Page 79 of Circus From Hell

I don’t bother trying to conjure up what he could possibly be referring to. I’ll find out later.

I’m on edge as we walk through the field. Aside from that silent female clown who found me walking towards the circus earlier and brought me to Karma’s tent, I’ve not seen anyone. For such a busy circus, that’s a surprise, and it sets me on edge. But it is nearing the early morning hours, and most people are usually fast asleep.

Snake pops his head into Karma’s tent when I lie her on the bed, and Soren carefully places Arlo beside her. It’s a small mattress, and Arlo instinctively turns on his side to engulf Karma in his sleep.

“Oh, you decided to show back up, huh?” I ask Snake, and then I pull a face, clocking myself speaking to a rat.

He approaches me with something in his mouth. A needle and black thread for her leg.

I hold out my palm to accept. I taught myself to sew when Arlo’s clothes started falling apart, but fabric is one thing; flesh is another. Soren leans back against the vanity, folding his arms and watching me with tired eyes. I doubt he’ll let himself go to bed before me. He seems like the type to watch his back until the last second.

I got used to being the biggest guy in the room until Soren.

I slip the thick thread through the needle, grip the rip in her thigh, and pull the flesh together. It’s taking me a while to get used to the feel of her skin, especially with how easily it pulls, how easily the needle slips through. She doesn’t stir or react as I pull the needle back and forth, stitching her up.

“Bet you didn’t see your evening going like this, huh?”

I laugh under my breath. “And you did?”

“Fair enough.”

As I pull the last inch of thread and tie it into a knot, Arlo shifts, slinging his leg over Karma’s body. He drags her into his hold, nuzzling against her neck, and it’s kind of sweet. In a morbid sort of way. She’s lying there, dead as a doornail—pun not intended—whilst he uses her like a doll to fall asleep.

Fuck it; weirder things have happened.

Snake curls up against Karma’s head, and if a rat with chicken legs can find a semblance of comfort in this weird situation, why can’t I?

I settle onto the rough floor beside the mattress, resting my hands over my stomach and staring up into the pointed roof.

“Goodnight, Micha,” Soren yawns, and a weird feeling of belonging blooms. Arlo and I have never belonged anywhere. But right here, right now, it seems like we just might.

For once, I’m not the most sadistic, mentally-ruined person in the room, and maybe that’s a weird thing to be comforted by, but everything is weird now. There’s no such thing as normalcy anymore.

And I need to learn to accept that before I lose these people for good.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SOREN

Iwatch over my confusing little group as they slumber. Arlo is still cuddling a stiff Karma like a teddy, and Micha doesn’t realise that he’s slung his arm over Karma’s waist and rested his hand on Arlo’s hip from his place on the floor beside them. I’ve drifted in and out of consciousness, but I’m always on edge in this place, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had a full night of sleep.

There’s no point in attempting to fall back asleep for the tenth time, and the sun is on the brink of rising. I may as well pay a certain someone a visit. Can’t have him dying on me, after all. I plan on toying with him for the foreseeable.

I quietly creep out of the small tent and stroll across the field, keeping an eye out for any circus performers.

Just when I’m starting to think no one’s here at all, I spot a short figure at the show tent. She’s peeking behind the exit flap, allowing me to see half her face, but I recognise the curly black hair and white tutu immediately. She was the one who showed Micha to us earlier.

I stand still in the middle of the field and watch her intently. She doesn’t move, innocent eyes trained on me, but I see the deception there. She’s sneaky for a reason.

I don’t know how much time passes before she slinks back into the tent, the shadows, and I’m quick to walk the rest of the short way to the trailer. She made me uncomfortable, like she’s all-knowing, like she’s aware I’ve got her freaky clown leader in a cage.

I’m the one with the key, regardless.

I like having power over Spiral. It’s well-deserved. I’ve not decided what his outcome will be yet or what our unconventional group will have to do when Kreo returns.

But I’m not giving up Karma, and I’m certainly not going back to being a test subject.

The padlock is still on the floor where I’ve left it, and I’m half-expecting to find a gaggle of clowns waiting for me, Spiral at the front. But it’s dark and empty when I enter, and if it weren’t for the eerie, distant cackling, I wouldn’t be sure that Spiral was still in the cage.