Page 12 of House of Clowns

I lunged for the wooden frame of the window, hoisting myself up and ignoring the sting as shards of glass sliced into my fists. I pounded at it until the glass shattered, sending pieces flying across the room.

Carlo turned to me, "Rio, you have to take her. Get her out of here."

"You're both coming with me," I said, swinging myself through the window, ignoring the blood now trickling from my hands. The pain didn't register. It simply didn't compare to seeing her like this.

"No," he whispered, turning a fearful glance over his shoulder. "He won't hurt me. I'll call my brother, Christian, to come for me. Just… get her out of here. Please."

Nodding, my jaw was set. There was no time for arguments. I knelt beside her sliding my arms under her fragile bruised body. She felt so small, so weightless, but I held her tight being as careful as I could lifting her. Carlo reached into his jacket pulling out a notebook. He pressed it into my hand. "Tell her I'll be okay. Tell her not to worry."

With a final nod, I moved to the window, lifting her in my arms. As I climbed through with her clutched in my arms, Carlo gave me one last look, gesturing for me to go. There he was, all alone, trying to be brave. I ran the cold air nipping at my skin,without looking back. Barely stirring, shallow breaths against my chest, yet I pushed on. Her blood stained my shirt and my hands were growing numb—each step driving shards of glass deeper into my palms. But nothing mattered except getting her away from that place.

By the time we reached the tree's edge, my arms ached and my legs were burning. We went that far at least when, hidden from the road, I finally reached the old fence. Laying her down on the cool grass, I knelt and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

"Hey," I whispered, my fingers brushing gently against her cheek, the minor friction prodding to stir her. "Come on, stay with me."

Her eyelids fluttered, and her face contorted in a grimace as she slowly opened her eyes. I didn't know what she'd gone through, but I could see the hurt, the fear, and somewhere, the strength.

"You're safe now," I murmured. "I've got you. Just breathe."

She parted her lips, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "My brother... take me back." Her body tensed, trying to sit up, but I pressed my hand firmly against her chest, holding her down.

"No." I met her stare, my brows knit tightly. "He stayed to protect you."

Her face crumpled, and tears slid down her bruised cheeks. "He can't protect himself," she choked, the words cracking. "If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself."

I leaned in close, steadying her with my stare. "If you're going to blame someone, blame me," I said low. Her gaze flickered, studying my face, swollen eyelids heavy with bruises her father had left in his wake. She turned her head to the side, retreating from the intensity of my words.

"I can take it," I murmured, soft but resolute.

She was so fragile, so ravaged by the life she'd lived, that the most warped part of me felt… possessive, maybe protective. She was like a broken doll left in the dirt, and I was that man who'd found her, ready to piece her back together—broken edges to match my own. I hated that I enjoyed it; it was there nonetheless, gnawing at me with every passing moment.

"Can you walk?" I asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders and gently lifting her.

She planted her feet on the ground and stumbled, her balance going as she leaned into me, her weight pressing into my chest.

Her eyes, vulnerable, searched and found mine, and I exhaled sharply, grumbling under my breath as I shifted in place. Before she could protest, I slid one arm under her legs, the other supporting her back, lifting her easily.

"I know a place no one will find you," I said low, sure of tone, carrying her toward the woods as the trees closed in around us.

House of Clowns.

TEN

ACE

Astrange pull tethered me between worlds, and with this the familiar struggle of drifting from a perfect dream into reality. I am everything in that world: unbound, in control, a master of my own fate—I'm limitless, unshadowed by doubt, alive with the kind of freedom that feels like an endless sky. But my eyes open, and I feel the thought slipping from my grasp, leaving me to face another day that tastes of survival. Every morning brings a sense of a lost battle, a new test.

You can do this,I tell myself, while in a whisper immediately after,What if I can't?Yet somehow, I always can. No matter how serrated yesterday was, every sunrise is a thin thread of hope, promising it cannot get worse than yesterday.

I am a survivor, not a victim.

I blink, taking in the soft light filtering through the room, the soft hum of silence all around me. His shirt clings loosely to my shoulders, its fabric carrying a faint scent of smoke—sharp, earthy tobacco wrapped in something richer, dark oudh and a crisp edge of bergamot. The odd mixture soothes me and grounds me here. I look around. The room is spare, a quietpeace: three beds lined against pale walls, though I am the only one here. The large window hauls in the early morning light, the soft glow skimming across a pair of closets and a mirror dominating the wall across from me.

It feels like a balm, a shelter for my weary body and soul, this bare simplicity. And for the first time in so long, I feel relief—a sense of being loosed from the pain and chaos, unchased.

My muscles feel weightless, each bruise and cut tended, each ache a distant reminder, yet somehow bearable. And though each wound sings a song of hurt, a strange peace fills me, coaxing a faint smile to my lips. For now, it isn't pain that owns me; I am free, suspended in a calm.

I shift a little, my eyes fixed upon the door as creaks in old wood whisper that footsteps near. My heart beats faster. I shut my eyes, but then comes the easing of that door and I blink them open, and he steps in. He's balancing a coffee cup in one hand, a hunk of bread clasped between his teeth. He kicks the door shut with his foot to nudge it closed, then turns to face me. He stops.

---