Page 37 of Circus From Hell

Idon’t have any family to miss. No friends or lovers or people who care about me. But if I have to stay in this cage for much longer, I’ll start slamming my head against the bars.

That frustrating clown will be returning soon. I’m not sure where the white-haired maniac that kidnapped me has gone; it seems like I’m stuck with the clown for the time being. Unless that woman comes back.

Karma.

She was… something. I’ve never seen anything quite like her, and I’m a cave-dwelling anomaly who’s spent the majority of his life alone.

I can’t stop thinking about her. Her hair looked like a jester’s hat. Her stitched-together skin. And those eyes. Big, sleek, green, and mesmerising. I want her to come back. She seemed curious, and that rat she carried with her was better company than the clown or the white-haired kidnapper.

Luck isn’t on my side.

The door to the trailer swings back harshly, and heavy footsteps carry inside, followed by the harsh smell of alcohol and weed. The smell hits my nose as he flicks on the bright light.

“Morning, Fishboy.”

Fishboy.

I’m not a fish—I don’t remotely look like a fish—but I’m used to the insults. I’m a mixture of whatever. A freak. A creature. I have no idea what I am, and I’ve made my peace with that. I’ve made my peace with being a monster.

But I know I’m not a fucking fish.

“I figured Kreo wouldn’t want you starving on my watch, so you get the scraps from last night’s dinner. Eat up.” He chucks the old pieces of chicken, potato, and carrot into the cage, most of them the small or chewy bits no one wanted. Anything is better than fish.

I pick up the pieces and fit them into one large hand. The clown sits in front of the cage, bringing his knees up and leaning his arms over them. I don’t take my eyes off him as I eat. He’s shifty, and I don’t trust any of his motives. He stares back, examining me, with this permanent wicked glint in his eye.

“Do you want something?”

“Nah, I’m just interested in your cock.”

My eyebrows furrow. I’ve been naked since they chucked me in here. Kreo has seen it plenty and been intrigued in a disturbing-sciency way; the clown simply looks morbidly curious.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a tentacle. I’ve never seen one.”

He switches to his knees and crawls forward until his face is pressed against the bars. The sight reminds me of the girl with green hair.

“I want to see your tentacle cock.” I blink. He groans and rolls his eyes. “I won’t say please. I don’t have manners.”

“Then no.”

“Would you show me if I said please?”

“Still no.”

“Oh, why not?” he drawls. “I want to see it.” His split tongue sticks out to part around a cage bar. When he tries to talk, his words come out muffled. “Ith loooths tathy.”

“I beg your pardon.”

He pulls back and wipes the drool off his chin. “I said it looks tasty. What if I told you my name?”

“Why would that convince me?”

He shrugs. “It’s Spiral, anyway.” Psycho name for a psycho clown, I guess. “Does it have suckers?”

“Fuck off,” I growl, moving back to sit in the corner of the cage where the darkness welcomes me.

“That’s not very polite. You should probably be nicer to your captors. We do control you, ya know? Makes sense.”