Page 89 of Circus From Hell

The eternal pain in my head is still prominent. I watched Soren take away that whisky, and with every step, the pain worsened, knowing it wouldn’t be getting relief today.

When the door opens up soon after Soren leaves, I brace myself for more mockery. I’m slowly losing my mind to insanity in this cage, and it takes a hell of a lot of self-restraint to stop myself from slamming into the bars.

My fight leaves my body as I see familiar black curls before the trailer door slams shut. Dolly stands at the other end, facing me with her head in its usual tilted, assessing position.

“What are you doing here, Dol?” I ask softly, not wanting to scare her away when I see a big bottle of vodka in her hands. It’s not whisky, but it’ll do.

I know better than to ask Dolly open questions instead of polar ones. She doesn’t speak, so she doesn’t answer.

Dolly is fragile. Broken. Shattered so badly she can’t be repaired. But I don’t think she needs to be. I took her under my wing when Kreo brought her here. We were both young, and I didn’t think she’d survive. I get Dolly when no one else does—except maybe Moxie.

We don’t need to exchange words to communicate.

“Is that vodka for me?” She nods her head slowly, making her dark curls sway. “You gonna bring it here? I’m in a lot of pain.”

Only Kreo and Dolly—and now Soren—know about the pain. They’re the only ones who know I drink to numb. Everyone thinks I’m addicted to the feeling, when in truth, I’m addicted because of the lack of feeling. When I’ve had half a bottle and the world around me has a blunt edge instead of sharp, when my vision and hearing are warbled enough to bounce the agony off, do I feel like life might be worth living.

She’s silent in her boots as she pads across the trailer and sits on the floor in front of the cage. She crosses her legs, putting the bottle out of reach.

“You’re an evil doll, you know that?”

She stares blankly at me for a moment before her eyes drift to the white liquid splattered over the bars and floor. Well, I’m busted. It’s pretty obvious that it’s cum, and a concerning amount. She knows even my double-dicks don’t produce that much.

“Please can I have it? My head is pounding.”

Her gloved hands grab the bottle by the neck and push it through the bars. It barely manages to fit, and I’m spinning off the cap and guzzling it down within seconds. I ignore her staring as liquid relief starts to drown out the worst of the pain.

When I pull the bottle away with a partially satisfied exhale, I notice Dolly’s fingers. She’s fiddling with the tips in her lap, and I’d recognise that fidgeting anywhere. If she pulled her gloves off, I’d see the skin around her nails is red and peeling.

“Shit, you been picking again?” I ask, and she quickly hides her hands behind her back. Dolly has a condition that leads her to pick at her skin, and it worsens when she’s distressed. She’s easily distressed by things like change. “Don’t pull that shit with me. If you’re having problems, you need to show me.”

She looks back at the trailer door.

“Something out there bothering you?” She nods. “The other performers?” She shakes her head and gestures to me locked in the cage. Understanding, I sigh and lean back. “Yeah, things seem to be changing. I know you don’t like change. But it’s okay. Things will be back to normal soon. The real normal. Pre-Karma normal.”

Her waves bounce as she shakes her head again. She puts three fingers upside down to make our understood sign of ‘M’, and I know she’s referring to Moxie. She brings her hand up to her face and taps her eye.

“Something’s wrong with Moxie’s eye?” She nods, bringing her hand back down. “You need to learn to not worry about her, Dol. She does her own thing. Let her sort it.” Dolly rolls her eyes, making me smirk. “Less of the sass. Just because I’m in a cage doesn’t mean I’m not in charge anymore. Will she be ready for the show tomorrow?”

Her shoulders shift as she shrugs.

I can’t have things getting sloppy out there before Kreo comes back.

“Will you get the key to the cage? It’s on this big guy with gills on his neck.” She shakes her head, and I mutter a curse. Dolly likes to be difficult. “Go and practice then,” I sigh before slugging another mouthful. There’s nothing she can do for me here, and I’d rather deal with my humiliation and pain on my own.

But she doesn’t move.

Silently, she slips her hand between the bars, resting her palm atop mine. It communicates more than words can, especially because I know how intense her hatred for physical touch is. Dolly and I have never had sex—she hasn’t with anyone; she prefers watching the rest of us silently—and I think I’d find it weird at this point. We have a more awkward, sibling-y relationship, and as hot as she is, I unfortunately care about her. I wouldn’t ruin her like I do Moxie or Baxter or any of the others.

Dolly is quick to snatch her hand back and run out of the trailer. I should probably be worried about whatever she was referring to with Moxie, but the pain has been going on too long for me to care.

I chug a quarter of the bottle and lean against the back of the cage, staring through the gaps in the bars. My eyes land on the chained wooden box beside the trailer door. The longer I stare at it, the more sure I am that I can hear something moving inside of it.

Now I’m really going crazy. I’ve not been in here that long and I’m losing sense.

The alcohol burns beautifully as I down more of the bottle, wishing I at least had a spliff to pair with it. Being crossfaded numbs the pain best.

As I get close to finishing the bottle, I finally feel the relief of sleep overtaking my eyes, and they flutter shut despite the resistance to let my guard down.