Exiting a broken-down gas station, I feel the warm, gritty wind playfully tangle my long, blonde locks. As I scan the huge sandy landscape stretching out before me, the bright sun burns my skin, and I think about where we should head too next.
As Eli enters my line of sight after appearing from the male restroom to my right, he closes the gap between us, peering at me over the rims of his sunglasses. He is dressed in a white tank top paired with worn, tattered jeans and his blonde hair dances, mirroring the gusty chaos around us as he adjusts himself.
When he is within reach, I offer him one of the cold bottles of water I had just bought. He accepts it, but I catch him lifting his sunglasses fully, his gaze drifting up to the grimy window. Curious, I move closer, taking my sunglasses off my face to look at the weathered poster that has a circus on it, the faded letters drawing me in.
Oddity Carnival & Cirque. Seeking dancers and extraordinary talents.
When his green eyes meet mine once again, he arches an eyebrow, leaving me wondering what he is thinking.
“Write down the address, Noir.”
My brows pinch in confusion as I respond, “What?”
“We should see if we can join.”
Returning my focus to the poster, I notice his eyes following suit. “But why?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
He shrugs his shoulders before turning his head to look down at me again. “It’s a carnival, maybe I can work there, but you can dance, right? They could take you into the circus.”
My mind drifts back to a time when life felt carefree, and the memory of my brief escape through dance resurfaces, reminding me of the unfulfilled promise I made to my mom. Dancing, gymnastics, and aerial silks once made me feel truly alive, but it's been so long since I've felt even an ounce of that buzz. It's been years, yet I can't help but wonder that those skills might still be woven into the fabric of who I am.
His hand sneaks around my waist, pulling me closer to his tall frame, yet I remain distant, my gaze fixed on the circus image, lost in thought.
“It could just be short-term, so we can make some money to get our own place. Aren't you sick of the motels? The truck?” he says, his words laced with temptation.
I lift my eyes cautiously to his, observing his features and contemplating whether it's smart for me to settle in one place given my circumstances, but he continues. “I really think you can get this job and I am pretty sure they will hire me as well once they see what you can do.”
I let out a defeated sigh, my palm gliding down his chest as I shake my head in response. “I haven’t danced in years, E, and I’m not sure if—”
He kisses my forehead, cutting me off, and my eyes lower as he murmurs against it, “Have faith in yourself, Noir. I’ve seen the way you can move.”
When he pulls back, he has a smirk on his lips, an eyebrow lifted. I chuckle while shaking my head before facing aside, yet I cannot shake the unsettling feeling inside my gut.
“Come on, sweetheart, it could be fun.”
I gaze at the poster once again before finally pushing past my reluctance and taking my bag from my shoulder. Unzipping it, I retrieve my small doodle pad and a pen and glance back and forth between the poster and pad, hastily jotting down the address. As soon as I cap my pen, E takes my hand and guides me back to the truck without hesitation.
As we drive, I reach into the dash compartment and pull out a map, trying to pinpoint the carnival's location. The wind tousles my hair through the open window beside me, but I squint, scanning the map until something sinister catches my eye. A large, desolated area surrounded by woodland stands out, its clearing eerily resembling an odd shape.
With confusion, I turn the map toward Eli, pointing to the strange landmark. “Does that look like a skull to you?”
He briefly takes his eyes off the road to glance at the map, letting out a soft chuckle before refocusing on the path ahead. “Fuck yeah, it does,” he replies with a grin. “Don't tell me this is one of those messed up circuses.”
My brows pinch as I lay the map on my lap. “Messed up circuses?” I repeat, my tone sceptical.
“Yeah, you know?” he sighs, slumping further in his seat. “Where they do weird and horrific acts.”
I laugh, peering out of the window beside me. “Babe, maybe you've been watching too much TV,” I tease, shaking my head.
I know telling Eli that is a big fat lie. I've seen the dark underbelly of this world firsthand, felt its cruel sting repeatedly and absolutely nothing surprises me. In my youth, I was surrounded by one of the most malevolent men in the States, which drove me into hiding. From what I remember, for a year, I wandered alone, sleeping rough or hitchhiking from one place to another. That's how Eli found me four months ago—alone and broken on the side of a road. I still don't know the full story of what happened or why I was in that state. The memories of the day I fled, and eight months after are hazy at best.
Eli has been my anchor ever since, being there for me when I had no one else. He is the only person I’ve let in since I left and we both carry scars from our pasts; he is a recovering heroin addict, and I have battled with self-harm. In each other’s company, we've found peace in a strange way, a refuge from our fucked-up pasts. But love? That's a concept I struggle to grasp. I'm not sure if I'm even capable of it.
Despite my appreciation for Eli being in my life, there's a barrier between us—a barrier built from my hesitation to talk about my past. It's difficult for me to fully open up and show the darkness that lurks within me. Maybe that's what stops me from feeling any romantic love for him or it might be the fact that he doesn’t make me feel anything at all. Yeah, we’re in a sexual relationship, even if it lacks, but to me, that’s all it is: friendship. I suppose it's more like friends with benefits, two people findingsome kind of calm in each other's company during their lonely lives.
I know Eli possibly loves me, although he has never said it, and that realization weighs heavy on my heart. He shouldn't be in love with someone as damaged as I am. The wounds that scar my soul run deep, hidden from prying eyes, never to be shared despite the desperate need for someone to rely on. Trust issues cling to me like shadows, making it nearly impossible for me to show my true self to anyone.
Revealing the truth about who I am would leave me vulnerable, exposed not just to judgment and rejection but to death. Nothing in my life has ever been simple, and I am anything but simple. So, I keep my horrifying secrets locked away, protecting myself from the pain of letting someone in too close. It's a lonely existence, but it's the only one I know how to control.
