Page 25 of House of Clowns

"Sometimes," I managed to whisper.

"There you go." Dhalia's voice was warm, barely above a murmur. "Talk to her. Believe she's still with you, and she'll speak to you, too."

A chill traced down my spine, goosebumps prickling my skin. My hands shook as I tried to push the feeling away. "But she's not…" I mumbled, unable to finish.

Dhalia's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't think she's dead, do you?"

I looked down, a tear escaping as I forced the words out. "She disappeared a long time ago. Dad said she left us, and no one has seen her since. But… I don't believe it."

"Oh." Her voice was soft, her hand warm as it rested on mine. "I'm sorry."

Memories cascaded over me, stirring up every fear and bitterness I'd buried. A sick feeling churned in my stomach, the room spinning just enough to remind me I needed air, space, and silence. I needed to be alone.

"I… I should go back," I said, barely above a whisper.

SIXTEEN

ACE

Icould never have found that what I was looking for would find me here, in a place likethe House of Clowns. Here I was, heartbroken and homesick, aching for pieces of life I had left behind: missing my old room, missing Carlo, and the shared warmth when Dad was not around during those rare moments. It was just the memory of Dad's fists, the way each blow fractured a little more than bone, that reminded me why I couldn't stay. Sometimes I felt like I'd left one prison only to stumble into another.

My thoughts tore through me as I walked, my eyes fixed on the ground, desperate to ignore the glances from the crowd around me. I wondered what they'd think if they could see right through me if they even recognized me. If only I could drag myself out of caring about what others thought, perhaps I'd find at least some happiness. But there was insecurity inhaled deep inside, carved over the years.

I hastened my steps, and in sight of a way ahead offering an escape, a voice cut through the cold and stopped me in my tracks.

"Chiara!"

No. That couldn't be.

"Christian, is that your sister?" I heard Vincenzo, my brother's best friend, shout.

Then, my brother's timid voice followed, "No, it can't be."

I willed myself to disappear, to sink into the crowd, but when you were part of a freak show, blending in wasn't an option. My heart raced and I pushed forward, trying to lose them. But then a strong hand grabbed my arm yanking me back.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Christian's voice was sharp, angry.

"I…" The words caught in my throat, freezing as his gaze swept over me, heavy with judgment in his eyes.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" he spat, shrugging off his jacket and pulling it around me, to shelter me from the staring-goggling of his friends. "Dad said you left, but he didn't say you joined a damn freak show."

"Yeah," I said quietly, putting his jacket on. "I left."

A redheaded girl materialized, reaching around him possessively to lay an arm over his and set a possessive hand on his shoulder. "Who's she?"

"This is myhalf-sister, Chiara," he said in a tone I barely wanted to acknowledge. "Chiara, meet my girlfriend, Amber."

Half-sister.The word sliced through me. He'd never called me that before. Once upon a time, I'd been his sister, full stop.

Now, with his new friends, his new life, I was a stranger to him, some kind of uncle he wished didn't exist. Memories popped up of me pulling him out of bars, cleaning up after him, covering up for him from Dad. I had been that rock, that shoulder through every nightmare, and yet here I was, extinguished by the phone when that same person kept me saving time and again.

Amber laughed. It was cold, cutting laughter that seemed to scrape against me. "You're related to a freak? Christian, tell me you're joking."

Chris's eyes fell to the floor, his face beat red, and he wouldn't meet mine.

"Yeah," I said, tossing his jacket back to him. "He is."

I laughed, the bitterness of the words like a rough edge. "My mom was a freak, my grandma is, and so am I."

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