What the fuck.A hidden entrance that leads underground?
He stands still for a moment taking one last drag of his cigarette, the ember glowing bright before he flicks it away, watching it soar through the air until it lands with a soft hiss on the damp grass.
Without hesitation, he descends into the darkness, disappearing from view and I remain frozen, my mind racing, but I am not stupid enough to follow him. I'll hold out and when he leaves, I'll go down there.
I wait for what feels like forever, sitting on the cold, dirty ground, hidden behind the trunk, but when I hear his heavy footsteps crunching over the grass, my body tenses and I remain utterly still until he has completely passed me. It’s strange because he usually senses my presence no matter where I am. Maybe he has things on his mind. Probably Dark Night.
When the coast is clear, I gently stand, my muscles stiff from holding the same position for so long. I move cautiously around the tree, my eyes darting in every direction to ensure Hell is truly gone and as soon as I am satisfied that I am alone, I make my way toward the hidden door. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach and once I reach them, I gaze down for a moment,then bend over, fingers curling around the cold handles. I pull them apart, the hinges groaning softly in the night, revealing a set of steep steps leading down into total darkness. A musty, damp smell wafts up, and the air feels colder as it meets my skin. I hesitate, listening for any sign of movement below, but all I hear is the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze.
I grasp the edges of the doors and begin to descend into the abyss. The walls are rough as I steady myself, and the stairs narrow, forcing me to move slowly and cautiously. My eyes gradually adjust to the dim light, and I see a passageway that has some doors. I glance around as I carefully walk forward, my senses heightened, pushing down on every handle of every door I pass, but they're all locked until I reach one and it softly clicks open.
As I step inside, the dim light automatically comes to life, and I feel a chill run down my spine. Long, thick chains hang low, rusted, and heavy, clinking softly with the draft. Metal units line the walls, each one covered in dark stains and strange, sinister-looking tools lie on top of them.
In the center of the room stands a metal surgeon's table and it’s fitted with restraints. The air is thick with the scent of iron and something else, something far more sinister. I take a step closer, my eyes darting to every corner of the room, trying to understand what the fuck Hell uses this place for.
My gaze lingers on the table, imagining Hell bringing someone here, strapping them down, and possibly hurting them. The thought makes my stomach churn, but I can't tear my eyes away. I need to understand, to know what Hell is hiding down here although it is becoming pretty clear cut. Taking a deep breath, I reach out and touch one of the chains, feeling its cold, rough texture beneath my fingers.
Knowing I can't be here long because he might return, I dash toward the units lined along the back of the room and with careful yet swift motions, I pull each one by one, every drawer revealing an array of weapons and devices until finally I come across a med drawer, and I halt. My eyes scan over the neatly labelled vials, my mind sparking with ideas until they settle on a name I recognize all too well:Etorphine.
I quickly grab a clean, unused needle from beside the drugs and draw the tiniest dose of the liquid into the syringe. Carefully, I cap the needle and hide it away in my pocket, making sure everything else remains undisturbed and is still in its place. Then, I turn around and quietly leave the room, pulling the door shut behind me with a soft click.
Tonight is the night, and I'm getting ready with a mix of nerves and anticipation. A constant spike of anxiety pulses within me, but it’s matched by a thrill. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this moment for such a long time, for the answers I desperately need. As I slip into my outfit, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the sight of myself transformed.
Tonight, I’m dressed entirely differently from my usual costume. I snuck into the circus's changing rooms this morning, scouting for something that would make me undetectable to Hellion. Something to throw him off when he tries to hunt me down.
Black knee-high boots fit snug around my legs, paired with white fishnet stockings, the lace trim sitting just below my small white tutu with a black and red frill. A matching corset snaps my waist, contouring my curves and I’ve styled my hair into a bun, with loose red curls framing my features. My makeup is my usual broken dolly look, but tonight, I have a white porcelaindoll mask with black cracks around the hollow eyes and red lips to complete my disguise. Long, finger-tipless, silk, white gloves conceal the scars on my arms.
Once I'm finished with my clothing, I lift the eye contacts I stole—black and white swirls, just like Hell's. A smirk curls at my lips before I struggle to place them in each eye, but with persistence, they finally fit onto my blue pupils, transforming my gaze into something horrifying.
Ready and unrecognizable, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what’s to come. This is it—the night I’ve been waiting for, the night everything changes.
After one more glance in the mirror, I turn around and head for the bedside cabinet. Pulling open the drawer, I push everything aside until I find the needle and I lift it out, then stuff it deep inside my boot. Grabbing my mask off the bed on the way, I head for the front door.
Just as I reach it, I hear the shower running, knowing Eli is in there and a thought crosses my mind: what will he be doing tonight? Will he be working? Will he be watching this entire thing unfold as well? I hope he doesn't. I'm not sure if he would handle it well. I press the handle down and exit the trailer, closing the door behind me.
The night air flushes against my hot skin, instantly reviving me. I glance down at my mask before raising and fixing it to my face. Then, I walk toward the bright lights of the huge circus and carnival in the distance.
After creeping past The Hollow's trailer, the park is eerily quiet, as if everyone is already inside, and I start to wonder ifI am late, even though it's almost eleven o'clock. No, I can't be. Madame said that time.
As I walk through the back enterance of the tent, the music is loud in my ears, the lights pulsing through the cracks in the fabric, a huge crowd already inside the arena. Then I hear Madame's voice on the mic just as I enter, causing me to stop at the threshold.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dark Night, where fear isn't just a sensation—it's a dread that seeps into your bones and lingers in your final breath. Here, death isn't merely a threat; it's an experience, a macabre spectacle that will haunt your very soul and claim you as its own.”
I peek around the entrance, the audience on the edge of their seats, but I quickly notice that these aren't the usual visitors. They are men and women in luxurious outfits, a sea of suits and elegant dresses and my brows pinch with confusion as my eyes skim over the strange crowd.
Center stage, Madame stands draped in a blood-red gown, spotlights shining down on her, demanding the attention of everyone in the tent.
“Tonight,” she continues, “you will witness the unthinkable—the beauty of horror. We present to you a performance like no other, where the line between life and death is a nothing but a tightrope, ready to be cut at any moment.”
Madame raises her arms almost elegantly. “Remember, our dear guests,” she says with a chilling smile, “there is no turning back. Once you enter the realm of Dark Night, you become part of our sinister symphony, where every scream, every drop of sweat and blood, belongs to us. From this moment forward, you're tangled in our web, fighting for your life.” The crowdlaughs, but something dreadful settles in my stomach from her words.
Cautiously, I slip into a seat in the back, not near anyone, ready to watch the show unfold since I have been told I am not to perform tonight and just be a watcher. The lights dim further, then the tent plunges into darkness. When a spotlight pierces the blackness, it illuminates a cage that is being descended from above. I glance up to see a figure trapped inside, his face full of fear and when the cage reaches the ground, his desperate pleas for mercy echo.
Performers dressed in bizarre costumes enter from the shadows, each one more terrifying than the last. A man with a painted skull face juggles flaming knives, while a woman in a tattered, ghostly dress twists her body in impossible ways across the dusty floor, and a horrifying clown on tall stilts, holding a long, black whip all creep toward him. Each one moves in a strange, haunting way—like nothing I have ever seen before.
The woman slithers up to the bars of the cage, her arms and legs wrapping around them like a snake as she leans in close to the man, her hot breath visible against the cold night air. His eyes are wide with terror before she suddenly lets out a high-pitched chilling laugh and tosses something onto his face, a liquid. He instantly lets out a blood-curdling scream, trying to wipe his face desperately, but as he moves his hands away, I see it is melting. I hold my breath, my eyes wide as he continues to try to escape, knocking into the cage because he is now blind.
The crowd erupts in laughter with sadistic amusement and the other two performers step forward. They whip him harshly, each lash drawing blood, while flaming knives are thrown into his flesh, embedding themselves with sickening thuds. His screams are horrifying, but they only seem to fuel the audience's enjoyment.
