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Maureen, watching from the middle of the pool, wanted to join in.
Rip them up. Tear their flesh. Lap up their blood.
Yes!
She slipped beneath the surface and swam for the side and thought, Am I nuts? They're at each other. This is my chance to get away.
Her urge to savage the two boys was gone, leaving her with a heavy feeling of repugnance.
How could I even consider . . .?
The rain.
Oh, Jesus.
The black, warm rain. It had soaked her when she dashed from the house, and she remembered how she'd suddenly wanted to turn around and rush back inside and kill them all. But she'd been moving too fast to halt herself before plunging into the backyard pool. The water had engulfed her, and the urge had passed. It had returned when she stood up and watched the boys come out.
The same vicious impulses would take hold again if she came up for air.
Some rain on my head, I'll be just like them.
Staying underwater, Maureen turned herself around. She breast-stroked for the middle of the pool, angling downward, fighting her buoyancy that was like a balloon in her chest trying to lift her to the surface.

 
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