderously angry. His confederate gray eyes blazed and his knuckles were white on the knife. Blood dripped down his face and down his neck from his head wound. Suddenly, I felt Father's hands lift from my head and I was free. A sickening dizziness overpowered me and I fell back against the table, unable to hold myself up.
"Son, what are you doing?" Father said, his voice low and reasonable.
"Shut up!" Jasper was now in front of Father, the two only feet from me. Beer soaked my shirt and I thought I saw a bit of blood on the table cloth but I wasn't sure if it was from me or something else. "You think you're a strong man because you hurt an innocent girl?" Jasper continued, advancing upon our Father.
Father's eyes widened as he saw just how much his son hated him. "Put the knife down, Jasper," he said slowly. "You're making a mistake."
"No, Father, you're wrong. I'm not making a mistake, you are. For all these years you've hurt Bella, over and over. But now it's going to stop. I will make it stop."
He looked crazed as he held the knife at his side. His hair was matted with blood and his face looked pale beside the storm raging in his eyes.
"Jasper," I whispered, crawling towards him. "Don't do this."
His eyes flickered to me and locked. He was only doing this because he felt that it was the only way to protect me. But what would happen if he actually did kill Father? He would go to prison and leave me. The thought of being without my brother, for any length of time, made me react. I stood up and went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.
"He's not worth it," I breathed. Jasper smelled wonderful as usual. His clean white shirt was no longer the crisp ivory it had been before. "Don't kill him, Jasper. Don't."
"That's right, Jasper," Father said. "Listen to Bella and just drop the knife."
Jasper's head whipped towards Father. I looked up to see that his eyes were torn.
I held his hand that gripped the knife, bringing it up to my face. I kissed his knuckles and turned his palm over. "Let go of the knife, Jasper," I said, trying to be calm. "Please." When I let my tongue reach out to graze his skin, he stiffened almost imperceptibly and released the knife. I dropped it onto the ground.
Abruptly I was flung backwards, slamming into the wall, as Father gripped the knife in his hand and lifted it into the air to stab Jasper.
I screamed, struggling to right myself against my dizziness. My vision was skewed but then I realized that was because I was lying on my side on the floor.
Jasper grabbed Father's hand and twisted the wrist. I heard bones snap and crack, and a loud howl of rage and pain filled the room, Father's face contorting. Father used his other fist to hit Jasper in the stomach and my brother dropped like a lead brick to his knees, doubling over. Father gripped Jasper's hair in his hands and pulled back so that his throat was exposed.
"I hope you die slowly," Father spat, moving to angle the point of the knife at Jasper's throat.
"Not likely," Jasper hissed, twisting out of my Father's grasp and pulling his arm because his back, yanking it out of socket. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end, Father?" Yanking the knife out of his hands, Jasper rushed towards me, leaving Father writing on the floor. "Come on, we're leaving," he whispered, pulling me gently up.
"You . . ." Father panted, stumbling up. "Aren't going anywhere."
As we ran towards the door, Father grabbed Jasper by the leg and yanked him backwards. I tried to hit Father with my fists, claw his eyes out, but he only punched me in the jaw. Tears blinding me, I struggled to withhold my weak scream.
Then I saw the flash of the knife in the light and everything was still.
Father was hunched over Jasper's arm, locking them in a kind of twisted embrace. Shock was written over Father's face, horror on my brother's.
Then there was the blood.
Oh God, there was so much blood.
Red liquid trickled out the corner of Father's mouth and dripped once to the floor. He collapsed onto the carpet and I finally saw what happened.
There was a wound in Father's stomach, dark black with clotting blood, and Jasper held the crimson-smeared knife in his hand, staring at it as if it were something he'd never seen before. I couldn't speak, I couldn't think, I couldn't even breathe.
What had we done?
"Jasper," I choked out, crawling towards Father's body.
I didn't know what to do except look at the body of the man before me. Blood flowed out from the wound and onto the floor, staining the carpet a dark rust color. With wide eyes, I looked up at Father's face. His eyes were feverish and he barely breathed. Before I could do anything, though, his chest stopped moving and I knew he was dead although his eyes remained open.
"Oh God," Jasper breathed.
The knife clattered to the ground, the red drops flying. My tears came now, unchecked, and I curled up against the wall, hating myself for being so weak. What were we going to do? How were we going to live? And Jasper was going to be sent to prison, and maybe me too. There was no hope for us now. We would be separated.
"Shhh," Jasper cooed, moving to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. His hands were wet and I soon realized that was because of the blood. But I didn't care. His calloused hands stroked the exposed skin of my arm and shivers crept over me. I felt his hard body against mine and I cried harder. I cried for what I was losing. "Everything's going to be alright," he purred soothingly.
"How is everything going to be alright?" I demanded, my voice cracking. "Father's dead!"
He nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry."
"I'm not upset about him dying," I said softly, truthfully. "I'm upset that we're going to be separated. Don't you realize, Jasper, that you're going to go to prison if the police ever find out? But does that make me a bad person if I don't care that he dies?"
"No, Bella, that doesn't make you bad." Jasper's lips brushed over my hair. "For years, he has hurt us and for years we didn't nothing but take it. It's against the law to hit kids and the police will understand."
"No they won't. This is murder, Jasper. No matter what you say, they will lock you up. And I couldn't stand it if that happened."
Sobs hit me once again and I couldn't hold them back. I needed Jasper so much. He was the one constant in my life, he had always been there for me. I could never survive without him. Clutching his white t-shirt in my hands I lifted my face to look up at him. Jasper had always been beautiful, but then, in that moment, he looked handsomer than I had ever seen him. His beauty made my chest ache with a longing I didn't understand. It started in the pit of my stomach and curled between my legs. My hands shook.
"Then we won't let it happen," he said simply, taking my hands in his. He brought his lips to my forehead gently and I closed my eyes. "We're going to run. I don't know where, but we're going to get away from here. We'll leave Father there and pack, then we can take the bus up to New York. It won't take us long to get to the bus station from here." He looked over at Father with nothing but revulsion in his gaze. Then suddenly, his blazing eyes turned to me. "I will not let anyone take you from me. Ever." His lips brushed against my cheekbones and my breath hitched. I was frightened, and these touches made me even more uneasy, although they were slightly pleasant.
I wiped away the wetness from my face and sat up.
"But now," he continued, "we have to get ready. Before anyone decides to visit."
He helped me up and stayed stationary for a moment while I got my footing. I hated that I was being so hopelessly weak. I pulled myself up to my full height – which wasn't very tall compared to Jasper – and clenched my hands into fists.
"Okay, what do we need?" I asked.
Jasper smiled with pride at my efforts. "First, you need to change out of your clothing and so do I. We're both bloody and we can't go anywhere in this state. Also, I need to clean your wounds. Come here," he said gently, pulling me back into the bathroom. "Stand still."
He left the bathroom door open and began unbuttoning my blouse. His hands were quick and businesslike but I couldn't help the slight blush that started to come over me. We bathed together as children, but stopped that ritual when Jasper turned thirteen. Jasper pushed the shirt off my shoulders and then went to my bra. With surprising dexterity, he unhooked it and that too dropped to the ground.
For only a split moment, he paused, his eyes caressing my breasts in ways that made the nipples grow hard. I blushed now and looked down. I felt his fingers brush against the side of my right breast, electricity suddenly shooting through me.
"Oh, Bella," he murmured.
When I looked up, his eyes were staring into mine with an intensity that made something inside me quiver.
Then he resumed undressing me. His hands were quick with my pants, helping me step out of them, and then the same with my underwear. I felt awkward, being naked before him in so many years. But he didn't stop to look at me, instead he pulled his shirt over his head and yanked down his trousers and boxer briefs.
I tried not to look.
Oh God, I tried my hardest, but he was so different than what he had been as a child.
His penis was soft, but still long and thick. I wondered how every bit of his skin could be tanned, even that most secret of places. I could see his sac also, and my eyes lingered, unable to break away. My body trembled and I felt a sudden wetness between my legs and I thought I had accidentally peed on myself. I realized then that his height wasn't the only thing that had grown in the past four years. I wondered what he thought of me being so naked, but I didn't ask.
Jasper bent over to turn on the water, adjusting it to the right temperature before turning the shower on. He stepped inside and indicated for me to do the same.
"Here," he said briefly, handing me a bottle of shampoo. "We ran out of body wash yesterday so you'll have to use this for everything."
I nodded and took it in my hand. I began to lather it through my hair and then over my body. I couldn't help but sneak peeks at my brother. He gently rinsed out his hair, getting all the blood off of him, before using the shampoo that I had sat in the corner of the tub. He winced when he applied it to his head. I was suddenly worried if shampoo was the correct thing to use on a head wound.
"Jasper, maybe you should let me look at it," I suggested, moving towards him.
"No, I'm fine. It just stings a bit."
I was rewarded with a dazzling grin, one that belied the vast amounts of blood washing down the bathtub drain. He leaned towards me suddenly, pressing me against the tile wall, his gray eyes so near my own that when he spoke, his lips brushed mine. "Yes, I am, little sister. But so are you." Quickly, he glanced down my body, his eyes darkening slightly.
My breathing became panting and I felt a patch of soap slip down my forehead.
Jasper laughed lightly and began to rinse the soap off his hard, lean body. As I rubbed my hand between my legs, lathering soap there, I felt a wetness that wasn't the water. It was thick and slid down my legs. And the feeling of my fingers against my folds only increased it. Quickly, I yanked my hand away and went under the showerhead. Jasper made way for me and I quickly rinsed myself. Closing my eyes, I angled my head up and began rinsing my hair.
When I opened them, Jasper was leaning on the tile wall opposite of me, his arms crossed over his chest, his face dead serious. I bit my lip, watching as his eyes darkened with some unknown emotion that made the blood sing in my veins. I couldn't help but notice his manhood between his legs, unashamed at its nudity.
"We . . . we should go," I managed.
He nodded, the look quickly gone. He turned off the water and grabbed three towels, laying one on the floor so we wouldn't slip. Jasper and I quickly dried ourselves. I wrapped the towel around my body as we left the bathroom to find new clothes, but Jasper went naked. I blushed and hurried into my room.
I packed quickly, stuffing everything I thought we would need inside my backpack that I used for school. I pulled on underwear, a tank top, and jeans. Then I pulled my jacket on because it was starting to get cold outside. September had just begun and it was getting frigid in Pennsylvania. I gathered all of my money and stuffed in my pocket, not trusting it to be in my bag. What if someone stole it? I made sure to pull my boots on before I went into Jasper's room. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and jacket with blue jeans. He also had a backpack but it was dark blue instead of my green.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
I nodded, attempting to smile but being very unsuccessful. I felt like I was grimacing. "Yes, I'm ready."
He walked towards me and rested his hands on my hips. "I'm so sorry for putting us through this, little sister," he said softly.
I smiled slightly. "You didn't do anything wrong. He was attacking us and you fought back, end of story." I felt the heat of Jasper's hand through my shirt, soaking into my skin. "Let's just leave, okay?"
He took my hand in his and led me out of his bedroom towards the front door. We passed through the dining room and I saw the sight of my dead Father, his blood congealing around him. The dark puddle around him was at least five feet in diameter, the wound in his stomach deep and dark with blood. I felt sick to my stomach and I pressed myself against Jasper's side. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from Father's open ones. He stared at me, his head turned towards us, blaming us for everything.
It seemed that even in death, Jasper and I couldn't escape the gaze of our Father.
Then Jasper pulled me onto his back and we walked to the bus station. Neither of us had a car, and Father always hid the keys to his beat up piece of shit, afraid that we would steal it and drive off. Not that it was worth anything anyway.
Half and hour later, the Greyhound arrived.
See, I told you it was twisted. I really hoped you liked it though. So this turned out a lot different than what I had originally thought it would be, but oh well. The next chapters will be a lot better than this, I promise. This was all basically background info and a reason for Jasper and Bella to go to NYC.
The next chapter will be in Jasper's POV.
Please, PLEASE, review!!!! I so love them, they're what keep me writing.