Page 66 of The Circus

My blood runs cold at his words. Not because he’s a killer, but because I can’t imagine anyone hurting his mother like that. She’s so kind and soft, and she adores her son. Ever sincemeeting her, I’ve wondered what my life would be like if I’d had a mom like her, and it fills my heart with heavy sorrow to know she was mistreated in such a way.

His eyes find mine again, and I offer him a small, sad smile.

“If Dick and Daniel find out, Eden, I’ll take care of it. Please…I know I’m asking a lot of you, but please trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Our eyes search one another’s, and I finally relent with a timid nod. I’m in no way letting go of my anxiety, but at least I understand him better. So with a heavy sigh through puffed cheeks, I turn my face back to the ceiling and speak, searching the stains there for patterns.

“My mom was always super religious. Her and dad were high school sweethearts, from a pretty small farming town. I grew up on a farm, but it was also a vineyard my grandparents owned. When they died…she…she had all of the grape vines burned. I don’t remember that, but that’s when dad left her. She became way too involved in church, and he was always deployed. I was homeschooled, and had to wear these ugly fucking skirts and dresses.”

He snickers, and I glance at him with a coy smile, still running my fingers over the purring kitten on my chest, his warmth seeping into my heart.

“We went to church every day of the week, and things just became more and more zealous. All of my friends started…disappearing. And…umm…” I mutter, fighting for the right words. I know Teddy will understand, but what I fear is his anger on my behalf, because I have a feeling the voices will want to sink their teeth into my mother for what she did to me. So I hold his gaze and find my strength there to speak.

“She would beat me. Lock me up, sometimes for days. If I needed to bathe, or shower, she’d watch me to make sure I didn’t…touch myself. I eventually had to sleep in her room withher, because she was so paranoid aboutsins of the flesh,” I say, shivering at the phrase and all the abhorrent memories it brings forth.

“I didn’t know it, but she was keeping me pure for my husband. When I…when I started my period, she became weirdly happy and nice to me, bought me new dresses, trimmed my hair,” I say, blushing.

His stare is unwavering, but the way the edges of his jaw become sharper tells me he’s grinding his teeth so hard they may shatter. My heart pumps hard against my ribs, disturbing the peaceful slumber of the kitten. Tearing my gaze from Teddy’s, I continue.

“She told me it was time to meet the man God had chosen for me, my husband. I was so confused, kept asking her if dad knew, if this was normal.”

I swallow hard, fighting against the need to flee. The emotions these memories dredge up are difficult to bear, seeing as I’ve spent so long burying them as deeply as possible.

“And then I met him. I was thirteen, and he was forty-something, and she left me alone with him. He…asked me such odd questions. I should’ve still been playing with dolls…not being…molested by some pedophile,” I hiss, my vision swimming with furious tears. I’ve never even told my father the extent, because he rescued me just in time. But at night, when I’m alone in our house, I still feel those vile hands snaking up my thighs, groping my prepubescent breasts, and those fingers pushing aside my underwear to explore me while I stood there, numb with grief as my childhood crashed and burned around me.

“Eden.”

His voice is calm, so deep and gentle and reassuring. My tears spill over and race down my temples, but I look at him. Devastation mars his perfect features, but the fury is simmeringthere, just beneath the surface and barely contained. Heaving a shaky breath, I continue, lightening my tone for his benefit.

“I sent a letter to my dad, and he came home and took custody of me, but…I still feel guilty, because I never told him the full story. He was already sick. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

He’s deathly quiet, and the entire asylum seems to hold its breath with him. The air around us is charged and tinged with something sinister, and I turn my gaze to Teddy; the emotions that are emanating from his eyes match the storm he’s creating with his energy.

I’ve learned that spirits feed off whatever you put out, so right as I open my lips to issue a warning, something downstairs slams—hard, making me jump as my eyes widen. The sound reverberates through the massive, empty space, echoing menacingly. It darkens more, almost to the point where I’m unable to make out Teddy’s livid, seething features, and rain pelts the stone façade.

The basement, I’ve learned, is where the root of the evil of this place resides. The leftover equipment down there is covered in a layer of dust and mold, and rats have eaten away at the fabric and stuffing of chairs and beds. I know it’s where doctors with morbid and vile intentions performed lobotomies and shock therapy.

I think it’s how Eve died.

“You’re giving them energy,” I whisper. Slowly, he quirks his brow, and even more slowly, his lip rises into a smirk.

“To whom am I giving my energy?” he asks coyly, that wicked smile cemented in place. I give him a chastising tilt of my head and frown.

“Evil,” I say back.

His grin is anything but inviting, and his eyes almost glow through the darkness all around us.

“Don’t worry, love,” he says, voice rough with sudden desire. “They know their master.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

EDEN

“So,”Teddy says after a few tense moments, the storm clouds outside parting briefly and allowing in scant, watery sunlight. The heaviness from before dissipates yet lingers around the edges of my heart, the evil spirits slinking back into their darkened corners to fight another day. “What should we name him?”

I can’t help but smile. I know we’re in no way prepared for a kitten, or responsible enough with all we have going on in our personal lives, but the selfish little girl in me wants to keep him, damn the consequences. So as I cup his rump and pull him close to my face, nuzzling my nose against his, I grin. “Binx, obviously.”

Teddy laughs, dropping his hand over mine, the two of us holding a precious little life between us. “I figured you’d pick that or Jack. I like Binx, though.”

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