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“I…agree,” Marilynn breathes out in agitation. “Just please, don’t leave me behind.” Marilynn’s words puncture a small hole in my heart. She won’t be forgotten again. No matter what happens.
“I won’t take my eyes off you,” Niles says quietly.
And the doors open.
Cheers of drunk men, blinding red and yellow light, bursts of fire, and the giant stadium exploding with violent, lustful energy. The heated atmosphere is sticky and humid from the frantic gathering of exhausted bodies, hungry for an escape but hungrier for pleasure.
It’s harsh on the senses, looking around at the restless soldiers bouncing in their seats, the dark carnival, the insidious zoo of criminals, the mad house of torture and entertainment.
With each step, the air swells with dust, stale body odor, dried blood, and a bouquet of alcohol-infused breath. It balloons to stomach-churning levels around me.
Dessin caresses the back of my hand with his knuckle. The lightest of touches that zaps a charge through the terror that gushes out of me. I take a breath, focus on the roughness of that knuckle. Focus on something else that will distract me from the nerves curling around my stomach.
“Remember the first time we walked into the tavern of the Nightamous Horde?” Dessin asks in that low baritone, somehow knowing I needed to hear his deep, rugged voice.
“I do. Thinking about the time I had to straddle you?”
“Yes.” Desire forms like thick webs over his voice. It’s smooth like butter melting on top of a juicy steak.
“Me, too.”
The Ringmaster pivots on his platform, looking down at the herd of human cattle he is welcoming to the stage. I flinch at the paint on his long face. Red lips that make his smile appear wide and unnatural. Black smudges around his eyes. White, like baby powder, covering his skin and ending under his chin.
The rest of the sea of faces come into view, the soldiers hollering, also decorated as…
“Clowns,” Niles gasps behind me. “I hate clowns!”
“Don’t look at them,” Dessin commands.
I avert my eyes and blow out a breath. They’re everywhere—crazy, colorful, disturbing faces that are anxious for the show to begin.
“This is so fucked up,” Warrose growls.
We’re shoved onto the platform, holding onto each other as the mob of inmates grows anxious, pushing, knocking elbows, and whispering in Old Alkadonian.
The Ringmaster makes a final statement, throwing his arms in the air as a veil of smoke floats from the ceiling, draping over the stage like a blanket of haze.
“He told them to secure their masks and enjoy the Ecstasy Dance!” Ruth shouts over the screams.
My eyes flash back to the clown faces. It’s not paint. Not makeup. They’re wearing masks!
“Skylenna!” Dessin yells, reaching for me through the sudden chaos of hysterical bodies moving through us like a channel of water.
Warrose and Niles attempt to hold on to Ruth and Marilynn, but the current is too strong. The screams of men and women fighting to find the person they want to stay close to overpowers our voices. And I’m stunned into silence, emotion cluttering my throat, dread biting into my lungs. We can’t be separated! What if I’m assaulted? What if the drug is so powerful I let it happen?
“Dessin!” I shriek, pummeling my way through sweaty bodies.
But my voice is drowned out. It’s a theater of panic. A display of crying women. Some are happy about it, searching for a partner or multiple inmates to couple with. Some already have a crazed look in their eyes.
And the fog is falling, almost here, almost encapsulating us in its thick curtain of drugs.
“Oh, god! Dessin!” Helplessness ricochets over my limbs.
I hold my breath against the initial contact, resist the urge to suck in the cloudy mist that sprinkles over my skin. Prisoners have already begun to inhale, letting their heads lull back, eyes rolling, pupils dilating. I pinch my nose, bustling through another group of people. The more my muscles work, my limbs move, the more I need oxygen.
It happens after a moment of heart-hammering silence. I take a deep breath in. It tastes of burning plastic, bitter and salty on my tongue. The world of fire, flashing lights, and frantic bodies…softens. A sweet, sugary atmosphere takes its place.
Why was I so upset? It’s so nice here, so thrilling, so…
