Degenerate

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Joelle's POV

My life wasn't always complicated. In fact, I would say it was pretty average. I grew up with my parents and three older brothers. My brothers were, well, ordinary brothers. They were protective yet always instigated fights.

We had a great bond. When our parents were away, we would stock up on junk food and play Super Smash Bros all night. When our parents came home, they would find us in a pile of blankets and pillows with our limbs sprawled across each other. At the site, they would silently laugh and kiss our foreheads before going to bed themselves.

Sigh. Those were the days.

That all went downhill on my twelfth birthday. We were visiting my aunt in Gotham. We hadn't seen her in years because my father disliked the dangerous city. We left around the time it got dark. In retrospect, we should've just stayed the night. No tragedy or heartbreak would've happened. Then again, I couldn't imagine life any other way. I love where I am in life despite how I got here.

Enough with my thoughts, let's get to the story.

"Dad," I groaned, "Why are we stopping?"

My parents giggled at my whiny voice, "We need to get some gas. Go to sleep, kiddo."

I opened my eyes slightly and looked at my surroundings. We were at a gas station on the outskirts of the gloomy city of Gotham. I let out a sigh. To say I was exhausted would be an understatement. I yearned for my comfy bed.

A wave of panic hit me as soon as my parents left the car to pay for the gas. I couldn't shake the random spark of paranoia. Something about this place gave me the creeps. I glanced at my brothers. Each and every one of those bastards were peacefully sleeping. I cursed at their ability to fall asleep so easy.

The car shook, indicating people entering. I whipped my head towards the front seats to see my parents smiling at me. "Did we scare you?" My mother softly. I nodded reluctantly.

"Sorry, my dear," My father began, starting the car. But before he could continue, a loud bang filled the air followed by my mother screaming.

My blood ran cold and my heart raced. Naturally I turned my head to look at my mother. She was covered in my father's blood. Next thing I knew, a bullet was put into her head. I was frozen in fear as their bodies were thrown out of the car and replaced by a clown and jester.

The clown was male. He sat where my dad was two seconds ago. He wore a purple suit with an orange shirt underneath it. The odd man had skin whiter than chalk and wild green hair. The most unsettling thing about the man was his sinister grin. His unnaturally wide smile seemed even bigger with the red lipstick smeared over his chelsea smile scars.

The jester replaced my mother's spot. Her pale skin rivalled the clowns. Her blood red lips and blue eyes stood out against her pale skin. From what I could see of her jester costume, it was black and red with a few diamonds on it. My favourite thing about her costume was the hat. It just looked fun to wear, okay? Don't judge me.

"Buckle up kids, it's gonna be a long drive," The clown said with a laugh.

With that being said, I yanked the door handle but it wouldn't budge.

I pulled, and pulled, and pulled until I felt tears streaming my face. It was hopeless. The doors were automatic, they open with the touch of an easily accessible button. It was a hazard for small children so as a safety precaution, the doors could only be opened when the van was in park.

"Don't worry," My eldest brother, Kevin, whispered. "We'll get out of this. We just need to wait for an opportunity." 

"O-okay."

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