“Need a ride?” he shouts over his roaring engine.
I give him a brief glance, our eyes locking through his spiral lenses, and with a small, silent shake of my head, I look forward once again, my steps not stopping. He continues to follow me, and when I reach the back entrance of the tent, I can feel hiseyes burning into my back as I slip inside, disappearing into the shadows, out of his sight.
I march straight for Madame's chamber, hoping to speak to her before the show. I have questions about Dark Night, things I don't know, and I'm not sure why I'm being kept in the dark, but my frustration is mounting. Hell mentioned people kill themselves in the Death Room’s, and my reaction to that wasn't what a normal person would be because of the situation I was facing.
Nothing usually surprises me, and death doesn't scare me, but what does fucking scare me is not knowing what I am facing before I face it, like the death traps. Ignorance is more terrifying than the thought of dying.
Since Hell and I were too busy caught up in this twisted fucking connection we have, riding his hand until I was coming on my damn panties that were stuffed inside my pussy, I didn't have a chance to ask him what the fuck that place was and why it even existed. Sure, I could have asked him just now, but that would mean engaging with him again. Every time I am in his presence, my walls crumble like they're being shattered by a fucking earthquake, never to be seen again. That guy is dangerous, not just to my body, but to my mind too.
As soon as I enter, I spot her sitting behind her desk, a cigarette dangling from her lips, her head bowed over a spread of tarot cards. I stop in the middle of the room and clear my throat, but she doesn't look up.
“What do you want, Noir? You should be getting ready. You perform in less than twenty minutes,” she states dismissively.
I inhale deeply, trying to rein in my irritation at her ignorance.
“Dark Night,” I snap out.
She pauses, a tarot card held mid-air, her attention shifting slightly. “What the fuck is it, Madame? Am I part of it?” I demand, my eyes locked on her, refusing to be dismissed any longer.
She contemplates for a moment, the card still suspended between her fingers until her eyes finally meet mine, and she tilts her head to the side, a smile curling on her lips.
“Of course you are, dear. All my best performers are,” she replies, her voice sweet with a sinister undertone. I stay silent, feeling my heart suddenly thumping against my chest, though I can't quite pinpoint why.
“Why do you ask, Noir?”
“The Death Rooms,” I blurt out, “I almost got myself fucking killed last night because you failed to tell me such a place exists here.” I point my finger at her accusingly. “It's your duty as my boss to tell me what I am facing,” I seethe, my tone sharp with anger.
She keeps her dark eyes locked on mine as she drops the card onto the desk, her jaw set tight at my choice of words. I watch her every move as she places her hands on the wood and rises from her chair. She walks around her big desk calmly, her red dress trailing behind her until she stops in front of me.
At eye level, we stare into each other's eyes, and hers scan my features. “You know what you're facing though, don't you?” she asks calmly, and I stay silent, my eyes wide, my chest tightening, threatening to lose control. “You knew it the moment you met Hell.”
She reaches out, softly taking a lock of my hair. “I wouldn't have let you work here if I didn't think you belonged here, Noir.”
I back away from her touch, my face turning to the side as I try to calm myself down. “Why do you do it?” I ask before looking at her again. “Why do you kill people?” My voice is low, filled with curiosity. “Are they innocent?”
Her eyes narrow, scanning mine, but suddenly she looks over my shoulder. I glance to the side to see Hell standing behind me, his dark presence sending a chill down my spine.I growl, shooting Madame one last look before turning around and storming past Hell, heading straight for the changing rooms.
As I walk in, a row of mirrors catches my eye, surrounded by bright lights. A group of girls are scattered around, busy with their preparations. I quickly make my way over, trying to calm the storm raging inside me as I approach a mirror and Blush stands from her seat as she notices me.
“Noir?” she says with a concerned tone, but I just give her a small smile, dumping my bag on the desk beside her and starting to strip down.
“How are you feeling?” she asks curiously, but I avoid meeting her eyes. With a tiny nod, I continue to remove my top clothes and get into my costume. I feel the eyes of all the girls on me, as if I'm an intruder, but I ignore it; many of them I haven't even met yet.
As I wrap my corset around me, a girl suddenly steps forward, her eyes white, and her long black hair cascades over her bronzed skin. She's dressed in white: a tight corset, and a tutu, the complete opposite of my black attire.
“Oh, look who it is, it’s the new Hollow's girl,” she sneers as she folds her arms across her chest defiantly. Three more girlsjoin behind her, mirroring her stance. I quickly look around, making sure no one is behind me before meeting her gaze.
“Were you talking to me?” I respond, my tone cool, but my grip on the corset ribbon tightens.
“Of course, I was talking to you! Have you dyed your head so much that you can't even tell when someone's talking to you? Fucking air head,” she snaps, her words cutting through the air like shards of glass, while her minions cackle behind her.
My teeth grind down, not in the fucking mood for this bullshit, but I notice Blush taking a calm step beside me, which the girl picks up on.
“You want to become a traitor for an outsider, Blush?” she mocks, but I refuse to back down.
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane? Just back off and get on with your shit,” I snap back.
Suddenly, she steps toward me, and instinct takes over, forcing me walk forward to meet her until we’re nose to nose. I hold my ground, bubbling with anger after everything that has happened recently.
