Page 88 of The Circus

She grins all the same.

“You two…cut from the same cloth,” she murmurs, reaching up to brush her thumb over my cheekbone.

“I never thought I’d find someone so…perfect,” I admit, uttering the last word. My mom beams but tries to fight it, and her eyes glisten in pride.

“I always hoped you’d find someone worthy of the love I know you have to give. And I know she is worthy. Just…no grandkids yet, please.”

A slow, snarky smirk pulls up the corner of my mouth.

“No promises.”

She blushes furiously and glares, swatting at me.

“Go get her, you beautiful boy. I love you.”

“Love you, too, mom.”

“So,”the raspy, smoker’s voice alerts me to Vic’s approach as I stand before the asylum, staring up into the derelict perfection that is this building. “Little sunshine found this place, eh?”

I nod, not giving him a glance yet, eyes searching the windows for signs of any ghostly faces. It’s frustrating, being able to see them but also not. I am man enough to admit that I’m fucking jealous of Eden’s gift and talent. Why did I get stuck hearing voices instead?

They all call me an asshole for wishing them away, and Vic elbows me, bringing me back to the present.

“Yeah, a few years ago.”

I glance at him. His skin is waxy and pale in the silvery sunlight, his eyes even more sunken, his cheekbones so prominent and striking he’s nothing more than a skeleton with skin draped over his frame. My shoulders droop slowly.My mind is a dark, twisted, obnoxious place. It forces me to hyperfixate on very specific things; threats, killing, Eden. When someone is safe for me to be around, they fade into the background, and I miss the glaringly obvious.

With my mom, it’s denial. With Vic, I’m just a selfish, self-absorbed asshole. The voices hum in agreement, still pissed at me for my slight a moment ago.

I cross my arms, still studying his face as he glares up into the gaping, empty windows.

“How long do you have left?”

His eyes cut to me so quickly it’s unnerving. I can see he wants to deny it, too, but after gritting his teeth, he sighs through his nose, crosses his arms, and drops his gaze to his feet.

“Days. Weeks, if I’m unfortunate enough.”

“What is it?”

The side of his face lifts in a smirk, but he doesn’t look at me, instead glancing back up at St. Ignatius.

“Lung cancer.”

“And you haven’t told her?”

Now he turns his ire-filled glare to me.

“After the kid just lost her father the same fuckin’ way?”

I frown, pity swirling in my gut. Pity for Eden, and for Vic. She’ll take his death hard.

“Sorry,” I mutter. He sighs again, his breathing labored and crackly.

“Don’t be. I deserve what I have coming for me. I’d prefer a bullet to my head over this shit,” he says, motioning to his waiflike body. My frown deepens.

“That’s probably what’s going to happen.”

My voice is low, guarded, but when his eyes find mine again, the truth is there, however abhorrent. He knows Dick and Daniel are onto us for killing that fucker who tried to rape Eden. We’ve both seen the emails, the gun Daniel bought.

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